Читать книгу Under the Sheik's Protection - C.J. Miller - Страница 9

Chapter 1

Saafir hated secret meetings. They reeked of corruption and backroom deals that had no place in Qamsar’s government. At least, not anymore. Saafir’s brother, the former emir, had abdicated the throne when it was revealed that his fiancée was allied with a terrorist network. As the second oldest male of his father’s recognized lineage, Saafir was next in line for the throne. He’d been thrown into the position of emir, and he had made it his policy to be open and honest. Anything less and he would break the already shaky faith of his countrymen and be ousted.

“These are the files you requested, your excellency,” Frederick said, handing Saafir a folder thick with its contents. “There are a number of them to go through.”

Saafir opened the folder. His advisor and friend’s assessment was an understatement. Dozens of profiles to review, and he had to pick the right one.

Saafir’s position was precarious, holding together the three political factions of the Assembly with the Conservatives, the Progressives and the Loyalists. The Conservatives, with Rabah Wasam leading them, believed Saafir and his entire family should be cast out of the ruling seat they had held for over two hundred years for taking a reformist stance on culture and the economy. Saafir’s personal history with Wasam didn’t help matters.

The Progressives were distrustful of Saafir, viewing him as no better than his brother, who’d tried to keep social change from taking hold in Qamsar. Only members of the Loyalists party stood steadfast at his side, although Saafir had heard murmurs of dissension. Threats of violent revolution were a weekly occurrence. Saafir didn’t want civil war, and he was working against extreme rhetoric, polarizing positions and unrealistic demands.

Saafir had never wanted to be the emir. He had been raised to believe that position would belong to Mikhail. Saafir had made decisions about his life based on not being in the spotlight. But the laws of Qamsar were clear. Saafir had inherited the throne, the title and the responsibilities.

He sat in his private library inside his compound in Qamsar with two of the country’s most powerful men, both members of the Loyalist party, discussing a bizarre and uncomfortable topic: his wife. Or lack thereof. His lack of wife presented a political opportunity. Once a trade agreement with America was in place, a marriage to one of the daughters of a leader of the Conservative party would seal the trust between them and the royal family. With the Loyalists and Conservatives united, and if Saafir could forge a successful trade agreement with America to please the Progressives, they’d move the small desert Middle Eastern country in a forward direction and give the economy and the culture a chance for growth.

The candidate list was long, and the profiles were detailed. Frederick laid out each one, a photograph and a written profile, like resumes from job applicants. Each was pretty and from a prominent Qamsarian family. Saafir hated to choose a wife this way. A picture and resume spoke nothing of who each woman was, only of what they had done and their credentials, as if being his wife were a job. In some ways, he supposed it was. He hoped whoever was chosen was happy with the match. Being the emir’s wife came with benefits—wealth, power and prestige—but in the current environment, many drawbacks. The uncertainty swirling around the royal family, a husband who was busy and traveled often and little privacy weren’t part of the hopes and dreams of many women.

Saafir didn’t know a single one of them, and he knew none of them would have his heart. Frederick pressed on, oblivious to Saafir’s discomfort and unhappiness.

“We’ve arranged the women in order of preference. Some women provide benefits over the others,” Frederick said.

Benefits. Not love. Never love. As long as he could form an amicable, mutually beneficial relationship with a woman and they could tolerate each other long enough to have children, it didn’t matter to Saafir who was selected. The best woman for the position was the one who provided something his flailing country needed.

“You don’t have to do this, Saafir,” the third man said. “You should not do this.”

The third man did not sit at the table with Saafir and Frederick. He stood in the shadows near the doorway, leaning against the wall with a lazy sense of ease. Saafir knew nothing was further from the truth. Saafir had known Adham since their time together in the military, and his head of security was anything but lazy and never at ease. He could explode into action at a moment’s notice. He’d already thwarted four assassination attempts on Saafir’s life since Saafir had become the emir.

“I have to do this,” Saafir said. “Qamsar needs me to do this.”

Frederick nodded his agreement. “The people want to see a married emir with a growing brood of children. It will give them a sense of security and clarify the line of succession.”

“Only a fool marries for anything other than love,” Adham said. “You will resent any woman you choose for not loving you. She will resent you for using her as a political tool. You will only find sorrow in this.”

“I will remind you that you are speaking to the emir,” Frederick said to Adham, glaring at the larger man, trying to silence him. Saafir gave Frederick points for courage. Few had the mettle to openly disagree with Adham.

“I am glad Adham speaks his mind, but in this case, it doesn’t change the facts. Love is a luxury an emir cannot afford,” Saafir said.

“Did your father love your mother?” Adham asked.

The words were daggers to Saafir’s chest. His parents’ arranged marriage had resulted in a love match that had lasted until his father’s death. His mother and father had been lucky to be given to each other.

Saafir’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. Something had been hurled through the large window on the far side of the room. Saafir dropped to the ground, pulling Frederick with him.

