Читать книгу The Sheik's Secret - Judith McWilliams - Страница 8

Hassan shifted the brightly painted boomerang from his right hand to his left, patted his suit jacket pocket to make sure Kali’s ring was still there and then rapped sharply on her apartment door. Giving her that ring had become very important to him. He wanted her to have a memento of him that had nothing to do with his brother. And tonight, after he told her the truth, he’d insist she keep it.

Kali flung the door open. “You’re early.”

“Traffic was light,” he improvised, suddenly remembering that Karim was perpetually late to everything.

“Come in.” Kali stepped back, when what she wanted to do was put her arms around him and kiss him. To breathe in the cold tang of the outdoors that he brought with him and then to snuggle even closer to savor the scent of his new cologne. A compulsion she was at a total loss to explain. It made no sense that a two-week absence should have intensified her previously tepid sexual curiosity about him to the point where it was in imminent danger of becoming an obsession.

One thing was certain, she thought as she surreptitiously studied him, her newfound fascination was not reciprocated or he would have kissed her when he’d arrived. But maybe he was waiting for a sign from her that she would welcome a kiss? But what if he wasn’t and she gave him a sign. What would he think then?

“Here’s your boomerang.” Hassan handed it to her, giving her hopelessly tangled thoughts a safer direction.

“Thank you. I always wanted a real Australian boomerang. The ones I had as a kid never worked, and I always wondered if it was because I simply didn’t have the knack for throwing them or if it was because they weren’t authentic.

“What are all these figures painted on it?” she asked.

“Aborigine pictographs,” Hassan quoted what Mohammed had told him. “They’re supposed to make game susceptible to it.”

“I see.” Kali glanced speculatively around the living room. If she didn’t throw it very hard, there was just room enough to see if there was any curve in its trajectory.

“You can’t throw that inside.” Hassan correctly interpreted her look.

She gave him an impish grin that inexplicably made him feel ten years old again. But not quite, he realized. Now the feeling had sexual overtones that he hadn’t even been aware had existed at that age.

“Of course I can,” Kali said. “Whether I should or not is entirely another matter.”

He was about to point out the danger of shattering a window on the sixth floor when he remembered that he was supposed to be Karim. His twin certainly would see nothing wrong with playing with a boomerang indoors. In fact, Karim would probably be demanding the first turn.

“I’m not going to throw it hard,” Kali explained as she tested the boomerang’s balance on her fingertips. “I just want to see if it curves.”

To Hassan’s relief, she turned toward the kitchen, away from the windows, and gave it a restrained toss. It flew ten feet straight ahead before dropping like a stone.

“I don’t think boomerangs ever work!” Kali complained “I’ll bet it’s all just a lie put out by the Australian Tourist Board to sell the blasted things.”

“Maybe you simply haven’t said the proper incantations.”

“Incantations?” Kali looked up, her attention caught by the odd note in his voice. “What kind of incantations?”

“Boomerangs are hunting weapons and as such exclusively the property of men. You’re a woman.”

And what a woman, he thought, allowing his gaze to linger on the swell of her breasts beneath her cream silk blouse.

“Maybe what I need is some woman magic to counter the masculine pictographs,” she said, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted, so that if he withdrew from her it wouldn’t embarrass either of them. And if he didn’t withdraw…

She took a deep breath. She might be able to finagle a kiss out of this.

“Woman magic?” Hassan asked.

“Uh-huh, woman magic is a very potent force in all primitive societies.” Kali slowly ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips as she scrambled for a way to move things out of the realm of spoken language and into that of body language.

Her confidence level soared when she noticed his eyes following her tongue’s movement.

Slowly Kali advanced toward him, drawing pictures in the air with her fingers as she came.

“I am woman. I am all-powerful.” She sing-songed the words, not stopping until she was almost touching him.

To her surprise and delight, Hassan suddenly reached out and pulled her up against him. She landed against his hard chest with a bump that momentarily dislodged rational thought. Automatically she put out her hands to steady herself, grasping his arms. She could feel his hard biceps through the sleek wool material of his gray suit. It was an intriguing combination. Much like Hassan himself was turning out to be.

“Women are many things, but powerful isn’t one of them.” Hassan couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from her lips. She had the most alluring mouth he’d ever seen.

“You mean this isn’t the time to tell you that I was the best student in my self-defense class at the Y?” Kali tilted her head back, and the movement pushed her breasts into his chest, sending a wave of desire spiraling through her.

