Medusa's Sheik Read online

  Vanessa, aka Viper, frowned. “It took us a great deal of maneuvering to get my operative placed close to the El Aran empire. Marat El Aran is an extremely cagey and cautious man. I don’t think we have time to establish another undercover operator before the deal goes down, do we?”

  Hathaway looked over at Beau, who replied, “Our source says the sale is set to happen within the month.”

  Vanessa asked grimly, “Any word yet on exactly who the buyer is?”

  Beau shook his head. “Nope. That’s why we need your girl. We need her to find out who and where and when so we can stop the deal before some terrorist group gets its hands on the capacity to manufacture precision nuclear weapon parts.”

  The Medusas traded long, silent looks among themselves, then Vanessa spoke for all of them. “I think we should leave her in place. It’s a calculated risk, but the stakes are too high to do any less. If her contact ends up being Hake El Aran himself, so be it.”

  Beau glanced back up at the jumbo screen and the image of Hake El Aran shifting in his seat and staring at the door from which Scorpion would emerge shortly. “I wish your girl luck,” he muttered. “Lord knows she’s gonna need it to deal with him. He’s infamous for hating government officials and loving the ladies.”

  Casey finished stripping off the heavy stage makeup and replaced it with more appropriate personal makeup. God bless Roxi—the Medusa’s fashion stylist turned commando—wherever she was tonight. The woman was magic with cosmetics, hair and fashion and had put her through a crash course in all of the above before this mission.

  Casey checked to make sure her purse was zipped, her pistol tucked into its hidden compartment. The purse was cleverly padded so someone touching the bag wouldn’t see or feel the weapon nested inside. As she slung the strap over her shoulder, she felt the telltale vibration of her cell phone within it. She dug it out. “Hello?”

  “Scorpion. Viper here. We noticed the wrinkle sitting stage left tonight.”

  Casey winced. So, H.O.T. Watch did have a camera in the restaurant. “Did the boys enjoy the show?”

  Vanessa laughed. “Oh, yeah. You completely silenced them. Not a single wisecrack out of the lot of them. Never thought I’d see the day. Congratulations.”

  “Cool. Any advice on removing wrinkles?” Casey asked.

  “We’ve talked it over and agree that you should feel free to pursue that avenue if you think it might turn out to be profitable. But it’s your call whether or not you think it has potential.”

  Casey stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was suddenly a bit pale. She was greenlighted to pursue Hake El Aran himself? Her first impulse was to run far away and hide from the man and his aggressive sensuality.

  He’d been sending her vibes so charged with sexual promise during the show that she’d had trouble keeping her knees from buckling. The heat he’d aroused in her had practically incinerated the stage. She’d never danced that intensely before, and the audience hadn’t missed it. The crowd had been all but drooling collectively by the time the show ended. It was why she’d dawdled backstage afterward. She was hoping most of the patrons left before she had to go out and face them.

  Not to mention she dreaded facing her thousand-pound paying patron after that steamy performance. It was one thing to put on a girly act from a distance and behind the protection of a costume and makeup. But it was another thing entirely to keep up the act face-to-face with a man, one-on-one. She never had been comfortable around men, but in this persona, she would be expected to be perfectly at ease with the whole beautiful-woman-who-men-fawn-over-all-the-time thing. She admitted it. She was a big fat chicken.

  “You still there?” Vanessa asked in her ear.

  “Yes, I’m here. Thinking. It’s a bold idea to go directly for the El Aran heir. Risky.”

  “Agreed. Is it worth the risk?”

  Keeping nuclear weapons out of the hands of terrorists? Unfortunately, that one was a no-brainer. It was worth a whole lot more than flirting with some guy who might be more than she could handle. Strike that. Who no doubt would be more than she could handle. But that was just her tough luck. She was Medusa and she had a job to do.

  “You and I both know the answer to that question,” she replied grimly.

  Her boss asked soberly, “Can you handle it, Scorpion?”

