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“You’re too much, Rafik. Let me introduce you to Lila. She’s a lot of fun.”
“I met her. She’s fine but not my type. Have you seen Anne around?”
“Rafik, I warned you…” Carolyn sighed. “No, I haven’t seen her since the church.”
Just as Anne was congratulating herself on her apparent invisibility, the pollen from the flowers that bordered the ferns she was hiding behind overcame her antihistamines and she sneezed.
Carolyn peeked around the plants. “There you are,” she said. She and Rafik circled around the ferns and stood looking down at her. “Come on and join the party. You’ve met Tarik’s cousin Rafik, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course, I mean, that is I…I….” she stammered. “Not formally.”
Rafik held out his hand and he pulled her to her feet. If it weren’t for him she might have fallen over. Her knees wobbled and she felt dizzy. She hoped they wouldn’t notice. Carolyn didn’t, but then her head was in the clouds. Rafik gave Anne a searching second glance.
“Happy to meet you, Anne,” he said, trapping her hand between both of his. She tugged, but he had no intention of letting her go. Maybe it was just as well. Without his support she might have toppled over.
“If you two will excuse me,” Carolyn said. “I must say hello to some people. Rafik, remember what I said,” she added pointedly.
Anne wanted to go with her. Surely there were people she had to say hello to, too. But she couldn’t move. So she stood there, her hand still being held tightly by the sheik who showed no sign of remembering anything Carolyn had said. Why? she asked herself. Why didn’t he go off and dance with Lila, why stay with her?
“You look like you could use something to drink,” he said, studying her with narrowed eyes.
She nodded. “I’m really thirsty.”
“Let’s get some champagne and a few of those delicious hors d’oeuvres.” He tucked her hand securely under his arm for the second time that day and they strolled over to a table laden with all kinds of delectable canapés. With his support, she felt stronger, more in control.
“Champagne?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were permitted to drink.”
“My brother and I were sent to boarding school in the U.S. as kids. Then we stayed in this country for university on the east coast since the family business is multinational. I’m afraid we’re pretty much Americanized by now. For better or worse.” Again that disarming grin. The one that charmed all those willing women who were no doubt in his life. “You notice Tarik is serving fruit juice, too, for those like my parents who observe the religious rules of our country.”
Anne felt much better after she’d eaten two stuffed mushrooms and drunk another glass of champagne. “I’m fine now,” she said to the sheik. “Thank you.” You can go now. Don’t feel obliged to take care of me.
“Sure you’re all right? Not going to cry anymore?”
“For the last time, I wasn’t crying.” Goodbye.
“Right. You notice I didn’t mention it to your friend Carolyn.”
“I appreciate that,” Anne said. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going to uh…I see some friends over there. Nice meeting you.” If that wasn’t a decided exit, she didn’t know what was, she thought as she walked slowly across the lawn, her high heels scraping the ground. She didn’t turn to see if she’d hurt his feelings. She was sure she wasn’t capable of any such thing. He was most likely on his way to find another woman, chat up another bridesmaid, hoping she’d be more receptive to his so-called charm.
Rafik stood watching the woman wobble across the lawn, Carolyn’s words ringing in his ears. A wonderful woman. Stay away from her. Too good for you.
She was right. Anne was just the type he was not interested in. Shy. Quiet. Emotional. Heaven save him from the weepy kind of women who cry at weddings. Oh, it was okay if you were the mother of the bride or groom. So what was wrong with him, hitting on a woman who was most definitely not his type? There was something about her, the way she tried to hold back the tears that brought out the protector in him. She made him feel admirable. The way she looked at him through damp lashes, cheeks flushed, her face framed in that gorgeous red-gold hair.
He reminded himself he was not interested in being admirable. He was not looking to protect someone. He was looking for a smooth, sexy, smart and sassy woman who could protect herself. Anne Sheridan was none of the above. Besides she was a friend of Carolyn’s, his new cousin-in-law whom he respected. Half-reluctantly, he turned and looked over the bevy of lovely women, enough women gathered here to please a whole family of sheiks. For some reason he couldn’t seem to focus on any one of them.
“Hey,” his brother threw an arm around his shoulders. “Having fun? Who was the lady in pink I saw you with?”
“Just one of the bridesmaids.”
“I know it was one of the bridesmaids,” Rahman said. “What’s her name?”
“Anne Sheridan. A friend of Carolyn’s. Why?”
