preached?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. There wasn’t a more idealistic man in the world.”
“He stood for truth, honor, and apple pie.”
“Yes. Don’t make it sound silly.”
“It’s not silly. There are many ways to uphold your ideals. I have mine, believe it or not. And I’m honest about them.”
“So am I. And so was my father.”
“Really? It’s time for a reality check.” Kash pulled her upright and, holding her by the forearms, turned her to face the ominous villa across the canal. “Look at that place. It doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”
“No! Why should it?” As his intentions sank in, she struggled against his grip. “You know something about it that I don’t know! You brought me here deliberately! You don’t ever do anything without a purpose, do you?”
He held her tighter against his hot, bare chest. “Take a good look at it. A very wealthy Thai man lives there. A retired art smuggler and gambler. In his younger years he was the most notorious thief in Bangkok.” Kash paused for effect. “And he was a close friend of your father.”
Rebecca gasped harshly. “It couldn’t be. That’s not the kind of man my father would have liked.”
“Your father was a guest at that villa many times while he was stationed in Thailand with the army. He visited often with the thief and the four beautiful young women who lived—and slept—with the thief. I want you to understand that
your father didn’t tell you the truth about his years in Thailand
.”
She dug her fingers into Kash’s hard arms, which were now around her waist. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. There must be an explanation. Have you talked to this man? Is that what
he
told you about my father?”
“
Yes.
” Kash bent his head close to her good ear. His breath blew swift and rough against her neck. His lips brushed her ear with mocking charm. “He said your father helped him smuggle stolen Thai art objects to the States.”
“No!”
“And that he never married anyone, much less had a child.”
“My father wasn’t a criminal, and he
was
married to Mayura’s mother!”
“He must have been an incompetent smuggler, if he went home to America and become a small-town minister to make a living.”
“My father was incapable of stealing,” she said in a taut, gritty voice. A fireball of disbelief and anxiety shot through her blood. “Someone lied about him.” Nearly strangling on emotion, she added recklessly, “I can prove it.”
“How?” Kash twisted her around to face him. Defensive, she braced her hands on his chest, though touching the seductive wall of firm muscle and satiny black hair made her want to cry for the tenderness they had shared only moments before. His expression was a shrewd mask, with an underlying urgency that looked almost like pain. His conflicting feelings made her despair of ever understanding him. “How can you prove it?” he asked fiercely.
“We have to go back to the hotel.” Rebecca became icily calm. “I’ll show you. I don’t feel like explaining right now. I want you to see my evidence, first. We’re not doing too well with trusting each other’s word, so why pretend that we ever can?”
His dark eyes seared her with their troubled, intense gaze. Then resignation settled in them, and he looked exhausted. “Trust has very little to do with what’s between you and me,” he agreed, nodding slightly, an elegant but somehow tragic gesture. “And it would have only led to a different kind of trouble. Maybe it already has.”
Without another word he set her away from him and got to his feet. He held out a hand, but she ignored it, wearily pushing herself up, then walking ahead of him, her head high. A tight knot of gloom sat in her chest. “Ifyou don’t want trouble, don’t ever touch me again,” she said over one shoulder.
In an instant he caught her, pulled her backward against him, and placed a hard, lingering kiss on the
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. There wasn’t a more idealistic man in the world.”
“He stood for truth, honor, and apple pie.”
“Yes. Don’t make it sound silly.”
“It’s not silly. There are many ways to uphold your ideals. I have mine, believe it or not. And I’m honest about them.”
“So am I. And so was my father.”
“Really? It’s time for a reality check.” Kash pulled her upright and, holding her by the forearms, turned her to face the ominous villa across the canal. “Look at that place. It doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”
“No! Why should it?” As his intentions sank in, she struggled against his grip. “You know something about it that I don’t know! You brought me here deliberately! You don’t ever do anything without a purpose, do you?”
He held her tighter against his hot, bare chest. “Take a good look at it. A very wealthy Thai man lives there. A retired art smuggler and gambler. In his younger years he was the most notorious thief in Bangkok.” Kash paused for effect. “And he was a close friend of your father.”
Rebecca gasped harshly. “It couldn’t be. That’s not the kind of man my father would have liked.”
“Your father was a guest at that villa many times while he was stationed in Thailand with the army. He visited often with the thief and the four beautiful young women who lived—and slept—with the thief. I want you to understand that
your father didn’t tell you the truth about his years in Thailand
.”
She dug her fingers into Kash’s hard arms, which were now around her waist. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. There must be an explanation. Have you talked to this man? Is that what
he
told you about my father?”
“
Yes.
” Kash bent his head close to her good ear. His breath blew swift and rough against her neck. His lips brushed her ear with mocking charm. “He said your father helped him smuggle stolen Thai art objects to the States.”
“No!”
“And that he never married anyone, much less had a child.”
“My father wasn’t a criminal, and he
was
married to Mayura’s mother!”
“He must have been an incompetent smuggler, if he went home to America and become a small-town minister to make a living.”
“My father was incapable of stealing,” she said in a taut, gritty voice. A fireball of disbelief and anxiety shot through her blood. “Someone lied about him.” Nearly strangling on emotion, she added recklessly, “I can prove it.”
“How?” Kash twisted her around to face him. Defensive, she braced her hands on his chest, though touching the seductive wall of firm muscle and satiny black hair made her want to cry for the tenderness they had shared only moments before. His expression was a shrewd mask, with an underlying urgency that looked almost like pain. His conflicting feelings made her despair of ever understanding him. “How can you prove it?” he asked fiercely.
“We have to go back to the hotel.” Rebecca became icily calm. “I’ll show you. I don’t feel like explaining right now. I want you to see my evidence, first. We’re not doing too well with trusting each other’s word, so why pretend that we ever can?”
His dark eyes seared her with their troubled, intense gaze. Then resignation settled in them, and he looked exhausted. “Trust has very little to do with what’s between you and me,” he agreed, nodding slightly, an elegant but somehow tragic gesture. “And it would have only led to a different kind of trouble. Maybe it already has.”
Without another word he set her away from him and got to his feet. He held out a hand, but she ignored it, wearily pushing herself up, then walking ahead of him, her head high. A tight knot of gloom sat in her chest. “Ifyou don’t want trouble, don’t ever touch me again,” she said over one shoulder.
In an instant he caught her, pulled her backward against him, and placed a hard, lingering kiss on the
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