More Than Strangers

Safe Harbor 1

Tara Quan

Published 2013

ISBN: 978-1-62210-014-9

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Tara Quan. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Scorching desert heat, ice-cold champagne, and a world of opulence—the perfect setting for a one-night stand. Certain they will never meet again, two strangers agree to casual, no-strings sex that turns into something more.

Jason Reynolds has his life mapped out, and it doesn’t include a smart-mouthed redhead on a mission to save the world. A security specialist at the top of his game, he is on the cusp of wealth and power. Love is a distraction he simply can’t afford.

Struggling to bury memories of an unforgettable night, Nulli O’Hara chases her dream to a city fraught with violence and death. Six months later, she becomes a kidnapping target, and Jason is the man sent to keep her safe.

More than Strangers
charts the journey of two reluctant lovers from the sands of the Middle East to the slums of South Asia. In a perilous world more exotic than fantasy, Jason and Nulli must fight to live and see their happily ever after.

Dedication

To the real heroes I’ve met this past year. You took risks I could never shoulder and made this world better than it once was.

Nulli took a long sip from her champagne flute. Her floppy wide-brimmed hat danced in the desert wind. The match was exhilarating—the hard pounding of hooves, the crack of mallet against ball. Within seconds players raced from one end of the field to the other, chasing an elusive white target smaller than their fists. The even grass stood in stark contrast to sandy dunes. Spectators milled about as waiters circulated glass-filled trays carrying copious amounts of alcohol.

It was the Dubai Gold Cup. Over the past three decades, oil money had transformed sand into skyscrapers. The ruling elite had a fondness for fast horses and cars. Lamborghinis and Ferraris dotted the equestrian club’s parking lot. Their white-robed owners could be glimpsed through glinting glass windows that led to marbled halls.

Nulli’s friend Zahra, garbed in flowing black cloth and a shayla headscarf, trailed behind her father and brothers. Though descended from Bedouins, the emirate’s citizens loathed to expose their skin to the desert sun. They donned uniforms in the guise of national dress and maintained a wary distance from foreigners who labored in their service.

Out in the open air, Italian suits and designer dresses vied for attention. Golden-haired socialites picked at caviar while their husbands drank beers and puffed cigars. This was a land of manicured hands and elaborate coiffures, where the scent of flowers and myrrh trailed after every female. Expatriates outnumbered the local population eight to one. Europeans, Australians, and Americans ranked highest in the displaced hierarchy. Their company cars were Porsches and BMWs, and generous housing allowances paid for palatial villas.

Nulli sat under one of the many canopied tents just outside the safety zone—a ten-yard border alongside the field. It separated spectators and grooms from the dangerous game. Her attention was focused on a single player. The rider readied to execute a perfect backhand. The mallet, arm, and body were as one. The pendulum swung, and the ball flew beyond the reach of other players. Standing in his stirrups, the rider raced after the moving target at a full gallop. The other players followed in his wake. He kept the lead. Another loud crack and the ball launched past the goal posts.

The player trotted over to change horses. Their gazes met. He waved, beckoning her to come over. She laughed and shook her head. Nulli was a stickler for rules when it concerned horses. Polo ponies may be some of the best-behaved animals in the world, but she would rather maintain the prescribed distance during the game.

Brennan poured Nulli more champagne. The drink’s ice-cold temperature helped make the oppressive heat bearable. Under her hat, Nulli could feel the humidity turning her red curls into an unruly mess.

“Didn’t I warn you about Jason Reynolds?” the blonde asked.

Giving her friend a sideways glance, Nulli reached for a canapé. “You did. More than once.”

“Then why are you sleeping with him tonight?” Brennan had a habit of being blunt. She was born rich, and it came with the territory. The blonde often pretended not to possess a brain, but she was an astute judge of character. Her father made his fortune brokering deals with Middle Eastern sheikhs, and Brennan inherited much of Edward Caruthers’ talent.

Nulli took her time chewing. When she couldn’t stall any longer, she met her friend’s intent green gaze. She, Brennan, and Zahra had been roommates in college and were still close five years later. Of the three, Nulli was the most cautious. One-night stands weren’t her style. “I’ve been sensible for years. I’m trying reckless on for size.”

Brennan lifted her perfectly shaped brows. “Isn’t your upcoming employment bad enough?” The blonde had disapproved of Nulli’s decision to work for Zahra’s NGO from the start. She wasn’t shy about reminding them of her continued opposition.

Nulli laughed. “If you’re right, I’m about to die a horrible death. I might as well have mind-blowing sex before I do.”

The bell signaled the end of the final chukka. Jason’s team had won. Emptying her glass, Nulli took off her hat and fluffed her hair. She smoothed the wrinkles on her red sundress and searched for her purse.

Brennan nudged the battered brown bag out from under the picnic blanket. “There’s no shame in backing out. You’ve never had casual sex, and he’s not a good place to start.”

“You make it sound like he has a disease,” Nulli muttered as she slung the tattered strap over her shoulder.

Brennan wrinkled her nose. “He’s a notorious player, but he’s so careful I’m sure he’s clean. Security consultants like Reynolds troll the war zones, make shitloads of money, and vacation in the Gulf. Don’t let those broad shoulders fool you. He’s not someone you can lean on. Commitment isn’t part of the man’s vocabulary.”

“Good,” Nulli remarked as she walked away. “I’m about to start a one-year contract. A serious relationship is the last thing I need.”