“I don’t know. Don’t remember her from the rehearsal dinner. Thought I’d met every pretty woman there. I might introduce myself. Unless you…?”
“No, absolutely not,” Rafik said. “Wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. Not my type. Not yours either.”
“Okay. Just asking. What a party, huh?”
It was quite a party, and Rafik would have been a fool to miss a moment of it. He threw himself into enjoying the music, the dancing, and oh, yes, chatting up the women. So much so, he almost forgot about the auburn-haired bridesmaid in the pink dress. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s the way it always was with him. But in one small corner of his mind during the fun, he wondered what had happened to her. He hoped his brother had followed his advice and ignored her. Not that he really cared. Not that she was his responsibility. It was just that she seemed so fragile and so vulnerable. It was obvious somebody ought to be responsible for her. Just so it wasn’t him or anyone he knew.
Yes, he’d all but forgotten about her, until at the end of the afternoon, as dusk was falling over the manicured grounds, after the eating, drinking and dancing, he was called upon to make a toast. He stood on the dance platform in front of the musicians who were packing up and told some anecdotes about Tarik that made everyone laugh. Just as he lifted his glass of champagne to toast his cousin and his bride, he saw Anne at the edge of the crowd. She lifted her glass and caught his eye. She definitely looked like she’d had a few too many glasses of champagne. Funny. He wouldn’t have picked her for a lush.
Maybe he ought to bring her a piece of wedding cake and see how she was doing. But when he went looking for her, cake in hand, she was gone. It was just as well.
“Rafik.” Carolyn got up from the small table where she was sitting with a group of older people and caught his arm. “Do me a favor, will you? Anne isn’t feeling well. Could you give her a ride home?”
“Sure. Where is she?”
“At the front door. She wanted to call a taxi, but I’m a little worried. I want to be sure she gets home all right.”
“Okay,” he said.
He pulled his car up in front of the house and left the motor running while he bounded up the front steps. He found her standing in the doorway of the house, looking confused.
“Oh,” Anne said, startled to see Rafik at the door.
“Come on,” he said, putting his arm around her waist.
“I’m waiting for a taxi. Thanks anyway,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to disengage his arm.
“I’m the taxi,” he said. “I’m taking you home. Orders from Carolyn.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said. Of all people. She did not want to be indebted to this man, who thought he was God’s gift to womankind. Who’d already seen her at her worst. She’d managed to avoid him for the past few hours, and now here he was again.
“Really. I’m fine. I just need….” She just needed to lie down and close her eyes. Her head was pounding, the room was spinning, and Rafik’s face was going in and out of focus. When he picked her up as easily as if she weighed no more than a rag doll and carried her down the steps to his waiting car, her head bobbed against his shoulder. She pounded him on his back in an attempt to make him let her go, but it had no effect on him at all.
He very carefully installed her in the passenger seat, taking her small clutch bag from her hand and removing her shoes before he tucked her feet in. She sighed. Despite her protests, she had to admit it felt so good to be taken care of. So good to have those tight shoes off. Again she was surprised that a big, broad-shouldered, dashing man-about-town would have such a gentle touch. As he fastened her seat belt, his hand grazed the bodice of her silk dress and she gasped. Her eyes flew open and met his amused gaze.
“Just following the seat-belt law,” he said innocently. “Wouldn’t want to be stopped for any kind of violation.”
“Right,” she said.
Did he know, could he tell she was unaccustomed to being touched there? Unused to being touched at all by a man? That just a brush of his hand had left her shaky and breathless? Or was that, too, the effect of the champagne and the medicine? What did it matter? He’d been instructed to take her home and he was doing it. She ought to be grateful.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“In the Sunset,” she said. “Out by the….you know….” She hoped he knew because the names of the streets of San Francisco were going round and round in her brain. Such nice names. Which one was hers? “Octavia. Laguna. Chestnut. Larkin. Pine and Bush,” she murmured.
“What?” he said. “I’m new in town. You’ll have to give me better directions than that.”
“Take Geary,” she said. “No, no better take California.”
“I know California Street,” he said confidently. “No problem. You just relax till we get there.”
Relax? She was so relaxed she might never move again. “Nice car,” she said, though all she knew was that it smelled like leather and the seat was so comfortable she wanted to stay there forever.
“It’s new,” he said. “I didn’t need a car when we lived in New York, but I do here,” he said. “My life is about to change. Drastically.”
“No more playboy, hmm?”