  Dammit. Was it that obvious to her teammates that she was completely ill at ease with herself as a woman and with men in general? She sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to.”

  Vanessa chuckled. “Hey, it could be worse. He’s yummy. Have fun.”

  “Whatever,” Casey scowled. “Oh, and next time could you let me know when I’m on Candid Camera?”

  “Sorry about that. I thought it might make you self-conscious, so I didn’t mention it. I promise I’ll tell you next time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Good luck. I know you can do this.”

  Casey disconnected the call glumly. She could do something all right. But she wasn’t at all sure it would include succeeding on the mission. If she was lucky, Hake was long gone from the restaurant and would never be back. The issue of dealing with him directly would be moot.

  The waiter, Ismael, spoke outside her door. “The customer’s waiting for you, Miss Cassandra. He’s on the last stool at the far end of the bar.”

  “Got it. Did he pay you?”

  “Yes, and a hundred extra because he was so pleased that I talked you into it.”

  Casey smiled gamely at the young man. At least one person was going home happy tonight. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and stepped out into the restaurant. She headed resolutely for the bar. One drink, a polite-but-firm refusal of the patron’s advances and she’d be out of here.

  She stopped in her tracks, staring at the last stool on the end. Ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap. The patron was Hake El Aran.

  Hake’s breath hitched when he caught sight of Cassandra walking toward him. Her dress was black, sleeveless, simple and sexy as hell. He’d expected the usual model’s catwalk while she strutted her stuff for him, but was startled to see her striding forward confidently, athletically even. Odd.

  She frowned when she spotted him, which startled him. Disappointed that he wasn’t someone else? What was there to frown about? He was a good-looking man, well-educated, heir to a giant manufacturing empire and richer than one man had a right to be. There was no arrogance in the knowledge…it was just a fact.

  “Good evening, Mister…” Cassandra said cautiously.

  “El Aran. But you can call me Hake.” Huh. She was American, judging by the accent. He hadn’t expected that. She slid onto the bar stool beside him, her gaze roving around the room keenly. “Worried about something?” he murmured.

  Her gaze snapped back to him. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “You were searching for someone.”

  She looked at him in momentary noncomprehension. Then, “Oh, that’s just a habit of mine. I like to know what and who is around me.”

  “Does that come from being afraid of free-handed patrons when you dance?”

  She smiled, a tight little thing that stemmed from confidence and maybe a hint of disdain. “No, I’m not afraid of any patron. I can take care of myself, thank you.”

  Startled, he studied her anew. Was there more to this dancer than met the eye? Intrigued, he leaned forward. “Tell me about yourself.”

  She gazed at him levelly. “I agreed to have a drink with you, not share my life story.”

  “Ah, but I paid dearly for that drink. I think I’ve purchased a little more than just polite conversation, don’t you?”

  She gazed pointedly at the empty napkin in front of her by way of response. He laughed and signaled over the bartender. “Get the lady a…” He looked over her.

  “A bottle of water and a club soda with a twist of lime,” she finished.

  “Nothing stronger than that?” he blurted.

  “Were you hoping to get me drunk and take advantage of me, percha
nce?” she retorted.

  Prickly, she was. But he supposed he couldn’t blame her. She must get sick of men trying to crawl all over her. He grinned and murmured, “I don’t usually have to get women drunk to get them in my bed.”

  She inhaled a sharp, satisfying little breath. So, she wasn’t totally unaffected by him after all. His male ego felt much better and he settled in to be patient. The hunt was an art form at which he happened to excel.

  When she opened the bottle of water and drank the whole thing down, he grinned. “Thirsty were you?”

  She picked up the club soda and took a daintier sip of it. “I can lose up to ten pounds of water weight during a single show.”

  “You must be in pretty good shape to do that night in and night out.”

  Her eyes glinted with humor. “I’ve been known to work out a bit,” she commented drily.

  “It shows,” he replied.

  Her eyebrows shot up and he thought that was veiled disapproval in her gaze.