“Really?” Hassan’s arms tightened, lifting her off her feet and holding her securely against him. “Try to get free.”

Now why would she want to do a dumb thing like that? Kali wondered, when he felt like the embodiment of every sexual fantasy she’d ever had as well as a few she hadn’t gotten around to yet.

“But it’s woman magic I control,” she murmured, nuzzling her face against his neck. “And woman magic is a little different from brute strength. For example,” she trailed her lips along his jawline and began to nuzzle the skin behind his ear. She could feel his body’s instant response, and it fed her self-confidence.

She took a deep, indulgent breath of the delicious aroma that clung to him, allowing it to fill her lungs. Savoring the sensations unfurling in her, Kali licked the spot she’d been caressing, smiling happily when he gasped.

Emboldened she traced back over his jawline with her lips, exploring the exact texture of his skin. It had a faintly raspy feel to it as if he had a very heavy beard.

Her speculation was cut short as Hassan suddenly turned his head and captured her mouth with his. His lips pressed forcefully against hers, demanding that she open her mouth to his exploration. Instinctively she obeyed, and he shoved his tongue inside with a rough hunger Kali found incredibly sexy.

Reaction poured over her in waves, raising goose bumps on her flesh. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, trying to bind him closer. She hadn’t realized that a simple kiss could feel like this. She could even hear bells.

A monumental sense of loss filled her as Hassan suddenly dropped his arms and stepped back.

Kali gulped in air, struggling to get control of her turbulent emotions. It wasn’t easy. She felt shaken to the very core of her being. Totally unlike herself. And totally unlike the sensible, competent woman Hassan had proposed to. The fear that he might notice her unprecedented reaction and wonder about it was like a shower of cold water on her overheated emotions.

Kali ran her fingers down over the smooth line of her green tweed skirt willing them to stop trembling.

“Here, I almost forgot,” Hassan said.

Kali looked up to find him holding out the engagement ring he’d bought her yesterday.

Kali stared down at the exquisite thing, wondering how anyone could ever forget something so beautiful…even for a moment. The huge emerald seemed to glow as if lit from within.

“It’s even more gorgeous than I remember,” she said, uncertain as to whether she should put it on or let him, as a couple would do in a normal engagement.

But she didn’t want a normal engagement. She’d already tried falling in love, and it had been a complete disaster. Her cool, considered arrangement with Hassan was much better.

She looked up into Hassan’s dark eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. At least it had been cool and considered, she amended. But for some reason, ever since Hassan had gotten back from Australia, he’d been different.

No, she corrected herself as she studied his familiar features. Hassan wasn’t different. What was different was how she was reacting to him. And she had no idea why.

Hassan answered her unspoken question by taking her hand and slipping the ring on her finger.

“A perfect fit,” Hassan announced, wanting to kiss her again. He wanted to see if it felt the same or if his explosive reaction to their earlier kiss had been a fluke. He wanted.some common sense. He choked off his desire with monumental effort. He had absolutely no business kissing her, because tonight he was going to tell her the truth.

But until then he was playing the part of her fiancé and if he didn’t play the part convincingly, he wouldn’t fool her family. And this whole exercise would have been a waste.

Kali watched the emotions flitting across his face, wondering what he was thinking. She didn’t have a clue. Hassan was turning out to be a lot more complicated than she’d originally thought.

But this wasn’t the time to worry about it, she told herself as the cuckoo clock she’d lugged home from Germany four years ago suddenly chimed the half hour.

Hurriedly she got her tan dress coat out of the closet and shrugged into it.

“I told Mom I’d call her from the train station when we get in,” Kali told Hassan as she carefully locked her apartment door behind them. “Someone will collect us.”

“I’ve got a car.”

“But you hate to drive.” She frowned uncertainly at him.

Damn! Hassan mentally cursed his slip. How could he have forgotten the car accident that had killed his uncle and led to the breakup of his parents’ happy marriage? Six-year-old Karim had been severely injured. The whole family had spent the next fifteen years catering to his every whim. The accident had also left Karim with a horror of driving. But maybe Karim hadn’t told Kali the reason he didn’t drive. He didn’t seem to have told her anything else about his background.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that I hate to drive,” Hassan carefully felt his way. “It’s more that I find it a nuisance in New York City. But I thought that it would be better not to be tied to the Long Island Railroad’s schedule. Especially on a Sunday. So I borrowed a car from a friend at the consulate.”