“Where’d you hear that?” he asked sharply.
“Heard you talking.”
“I thought maybe you’d been talking to my father.”
She shook her head. Just to utter another word would require too much effort.
“He thinks it’s time I grew up. Took over the business and got married. I’m the elder son, you know.”
“I thought…twins,” she murmured.
“Yes, we’re twins, but I was born first. By thirty minutes. So Rahman’s allowed some slack while I’m the heir apparent. I’m the one who gets the corner office. I’m the one who gets the responsibility of running it. I’m the one who’s supposed to find a wife and settle down. Don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m trying to talk him out of that one.”
As if she could tell anyone anything. Her lips were numb, her eyes refused to open. He was still talking. She could hear the words but they made no sense. None at all.
When Rafik got to California Street he turned to ask Anne which way to turn, but her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly and steadily. She’d fallen asleep.
“Hey, wake up,” he said. “Which way on California?” He shook her gently by the shoulder. Nothing. “Anne. Where do you live? Come on, sweetheart, speak to me.” But she didn’t. She slid down even farther in the seat. Too much to drink, obviously. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’d been stuck with an inebriated date. Though he usually knew where they lived. He could go back to the wedding or call Carolyn, but the truth was, he was tired himself. It had been a week of nonstop pre-wedding parties along with setting up a new office and frankly he was beat. He, the man who loved a good time, who’d never met a party he didn’t like, was slowing down. What was the matter with him?
Another thing. He didn’t relish telling Carolyn her friend had passed out before he even got her home. It might put a damper on the remainder of the party for her. And it would make her best friend look bad. The only thing to do was take her back to his hotel with him. It was a comfortable suite with great room service and a giant king-sized bed. When she came to, he’d sober her up with coffee, find out where she lived and drive her home.
Unfortunately Anne was still out of it when they arrived at the hotel. How was he going to get her up to his room without causing a scene? He pulled up to the front entrance and tried once more to wake her up. “We’re here,” he said loudly. “Come on. Do me a favor and wake up.” She didn’t stir.
The doorman opened the passenger door and waited.
Rafik jumped out of the car and lifted Anne up in his arms.
“Fell asleep in the car,” Rafik explained to the blue-uniformed doorman. “She’ll be fine. Have the valet park it, will you?”
“Certainly, sir,” he said, as if comatose guests arrived every day and had to be carried into the hotel.
The lobby was crowded with well-dressed guests. There was a party going on in one of the ballrooms. Not all of the people turned to stare at the man in the tuxedo carrying a redheaded woman in a strapless pink silk dress to the elevator. But most of them did. The decibel level fell about twenty points as a kind of hush fell over the crowd. The hush was replaced with murmurs.
“Who is that?”
“One of those sheiks. He shut down the bar the other night. Isn’t he too much?”
“No, I mean her. Who’s she? I’ve never seen her before.”
“It couldn’t be…no, if I didn’t know better I’d think it was Emma’s teacher, Miss Sheridan.”
“Anne Sheridan, the first-grade teacher at Pinehurst?”
“It isn’t, of course, but the hair…such a gorgeous color. There aren’t many people…No, what am I thinking? It couldn’t be her. What would she be doing in the arms of a playboy going up to his hotel room or hers? She’s not the type. All of the teachers at Pinehurst are screened carefully. Models of decorum. At least in public. No, it can’t be her.”
Rafik, who’d done just about every outrageous thing in the last few years in New York, felt his ears turn red. Not the type. Not his type. He knew that. But he’d brought her here anyway. What was wrong with him? He knew what was wrong with him. He didn’t want to let her go. Didn’t want to leave her anywhere. Not until he knew she was all right. On the other hand, she was a big girl. She could take care of herself. But not tonight. Tonight he was taking care of her whether she wanted him to or not. It made no sense. It made no sense at all. But there it was.
At least he should have covered Anne with something. It was one thing, as part of a colorful and wealthy international family, to be talked about in hotel lobbies. It wasn’t the first time that had happened to him. But to expose Anne to gossip was not fair. He shouldn’t have brought her here. He should have driven back to the reception, found out where she lived and taken her home. But hindsight is always 20/20. It was a little late to change his game plan.
He stared straight ahead, his teeth clenched in his jaw, praying for an early arrival of the elevator. After an eternity it arrived and gratefully he entered, Anne’s face pressed against his chest. He awkwardly hit the button for the twentieth floor and heaved a sigh of relief. But he wasn’t home free.
