Acquiring Trouble

dared be that blunt about it. Nobody was ever blunt, when they dealt with a prince.
    In a heartbeat, his mood had soared from zero to ten.
    "Oh, I can handle them," Khan he'd said, modestly, "but if you guys play your cards right, I might just direct the overflow in your direction."
    The Wildes , good-looking and rich and known for the ease with which they attracted women, had burst out laughing. Khan had, too, and after that, there were no barriers between them. In fact, once they knew how he felt about his string of titles, they only used them when things got slow and they wanted to piss him off. 
    The only times he used them was when a little show of power was needed, and that wasn't very often.
    Over the years, Khan had developed the ability to control virtually all situations with a look, a word, a natural air of quiet command. He never lost control, not in business, not in politics, not in bed.
    For a man with his responsibilities, control, self-control, was everything.
    And that was precisely why he was so annoyed right now.
    For a man who never lost control, he hadn't done very well tonight.
    The Wildes had thrown a small, very civilized party for him tonight. He should have been inside the house, enjoying it.
    The woman had eliminated that possibility.
    A two minute incident, the kind of thing he'd normally have simply ignored…
    Khan drew a long breath, then expelled it.
    Okay. Maybe his reaction had been understandable. He was tired. . Exhausted, after flying through endless time zones, then spending the day in meetings.
    What he needed was a night's sleep…
    Or perhaps a woman. Sex. The relief of tension that came of spending himself within a warm, willing body…
    An image flashed through his mind. Dark, soft curls. Enormous blue eyes. A full, rose-pink mouth.
    Dammit!
    Why was he thinking about her? He probably wouldn't even have noticed her if Travis hadn't pointed her out.
    They'd been walking him through the huge living room, Travis introducing him to the select group of guests. He'd made small talk with a couple of congressmen, the CEOs of two oil companies, the COO of a third
    Then, Travis had put his hand lightly on his arm.
    "There's someone you need to meet," he'd murmured, jerking his head toward a brunette who'd just come through the door.
    Khan's first reaction was that the woman was striking but not the type he found attractive. Not that it mattered. This was a business event, not a social one. Still, he was male, she was female, and automatic assessments were, he supposed, inevitable.
    She was tall and slender. He liked his women petite and curvy. She wore a severely-tailored suit and—what were shoes like that called? Pumps. That was it. The other women were all wearing silk dresses and delicate sandals. The only outstanding things about her were that the suit was expensive and the shoes had skinny heels high enough to make her already long legs look even longer.
    "Who is she?" he'd asked, as Travis led him toward her.
    "Her name is Laurel Cruz. She's an associate at Maxwell and Mayberry. Big law firm—the 'Maxwell' is Senator Joseph Maxwell. He's been out of D.C. for a few years but he's still got the right contacts, and Laurel's his right-hand man."
    By then, they'd reached her.
    "Right-hand woman," she'd said, with not even a trace of humor.
    Travis had grinned, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek.
    "Uh oh," he'd said lightly. "Rough day in the legal trenches?"
    "Most of them are rough," Laurel Cruz had replied, shifting her gaze to Khan, appraising him with cool blue eyes.
    "Laurel, I'd like to introduce you to our guest of honor—"
    "Khan al Hassad . Yes. I know who he is."
    That was how it had all started. The way she'd spoken, not to him but about him, as if he weren't even there. The disdain in her voice. Her deliberate avoidance of his title—and why in hell that she had bothered him, given his own feelings about titles…
    He'd felt his belly knot.
    The woman disliked him.
    He had no idea why and, frankly, he didn't much care. He had only to remain polite. He was here as his country's representative, and he was well-schooled in diplomacy.
    Smiling, showing nothing of his feelings, he'd extended his hand.
    "Miss Cruz. It's a pleasure to—"
    "It's Ms. Cruz, and if you want to meet with the senator, I suggest you phone our office for an appointment."
    Khan had held the smile, but with some effort.
    "Pardon me?"
    "You're here on oil business."
    "I am, yes."
    "Surely you