Kali chuckled. “You sound like you’re anticipating a quick getaway. Not that I blame you. The best of families can be pretty heavy going at times.”

“I’ll say!”

Kali blinked at his heartfelt tone, wondering what he was thinking of. His own family? She frowned when she realized that she knew almost nothing about them. Just a couple of chance comments that added up to the fact that his mother was English and his parents were divorced.

“Hassan, do you have any brothers and sisters?”

“No sisters, but two brothers. I’m parked right out in front of your building.” He deliberately changed the subject, hoping he hadn’t sounded as abrupt to her as he did to himself. He could hardly give her any specifics about his brothers without lying, and he didn’t want to tell any more lies than he absolutely had to.

He held the lobby door open for her and then led her over to the large black Mercedes that Mohammed had loaned him.

“Very impressive.” Kali studied the leather interior as Hassan started the car. “I don’t think I’ve ever driven in anything this luxurious before.”

“Hmm” Hassan murmured, his mind completely taken up with the sound of her voice. She had the most intriguing voice he’d ever heard in a woman. Low and husky, full of feminine promise. And that was just in a normal, everyday setting. What would her voice sound like if he were to make love to her? Soft and dreamy? A sudden shaft of desire pierced his composure, making him grip the steering wheel tightly. Not now, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on driving. There were enough distractions on the road without his adding the most dangerous one of all—sexual desire.

* * *

The trip out to Long Island took almost an hour. An hour during which Kali had become increasingly aware of Hassan’s physical presence: the way his long fingers competently gripped the wheel; the way his broad shoulders shifted as he steered the car; the length of his long legs so near to her own.

By the time they reached her home, she was beginning to feel rattled. As if she were a music box which had been wound too tightly and now couldn’t quite perform the way it was supposed to. But why? The question nagged at her. Why was she responding so strongly to him now, when she never had before?

Could it be because he was being more open with her than he had in the past? Like sharing his family nickname and taking her shopping? But it couldn’t be just that. She remembered the unprecedented surge of desire she’d felt when she’d opened the door yesterday afternoon and had seen him standing there. She’d experienced the attraction before he’d even said a word.

Maybe she shouldn’t try to figure it out, she considered. Maybe she should simply accept it as a good thing that she was so sexually attracted to the man she was going to marry.

But was it a good thing? she wondered uneasily.

She stole a quick glance at Hassan as he pulled into her parents’ driveway. Would Hassan think so? He’d been crystal clear about only wanting a wife who liked him. A wife who wouldn’t interfere with his work or make emotional demands on him. What would he say if she were to suddenly tell him that she was fast becoming obsessed with his body?

She sighed. Put like that, it sounded so…juvenile. Adult women of thirty who had agreed to what was essentially a marriage of convenience should be able to control their sexual desires. So why couldn’t she?

“Don’t worry.” Hassan misunderstood the reason for her sigh. “I’ll protect you from Bart.”

An image of Bart’s slightly overweight, definitely outof-condition body flitted through her mind. Bart wouldn’t stand a chance against Hassan. Not that she needed protecting from Bart or anyone else for that matter. She was a modern woman who was the graduate of a self-defense class. She could protect herself.

“Come on. Let’s get this show on the road.” Kali determinedly shoved open the car door, hoping that Annette and Bart hadn’t arrived yet. It would be easier if she could introduce Hassan to her parents first.

Fate turned a deaf ear to her hopes. The first person she saw when she opened the front door was Bart.

“Kali, glad you could make it,” he said, sounding to Kali’s critical ears just a shade too expansive.

“Bart” Kali nodded. “I’d like you to meet my flancé, Hassan Rashid.”

“Glad to meet you,” Bart shook the hand Hassan held out. “I guess you and I have something in common. Or didn’t Kali tell you about us?” Bart gave her a conspiratorial look that made Kali want to smack him. Hard. Why did he persist in referring to the past?

“You mean your engagement?” Hassan gave Bart his best imitation of what he and Karim had always called their father’s long-suffering-aristocrat-faced-with-erringpeasant expression. “That’s what youth is for—to make mistakes. After all, if Kali hadn’t experimented when she was young, how would she ever have realized what she really wanted in a man?”

Kali wanted to fling her arms around Hassan and hug him. With just a few words he’d relegated her engagement to Bart to the ranks of a youthful mistake and not a very important one at that.