Adham raced to Saafir’s side. He and Saafir turned the table on its side to create a barrier against whatever may follow. In the process, Frederick’s organized files scattered like party confetti. Adham covered Saafir with his body.

Saafir craned his neck to look at the object that had come through his study window.

It was a brick, not a bomb. “Move, Adham,” Saafir said, pushing his friend aside.

Adham was speaking commands into his comm device as he moved to investigate the brick that had come through the window, peeling a piece of paper from around it. “Nibal, take the south side. See if you can catch the perpetrator. Jafar, check the security footage.”

Saafir raced to the window, taking cover to the side, and peered out. A black hooded figure was racing across the grounds. Adham reached for his gun and Saafir touched Adham’s arm, stopping him. “We will not respond with lethal force.” Escalating the situation by killing the perpetrator, likely a member of the Conservative party, netted them nothing but higher tensions and added more fuel to the fire.

“We have to strike back and show strength,” Adham said.

“I have no interest in starting a war,” Saafir said.

“Then let me start it,” Adham said.

Adham’s response time was fast, but he needed to let cooler heads prevail. Striving for peace wasn’t a weakness. “Let me see the note,” Saafir said.

Adham handed it to him. What was it this time?

The attached paper read, “True sons of Qamsar will take the throne back from the unworthy one!”

Another threat. It was worrying that they had penetrated the royal compound grounds, getting close enough to fling something into the second-story window. A threat this time, but next time it could be a bomb.

Saafir let his head of security’s drone drift off along with Frederick’s curses. A woman’s picture from the folder, one he vaguely recognized, was lodged under his foot. Her profile had remained attached.

He bent to pick it up. “This one,” he said. His words silenced both Adham and Frederick. “She will be my wife.”

“Alaina Faris?” Frederick asked. “She is a difficult woman. She has had many disparaging things to say about you and your family.”

Saafir didn’t like hearing that, but what did it matter? It seemed everyone had an agenda and a criticism. Saafir turned the photo over and scanned the paper. “Her father is Mohammad Faris, prominent member of the Conservative party. By marrying Alaina, I can bring the Conservatives to our cause. That is what we’ve decided is the best course of action.”

Adham looked as if he wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Do you want to meet her?” Frederick asked.

It was the next logical step, even if Saafir had no desire to forward this along. “Please invite her family to the royal country home for dinner on the Saturday following my return from the summit. I will make myself available from seven until nine in the evening. If both parties are amenable, I will speak with her father about the appropriate arrangements for our courtship.” The word courtship stuck in his throat. He wasn’t skittish about a commitment, but choosing a woman in this way left him cold.

Frederick nodded, bowed and left the study. As soon as his advisor left, Adham clapped him on the back. “She will never love you, Saafir.”

Saafir nodded. He knew it. “She does not have to love me. She only needs to love Qamsar.”

One problem down, an infinite number remaining. He needed to stay one step ahead of those who wanted him dead and to prepare for the trade summit that would restore his nation to economic prosperity. And yet his mind wouldn’t let go of his impending engagement. His father had ruled Qamsar and found love. Why couldn’t he?

* * *

Sarah Parker pulled open the door to the liquor store. She needed a bottle of wine to take the edge off. She blew by the aisles filled with the cheap stuff and the aisles of expensive stuff that tasted cheap. Her job had trained her to tell the difference at a glance, and she kept going until she made it to the aisles that had something worth the calories.

The really expensive stuff.

It was more than she could afford to spend on a bottle of wine, but today, she needed it. Today, she had received her finalized divorce papers from her lawyer. While she hadn’t been living with Alec for more than two years and their relationship had been on the rocks for the three years before that, the final nail in the coffin of their marriage had struck her hard.

It was over. She was no longer a missus.

If only Alec had stayed clean, they could have worked it out. If only one of his first three stints in rehab had worked, they might still be married. If only, if only, if only. Maybe his current stay would help him. This time, Sarah wasn’t holding herself responsible for his sobriety except for agreeing to foot the bill from the clinic. Just this one last time, she would pay for Alec’s rehab and hope it worked. It was money she didn’t have to spare, but she would find a way to pay. She had to do everything possible to help him and then she could move on and live her life without the nagging guilt that she hadn’t tried hard enough.

After paying for her wine, she walked the remaining ten blocks to her apartment in high heels. She’d had back-to-back meetings since 8:00 a.m. Organizing details with the florist, the caterer, the hotel manager, the media and the security team were her responsibility. Thanks to the kindness and amazing connections of her former brother-in-law, Owen, her fledgling business had secured a huge contract. The new emir of Qamsar, Sheik Saafir bin Jassim Al Sharani, would be arriving in America on Monday morning to begin work on a trade agreement with the United States. For months, Sarah had been preparing, conferring with the sheik’s advisors, keeping lists and agendas, and ensuring she was prepared to play hostess to the leader of Qamsar.