  “Oh, come now. Surely you know how perfect a body you have. You’re toned from head to foot.”

  She merely shrugged. He looked for some indication that she was offended or playing coy but saw neither. Strange. Most women craved hearing men tell them how beautiful and desirable they were. She seemed…disinterested in the subject.

  “What do you like to talk about?” he asked.

  She studied him for a long moment. “Do you seriously care? We both know what you want from me, and intellectually stimulating conversation is not it.”

  Direct, this beautiful creature. As stunning as she’d been in her stage makeup, he was coming to the conclusion he liked her better like this. Her skin was flawless, her natural coloring more delicate without the heavy makeup. Her eyes were rounder and bluer without the eyeliner, too. Softer. Yet more remote, somehow.

  He swirled his brandy and took a slow, appreciative sip. Then he surprised himself by answering, “Actually, yes. I do care what you like to talk about. Tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “I find you intriguing.”

  She leaned close to him and murmured gently, “That’s what they all say, Mr. El Aran.”

  He recoiled, stung. She was lumping him with every other lounge lizard who’d ever come on to her? How dared she? He wasn’t some common bloke looking to bed the closest hot female he could land. He frowned. All right. So his end goal might be the same in principle, but he was imminently more sophisticated in how he went about getting it than most men.

  On the heels of his disgruntlement came a flare of something sharp and hot in his gut. Foreign. What was that? He took several more sips of his drink before he put a name to it. Attraction. He was intensely interested in this woman and the challenge she posed. He would find a way to have her. That decision reaffirmed after talking to her, he turned his attention to achieving his goal.

  “What do you like to do in your free time?” he asked.

  She gave the question the same consideration she had all his other questions so far. “I’m not accustomed to having much free time, so that’s hard to answer. I like all sorts of things, I suppose. Reading. Traveling. Pretty much any activity having to do with water.”

  “Do you sail?”

  “Yes.”

  “Water ski?”

  “Yes.”

  “Snow ski?”

  She nodded. That might even be a hint of a smile in her eyes.

  “What do you read?”

  “Everything. Anything.”

  Encouraged by the roll he was on in getting her to share information, he continued his rapid-fire questions. “Fiction or nonfiction?”

  “Both.”

  “London or Paris?”

  “Mmm. Tough. I love them both.”

  “Beaches or mountains?”

  “Gorgeous natural scenery in any form,” she equivocated.

  “Fair enough. Steak or seafood?”

  “Steak.”

  “Milk chocolate or dark?”

  “Dark.”

  He made a mental note of that. “Favorite color of rose?”

  “Red.”

  He grinned. “Of course. The color of passion. Quiet dinner for two or a big party?”

  “The quiet dinner. I get my fill of loud crowds dancing.”

  “Bottom or top?”

  She froze. Gave him a cool, level look that made it clear he’d just crossed the line and she didn’t appreciate it. The sharp pull of this startling woman intensified. He couldn’t remember the last time a female had set a boundary with him like that. Mostly, they tripped all over themselves to offer him whatever he wanted.

  “Sorry,” he said forthrightly.

  She nodded, accepting his apology matter-of-factly. Now that was decidedly not typical of any female he’d ever known. Who was this woman?

  “Where do you come from?” he asked, burning with curiosity to know more about her.

  “America.”

  “I could tell that from the accent. America’s a big place. Where, specifically, do you call home?”

  “My family moved around a lot when I was a kid.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “I prefer to live in the moment and not discuss my background.”

  He considered that rather cryptic nonanswer. Didn’t want to talk about her past, eh? He could fix that. Geoffrey’s law firm had an entire team of private investigators who could tell him everything he ever wanted to know about Cassandra’s life.

  “Another club soda?” he asked.

  “No, thank you. I believe you only paid for the one drink.”

  “What is it about me you find so distasteful?” he burst out.

  Her right eyebrow arched slightly. “I don’t find you distasteful, Mr. El Aran.”

