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large egos in these paintings, then.”
    “Male egos,” she said dryly.
    “Yes, these were probably painted by a man.”
    “This is a man’s place,” she agreed, looking around. “The women are only property.”
    “This is not a man’s place,” he corrected, with an odd edge in his voice. “It’s where the filth of the world settles to the bottom. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
    His vivid distaste for the brothel struck her as respectable. A man who disliked brothels couldn’t be all bad.
Some compliment
, she thought grimly. Still, she voluntarily wobbled along beside him up a hallway where Thai women—some of them no more than girls—peeked out of doorways. Some wore only panties, and a couple wore less than that. Rebecca couldn’t think of anything better to do, so she smiled at them and nodded politely. They smiled and nodded back. “You’re an extraordinarily friendly person,” Santelli said drolly. “None of them would have lifted a finger to stop what was happening to you.”
    “They’re afraid. I can see it in their eyes. They probably do what they’re told.”
    “You’re right. I’m impressed with your intuition.” He added silently,
And your compassion
.
    “You never accused me of being callous, remember? Just naive and stupid.”
    “You must be feeling better. You’re recovering that wicked Iowa wit.”
    Outside, in an alley strewn with garbage, he guided her toward a large dark sedan of some European make. Rebecca took a deep breath of hot night air andstopped. “What makes you think I’ll get into that car with you?”
    Two well-dressed but disheveled Thai men rounded a distant corner in the alley and came toward them. Rebecca took a wary step back. “They’re my assistants,” Santelli said quickly. “Relax.”
    “They’re big enough to be Sumo wrestlers.”
    “Sumo wrestlers are Japanese, not Thai.”
    “They should move to Japan.”
    “Please get in the car. You can’t wait on the street for a taxi. You’re in one of the seediest sections of the city. I’ll take you back to your hotel room. Look, Ms. Brown, I’ve already passed up my chance to ravish you, so put your mind at ease.”
    “Around you? Forget it.”
    “The lady has a sharp wit, but she’s leaning toward the car. A good sign. Look, her feet are moving when I push her a little. She refuses to speak, but she’s agreeing to my wishes. For once, she’s cooperating. Amazing.”
    By the time he finished badgering her, he had the car’s back passenger door open, and she was wearily nodding her consent. It hardly seemed likely that he’d saved her from something treacherous just to harm her himself. At least, not tonight.
    When she was seated on the plush cushions, he leaned in and brushed her bangs back from her forehead. Rebecca shot him a rebuking look, but it faded when she saw the admiration in his eyes. Quickly he pulled his hand back, and his eyes became shuttered. “I’ll be right back,” he told her. Then, adding a slight, mocking smile, “With my Sumo wrestlers in tow.”
    When they arrived at her hotel, one of Bangkok’s modern, Western-style high rises, she sighed with relief. For the moment her notions of adventure were dulled with the knowledge that her life was tangled with that of Kashadlin Santelli, a man who’d made her feel furious, afraid, excited, and safe—all in the first day she’dknown him. After covering his torso in a loose cotton undershirt he’d borrowed from one of his assistants, he accompanied her to her room with the calm, confident air of a man who considered the day pretty ordinary. For someone such as him, it probably was.
    Her head throbbed with fatigue, and each time she glanced at Santelli during their walk down the hall to her room, she had the light-headed sensation of whirling in place. She was involved with the most exotic, intriguing, but antagonizing man on this or any continent. Her exhausted mind sluggishly tried to understand him, and failed.