But having him here, brutally male and frighteningly close—
‘Would you mind if I have a piece of fruit to go with my drink, Jazz?’
Well, that sounded like a threat—not. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Help yourself.’
Just because Tyr was worldly and she wasn’t, it didn’t mean he expected anything from her. She’d known him half her life, and Tyr had never done anyone any harm.
Until he became a trained soldier.
Under orders, Jazz reminded herself as she refilled Tyr’s goblet and handed it back to him. She blinked when he reached for the dagger at his belt. She remembered exactly when Sharif had given him the dagger. It was the same deadly curving khanjar her brother wore hanging from his belt. Sharif had said the gift of a dagger bound Tyr and he as close as brothers, and there was no one in the world he trusted more. As if hypnotised, she watched Tyr slice the fruit into slim pieces with that same lethal blade and put some on a plate to tempt her.
‘We could be here for hours, Jazz. You should eat something.’
Hours? One crucial word broke through. How was she going to remain calm and sensible for hours alone with Tyr when her heart was already going crazy?
Jazz accepting the plate of fruit was a turning point. It was a small but significant step towards her relaxing around him. If she couldn’t do that, this was going to be a long night for both of them.
‘Good?’ he prompted as she lifted a sliver of fruit to her lips.
‘Thank you.’
She was so prim, so tense, so frightened of him. This was a new Jazz indeed, though her black eyes and perfectly sculpted features had never seemed more beautiful to him.
‘Why are you staring at me?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘Am I staring?’
‘You know you are.’
She blushed and turned away, then moved at the same moment he did for a second piece of fruit. As their arms brushed, she took in a swift gulp of air. The jolt to his own senses stunned him. This was crazy. Sheltering from the storm had become an exercise in restraint he hadn’t expected.
Only when Jazz had put half a pavilion’s distance between them did she start talking to him again. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Tyr.’
He stabbed another piece of fruit. ‘Glad I’m back from my travels?’ he enquired, biting the succulent fruit from the tip of the knife. ‘Or glad I’m here?’
‘Both,’ Jazz admitted frankly, hugging herself tight as the wind threatened to tear the roof off the pavilion.
‘So, what do you suggest we do now?’
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
He gave a short laugh, but there was no humour in it. ‘Do you tell the emir we spent the night together, or do I?’
‘Do you mind if we talk about something else?’
He shrugged as he refilled his goblet with juice. ‘Whatever you like.’
He began to pace. Inactivity didn’t suit him, but wherever his strides took him in this confined space, it could never be far enough away from Jazz. Wanting her was like a slow burn eating him up inside. ‘Why don’t we start with your plans for the future?’ he suggested.
‘My plans?’
He was instantly alert at the touch of steel in Jazz’s voice. ‘I’m going to continue working at my brother’s racing stables, and I’m going to extend my work with our people. My brother has always wanted me to work for Kareshi. Don’t look at me like that, Tyr. Sharif has always known where my future lay. It just took me a little longer to see the light.’
‘And now you have it all worked out.’
‘Men make plans. Women improve them.’