She had her orders: keep him comfortable, wine and dine him and roll out the red carpet wherever he went.

The United States wanted the petroleum readily available in Qamsar and Qamsar wanted favorable trade arrangements with the United States. It should be a straightforward exchange; however, nothing involving money was ever simple. Politics, culture, economics and ego played a role in every decision made in Washington, D.C.

Sarah entered her apartment and put the bottle of wine on her recently installed granite countertops. After she and Alec had separated, she had moved out of the apartment she’d shared with him and downsized into this one, a small space in a converted stone townhouse that was now three units. It had made her happy to look at the gleaming cabinets and countertops for a few days. Then it had made her feel pathetic. In the last five years, she hadn’t invited her friends over and cooked them dinner—not once. They always met at a bar or restaurant. Sarah planned events for other people, sometimes pro bono, but she didn’t make time to plan any for herself. Not even for her birthday.

All that would change. Sarah had to think about her new life, now that her marriage to Alec had ended. She made a mental note to invite someone over for dinner in the next month.

She peeled off her suit and tugged on a T-shirt and stretchy yoga pants. She wasn’t planning to exercise, but she would be comfortable while she drank her overpriced wine and stared at the television screen.

Two reruns of her favorite comedy later and deep in a funk, Sarah received a text message from her good friend Molly.

Krista & I at Palazzo lounge. Stop sulking. Come play. Happy Birthday!

Sarah smiled. Her two closest friends had remembered her birthday. She texted them that she’d be there in twenty minutes, and changed into a knee-length blue dress with cap sleeves and a pair of black heels. The weather had turned warm enough that she wouldn’t need a sweater. A night out with friends and some good food would turn her mood around. Besides, everyone deserved a slice of cake on their birthday.

Twenty-five minutes later, Sarah was sliding into a booth beside Molly.

Her friend gave her a hug. “Happy birthday!”

Krista pushed a drink they had ordered her closer. “Relax. Have a drink. You seem tense.”

Sarah didn’t want to rain on her friends’ cheerful moods by dumping on them about Alec, so she sipped her drink and listened. As the conversation turned from work to men to apartments, Sarah followed the flow. This was what she needed. A break from her work, even if it was only for a few hours.

“Why are you in a mood? It can’t be that you’re a year older,” Molly said.

Sarah’s advancing age didn’t bother her. Should she tell her friends about the divorce? They’d held her hand through the ups and downs of her marriage. They knew the official end of her marriage was coming. “I got the finalized divorce papers today from my lawyer.” Several long moments followed.

“At least you’re free now,” Krista said and winced. “Sorry, I don’t know what to say to that. ‘Congratulations’ seems out of place.”

Sarah didn’t blame her friends for not having the words to salve the hurt. She didn’t think words existed to take the edge off the pain. That’s why she had had wine tonight. “There’s not really much to say about it. I was married. Now I’m not.” She touched her bare ring finger where she’d once worn a plain gold band. Her friends had been at her wedding and now they were beside her after her divorce. With her mother dead and her father estranged, Sarah had found family in her friends.

Molly rubbed Sarah’s hand. “He has problems. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Sarah held up her hands and shook her head. “Let’s not go over this again. It’ll bring down the entire night. Alec is sick. I can’t help him. You guys have listened to me talk about it for five years. Let’s talk about something else.” She’d spent too many sleepless nights mourning her relationship with Alec and far too many hours complaining to her friends about it.

“You need to get laid,” Molly said. “You need to throw yourself into a one-night stand, have a great time and use that as the jumping-off point for your new life. Forget the past and give yourself a birthday present. One eligible bachelor, even for just a few hours.”

Sarah shuddered. She had been with Alec since she was nineteen. She didn’t know how to date anymore. She didn’t have one-night stands. “I wouldn’t know how to approach a man in a bar. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“You work with men every day, all day,” Krista said. “You approach people all the time and invite them to fund-raising events. You can do this.”

When she invited affluent families to a charity dinner or dealt with a contractor for an event, nothing personal was involved. “I work with strangers, not sleep with. Very different,” Sarah said.

“Look around the room. Find a guy without a woman and without a wedding ring and go talk to him,” Molly said.

“What should I say?” Sarah asked, squirming at the idea. She could talk about her work or dealing with a drug addict’s many issues, the two topics she knew the most about. Who wanted to hear about those things?

“Ask him what his favorite TV show is,” Krista said.

“Lame,” Molly said. “But you’re cute enough that it doesn’t matter.”

Could she approach a man? Sarah smoothed her dress and finger-combed her hair. She could do this. Or at least try. A little liquid courage and the idea of growing a year older alone spurred her to action. Her first step was to talk to a man. She could always flee the conversation if it was too awkward. It was a bar. Bars were filled with awkward conversations. “I’ll start by trying to talk to someone.”