“I’ll let your mother know you’re here, Kali.” Bart gave Hassan a sour look and escaped into the kitchen.

“You’ve got to show me how to do that,” Kali said.

“Do what?”

“That look you gave Bart. It was inspired. Where did you learn it?”

Hassan chuckled, finding her humor infectious. “From my father. He always used it on—” he hurriedly caught himself before he said Karim and substituted “—me, whenever I’d done something that particularly annoyed him.”

“Oh?” Kali felt a momentary flash of unease at the realization that she knew absolutely nothing about his father. What was he like? Would he dislike her? Did he even know that Hassan had proposed to her?

“Hassan,” she said slowly, “what is your father going to say about you marrying an American woman?”

“He’ll love you,” Hassan said, knowing his father would have given his blessing to Karim’s marrying her because he intended to live and work in America.

Hassan also knew his father would be violently opposed to him marrying Kali because he was committed to returning to the Middle East once his course in hospital management was completed.

When his uncle’s death in the automobile accident had forced his father’s return to the kingdom, his parents’ marriage had faltered and eventually crumbled. His mother had been unable to adjust to life there. His father certainly wouldn’t want that pain revisited on one of his sons.

And he was absolutely right, Hassan admitted. Western women did not belong in the narrow restrictive world of his country.

“Darling, you’re here!” Mrs. Whitman rushed into the living room, forestalling any more questions on Kali’s part for which Hassan was grateful.

“And you must be Karim.” Mrs. Whitman beamed at him. “My goodness, you’re tall. For an Arab, I mean.”

“Mom, his family calls him Hassan. Hassan, this tactful soul is my mother and—Where’s dad?” Kali looked behind her mother.

Mrs. Whitman grimaced. “One of his patients went into labor, and he had to leave. And, what’s worse, since it’s her first, he has no idea how long it’ll be. So annoying when he was looking forward to meeting your fiancé.” She smiled at Hassan.

“And I was looking forward to meeting him, Mrs. Whitman,” Hassan said cautiously. It sounded as if Kali’s father was an obstetrician, but he couldn’t be sure. Nor could he ask, because he didn’t know if Kali had already told Karim. Which meant his best bet would be to stick to social platitudes, he decided.

“Oh, call me Mom,” Mrs. Whitman said. “After all, you’ll soon be one of the family. I mean, it’s not like last time when…um…Do come in and meet Kali’s sister,” Mrs. Whitman said hurriedly.

“Mom is not known for thinking before she speaks,” Kali whispered to Hassan as they followed her mother into the family room. “But she means well.”

As he did with this impersonation, Hassan thought, having a great deal of empathy for Mrs. Whitman.

“Kali, I’m so glad you could make it.” Annette looked up from the couch where she was giving her son a bottle of juice.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Kali put her arm through Hassan’s and drew him close to her, almost losing her train of thought when she felt the hard length of him pressing against her side.

“Annette, this is Hassan Rashid, my fiancé.” Some of the excitement she was feeling colored her voice, giving it a sensual quality that sent a shiver of awareness through Hassan.

Responding to it, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. She fit perfectly against his side. As if she’d been created expressly for him, he thought fancifully.

“I’m glad to meet you, Hassan.” Annette didn’t sound any too sure of the fact.

“And I you,” Hassan said. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Annette blinked uncertainly. “Me?”

“Yes, if you hadn’t married her first fiancé, I would have missed the love of my life.” Hassan said smoothly.

“You’re welcome. Don’t you think Eddie has grown, Kali?” Annette seemed eager to change the subject.

“Definitely. He’s starting to look more like a person and less like a baby.”

Eddie reacted to her pronouncement by bursting into tears.

“Here, Hassan, you can hold him.” Bart plucked his howling son out of Annette’s arms and handed the baby to Hassan. “It’ll give you a chance to practice.”

To Kali’s surprise, Hassan not only took Eddie, but he also competently cradled him against his shoulder as if holding screaming children were something he did every day.

“Hey there, sport, what’s wrong?” Hassan gently rubbed the baby’s back.

Eddie let out a tremendous belch, hiccuped once and then snuggled his small head against Hassan’s broad shoulder.

Kali felt her heart contract at the sight of the large man and the tiny baby. Someday that would be their child Hassan would be holding. A baby that they had made together. The very thought made her feel lightheaded.

“You’re very good with children, Hassan,” Mrs. Whitman said. “Do you have any yourself?”

