slammed a door on such thoughts. His reason for being here was too important for distraction. Despite other unexpected urges. To comfort and assure her. To protect her as he hadn’t been able to fifteen months ago.
Guilt sliced at the memory. But it was blunted by other emotions. Desire. Possessiveness, rampant and untrammelled.
Ashraf tunnelled his fists into his pockets and forced himself to stand his ground rather than close the space between them.
‘You need to sit. You’ve had a shock.’
She blinked up, eyes round and lips open as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen.
He knew the feeling. His lungs were labouring as if he were the one surprised. He hadn’t expected to feel—
Ashraf leaned past her, pulling out a high-backed chair from the table, and gestured for her to sit. She did, and he saw that even in extremity there was a familiar grace about her movements. He’d thought he’d imagined that, embellished his recollections of this woman with qualities she hadn’t actually possessed. He’d told himself guilt and regret had turned her in his mind into someone more remarkable than she really was.
Striving for emotional distance, he catalogued what he saw. She was the same as in the photos his investigators had sent. Yet she was more.
Regular features in a face that was long rather than round. Fine lips. Even finer eyes. Eyes that watched his every move with an intensity he felt as a sizzle in his veins. Even the faint shadows of tiredness didn’t mar her attractiveness. The hair he’d remembered as pale was platinum-blonde, pulled back and up in a chignon that left her face clear. But why would she hide those cheekbones? She wasn’t classically beautiful, yet he defied any man not to take a second look.
Even in a plain white blouse and black trousers Tori Nilsson drew the eye.
That explained his racing pulse. That and the intimate secret they shared.
For a second his attention lingered on those breasts, quickly rising and falling against her blouse. They seemed plumper than he remembered—
‘Can you sit, instead of towering over me?’
Ashraf huffed back laughter. There was the woman he remembered. Indomitable and practical. How lucky he’d been not to be stuck with a hysterical companion that night.
He pulled out a chair and sat knee to knee with her.
‘You’re really real.’
Slim fingers skimmed shakily over his cheek, down his freshly shaved jaw, and two things struck him.
First, no one these days ever touched him. He’d been busy in the last two years and it had been a long time since he’d had a lover. Plus his position meant that casual touching was out of the question.
Second, her hand shook. Perhaps he’d been unfair, confronting her like this with no warning. But he hadn’t known she’d believed him dead. If he’d realised...
No, even if he’d known he’d still have wanted to see her in person.
‘Yes. I’m real.’
He captured her hand, feeling the quick pulse throb at her wrist. At the same time he registered a hint of scent. Something sweet and enticing, slightly citrusy. It transported him to that night they’d been captives together. He couldn’t recall noticing it then, but at some subliminal level he must have. It both enticed and disturbed him, reminding him of how close they’d come to death, and how he’d allowed himself to weaken in this woman’s arms.
He released her hand and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. Satiny skin trembled at his touch and made his blood fizz.
He’d assumed his physical response to Tori had been fuelled by danger, by the knowledge that he might die. Was this just a hangover from that night? That had to be it.
But he wasn’t here for sex.
Ashraf dropped his hand and sat back.
* * *
‘How did you get away? I heard gunfire. I thought—’
Tori bit her lip, hearing the wobble in her voice. Clearly she’d thought wrong—so why was she upset? Seeing Ash again was a miracle. One she’d never dared hope for. Her reaction had to be due to shock.
‘You thought they’d shot me?’ His eyebrows rose and then he nodded. ‘I’m sure they wish they had. You heard security forces storming the camp. Qadri, the bandits’ leader, had just arrived. He was killed in the raid with several of his followers. The rest are serving time for various offences—including kidnap.’
The words sounded matter-of-fact. Like a news report of some distant, almost unreal incident. But the sound of those guns had been brutal reality for Tori for too long. She strove to absorb Ash’s news but couldn’t prevent a tremor of reaction.
‘I thought you were dead. I—’ She searched his face, even now finding it hard to believe he was there and whole. ‘What are you doing here? It’s an incredible coincidence.’
‘No coincidence, Tori. I’ve been looking for you.’ His voice was deep and assured.
‘You have?’
Ash sat straighter. ‘Of course! Did you imagine I’d forget about you? That I’d leave you to the mercy of people-smugglers?’
‘But it’s been fifteen months!’
His dark eyes flashed. ‘I’m not in the habit of forgetting my friends.’
Was that what they’d been? Friends? Allies, for sure. Lovers too. And now...?
‘I regret it took so long. I’d imagined...’
He shook his head, as if his imaginings weren’t important, but the grim set of his mouth told its own story. If she’d been tormented by the thought of him dead, he’d had the burden of thinking her at the mercy of men like those who’d kidnapped her.
Tori closed her hand over his fist where it rested on his thigh. ‘I’m not blaming you, Ash. That wasn’t a rebuke. I’m just...surprised.’ Make that astounded. She’d never in her wildest dreams believed she’d see him again. ‘How did you locate me?’
He shrugged. ‘A team of top investigators, persistence and in the end one lucky break.’
Investigators working for fifteen months? That must have cost a fortune.
Tori’s gaze skittered across that beautifully made suit. Ash wasn’t ostentatiously dressed but he projected an aura of authority and wealth, like a man used to wielding power. A little like her father, except in Ash it seemed innate, less cultivated for public consumption. Her father revelled in the importance his position gave him. Ash, on the other hand, wasn’t showy or obvious.
‘You’re a determined man.’
If there’d been an easy trail to follow he’d have found her ages ago. The fact that he’d persevered all this time spoke of a doggedness she could only admire. If she’d still been at the mercy of
