Читать книгу Pregnant By The Desert King - Susan Stephens - Страница 13

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT HAD SHE DONE? What had she done? How had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Wicked eyes blazing into hers hadn’t helped, Lucy reflected later as she got ready in her small bedsit above the laundry. Nor had feeling as if Tadj and she had known each other longer than it took to drink a couple of cups of coffee. But now was not the time to reflect on why it was possible to feel like that about someone, and not about others. Her decision to go to the party had been made, and she had no intention of skulking in her room, or asking her friends to send Tadj away when he arrived. It would be fascinating to discover how the other half lived, and she could report back to her friends at the laundry.

The only remaining problem was what to wear. She had one decent dress; a cheap sale-rail spectacular she still wasn’t entirely sure was her colour. Red hair and freckles didn’t always blend well with bright red, especially when the weather turned her skin blue with cold. She’d only worn it once, to the Christmas party when everyone made an effort for the sake of the elderly owner of the laundry. Miss Francine went to so much trouble for them, it was the least they could do.

So... Tadj was older than she was, and obviously more sophisticated, and much richer, suggesting he’d be used to women in designer clothes. Too bad, she thought as she plucked the dress from its hanger. He’d pressed her to accompany him tonight, so he’d have to put up with her dress being a bit too short and too tight. The sale rail didn’t offer custom made.

Tadj must be around early thirties, she thought. She was twenty-three, and definitely not glamorous, or sophisticated. Or successful...not yet. But she could keep a roof over her head, which was something to be proud about, and she had the best of friends, which was more important than anything else. And she had no intention of putting out for the price of a gourmet meal, let alone a date on board the flashiest vessel in the harbour, Lucy determined, firming her jaw. A polite thank-you note would have to be enough, she concluded as a noisy group of excited friends, having spied on her from inside the laundry while she was negotiating with Tadj, burst into the room.

‘So?’ they chorused, nearly deafening her as they gathered around. ‘You’ve been seen.’

‘Really?’ She acted daft.

‘With the best-looking man on King’s Dock,’ one of them confided with a jerk of her head to her friends.

‘Hmm.’ Staring heavenwards, Lucy pretended to think about this. If she’d had more experience of men, maybe she could have joked along with her girlfriends, but somehow Tadj was special—unique in her experience—and she didn’t want to exchange banter concerning him while the tender green shoot of a first meeting was still so fragile. ‘I did meet someone who works in security,’ she admitted frankly. ‘He bought me coffee, and that’s all there is to it.’

‘So you won’t be seeing him again?’ her friends pressed, exchanging knowing glances with each other.

‘I didn’t say that. What?’ she demanded when her girlfriends started to laugh.

‘It’s not what you’re telling us, but what you’re not telling us,’ one of them insisted. ‘Unless, of course, you really don’t know?’

‘Don’t know what?’ She’d been warm and safe here, and surrounded by friends since the day she’d arrived. Had she thrown all that away for the sake of a wicked smile and mocking eyes?

‘Didn’t the guy tell you his name?’ one of her closest friends prompted.

‘His name is Tadj. He doesn’t have to hide anything,’ Lucy insisted.

But did he? she wondered. The spear of anxiety had returned, and with it thoughts of her vicious gangland thug of a stepfather, who was currently serving a lengthy term in prison for his crimes. He had plenty to hide, and could still charm the pants off anyone who didn’t know his reputation, and who met him for the first time.

‘Tadj,’ another friend prompted, breaking into Lucy’s troubled thoughts. ‘Did this Tadj have a surname?’

It was a relief when Tadj’s stunningly attractive face swam into Lucy’s mind, completely eclipsing the evil mask of her stepfather. ‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured as she racked her brains. ‘First names are enough at a first encounter over coffee.’

‘Did he tell you about his job?’ another friend pressed.

‘Yes—security. I already told you.’

Her stepfather had eyes like a shark, black, dead and cold, she remembered, without a flicker of expression in them. There was no evil in Tadj’s eyes. He could look a bit fierce at times—all right, most of the time—but there was also good humour and warmth. And, of course, the sexual heat that flared off him. Better not to think about that now.

More friends had joined them, and her tiny room was overcrowded. Miss Francine was known locally as the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, because of her generosity towards the women she hired. The bedsits she let out for a peppercorn rent might be cramped and old-fashioned, but, for women seeking sanctuary, not even the finest five-star hotel could compare.

‘So, I’ve been seen with a man,’ Lucy accepted with a good-humoured shrug, making a joke of it as she stared around.

‘With the Emir of Qalala, no less,’ her best friend informed the rest.

Lucy froze like a child playing statues. ‘What did you say?’

