Читать книгу Undressed by the Boss: Sheikh Boss, Hot Desert Nights / The Boss's Bedroom Agenda / Taken by the Maverick Millionaire - Nicola Marsh, Anna Cleary - Страница 12

‘WHY are we here?’ she said, leaning forward to peer out of the limousine window as they drew up outside one of his warehouses on the dock.

‘To show you some things you have to sell.’

‘I have to sell them? What? Where?’

‘Why don’t you wait and see?’

How pretty she was when she did that smile/frown thing. Waving the driver away, he helped her out of the limousine himself. In fact, he was done with drivers.

‘Could you have my car delivered?’ he asked discreetly, while Casey stood staring up at the outside of the aircraft-hangar-sized warehouse in awe.

‘Certainly, sir. Which car would you like?’

Casey’s words about excess flew into his mind. She could be his conscience for the day, he decided wryly, asking for the Tesla to be delivered dockside.

‘The Tesla? Yes, sir.’

‘Come on,’ he said, turning to Casey. ‘Let’s go inside …’

He took her through a small side door into a yawning space, packed with everything from a stretch Hummer to a side room holding enough cutting-edge carbon technology tack for five teams of polo ponies. There was enough excess inside here to give her a blue fit.

‘What on earth is all this?’ she said softly, and he could already hear her mind cogs whirring.

She was probably imagining a store where she would have to put all these things on sale under the same roof, and wondering how on earth she was going to organise it.

‘We’re not finished yet,’ he warned as he led the way down an aisle lined with packing cases stretching high into the silence of the dust-flecked air.

‘What is all this?’ she repeated.

Her voice was tense and excited, though she kept her distance as they walked along.

‘You like a challenge, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

‘Then let’s move on to the inner sanctum.’

There were guards on the door, and a number of pass codes had to be inputted before finally iris recognition allowed him entry. Once they were inside he could see she was surprised by the fact that, compared to the rest of the facility, this was a relatively comfortable and ordinary-looking office. Having shut them inside the hermetically sealed space, he touched a hidden lever, and a safe in the floor began to rise.

‘Any more surprises?’ she asked him when he glanced at her.

They shared a moment, and this time he let his gaze linger. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ he teased her gently as she looked away. ‘I’m not wholly sure what surprises you yet.’

Now she blushed.

Taking a key fob from his pocket, he approached the safe and keyed in the numbers, changed remotely on the fob every few minutes by satellite signal. He heard her gasp when the door sprang open as if by magic. Withdrawing a small leather suitcase, he suggested she sat down.

‘I’ll bring it over to the table,’ he said, ‘so you can take a proper look. There are things in here it would be better not to drop …’

* * *

Raffa drew up a chair and sat close by without touching her. It was hard to relax, but she must relax if she were to concentrate. She inhaled deeply, drawing on his delicious scent and warmth, allowing her eyes one last greedy glimpse of his strong, pirate’s face before putting herself on a strict Raffa-free diet.

She gasped as he showed her the fabulous Fabergé egg. ‘Oh, my …’ Her voice tailed away.

She had sold many things in her time, but nothing to compare with this. The workmanship was breathtaking in its complexity, and so much more beautiful than any photograph would allow. But she didn’t have the know-how required to sell objets d’art of this quality, Casey realised, wondering if she was destined to fail this test.

Raffa went on to reveal what amounted to not a king’s ransom in jewels, but a Sheikh’s. Remembering her bemusement at the price paid for one car registration plate, Casey realised she would have to make some serious adjustments to her thinking. And she would have to stop being distracted by Raffa, who right now was handling the various artefacts with reverence and sensitivity. She had never encountered a man with such power and strength and yet such sensibility. No wonder she was distracted—those hands, that concentration …

She must have quivered involuntarily, for he looked up.

‘Are you all right, Casey?’ he asked her softly.

She passed a hand across her brow, pretending concentration on a breathtaking collar of emeralds and diamonds which Raffa had just removed from a velvet case. ‘So, what kind of retail facility did you have in mind for all this?’ she asked him in a voice turned suddenly dry. ‘I should own up right away and tell you I have never sold anything of this value before.’

‘Very few people have,’ he pointed out. ‘But you can sell anything, according to your CV.’

‘That refers to concepts and schemes rather than fabulous objects like this.’

‘Then it’s time to stretch yourself,’ Raffa countered.

How had their heads become so close their faces were almost touching? They were both leaning over the glittering mound of jewels on the table like two children examining a pirate’s hoard; both of them with eyes bright with the light of possibility. Though Casey guessed hers was the only heart trying to beat its way out of a chest.

