herself just because Khan had strutted onto her horizon. So what if, up to now, I’ve chosen sweet, considerate guys? The sort any woman would have no problem taking home to meet Mom and Dad?
Not that Sarange had a mom and dad. She had an uncle and aunt who did the same job. She tried to picture taking Khan home to meet Bek and Gerel Tsedev. The thought made her choke back a laugh. It was never going to happen, but the image was amusing.
It wasn’t just his arrogance that triggered a warning about Khan. It was the way he stripped away her control, and did it with such relish. Wolf girl. That was what he had called her. What had he meant by it? One thing was for sure, it wasn’t a compliment. The tone of his voice had been scathing, while the look in his eyes had scalded her. She assumed he meant she liked to be in charge. He had judged her on first impressions, likening her to the leader of a pack. It was a curious analogy, but their encounter had hardly been conventional. If she hadn’t walked out when she did, heaven alone knew what would have happened next. She had a feeling it would have led to passion beyond her wildest imagination followed by a world of regret.
Hadn’t she been equally guilty of basing her opinion of Khan on sensational reporting and the antagonistic, thrilling clash from which she had just walked away? She pushed herself off from the door and made her way to the refrigerator. Snagging a bottle of water, she drained half its contents in a few quick gulps.
This violent attraction she felt toward Khan, this uncertainty and angst about her feelings, the burning restlessness that made her want to turn right back around and finish what they’d started...it was all new to her. New and frightening. She didn’t like feeling this way. Sarange’s life was neat and tidy. She liked it best when everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing and no one deviated from the script. This felt wild and unrehearsed. Khan had thrown her so far out of her routine she couldn’t see a way back. And the scary thing was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Her whole body was still trembling with a combination of excitement and outrage. Curiously, she felt as though the electricity coursing through her veins was there to stay. How could that be so? The answer was simple. It couldn’t. Put a little distance between her and Khan and she could forget him, get back to normal. It wasn’t as if he could have any sort of lasting effect on her life. Was it?
A knock on the door startled her into spilling water down the front of her dress. Instantly, she wondered if it was Khan, and her feelings went to war over the possibility. Excitement trilled through her at the thought of opening the door and seeing him again. At the same time, anger flooded through her. There could be only one reason why he would follow her. He must be confident she would fall into his arms again.
And won’t you? She hated this. Hated the way her body was pulling her in two different directions. Because she had no idea what she would do if she opened that door and Khan was standing on the other side of it. There was a strong possibility she would launch herself at him, but whether the outcome was a kiss or a punch remained to be seen.
With a hand that shook slightly, she turned the handle and opened the door. Her initial reaction told her everything she needed to know about her feelings. The man who stood there was most definitely not Khan. Shorter, slighter, with dark hair and sharp features, his smile oozing charm. It wasn’t his fault Sarange wanted to slam the door in his face because he wasn’t the person she longed to see. Her heart gave an uncomfortable downward lurch. She had a wretched feeling it was a signal. A warning that no one else would ever be good enough. From now on, the only person she would open a door to with a willing smile would be Khan.
This was straying into the realms of the absurd. This man, whoever he was, had begun to regard her with a slightly bemused expression. “Your manager said this would be okay. I’m Gurban Radin, owner of Real Planet Productions. We spoke on the phone last week.”
Forcing herself to concentrate, she dredged up a memory of the conversation. “Of course.” She held out her hand and he shook it enthusiastically. “Come in, Mr. Radin.”
“Just Radin, please.” He stepped into the dressing room. “I wanted to stop by and congratulate you on the success of tonight’s concert. After what I’ve just seen, I’m even more keen for us to work together on the project we discussed.”
Sarange nodded. “I’m looking forward to making the documentary with your company. Obviously, returning to my home country of Mongolia will be exciting for me. Even more important than that will be the focus on the plight of the blue wolves. They are one of the most endangered species on the planet.”
Radin paced the small room excitedly. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it...if you’ve had time to check yet?” He held up his cell phone. “But the response to your duet with Khan has been phenomenal. Social media is going wild. The electricity between the two of you was incredible.”
“We are performers. That’s what we do.” Sarange hoped her voice didn’t sound too cold, but at the same time, she wanted to dampen some of his enthusiasm. And maybe some of her own. She also had no idea what her performance with Khan had to do with the wildlife documentary she was supposed to be making.
“Exactly.” Radin’s eyes shone with zealous light. “We need to use that, and also capitalize on the public enthusiasm.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Sarange had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“By getting Khan to make the blue wolf documentary with you.”
* * *
Being a rock star meant living on his nerves. The life was high-energy, high-profile and high-stress. Khan was permanently in the public eye and on someone else’s agenda. He had known how it would be when Ged helped him escape from captivity. This was the life Ged had offered him, and he had embraced it with gratitude. Khan was good at it—the best—but it didn’t always suit his big-cat temperament. His inner tiger craved solitude and supremacy. Juggling the two sides of his persona wasn’t easy, and he had been looking forward to this time after Beast’s tour as a chance to unwind before they started work on their new album. It hadn’t happened.
It had been weeks since the Animals Alive concert, and the intervening time had taken the madness of his fame to a whole new level. The entire concert had fired the public imagination, but his duet with Sarange had been the highlight. The chemistry between them had been tangible to those watching. Rumors of a romance between the bad boy of rock and the world’s most glamorous singer had persisted ever since. They couldn’t look at each other that way and not be in love; that was the argument that pervaded every website, magazine and TV program.
Always the subject of paparazzi attention—the press was desperate to catch him out in bad behavior...and they often succeeded—Khan had been unable to move out of his New York apartment. Ged had advised him to lie low.
“Something else will come up in a day or two to attract their attention, and this will all be forgotten.”
It hadn’t happened. Kha-range—Khan wanted to put his foot through the TV screen the first time he heard that celebrity fusion name—had become a media obsession. Hotels and restaurants, keen to boost business, fanned the flames by hinting at sightings and bookings. Engagements, weddings, a secret baby, breakups...the whole range of stories had hit the headlines in the last few weeks.
And the job offers had rolled in. The moneymen, seeing the opportunities in a collaboration between Khan and Sarange, had come up with an eye-watering range of ideas. Films, TV specials, a record deal, interviews, photo shoots, advertising, even a book.
Khan had lost count of the number of times he had said no. Today was different. Today he would get to say the word to Sarange herself.
“No.” He tilted his chair back so he could rest his shoulders against the wall. At the same time, he placed his feet on the glossy glass surface of the meeting table. The gesture was calculated to annoy Sarange. From the way her light blue gaze grew even icier as it dropped to his scuffed biker boots, he guessed he’d succeeded.
“I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the concept.” Gurban Radin, the guy who was