She had heard perfectly well, but...the Emir of Qalala? Tadj was the Emir of Qalala?

She tried and failed to process the information. And what was she supposed to say now? I’m a dope—I didn’t recognise him? I didn’t read the papers today? I don’t watch local TV? All true, unfortunately.

‘Oh, come on—potential Emira,’ her friends coaxed. ‘Tell us what the Emir is really like...’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Lucy admitted. ‘He seems nice enough.’

‘And as hot as hell,’ one of her friends put in to an agreeing chorus of raunchy suggestions.

‘Might have been,’ Lucy conceded.

‘His photograph is all over the news,’ another friend insisted, in a tone that said she should have known. ‘And nice doesn’t begin to describe him.’

‘Sex on two hard-muscled legs,’ someone else shouted out.

‘With a body made for sin,’ another drooled as she thrust a magazine cover in front of Lucy’s nose.

Lucy inhaled sharply at the sight of Tadj, tanned and buff, wearing a pair of figure-hugging swim shorts.

‘Either he’s a prize-winning swimmer, or he likes to show that thing off.’

‘Stop,’ Lucy implored her friends. ‘I had a coffee with him, nothing more.’

‘He’d definitely need security if I shared a hot drink with him,’ a friend exclaimed as she read the article over Lucy’s shoulder. ‘And he’s one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs—so-called because they are as rich as Croesus, and as insatiable as a pack of ravening wolves.’

Lucy’s pulse raced off the scale. So Tadj was not only ridiculously wealthy, but all-powerful and royal too. It was too late to refuse his invitation without appearing to be a coward. She didn’t have a number to call him, and she could hardly breach security to ask one of his men to deliver a message. Out of her depth and out of her mind didn’t even begin to cover this mess! Adventure was one thing, but not on this scale.

‘The Emir of Qalala,’ she murmured, biting her lip, turning away as she tried to reconcile the little she knew about a hot guy in a café who had turned out to be one of the world-renowned Sapphire Sheikhs. ‘I had no idea,’ she murmured.

And if she had, would she have accepted Tadj’s invitation?

He was an extraordinary man, and, yes, she probably would have taken the chance. Did his title make a difference? He’d asked if money could change her opinion. She’d never considered a royal title, but she understood that great privilege came with restrictions and complications. Her usual good humour kicked in at this point. No half measures. If she was going to dip her toe in the dating pool, why not go for full-body immersion? She wouldn’t simply be out of her depth at the Sheikh’s party, she’d be like Orphan Annie at the feast, but that chance to peep inside a very different world proved irresistible. Spinning around, she faced her friends. ‘Could you help me get ready for tonight?’

When they chorused, ‘Yes!’ she knew there was no turning back.

Security expert indeed, Lucy thought as her friends jostled around. Just wait until she saw Tadj again! ‘I own one dress, and no high-heeled shoes,’ she explained. ‘My dress is sleeveless and it will be freezing out tonight. If I could also borrow an evening bag, big enough for a lip gloss and my bus fare home?’

Drowned out by laughter and offers of help, she made a silent promise that she would be safely tucked up in her own bed by midnight.

* * *

He’d never been uncertain of a woman. He should have brought Lucy back with him to make sure he’d see her again, Tadj concluded as he strode on board his friend’s superyacht. Lucy was unique and unpredictable. There were no guarantees she’d show up tonight. For once, that really mattered to him.

‘All women are unique, my friend,’ his friend Sheikh Khalid insisted when they met on his arrival in the grand salon. ‘You seem preoccupied,’ the Sheikh added when Tadj grimaced.

‘Unfinished business,’ he supplied economically. Usually, he would welcome both Khalid’s company and his interest, but not this time, because all he wanted to think about was Lucy.

Walking out on deck, he scanned the dock as if she might suddenly appear. Was her head buried in one of her college books, or was she getting ready for the party? There was no way to tell.

‘What do you do with a woman you can’t read?’ he asked Khalid as his friend joined him out on deck.

‘Bed her?’

‘That’s not helpful.’

‘It’s always a good start,’ Khalid argued with an ironic smile.

Everything on board the Sapphire was geared towards seduction tonight, Tadj thought as they both pulled away from the rail. An army of talented florists was currently adding last-minute touches to the container-loads of exotic blooms.

‘You’ll be staying in the Golden Suite,’ Khalid informed him, ‘if that suits you. Make the most of it while you can.’

They shared a wry laugh. ‘That temple to all things gold,’ Tadj commented. ‘It’s enough to put anyone off their stride with the addition of those outrageous erotic hangings.’

‘Not you, my friend,’ Khalid assured him. ‘I would have thought you found those hangings rather tame.’

‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to set me up with this woman,’ Tadj responded.