‘So, what do you think?’ Raffa said as he toyed with the magnificent emerald and diamond necklace.

Everything she shouldn’t, Casey thought, wishing she could concentrate on the only thing that mattered—which was the job she was here to try out for.

‘Casey?’ Raffa prompted.

She snapped her brain onto full alert. ‘I think I should hire experts to advise and assist me,’ she said. ‘But I will sell these for you.’

‘Good,’ he said, settling back. ‘Though I think sapphires would suit you better,’ he added, as Casey distractedly toyed with the emerald necklace.

‘You do?’ She made the very serious mistake of looking at him questioningly.

‘Yes, I do,’ he murmured.

She swallowed deep as, having selected a fabulous sapphire necklace from the hoard in front of them, Raffa used one hand to brush her long hair to one side before looping the glinting band of royal blue stones around her neck. She was suddenly acutely conscious of the silence between them, and of her own unsteady breathing. She couldn’t move or break the spell, and though she was wearing her hair neatly tied in a ribbon, and was in every way modestly dressed, her prim exterior bore no relation to the hot thoughts racing through her head.

It was another forceful reminder that having no experience of sex was no guarantee that she would never think about it. Vividly. And, yes, at the most inopportune of moments. Like now … when the warm touch of Raffa’s fingers on her collarbone was making it so hard to remain still, and when the heavy platinum collar he was placing round her neck felt like a restraining device of a wickedly erotic kind—one that should horrify her, but instead tempted her to sigh and roll her head as the cool metal met her skin.

As if this wasn’t dangerous enough, when Raffa snapped the catch into place her body yearned for him. ‘I’d better not get used to this,’ she said out loud. Coming determinedly to her senses, she reached up, removed the necklace and handed it back to him.

‘It doesn’t hurt to indulge in a little fantasy shopping once in a while.’

‘As long as you don’t confuse fantasy with reality,’ Casey agreed. As she watched Raffa replace the priceless jewels in their nest, Casey murmured, ‘I wonder who they are destined for?’

Raffa’s sharp glance caught her out. For all her brave words about fantasy and reality, she had never been short of imagination.

‘You never know, I might want to keep them,’ she said, laughing to make light of it.

‘Then I’d better lock them away …’

His gaze held hers for a moment. Was it possible to want a man so badly? Or to be so frightened of the consequences of those feelings?

Raffa appeared not to notice these darker thoughts as he replaced the jewels in their velvet case. ‘Sapphires suit you,’ he said. ‘You should remember that. They’re the same colour as your eyes …’

‘Oh, I will,’ Casey assured him with a wry smile. ‘Next time I go jewellery-shopping I’ll put sapphires at the top of my list.’ She was deadpan. They really did inhabit different worlds.

Raffa smiled too. His was more of an eyes glinting, tongue in cheek kind of smile. So he did have a sense of humour. ‘Do you have jewels in every colour?’ she asked in a posh voice, acting the customer and trying not to giggle.

It backfired on her. Raffa took hold of her hands in a firm grasp. She gulped as she stared at his strong hands resting over hers and felt a terrible yearning inside her.

‘Hold your hands like this …’ He formed her hands into a supplicant’s bowl. ‘Ready?’

She nodded stiffly as he steadied his amused gaze on her. ‘Ready,’ she whispered hoarsely.

Picking up a drawstring bag, he loosened the cord and tipped a heap of polished gemstones into her hands. There was every colour imaginable.

‘And these are what I’ve got to sell? I really am going to need some help.’ She was already frowning as she thought about where to find the appropriate experts.

‘If you can’t do it—’

‘I can do it.’ She met Raffa’s gaze and saw that it had changed. There was no warmth now; just rigorous expectation. ‘I’ll find who I need to help me with current market valuations. I’ll be fine,’ she said firmly. ‘My only concern is that wherever I have to sell these there must be a secure environment in which to display them and for my staff to work.’

‘You can leave that to me,’ Raffa told her. ‘Anything else?’

‘Other than that, I see my only problem being moving stock quickly enough to satisfy your demands and—’

‘Wrong,’ Raffa interrupted. ‘I don’t expect you to sell them.’

Casey frowned, waiting for an explanation, hoping it wouldn’t be too long coming, so she didn’t have to keep on staring at Raffa’s fiercely handsome face. ‘Can you explain?’

‘You’re going to auction them,’ he said.

Casey sat back, stunned, her head swimming with insecurity. She was a businesswoman, yes, but she was a backroom girl, not an extrovert. She stood no chance of whipping up a sophisticated crowd into a buying frenzy.

