Taming The Sheik

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“I need my shoes and my purse,” she said.

“They must be in my car. I forgot completely. I’ll send someone to get them right away.” He picked up the phone and gave the order. Then he turned back to her. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable? It will only take a few minutes. In the meantime, take my jacket. You look…” he shot her a swift appraising look “…cold.” He went to a closet and removed a soft, cashmere suit jacket and put it around her shoulders. His fingertips grazed her bare shoulders. It all came back to her. The wedding, her tears, his touch. Her face grew hot. She thrust her arms stiffly into the sleeves of the jacket.

“I’ll stand,” she said. Though she didn’t know how long her legs would hold her up, she had her pride. He shrugged. There was a long silence. He leaned against his desk and his gaze locked with hers. Those eyes, those deep, dark eyes a woman could get lost in. A woman could forget why she was there, forget the questions she’d come to ask. Especially a woman with no experience in matters like this.

In a few minutes someone would appear with her shoes and her keys and she’d leave, never to see him again. If she didn’t ask now, she’d never know.

She took a deep breath and gathered her wits about her. “What really did happen in your hotel room?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. She could almost sense the indecision that hovered in his mind. Something flickered in his dark eyes. Then he spoke. “You and I had the most incredible night of our lives. At least I did. I can’t speak for you.”

Before her knees collapsed under her, Anne sank into the leather chair next to his desk, the one she’d spurned a few minutes ago, and buried her head in her hands. “I don’t believe it,” she said in a muffled tone.

“Why not? Am I that unattractive? Do I repulse you?” he asked.

She peeked at him between her fingers. No, he didn’t repulse her. In fact, he was the most attractive man she’d ever met. The thought of him making love to her raised the temperature of her whole body about ten degrees. Surely he knew how handsome he was. He was teasing her.

“Of course not,” she said. “If it was the most incredible night of my life, I wish I could remember it.”

“All I can say is we’ll have to do it again,” he said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “When you’re in better shape.”

“Wait a minute. You think I was drunk, don’t you? I wasn’t. I’d taken a strong antihistamine for my allergies and that combined with two glasses of champagne did me in. Not that it matters. I just didn’t want you to think I was the kind of person who drinks too much and passes out in some stranger’s bed.”

“You’re not?” he asked, a spark of laughter in his eyes. “That’s too bad.”

Anne opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out. She had no practice in bantering with sexy men. He was an expert in lighthearted repartee. She wasn’t. He wasn’t serious. But what if he was? What if she’d made love to a perfect stranger? She knew for sure they’d shared a bed. Anything could have happened. But did it? Would she ever get a straight answer from him?

Fortunately, Rafik’s phone rang and he began another conversation, as if she weren’t there at all, sparing her the effort of trying to pin him down and him the effort of continuing to evade her questions. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She squirmed and wiggled. It was a comfortable chair but she was far from comfortable. It was that awful dress. At one time she’d thought it beautiful. She’d helped Carolyn pick them out and agreed that they were not only becoming, but could be worn again, to the kind of party Anne never went to. But never mind about that.

The dress made her skin itch and squeezed her waist. But the jacket was wonderfully warm and smelled like him. Like leather and exotic soap. How did she know what he smelled like? That was a good question. But not the question. Had they been intimate?

When was the person coming with her purse and shoes so she could get out of there? Rafik didn’t want her there, and she didn’t want to be there. There was a knock on the door. Rafik hung up. She got to her feet. At last. But it was not her shoes and purse. It was his father.

“May I present my father, Sheik Massoud Harun.”

Anne murmured something polite.

“Who, may I ask, son, is this lovely lady? She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her. You must forgive an old man, my dear, but my memory is not what it used to be.”

“This is Anne…Anne Sheridan,” Rafik said. “You met her at the wedding yesterday, Father. She was one of the bridesmaids.”

“Ah, yes, of course. How nice to see you again.”

Anne murmured something polite. It was too bad Rafik didn’t have half the charm his father did. Maybe some day, years from now, he’d acquire it. But she wouldn’t be around to see it. If the old man thought her apparel strange or wondered why she was there, dressed as she was in a dress and his son’s jacket, he gave no indication at all. Or else he was past wondering at his son’s exploits.

“Well, I won’t interrupt you two young people any longer,” Rafik’s father said. “I imagine you have a lot to talk about. Don’t forget to invite her to our gala benefit this month, Rafik. Since we’re new in town, we want to expand our circle of acquaintances. Beautiful female acquaintances especially.”

Rafik stared at his father with surprise. Not a happy surprise. He recovered quickly. “Consider it done,” he said swiftly. “Ms. Sheridan is on our guest list. It will be delightful to see her again.”

His father left the room wearing a satisfied smile, his mission obviously accomplished.

“Don’t worry,” Anne said as soon as the door closed behind him. “I have no wish to go to any gala benefit. I’ve had enough fancy parties this month to last me a lifetime.”