  “Call me Hake,” he all but snapped in his frustration at his failure to dazzle her.

  She answered blandly, “I don’t find you distasteful, Hake.”

  How did she manage to make him feel so stupid for his outburst like that? He took a deep breath. She was unpredictable, that was all. She didn’t respond to anything like he expected her to. It was as if she was onto his game and determined to disrupt his usual pattern of the hunt. She was succeeding, too. He had no idea how to proceed with getting her into his bed at this point.

  “What’s your last name?” he asked in a certain desperation.

  She smiled wryly. “I believe the correct answer to that one is, whatever you want it to be…Hake.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re an exasperating woman, Cassandra.”

  She smiled in genuine amusement as if that had been her goal all along. Minx! “What am I going to do with you?” he muttered.

  “That’s easy,” she replied lightly. “Nothing at all.”

  He looked at her directly, capturing her light gaze with his own dark one. “I think not, clever Cassandra. That’s the one thing I’m definitely not going to settle for. You can fight me or tease me or try to run away from me, but I guarantee you I’m not going to settle for nothing from you.”

  Chapter 4

  C asey mentally gulped. Beneath her devil-may-care exterior, she felt way over her head. She was definitely tempting fate to tangle with this man. His technique when it came to sweeping a girl off her feet was darned near perfect. Heck, it was hard to even look at him without getting a little breathless. There was handsome, and then there was drop-dead gorgeous. Hake fell somewhere beyond the latter. His eyes and hair were dark, but his skin reflected his mother’s Caucasian heritage and bone structure.

  And then there was the way he looked at her. Intently. With total focus. As if she was the most important person in the world. It was a heady thing to have this man’s undivided attention. His verbal repartee was nothing to sneeze at either. He had her ducking and dodging like a prizefighter. But her instincts told her not to reveal herself to this man lest he take advantage of the smallest opening and strip her soul bare.

  She expected someone in H.O.T. Watch Ops could read l
ips, assuming the gang there didn’t have an audio feed of this conversation somehow. They must be in transports of ecstasy over how the encounter was going. She hadn’t set out to play hard to get, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt like a mouse being stalked by a tiger. Her years of Medusa training had taken over and she’d reflexively scrambled to deflect the predator coming after her. Just her luck, the tactic had made him even more eager to snare her.

  From an operational perspective, that was fantastic. But from a personal one…the danger was almost more than she could face calmly. She sensed that this man had enormous power to hurt her. He would get inside her guard, and as sure as the sun rose and set, he’d break her heart.

  She had to get away from him. She still had Geoffrey Birch. She didn’t need this lethal man to complete her mission. She started to push back from the bar. “Thank you for the drink, but—”

  It wasn’t Hake who cut her off. Rather, it was her stomach. Growling loudly.

  Her companion grinned. “Hungry?”

  She shrugged, embarrassed. “I can’t eat for twelve hours or so before I dance.”

  “And here I’ve been keeping you from your dinner!” he exclaimed. “How rude of me. Let me make it up and take you to dinner.”

  “No, thank you—”

  He interrupted briskly. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” He pulled out his cell phone, punched a button and spoke into it briefly. “My car will be around front momentarily.” He tossed down a hefty tip for the bartender and reached courteously for her elbow. “Shall we?”

  “I’m not having dinner with you!”

  “Why not? You’re hungry. I’m hungry. We both have to eat. Why not do it together?”

  She couldn’t very well confess that she was freaked out by all his questions and curiosity—and sheer male presence. While she tried to come up with a suitable answer, he steered her to the front door of the club. The night was damp and cool and shocked her into action.

  “Hake. You can’t do this. I don’t want to—”

  “Why not? You already said you don’t find me distasteful. You’re not afraid of me, are you? Afraid of how I make you feel, perhaps?”

  He asked the latter with such obvious pleasure at the notion she couldn’t admit he was exactly right. She was terrified of the things he did to her innards. She had no business whatsoever being attracted to him. He was a target. Nothing more.