‘Your task is to do this at a charity event that means a lot to me,’ Raffa explained.

‘And the event is …?’

‘A grand ball in three days’ time to honour my …’ His lips tugged.

‘Your recent coronation?’ Casey suggested.

Raffa’s lips pressed down wryly. ‘You can call it what you want. The main thing is that the charity benefits on the night.’

But for all his dismissive talk she saw his gaze grow serious; there was a vision for his country in his eyes.

‘The money will go to help my Bedouin communities.’

‘Please tell me about them,’ she said, as he hit on the one topic that enthused her most of all.

‘They are a travelling people, and we provide them with flying ambulances, travelling teachers, medical facilities …’

Not surprisingly, she was instantly sold on the idea of raising money for this worthy cause at the auction, and as Raffa continued to explain she knew he wasn’t a king in name only, but a leader—a man who was modest in the midst of excess, a man whose first thought would always be for his people.

‘This auction …’ Casey’s mouth dried when she thought about the responsibility Raffa had given her. He couldn’t know how terrified she would be, standing up in front of the sort of people who would be attending such a royal event. But if this was a test she must approach it like any other, and she had the most worthy cause to fight for; that should give her courage. ‘I won’t let you down,’ she said.

‘Don’t let our Bedouin down,’ he said. ‘We’ll all be relying on you to raise as much money as you can.’

She grew serious as she thought about it. ‘There’s a lot of product here, as well as in the warehouse. How long do I have?’ She grimaced, thinking about the logistics of moving so many items off the shelf.

‘If you’re in any doubt, you should pull out now.’

The incredible sums of money involved did worry her—if only because she had never been involved in anything like this before. But, remembering the fabulous amount paid for that licence plate, she knew there were riches in A’Qaban. She also knew people became donation-exhausted after a while, however wealthy they were. She would have to be innovative if the fund was to reach its potential.

‘What are you thinking?’ Raffa prompted.

‘That I can’t hold this auction the usual way.’

‘How many ways are there to conduct an auction?’

Before she could answer he moved his chair back—impatiently, she thought. He snapped the catches on the suitcase containing the jewels, he locked it again before returning it to the safe. And then, as she might have predicted, instead of coming to sit down, he started to prowl up and down the small room.

She was on a knife edge, Casey realised. She must convince Raffa she could do this. He might have thrown her a curve ball, that she had no intention of dropping it.

She stood too. Unfortunately, even drawn to her full height she barely reached Raffa’s shoulder. He stood watching her with his eyes narrowed and keen, like a sleek black panther with a thorn in its paw. The thought of soothing him by touching his arm was a giant step too far, and so instead she stood stiffly to attention. ‘You can rely on me absolutely. I promise I’ll do this for you.’

‘You’re quite sure?’

‘Positive.’

An electric current snapped between them. It held them together and held them apart. But if she was going to work with the most dangerously handsome man on the planet she would have to get used to a few fireworks going off inside her, Casey reasoned. She’d just have to use them to fire her determination. ‘I’ll have help to organise the event, I take it?’ She was already off and running. Her mind had jumped three days ahead and was rapidly filling in the blank spaces in between.

‘You’ll have professional party-planners and my team. All you have to do is handle the auction. If I can give you a word of advice—use your strengths.’

‘I intend to.’

‘Good. Sell the goods and get the most you can for them. That’s it.’

That’s it? Raffa’s gesture had encompassed not just this small room, but the warehouse outside. He really did have a different set of perspectives.

‘Thank you for entrusting me with such an important task.’

He didn’t like that. His brow rose. ‘I employ the best, Casey. I expect the best from them. Nothing less will do. If you fail—’

It was like being on a see-saw—first up, then down; she had better make sure her next move wasn’t out, Casey concluded. ‘I won’t fail.’

They stared at each other like combatants across a ring, each of them measuring the other.

‘Whatever happens, unsold items can be offered on the open market after the auction,’ Raffa explained. ‘But you’ll make more during the auction, so I’m relying on you to appeal to each individual’s …’

‘Better nature?’ Casey suggested.

‘Exactly,’ Raffa agreed, sharing an ironic look with her.

‘Then please leave it to me,’ she said, feeling quietly confident suddenly, as right out of the blue an idea occurred to her.

Casey stared in surprise at the low-slung roadster waiting for them by the kerb. ‘No Lamborghini?’ She turned to Raffa.

‘No limousine either …’ His lips curved, making her heart bounce. ‘Knowing your distaste of excess, I thought I’d introduce you to my new green baby.’