Her heels clicked on the stone pathway as she hurried through the club’s restaurant toward the stables. Many polo players left their ponies in the care of well-paid grooms and vets. In their minds, those horses might as well be Jet Skis.

Jason was different. The first time they met, she had found him brushing down one of his polo ponies. The horse was so beautiful she couldn’t resist poking her head into the stall. They chatted and pampered the chestnut mare for about half an hour, but they never exchanged names.

Now that she knew more about him, she was certain it had been on purpose.

She should be worried, but all she could feel was anticipation. After one disastrous long-distance relationship that consumed six years of her life, she wanted the simplicity of casual sex. She was attracted to this man, and he was attracted to her. Neither of them wanted a more prolonged arrangement. The situation couldn’t be more perfect.

They had bumped into each other several times in the past three weeks. Nulli preempted her upcoming project with a prolonged vacation to Dubai. It was en route to her final destination, and it allowed her to spend time with Brennan and Zahra. While staying at Brennan’s penthouse, she indulged in a lifestyle far beyond what she was accustomed. She lingered at five-hour long brunches where champagne flowed until diners succumbed to food comas, and she danced the night away at clubs situated in seven-star hotels. For wealthy expats, excess was the new normal in this desert city.

Jason began pursuing her not long after Brennan formally introduced them at a beach party. His attraction had been apparent when they first met, but he only considered Nulli fair game once he categorized her as part of Brennan’s crowd. His type was no secret—beautiful, rich, bored, and looking to have fun. She encouraged the misunderstanding and chose to reveal very little about her background. After all, he was the sexiest man she had ever met, and she was determined to sleep with him.

Their chemistry was palpable. Whenever they were together, they found excuses to touch—a brush of the hands, a casual hug, European kisses on the cheek. Every time skin met skin, she felt the hot rush of arousal. Her heart raced, her nerves became hypersensitive, and it was impossible to think. She had never been more attracted to anyone in her entire life.

But she didn’t want a relationship with him. Despite his surfer-boy looks, Jason’s intensity was hard to miss. Her last relationship ended two years ago, and Nulli was still enjoying her independence. She grew up with an overprotective father, and Michael had been the very definition of a controlling boyfriend. The characteristics that sparked their attraction led to frustration and heartbreak. She was driven to the brink by the barrage of recriminations and emotional blackmail, but in the end she hadn’t been willing to conform her life to his plans. Six months after they broke up, he married someone who did.

The last thing she wanted to complicate her life with was another domineering male. Her flirtation with Jason only lasted this long because she knew she was on her way out of his life. It didn’t hurt that he had a way of making her legs feel like jelly with a single look. One brief casual fling seemed like the perfect way to kick off her yearlong adventure. Where she was headed, she’d have a hard enough time finding decent cheesecake, let alone a man who could make her heart skip a beat.

She found Jason silhouetted next to a stall with a carrot in hand. His favorite chestnut mare poked its head out to take a bite. He laughed and patted the horse’s nose. His white jeans were muddied, and his red polo was drenched in sweat. He had looked devastating in a dinner jacket last night. The man looked even sexier now.

White teeth flashed when she reached his side. His hazel eyes appeared less green and contained flecks of gold in the orange light. With her heels, they were close to the same height. She smelled horse, mud, and a hint of beer. She couldn’t resist the urge to touch him and found an excuse by tucking an errant strand of blond hair behind his ear. “Great game.”

“This is better,” he murmured before their lips met. She closed her eyes. The hat in her hand dropped to the floor. They had sneaked kisses before and each time she indulged her fancy, the need to do more intensified. The only way she was able to steady herself was by gripping fistfuls of his shirt. His arms circled her, pulling her so close she could feel the bulge growing against her belly. She smiled into the kiss as he backed her against the stall.

“There are laws here prohibiting public indecency,” she warned when his hand reached under her dress to trail up her inner thigh. “The hotel you picked is hours away.”

Jason continued to nuzzle her neck but dropped his hand. “It would serve you right. You’ve been teasing me for weeks.” He nipped her earlobe one last time before stepping back. “Let me shower and change. I’ll be right back.”

* * * *

Jason turned the cold water on full blast. When he was around Nulli, his body acted like he had just hit puberty. He wanted to have sex with her three weeks ago, and now the attraction had morphed into something more visceral. He had been a bad decision away from backing her into an empty stall so he could strip her panties off and bury himself inside her.

The dress was the culprit. Its deep red color accentuated the flame-like vibrancy of her hair. The short-cropped wavy tendrils, combined with the jeans and T-shirt she often sported, made her seem far younger than her years. But she didn’t look like a teenager today. Though the dress was modest compared to what most other women at the polo match were wearing, it hugged her tiny waist and showed off her long, shapely legs. Contrasted against the ruby fabric, her skin appeared porcelain white with only the slightest dusting of freckles despite exposure to the desert sun.

He had wanted to claim her trim body from the moment they met. It had taken weeks to wear her down, and he was about to get his way. The last thing he should feel was hesitation.

But something was off. She didn’t quite fit in the crowd that surrounded Brennan Caruthers. She may have good taste and exquisite manners, but she didn’t have the callousness that often came with easy wealth. Her smile hit her eyes, showed off most of her teeth, and dimpled her cheeks. She laughed with an abandon he wasn’t accustomed to witnessing. Not once had she failed to thank the grooms who assisted her during their desert hacks. When done, she attended to most of the horse’s needs unaided. They had talked a great deal over shared lunches and dinners, and each time she surprised him with her intellect.