The elevator wasn’t empty.
“Big night?” a man in a dark suit asked with a smirk.
Rafik managed a tight smile. There was no way to explain that wouldn’t exacerbate the situation.
“Oh, my,” said an elegant woman in a beige suit, eyeing Anne’s inert body with surprise. “Is she all right?”
“Fine. She’s just fine. Just tired.”
“Beautiful red hair. Say, aren’t you one of those sheiks?” she asked.
He’d removed his headdress this morning, but somehow the woman knew. Maybe because the family had taken over the entire twentieth floor.
“Yes,” he said. “I am.”
Damn. He could have lied. Could have said he was the hotel manager escorting a guest to her room or a doctor with a case of Lyme disease on his hands. How many more people was he going to run into before he got her to his floor, to his suite? He could only be glad he wasn’t going to meet any family members, presumably all still at the reception. He especially wanted to avoid his father who’d had a talk with him that very morning about his new image, about public relations and the family business. This kind of situation was exactly what his father was talking about. Only it wasn’t really. It just looked like it. Unfortunately his father was into appearances. In a big way.
He finally arrived in the cool, calm, quiet, high-ceilinged suite. He strode into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed on her back. Her face was pale. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his ear against her chest. She was breathing slowly and regularly. Thank God. Rafik knew from experience she just needed to sleep it off.
It would be just a matter of time before she came to. When she did, he’d offer her coffee and if that didn’t work, he’d mix her up a concoction that worked for him—tomato juice with Worcestershire and a touch of lemon and pepper. He’d spirit her out of the hotel, down the back stairs, if there were any, and take her home. And that would be that. Carolyn would never know. She’d be on her honeymoon. All she wanted was for him to take the woman home. Which he’d tried to do. Which he would do. Eventually.
He sat on the edge of the bed observing her, his forehead furrowed. The woman in the elevator was right. She had beautiful hair. A delicious strawberry color that curled in wisps around her face. A smattering of freckles across her nose. She looked so young and innocent. She couldn’t be that young. She was Carolyn’s age. So she couldn’t be innocent either, could she? He sighed. He knew many beautiful women with beautiful hair. Blondes, brunettes and redheads. He’d met several today at the wedding.
But he’d never met anyone quite like this woman here on his bed. Damned if he could say what it was about her that intrigued him the way she did. Maybe it was just that she wasn’t his type. Yes, that must be it. Opposites attract. Combine that with Carolyn’s warning and it had made her damned near irresistible. He loosened his tie and looked down at her. He had an uncontrollable desire to run his fingers over her bare shoulder and down her arm to her hand that was curled up. He knew what her skin would feel like. Satin smooth. Just the way it had when he touched her this afternoon after the wedding. He fought off a shaft of desire that threatened to overtake him.
He sighed loudly, wishing she’d wake up. Wishing he could get out of this monkey suit. He imagined Anne would be more comfortable without the fancy dress she’d been wearing all day, too. After a long moment of contemplation, he rolled her gently on her side and tugged clumsily at the zipper on the back of her dress.
Carefully he pulled the dress down over her hips and tossed it on a chair. Underneath the dress she was wearing lace bikini panties and a strapless bra. He sat there staring as if he’d never seen a woman in that state before. Truth was, he’d seen many female bodies in his time. Dressed and undressed. But there was something special about this one. Something that made his heart pound. Made him short of breath. It might have been the scattering of freckles across her chest, the swell of her breasts, or the curve of her hips. She was defenseless and therefore untouchable. And oh, yes, not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and definitely not his type, but very appealing, and very desirable.
This was a situation where other men might have taken advantage of her. But there was a code of conduct he adhered to which was based on a respect for women and an obligation to help those in his care.
An obligation to make them comfortable. To protect them. He tore off his shirt, the buttons flying and covered her with it. Then he very carefully put one of her arms in the sleeve, then awkwardly the other arm. He was breathing hard from exertion. Very slowly he reached under the shirt for the strapless bra she was wearing. From experience he knew how those bras worked. Unhook the front and slip it off. But should he? What if she woke up? If she did, he’d just explain. And if she did, well, wasn’t that what he wanted after all?
Under the shirt, unable to see what he was doing, he reached for the snap, but his fingers, usually so deft, felt like stubs. Finally he slid the bra off, pulled the blankets back and covered her up. She was now wearing his shirt and her panties. He’d done the best he could do.