‘Green?’ Casey’s forehead pleated with disbelief as she stared at the speed monster crouched on the road.

‘This is the latest in electric vehicles,’ Raffa explained, walking round the impressive sports car. ‘She does nought to sixty in three point nine seconds, making her somewhat faster than a Lotus and almost on a par with my Ferrari, and yet she costs me less than one penny per mile to run.’

‘She?’ She should have known better, Casey realized, as Raffa ran one hand lovingly across the flanks of his new motor car. ‘And it’s cheap to buy, of course?’ she said, tongue in cheek.

Raffa shot a glance at her that made her cheeks fire up.

‘It’s very … striking,’ she admitted, back-pedalling rapidly. In fact, the sleek black beast was the perfect servant of its master.

‘Go on,’ Raffa prompted her dryly. ‘Say it, Casey.’

‘Say what?’ She tensed.

‘It’s sexy …’

Yes, it was—and so was he. But no way was she getting into that.

He had decided to take Casey somewhere she could relax, and where they could continue getting the measure of each other. If she was going to be working for him he had to get to know her, and if she pulled off this auction she would be a real contender for the job. She didn’t know it yet, but all the other applicants had backed out by this stage, or he’d sent them home. If one of the others had offered to run his auction he would have thought it bravado, and wouldn’t have trusted them to do it, but something about Casey suggested he should give her a chance. He’d have someone ready and waiting in the wings in case she got stage fright. This charity was too important to risk on his whim. But as whims went …

‘Get in,’ he said, when she hesitated by the car door.

‘Where are we going?’

She was so wary. It gave him a jolt to see how quickly she could change from confident businesswoman to this. ‘I’m going to take you for a well-earned drink,’ he said. ‘Maybe lunch, if you’d like? Well? What are you waiting for? It isn’t rocket science; yes or no?’

She was waiting for courage and self-belief. She was wondering how to handle all the personal insecurities she felt as a woman, with this man who had no insecurities at all, and how to handle feelings for him that had no connection with the job.

* * *

Raffa took her to what had to be the most fashionable club in the city, judging by the fabulous array of gleaming vehicles parked outside. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be noticed here, she thought, but Raffa didn’t seem to care. He made no attempt to claim special status as the manager of the club hurried to greet them.

‘Are you ready?’ he said, offering her his arm.

She’d bet the glamorous women entering the club in front of them with their handsome escorts hadn’t picked out their clothes from the bargain rail. It seemed incredible that she was about to take the arm of the ruling Sheikh. But as she did she realised his bodyguards were just an invisible step away. ‘Do they have to come with us?’ she asked. She found them so intrusive and forbidding.

‘They don’t have to do anything you don’t want them to …’

She felt his strength then, and just for a moment experienced what it would be like to have a man like Raffa in her life. She felt cherished and protected when she was with him.

But she wasn’t with Raffa, Casey reminded herself before her imagination ran away with her. He was her boss and he was taking her to lunch. And the touch of his hand on her arm … and his body brushing against hers …

‘Why are you shivering? Are you cold?’ he said as the maître d’ led them inside.

Cold? Did frigid translate into A’Qabani?

Raffa gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘Courage,’ he murmured, his warm breath brushing her ear. ‘Many of your potential buyers at the auction will be here. You do want to give them the right impression, don’t you?’

Of course she did. And those few words tipped the balance of the internal see-saw inside her back to business.

As she glanced around the exclusive club Casey realised that some of the younger women present appeared to be glued to every word their companions had to say. They laughed on cue, stared in awe on cue, and rarely spoke unless they were asked a direct question. How long was she going to last here?

It would be useful research, her business head reminded her.

‘Could we sit somewhere where I can people-watch?’

‘If you’d find it helpful …’ he replied. ‘Champagne?’ Raffa suggested once they were settled at a table.

‘I’d prefer juice?’

‘Juice it is.’

This was new for him—this woman who could be one thing in the boardroom and a shy fawn-like creature in her private life. He supposed it was his reward for mixing business with pleasure; something he’d never done before.

But this interview process must never become something more. Casey’s innocence prevented it. She was so tender and vulnerable outside her job, and that should never be exploited. And besides, with so much appetite on his side and so much untapped passion on hers, if their relationship ever did overstep the mark they would take off into sexual space and never come back to earth again.

As he watched her moist lips embrace the straw plunged deep into fresh papaya juice, he could only be thankful she hadn’t agreed to champagne. He needed a clear head and all his sternest resolve if this apparently innocent meeting in a club was going to remain the safe side of sin.