“No, I’ve never been married,” Hassan replied.

“Marriage isn’t what makes babies,” Bart chortled.

“Here, let me take him before he dribbles all over that nice suit of yours, Hassan.” Annette hurriedly took her son. “Kali, I think he needs changing. Want to come and help me?”

“Yes, dear. Go help your sister,” Mrs. Whitman urged. “Bart and I will entertain Hassan for you.”

Entertain didn’t describe Bart’s conversation so far, Kali thought as she reluctantly followed Annette. She had definite misgivings about leaving Hassan in Bait’s company. For some reason, Bart had taken a dislike to Hassan the moment he’d set eyes on him.

Kali stifled a sigh. It promised to be a long day. Especially without her father there to keep the conversation on an even keel.

“What time is the ceremony?” Kali asked.

“About three. Everyone else will meet us at the church. We’re having the reception in the church basement so Mom doesn’t have to clean up the mess.”

Annette put the baby down on the changing table and picked up a clean diaper.

When she was finished, she turned to Kali and said, “Kali, are you sure about…”

Annette gestured toward the door.

“Yes,” Kali said, rather surprised at the vehemence with which the word came out. But it was true. She really was sure. The doubts that had sprung up while Hassan had been in Australia had completely vanished now that he was back home. She was not only sure that she was doing the right thing by marrying him, she also could hardly wait.

“Oh, I know he’s handsome…”

“Very handsome,” Kali amended. “He’s also sexy as hell.”

“That is obvious. He reminds me of that book we read when we were young. You remember the one about the sheik who kidnaps the English girl and winds up marrying her.”

“Sorry to deflate your fantasy, but Hassan is most definitely a man of the twentieth century,” Kali said, ignoring her earlier doubts.

“But he’s foreign.”

“So am I, from his perspective.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, Bart thinks that Hassan is just marrying you to get his green card.”

Annette was wrong. Bart didn’t think! Kali held on to her temper with a real effort. Mainly because she knew that Annette loved her and really did worry about her. About Bart’s motives Kali wasn’t so sure.

“Annette, Hassan has been in this country since graduate school. He certainly doesn’t need marriage to me to give him any legal standing. Now how about letting me hold my favorite nephew.”

Annette giggled. “He’s your only nephew. Are you and Hassan going to have any kids?”

“Scads,” Kali said blithely.

“Kali!” Annette’s eyes widened as Kali settled the baby against her shoulder and Annette caught a glimpse of her engagement ring. “Your ring! Let me see it.”

Kali switched Eddie to her other shoulder and obligingly held out her left hand.

“My God!” Annette breathed. “It’s fantastic. Has Mom seen it?”

“No.”

“Then let’s show her. Come on,” she said, and Kali obediently trailed along behind her, happy to show off her gorgeous ring.

“Mom, look at Kali’s engagement ring,” Annette said when they returned to the family room. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

“Let me see, honey.” Mrs. Whitman grabbed Kali’s hand and held it up. The emerald caught the sunlight pouring in through the patio door and became a blaze of color.

“I’ve never seen an emerald that big, Hassan,” Mrs. Whitman said. “Wherever did you find it?”

“Blackwells,” Hassan said.

“Which reminds me, Annette,” Kali hurriedly changed the subject before her forthright mother could ask him how much it had cost. “Eddie’s christening gift is in my purse. Why don’t you get it.”

“You didn’t have to bring him a gift,” Annette said as she delved into Kali’s purse and pulled out the gaily wrapped package. “I mean, it’s not like you’re his godmother. Not that I didn’t wanted you to be, but Bart thought.” Annette ground to an embarrassed halt.

“No matter. He’s still my nephew,” Kali said. “Open your gift.”

Annette obediently ripped off the wrapping paper, gasping when she saw the golden gleam of the bowl. “It’s beautiful. Absolutely exquisite.”

“But what is it?” Bart asked.

“It’s a porringer,” Mrs. Whitman spoke up. “I remember my great-grandmother had one from when her mother was christened back in the old country. I didn’t even realize they still made them. Let alone in gold.”

Kali chuckled. “Neither did I. It was Hassan’s suggestion.”

“Thank you, Hassan.” Annette gave him a wide smile. “It’s the nicest gift I’ve gotten. It makes me feel like I’m part of a long tradition. You’re going to be a very nice addition to the family.”

No, Kali mentally corrected her sister. Hassan wasn’t a nice addition to the family. He was the perfect addition.