Krista squealed and clapped her hands.

Looking around the room, Sarah tried to pick someone. As her eyes landed on the men around the room, she dismissed them one by one. Too young. Too old. Not alone. Drunk. Sarah sighed. This wasn’t easy. She was about to tell her friends to forget it when her gaze dropped on a dark-haired man sitting at the corner of the bar. He had a drink—it looked like coffee, perhaps of the Irish variety, on his right. His back was to the wall. He was talking to two men standing to his side. His posture was relaxed and he was immaculately groomed. His pressed suit was a far cry from how Alec dressed during their marriage. She couldn’t make out the details of the man’s face in the darkened room, but he was handsome and seemed familiar somehow.

A woman in a short red dress strutted in his direction and blocked her view of Mr. Gorgeous. Sarah’s heart fell. Another woman had beaten her to the punch. No way would he turn away the thin blonde with the curves. Though she had only just spotted him, disappointment streamed through her. Sarah would have to pick someone else. Looking around the room, Sarah was about to call off her plan when the woman in the red dress stalked away from the man Sarah had zeroed in on a few moments before. Red Miniskirt looked disappointed and a touch annoyed. Had she been rejected?

After witnessing that, Sarah knew she couldn’t approach him. If he’d said no to Red Miniskirt, he’d shoot her down and she didn’t need that tonight. As if sensing her watching him, he met her gaze. She turned away before he realized she had been staring.

After looking around the room twice more, she returned to Mr. Gorgeous. Not only was he exceptionally handsome, but something about him was compelling and mysterious, too. If she was going to make a fool of herself, she may as well do it for someone sexy. He wasn’t looking her way and she took the opportunity to stare at him a little longer. She made up her mind. If he rejected her, at least she would have been turned down by someone like him.

“I’m going to talk to him,” she said pointing.

Her friends followed her extended finger.

“Oh, yes. Good pick. Delicious,” Molly said, nodding her approval.

Krista gestured for Sarah to go. “You can do this.”

Taking another sip of her wine, Sarah strode across the room to him and tried to mimic his relaxed posture pressing her shoulders down, tilting her chin up and adding a swagger to her walk.

Three feet away, his gaze met hers. His eyes never left her face and something came into them, something dark, deep and sensual. The look was so heated, she stopped, stumbled and grabbed on to a nearby stool to steady herself.

Thanks to her clumsiness, he would think she was drunk. Wonderful. She righted herself and straightened, hoped her cheeks weren’t too red with embarrassment and continued forward, undeterred. He was watching her, his friends were eying her and she felt her friends’ stares at her back. She couldn’t turn away now. His buddies turned toward her, staying close to Mr. Gorgeous.

Sarah’s gut told her she was missing a key piece of information. Something about him, about his midnight eyes, his patrician nose and his perfectly shaped mouth was familiar. An actor? Musician? Politician? Someone she should have recognized?

It felt like minutes had passed while she stood gawking, though it had likely been milliseconds.

She couldn’t be too aggressive, yet caginess would come across as unwelcoming and she was the one approaching him. Sarah stopped in front of the three men and gave them a small smile.

“Hello. I’m Sarah.”

Would he introduce himself? Mr. Gorgeous stood and extended his hand. “I’m Barr. It’s nice to meet you.”

He was handsome. Too handsome. Dark hair and polished good looks. Strong and confident. Oh, she was not prepared for this. First impressions were everything. Would she blow it her first time hitting on a man post-divorce? Making a fool of herself was always a possibility, but this colossal screw-up could send her back into social seclusion for another few months.

But he was speaking to her. This gorgeous man was speaking to her. Sarah focused. What had he said? Why were his friends staring at her? She realized she was shaking his hand, clinging to it entirely too long. His clasp was firm, his skin cool and soft, and she pictured his hands running over her. It would feel amazing to have him touch her.

She shivered and pulled her hand away before she let her imagination run further. “I’m sorry, with the noise of the bar I couldn’t hear you.” She waited for him to repeat himself.

“Sarah, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I buy you a drink?”

He had a beautiful accent. Sarah had already had enough to drink, but she felt silly asking for an iced tea. “A glass of red wine would be great.”

He motioned to the bartender who practically raced to serve him. The man had presence. He requested a specific year and vintage, one that she recognized as expensive, though not from personal experience, only through catering lavish affairs. Barr wouldn’t do that if he had no interest in her, right?

Her confidence ticked up a notch.

He held out his hand. “Please join me.” The cadence in his voice weakened her knees and his words cut through her anxiety.

He was sweet and that surprised her. Men who were too attractive for their own good didn’t need to be kind to seduce a woman. But she was getting ahead of herself. Buying her an expensive glass of wine didn’t mean he wanted to sleep with her. Her worries about pursuing a man and remembering what to do and say melted away with every word he spoke. Something clicked into place and she felt a thrill she’d been missing for years. A simple conversation had awakened a long-slumbering part of her libido.