“I understand completely,” Rafik said, feeling a giant surge of relief. “I’ll convey your regrets to my father.” Anne Sheridan would have been totally out of place at this party. Ostensibly a benefit for a charity, it was really a thinly veiled device for his father to find a bride for him. Not Rahman, just him. It wasn’t fair. Thirty minutes seniority and his father’s focus was on him. While Rahman played the field, played golf whenever he wanted to, and came to work whenever he felt like it, Rafik was expected to take over the investments of a huge family corporation.

He agreed it was time to get to work, he welcomed the chance to put his stamp on the family investments, but he didn’t agree it was time to get married. His plan was to reject all the women as unsuitable no matter what his father said or how impeccable their credentials. He didn’t know if it would work, but he’d give it a try because there was no way in hell he was going to get married. He’d tried that. He’d gone so far as to get engaged. It hadn’t worked. His father knew it, but he hadn’t given up. Not yet.

A few minutes later, the messenger knocked on the door, handed Anne her purse and shoes then closed the door behind him.

“My driver will take you home,” Rafik said. “He’ll be waiting at the front entrance.” He took her by the hand and leaned over to give her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. But she turned her face at the last moment and their lips met. Just a brush of her lips, and he felt as if he was falling down a slippery slope. He couldn’t stop himself. Operating on pure instinct, he put one hand on her shoulder, the other cradled the back of her head and he deepened the kiss. He felt her gasp of surprise, felt her try to back off, then sigh and give in. She didn’t kiss him back, but neither did she pull away. She could have. He wasn’t holding her that tightly. Frankly he was shocked at his reaction. An ordinary kiss had caused a surge of desire to course through his veins. What the hell was wrong with him?

When he came to his senses and dropped his hands he saw she had turned several shades of pink brighter than her dress. “How dare you,” she said.

“How dare I? After what we’ve been through together? That was nothing.” It was nothing. Just a kiss. But what a kiss. Didn’t she feel it, too?

“Nothing?” She spun on her bare heels and headed for the door. But before she left, she raised her arm and threw a handful of dollar bills across the room. “There. That’s the change from your hundred dollars. I’ll send you a check for what I owe you for the cab fare.”

“Come on, Anne, I don’t want your money.”

“And I don’t want yours. I never want to see you again.”

“Wait a minute.” He couldn’t let her leave like this, thinking he’d seduced her. It was a matter of pride. “Nothing happened last night. I mean it. I was teasing you.”

“Nothing?” she said again.

Solemnly, he shook his head.

She gave him a long look, then she shook her head, walked out the door and slammed it behind her. Rafik collapsed into the same chair she’d been sitting in. Which was where his brother found him ten minutes later.

Rahman sat on the edge of Rafik’s desk and observed his brother with a mixture of humor and complacence. “So you got caught, did you?”

“I don’t know,” Rafik said. “Did I?”

“Father thinks so. Of course I told him nothing of what I knew.”

“That’s because you know nothing.”

“So you say,” Rahman said. “I know she was with you last night and I know she was here today. The woman in pink. Still wearing the same dress as yesterday. How can you deny something happened between you?”

Rafik sighed loudly. “Why should I bother? No one believes me. In any case, she’s history.”

“That’s not what I heard. Father says she’s coming to the party,” Rahman said.

“He invited her but she won’t come. Not her kind of thing. She’s really not the party animal you think.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think?” Rahman asked.

“I don’t think. I just did what I had to do. Can we forget the woman for a moment? I told you she’s history. She doesn’t want to see me again and I don’t want to see her.”

“A one-night stand.”

“Yes. Whatever.” Rafik didn’t want to see Anne, think about her, talk about her or examine his unexpected reaction to that strange kiss. “I have bigger problems. The biggest being this damned scheme of Father’s to find me a bride. What am I going to do? How am I going to put him off?”

“What you need is a decoy. How do they call it? A beard.”

“What’s that?” Rafik asked. Sometimes his brother was amazing. Often when he’d discounted him as a hopeless hedonist, he’d come up with a brilliant idea. He hoped this was one of those times.

“You find a woman who will pretend to be your girlfriend, fiancée, whatever it takes to pacify Father, then he’ll stop looking,” Rahman said.

“But I don’t know anyone like that. I’m new in town as are you. We don’t know any women we can ask such a favor of.”

“We don’t?” Rahman asked. “Are you sure?”

“Sure. Absolutely sure.”

“What about that woman you spent the night with last night. What’s wrong with her?”

“Wrong with her? Everything. No, absolutely not. Didn’t you hear me tell you she didn’t ever want to see me again?”

“When has that ever stopped you from pursuing a woman? Usually you like a challenge.”

“Anne Sheridan is more than a challenge. She’s a stone wall.” But kissing her was not like kissing a stone wall. It was more like kissing flower petals. The memory caused a wave of sensual awareness to rocket through his body.

“We’ll buy her off. Even a stone wall has a price. We’ll offer her money to play the part. She can’t refuse,” Rahman suggested.

“Hah. You see this money all over the floor? She threw it there. Does that sound like a woman who can be bought? No, your plan won’t work. Besides…”