‘How could that be true?’ Khalid queried. ‘I’ve only just learned about her. But, good hunting—you’d be surprised how many women are delighted to be seduced in the Golden Suite.’

‘No doubt spurred on by the inspiration provided by the artwork,’ Tadj commented dryly. ‘But this one’s different.’

‘Different how? She’s a woman, isn’t she?’

Seeing his expression, Khalid shrugged. ‘You’ve got it bad, my friend.’

* * *

Bad? Tadj ground his jaw as he sprang out of the Sapphire’s lap pool. Bad was putting it mildly. Grabbing a towel, he dried his exercise-pumped body with impatience. Warnings should be issued with Lucy, that she could change the direction of his thoughts within ten minutes of meeting her. Even exercise hadn’t helped him today. He’d never known anything like this. Women didn’t get to him; he got to them. Lucy was so young and unsophisticated, she couldn’t know the tricks that others played. Funny, blunt and challenging, she was absolutely irresistible, and irresistible was the one thing he didn’t need. His usual type knew the score, and were sophisticated enough to use him for what they wanted, without complication. The feeling was mutual, but he couldn’t be that way with Lucy. Innocence came at a price, and, though he was no saint, the thought of waking her to physical pleasure was driving him crazy.

Having dressed and checked every timepiece and lump of tech on board in order to convince himself that minutes really could tick by so slowly, he parked the shave and transferred his pacing from ship to shore. He hadn’t experienced this level of anticipation since he’d been an overeager youth. When he spotted Lucy standing in the doorway of the laundry, it was as if an atomic reaction went off in his brain. They locked eyes, and he walked towards her. It was the challenge on her face that aroused him. Her body language said she knew who he was, and intended to make him pay for withholding the information.

‘You have a lot of explaining to do,’ she said.

All he was aware of now was her intoxicating wildflower scent.

‘Am I late?’ he said, glancing at his wristwatch and frowning, as if he didn’t know what she meant.

‘Don’t try that on me,’ she warned him, narrowing her astonishing jade-green eyes in the very best type of threat.

‘Good evening to you too,’ he murmured mildly, maintaining eye contact.

‘Good evening, Your Majesty.’

‘My name is Tadj,’ he reminded her quietly.

‘The Emir of Qalala, I believe.’

He wanted to kiss her as her expressive mouth twisted in a wry smile.

‘What are you doing?’ she protested as he dragged her close.

‘What does a title change about me?’

‘Everything,’ she said as he brushed her lips teasingly with his. ‘Are you going to let me go now?’

‘No.’

The first kiss was extraordinary in that it fired every part of him, and made it vital there were more. ‘Let’s start over,’ he said, releasing her before she was quite ready. ‘Good evening,’ he murmured.

‘Good evening, Your Majesty,’ she teased him, still trying to catch her breath. They stared at each other with a mixture of acceptance and humour. ‘You’ve got a long way to go to recover your credibility,’ she warned, testing her kiss-bruised lips with the tip of her tongue.

‘More tolerance required,’ he suggested.

‘On my part?’ she queried.

‘Yes, on your part,’ he confirmed. ‘Shall we?’ He glanced in the direction of the super yacht.

The Sapphire was a fabulous vessel. Even he was impressed from here, where he could appreciate every inch of it, blazing with light from bow to stern. Party planners had been working tirelessly all day to create a fairyland for the guests, and, though she might still be reeling from the unexpected start to their evening, even Lucy couldn’t hide her excitement.

‘No more deception, and no more surprises,’ she warned as they approached the security gates. ‘Promise—or I’m not going any further.’

‘When you look at me like that...’

‘What?’ she murmured, her eyes darkening.

He would promise her almost anything, he thought, but sensibly confined himself to a wry smile and a shrug.

‘So you’re really the Emir of Qalala?’ she said as the security guards waved them through.

‘I really am,’ he confirmed.

‘I’m impressed.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he argued with amusement. ‘Not by my title, anyway.’

‘Are you always so confident?’

‘Always.’ Except for tonight, he thought, because Lucy was a whole new experience.

‘You’re one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs,’ she observed. ‘That alone is supposed to impress me, isn’t it?’

‘Legendary, rather than infamous, I’d hope.’

She shrugged and halted. ‘You should have told me you’re one of the world’s richest men.’

‘Told you, why?’ he asked. They were approaching the gangplank where a queue of guests was forming.

‘Because it makes us very different,’ she said.

‘If we’re so ill matched, why are you here? For a glimpse into the life of the super-rich?’

‘That’s part of it,’ she admitted frankly.

If he’d been looking for a smooth-tongued casual date, a woman who would do and say everything she could to impress him, he’d got it badly wrong—and thank goodness for that!