“My birthday is today,” she said, feeling like she needed to explain why she was in a bar. What if he thought she routinely came here trolling for men? She re-questioned her approach and wished she had thought this through. What else could she talk about now that she had his attention? If she didn’t keep the conversation going, he would walk away. Red Miniskirt had been a good example of the other options available to him. On the heels of those thoughts, she wondered why it was so important to her to keep his attention. The bar was filled with other men yet it was this man who’d captivated her.

“Happy birthday, Sarah,” Barr said. He smiled, his teeth flawlessly white and his lips full.

“I’m not here alone.”

“I noticed you were with your friends,” he said.

Had he been assessing her the way she’d been assessing him? “They told me to talk to you,” she said.

“Why’s that?” he asked, not unkindly.

She wouldn’t slam the truth down on him. Her drug-abuser ex and her divorce were among the least sexy topics of conversation she could think of. “It’s my birthday and I wanted to meet someone new.”

Barr smiled. “Would you like to invite your friends over? I’ve been traveling all day and haven’t eaten yet. The restaurant is preparing a private table for us to enjoy a late meal.”

Sarah looked at him and then his friends. They were quiet. Why hadn’t they said anything? They were looking around the bar, but if they wanted to give their friend pseudo-privacy to speak with her, why not take a few steps away?

She made the decision that she would invite her friends. It wasn’t safe to leave the bar—even to move to a table—without letting her friends know her plans. “I’ll ask them. Please give me a few minutes.”

“Of course.”

Sarah hurried back to her friends, her neck and back hot imagining him watching her leave.

“That man at the far end of the bar invited us to eat with him. His name is Barr and he has an accent.” She half expected he would disappear in the time she’d taken to return to her friends.

Molly looked over at him and smiled. “Nice. You need us to be wingwomen to the friends?”

Sarah hadn’t thought about that. “The friends are strangely silent.”

“They’re probably trying to stay out of the way if you two are making nice,” Krista said.

Perhaps. Sarah still felt she was missing something about the three men. “Does he look familiar?”

Both Molly and Krista craned their necks to look at Barr at the same time.

Sarah blushed. “Not so obvious, please.”

“He knows we’re talking about him,” Molly said and rolled her eyes. “The one right next to him is cute. Did you get a name?”

“Nope. I forgot to ask,” Sarah said. It wasn’t like her to forget basic social graces, but once she had started talking to Barr, she had fixated on him and the rest of the world had seemed to disappear. Was that what having a crush was like? It had been so long, she couldn’t recall.

“We’ll join you, enjoy and provide backup if anything gets weird. We’re your excuse if you need to leave,” Krista said.

Even if Barr was perfectly charming, Sarah didn’t know how ready she was to spend the evening with a man she found attractive in a situation that had the potential of leading somewhere, like a bedroom. Putting on an air of confidence at work was easy. Talking to him had been more pleasurable that she’d imagined. Was she ready to take it to another level?

Sarah drummed up some extra courage. Sharing a drink and a meal with a man was a good first step. A simple step. But if it was so simple, why did she feel light-headed?

* * *

Sarah felt daring as she and Barr walked across the street and entered the golden doors of the most expensive hotel in D.C. She hadn’t wanted to return home when the restaurant closed. She’d accepted Barr’s invitation to his hotel because she’d wanted the night to last as long as it could.

His gaze lingered on her like a promise of more to come. More that she wanted and more that she craved.

His friends followed behind them and Sarah knew Molly would be disappointed. She and Adham had seemed to have some chemistry, but he’d cut the evening short when Barr had mentioned they were leaving.

Excitement shot down Sarah’s spine as the elevator doors closed. Her knees went weak when Barr hit the button for the penthouse suite. Barr was traveling in style. He didn’t just have a hotel room. He had the top-level hotel floor complete with a view of the White House. Everything about the night since she’d met him felt surreal and magical. Even if it was only a fleeting fantasy, she would enjoy it.

One night with Barr wouldn’t turn into a lifelong romance and she didn’t expect it to. He’d mentioned he was from the Middle East traveling on business with his associates, and while he didn’t elaborate, Sarah figured the specifics didn’t matter. She was entering into a brief fling with no future, but she needed to lose herself in a man’s arms. Tonight, she needed to feel wanted and cherished and decided to play along with the fantasy.

Tomorrow, she returned to her life as it was and to the responsibilities and problems and loneliness that awaited her.

Barr ushered her inside and closed the door behind him. His associates didn’t follow him inside and she was grateful for the privacy.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked.

No small talk. She might lose her nerve if this didn’t happen quickly. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and hot and hard.

It took him a millisecond to respond. Barr was masterful with his mouth. His lips were firm and soft and hot. Very hot. His hands slid from her shoulders, down her back and to her hips. He held her tight enough for her to feel desired and loose enough to move and sway.

The sense of rightness and the depth of the connection shook her. Her heart tripped and her pulse sped up to keep pace. She found herself confronting a fantasy. Mysterious foreigner, luxury hotel suite and one romantic evening she would dream about for years.

She tugged at his tie, struggling to remove it and tossed it to the floor. Then his jacket. With his arms more free, he banded them around her. Clutching his biceps, she felt the muscles flex and she held back a giggle of delight.

This was what she needed. Two strangers, no complicated history and no judgment.

She unfastened the buttons of his shirts, shoving the satiny white fabric off his shoulders. He flicked the shirt away.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said.

Barr spun her, lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck. She let her head fall to the side, giving him complete access to the sensitive skin at her nape. Everything he was doing ignited her senses and made her hotter. He smelled of soap and spice and the caress of his hands was hungry for more. She wanted to be the woman to satisfy that hunger. He slid her zipper down her back, brushed the sleeves across her shoulders and the blue dress fell to the floor. The sharp intake of his breath let her know he liked what he saw.

Sarah didn’t have Krista’s model good looks or Molly’s boundless confidence, but her confidence shot higher knowing this man—this sexy, handsome man—wanted what she had to offer.

He muttered something in a language she didn’t understand. She whirled to face him and for the first time in years, she felt powerful. Her femininity had been buried under work and problems and stress. In the hands of this amazing man, it came roaring to life.

“You must hear this from men all the time, but I must tell you that you are beautiful.” He said another word in his native tongue.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Goddess. You have the body and face of a goddess.”

That was a word she had never heard spoken about her. She reveled in it and swallowed every iota of flattery he was feeding her. If she was having a fantasy night with this man, she would enjoy every over-the-top moment of it. Sarah didn’t want to be the doubting, questioning person she had become during her marriage and worry about the future.

She unbuckled his pants and in a flurry of motions, his trousers fell to the ground. He lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bedroom.

The sleigh bed was covered in a maroon-and-gold comforter. Holding her with one hand, he flicked it away to reveal crisp beige sheets. He set her down gently and slid over her on the bed. One fluid motion. The man had practiced moves. He knew what he was doing in the bedroom.

The lean strength of his body indicated he must work out. Probably had a personal trainer or a gym in his house. She was no fan of exercise, but to keep up with him, she could be talked into it. She ran her hand down his chest where a long scar reached from his shoulder to his abdomen. A tight, muscled abdomen.

“What happened here?” she asked, tracing the line with her finger.

“Military training injury from my youth,” he said.

A military man? He had the body for it. Her curiosity about him heightened. He had a tattoo on his biceps.

“What is this?” she asked, tracing the small dragon.

“Another remnant of my time in the military,” he said. Sarah wondered about it and sensed it had deep, personal meaning to him.

He set his hands on her sides and inhaled, letting out his breath slowly. “Is this moving too fast?”

She shook her head. Fast was good. She was afraid reality would catch up to her and she would realize some great flaw in her plan to sleep with this man. They would be safe about it and she would preserve her heart. She wasn’t a virgin. She knew the mechanics of sex and how easy it was for a woman to fall for a man once she’d slept with him. But that wasn’t what this was about.

Barr hadn’t lied to her about what he could offer or made promises about the future. He was traveling from some place halfway around the world. This was about tonight and making each other feel amazing. As turned on as she already was, she knew this would be incredible.

He slid her panties down her legs and tossed them over his shoulder. He reached under her and with a snap of his fingers, undid her bra. It came free and he rid her of that, too.

He pulled a foil packet from the bedside table, opened it and rolled it on. “To make sure you are safe,” he said.

Despite the preparation, he didn’t rush to push inside her. His mouth explored her body and his hands worshipped every inch of her.

It was her that wanted more, faster. “Please, Barr, please hurry.”

He laughed low in his throat. “I want to take my time with you. Every moment is already too fleeting and precious.”

His mouth dropped to hers in a long, lingering kiss. His lips trailed south along her body to her breasts. He took them in his hands, using great care with her, sucking each pert tip into his mouth. As he slowly explored her, she strained against him.

She lifted her hips in invitation and then clasped both sides of his face. She wanted to feel him moving inside her. Making her wait was driving her wild with lust. “Please.”

Surrender in his eyes. He wanted this to be good for her, but he couldn’t say no to her plea. He tilted her chin to look at him. Their eyes locked and then he came into her. She was on the brink of release and went off the moment he was inside her. Mind-blowing, soul-shaking tremors rocked through her.

He stilled as her climax eased. She was embarrassed by her quick finale, but Barr didn’t give her a chance to apologize or explain. He kissed her and then began moving again, long, slow glides of his body inside hers.

She accepted him as part of her, meeting his thrusts and undulating her hips. More. Longer.

Only when she came apart again in his arms did he crash with her in a tangle of limbs, panting breaths and racing hearts. The room was utterly still and quiet. The crisp sheets were now tangled and damp, the pillows in disarray. The single bedside light in the room cast a glow across Barr’s face, illuminating again how handsome he was.

She had a hard time believing this had happened. It was so unlike her to meet someone and have an instant connection with him, but it had been so great, she didn’t have room for worries. Sarah accepted the night and Barr for the gifts they were. After the last several years, she figured the universe owed her some good luck.

Barr didn’t speak, though his breathing was deep and still and his eyes were closed.

What now? Did she get up and leave? Thank him? Wish him well?

He was still inside her and she was thinking of an exit strategy. Not because she was eager to leave. Sex with Barr was the best she’d had in recent history. Well, he was the only man she’d slept with in recent history. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome or worse, mar the night by him asking her to leave. Sarah wanted to walk out of this room on her terms, her head held high. She shifted, extracting his body from hers.

“What are you thinking?” Barr asked, running a hand down her hair.

“Nothing much. Just going over my agenda for tomorrow.” A lie. She was watching him and he had every ounce of her attention.

He laughed and opened one eye. “That stings a bit. I hoped you were basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.”

What man called it lovemaking? This was most assuredly a fantasy. Was she asleep? “I’m not sure what I need to do now.” She wished she had said something smoother and practiced, some witty response to his comment or to allude she was more worldly and confident than she was.

“You don’t need to do anything except tell me what you’d like to eat or drink or if I can get you anything. And then you lie here with me and let me take care of you and hold you.”

He’d confirmed it. This was make-believe to the nth degree.

“I’m not hungry really,” she said.

“If I didn’t exhaust you, at least a little, that means I didn’t do it right. Give me an hour and I’ll try again.”

She laughed. “You did everything very, very right.” She kissed his forehead. She lay in his arms for a few minutes and closed her eyes.

The phone on the bedside table rang. “I need to answer that.” He pulled away from her slowly and picked up the phone.

Was this his exit strategy? Tell her to stay, give her the royal treatment and have one of his associates call with an emergency. She refused to think about how many times he had done this before.

She hated to be made a fool of, so she stood and searched for her underwear and dress. She was still wearing her shoes. She refused to let her awkwardness post-sex ruin the memory. That she was holding close and preserving.

He was speaking into the phone in another language and he sent her a questioning look. He hadn’t dressed, nor had he made any attempt to cover himself. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of. He was the most ripped man she had ever seen naked in real life.

Barr shook his head, one corner of his mouth lifted and he pointed to the bed. He wrapped up the call quickly, never taking his eyes off her.

“Please don’t leave so soon,” he said, sincerity in his voice.

How could she say no to that? If he’d wanted her to leave, he hadn’t needed to stop her. “I’ll stay. For a little while.”

She returned to the bed and he pulled her into the crook of his arms and held her. Sarah rested her head against his shoulder and found sleep tugging at her. She’d rest for a few minutes and then she would say goodbye.

* * *

Saafir cursed inwardly. Sarah Parker. Her name was Sarah Parker and she was the event coordinator for his trip while he was working with the Americans on the trade agreement.

It had been Adham who had encouraged him to take the night off and enjoy some time in an American bar. As one of his last weekends as an unattached man, Saafir would forget his responsibilities for an evening. Adham had implied it would do Saafir good to have a fling with a woman. Flings were more complicated than the word implied and Saafir had learned to be careful both with a woman’s heart and with jumping into bed with her. Saafir hadn’t been sold on the idea until he’d seen Sarah, spoken to her and listened to the warmth in her voice. Her dress fit close to her body, showing off her curves, the right amount of softness and strength. They’d had a sense of connection, that rightness that came when two people clicked on a level beyond first impressions. Something primal had stirred in him and he’d known he’d needed to have Sarah in his bed.

Having a drink and a meal in the bar had been a last-minute decision, like many of his social plans. Last-minute didn’t allow for security preparation, but it also limited anyone knowing where he was scheduled to be and using that information to plot an assassination. Though he didn’t like it, he had to think in those terms to protect his life.

Though Saafir had told Adham not to, Adham had dug around and found out more about the woman who had approached him in the bar. Saafir would have connected who she was when she’d shown up at their meeting Monday morning.

Did she not know who he was? The Americans wouldn’t try to manipulate him in such an obvious way. No one could have predicted the chemistry he had with Sarah. No one could have known he would desire her as strongly as he did. Even holding her in his arms a few minutes after sleeping with her turned him on.

Her long brown hair hung over his arm and her skin was soft against his. She was different from the women in his country, no less sophisticated or beautiful, but more free and uninhibited. She hadn’t waited for him to take the lead on their meeting or remained passive when they were alone in this hotel room. Fire and passion simmered inside her and Saafir wanted to be close enough to share her heat.

If it was a setup, he would have expected an Arabic woman or someone who spoke his native language. Still, he’d never had this combustible attraction with a woman before and he wondered if any part of their relationship had been architected. She hadn’t been the first woman to approach him in the bar, but she was the first woman who he’d been interested in talking with.

“You never said what you did for a living,” he said. A test. Would she lie?

“I’m an event coordinator,” she said, sleep heavy in her voice.

Was she evading his question? He didn’t detect anything in her voice. He didn’t want their connection to have been a fraud. He wanted her to like him for him. The thought was desperate, perhaps a remnant of the relationship he had wanted before becoming the emir. “Do you focus on certain types of events?”

Sarah yawned and rolled over to face him. She opened her eyes and he was caught by the shades of brown in her irises, flecks the color of sand and of cedar.

“Do you really want to hear about this? Most people find what I do boring. Unless it’s a bride and it’s her wedding. Those conversations last well over an hour.”

He found nothing about her boring. But if she was here to pry information from him, he wanted to know it now. “Tell me about it. I bet I won’t find it boring.”

She tilted her head up to look at him and brushed some of her long brown hair away from her face. “I started my business about four years ago. It’s still small, but we’re growing every year. I take any contracts I think I can do well. I’ve done dog birthday parties, a Pi Day event and a divorce party where the client wanted every menu item to include strawberries, which her ex had been allergic to.”

Saafir laughed.

Sarah drummed her fingers on his chest. “I’ve done some charity events to raise money for a local substance abuse support group.” She brought her hand to her mouth in thought. “I’ve turned away a few elaborate weddings, but I did take an important contract recently. If it goes well, it will be great to have on my resume for other jobs. It’s already been a wild experience.”

She must be referring to the trade summit contract. “What was the contracted event?” he pressed. He could have dropped his line of questioning, but he wanted to know if this was a happy coincidence that they’d met and not that she was a spy. He expected a spy to lie, flat out and without so much as a blink.

Sarah shifted, appearing uncomfortable. “I’ve been asked to keep the details private. It’s an important client.”

Unless she was a world-class liar who could lie even while naked, she didn’t know he was the important client.

Saafir couldn’t stand the thought of her showing up with breakfast Monday morning and realizing he was the emir of Qamsar. Being fastidious about security, Adham had booked this hotel under Saafir’s mother’s maiden name, Barr, the name Saafir used when he wasn’t representing himself as the emir, two days earlier than he was expected to arrive in the United States.

“Is your client someone famous?” he asked, wondering how trustworthy she was. He hated testing her. If she admitted something, it was akin to entrapment.

“I can’t discuss that,” she said, her tone serious. She slid her leg off him and he grabbed her thigh.

He didn’t want to lose the closeness and his questions were making her uncomfortable.

He gave her credit for integrity and discretion in not revealing his name. Another woman might have bragged about the connection or caved under the pressure and given away more about the event.

“This is Washington, D.C. You have me thinking it’s someone infamous,” Saafir said.

Sarah laughed. “Isn’t everyone in D.C. infamous?”

Saafir smiled, pleased she hadn’t given away any details of the contract. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He would tell her in the morning who he was and hope she forgave him.

* * *

Sarah was walking on air as she entered her apartment building and tiptoed up the stairs. She didn’t want to risk the neighbors complaining about the early morning disturbance. The sun had begun to rise and though she’d had little sleep, she wasn’t tired.

For the first time in months, she’d had fun. She was awake and alive and she’d had a wonderful time with a man. A handsome man who had treated her like a queen. His sexual appetite had been insatiable and she’d been as surprised about her response to him. She’d wanted him as much and as often as he’d wanted her. It had been the best birthday she’d had in years. Maybe this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

When she told Krista and Molly about the night, she felt confident she had done everything right. She hadn’t lingered too long or created an awkward morning situation. A quick kiss on his forehead and she’d dressed and bolted.

She pulled her keys out of her handbag and froze when she found the door ajar. Had she forgotten to pull it closed behind her? Another more distressing thought raced through her mind. Alec had bailed on rehab and had broken into her home. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Sarah pushed open the door and turned on the light, expecting to find her ex-husband passed out on the floor.

If Alec had been here, he had been in a rage. Her home was destroyed. The stuffing from her couch was bursting from the cushions, papers were strewn across the floor and dishes and glasses were smashed on the ground. Her granite countertops were scratched and chipped. Red spray paint covered her furniture and the carpet. A nasty word was scrawled across the wall in blinding orange.

A sob caught in her throat. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t turn away, either. Who had done this? Another thought tripped her shock into fear. The person who had done this could still be inside.

Why would someone do this? She had nothing worth stealing, except maybe her computer, a five-year-old laptop she used for work. Her jobs! She would be lost without her lists and spreadsheets. Had they been destroyed, as well?

Torn between wanting to run inside and to run away, she hesitated for a moment. But then logic prevailed and she rushed out of her apartment and down to the street level. Fumbling for her phone, she took four tries to dial 9-1-1.