by Cade, Rachel
She shook her head. As she was about to sit she stopped. “Are you going to sit?” she asked.
“Yes, I was attempting to be a gentleman.”
“A gentleman would have given me my clothes,” she murmured.
“I’ll have them washed and returned to you. Now please sit, we need to talk,
Kari.”
She plopped down hard in front of the table, her expression grim as she grabbed a large chunk of beef and stuffed it into her mouth. “It’s Karen.”
Tamir pursed his lips as he followed suit and sat on a pillow across from her. “I stand corrected, Karen.”
Mild amusement gave way to heated frustration once he got comfortable and realized that her damp skin was almost transparent in the thin robe. He cursed and focused on her eyes. They hadn’t changed much in ten years, and judging from her reaction to hearing her name, she was still a total brat.
“Did you contact my father?” she asked, barely looking at him as she devoured the beef, but he suspected she was far more interested than she was letting on.
“No, but I suspect he’s used to getting calls about his wayward daughter.”
Karen rolled her eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest. “That’s not true.” She paused before continuing. “And you didn’t have to destroy my camera, Tamir. You know damn well there wasn’t anything on there that would hurt you or incriminate you or whatever.”
“For your information I did not know who you were until after your camera was destroyed.”
“And that’s supposed to make it better?”
“No, it was merely said to provide you with an explanation, as if I owed you one.”
Karen sucked her teeth, shifting quickly on the pillow and shoving more food into her mouth. Tamir worried she might bite off one of her own fingers in her haste.
“You think I participate in illegal activities?”
“I don’t care what you participate in,” she snapped, her mouth full.
He paused, considering his words before speaking. “You can simply ask.”
Karen sighed.
“You must be curious.”
“Actually, I’m just hungry.”
“That’s not the inquisitive girl I remember. Where did you hide her?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked with a grimace. “I was always hungry before.”
He laughed.
“I guess I'm a little curious about what kind of man you’ve become,” she finally admitted.
“I did change my mind about politics. Your father taught me a great deal about diplomacy. But I decided business is where my heart is.”
Karen’s raised eyebrow encouraged him to continue.
“I started Rahman Investments eight years ago. I own partial stake in a lucrative automotive company and once a year I sponsor the Grand Prix. I have a deep fondness for cars,” he added with a grin.
She nodded. “It sounds like you’ve done well for yourself. I always knew you were destined for success.” The flatness of her tone undermined her kind words. “I certainly never imagined our paths would cross again. I also never imagined you to be the type of person to hold people against their will.” Glancing sharply at him she added, “I just want my friends to be okay.”
“They are fine, as I said before. They were escorted off the camp and back to their hotel hours ago.”
“What?”
“I said—”
“Are you seriously telling me they’ve been gone for hours?”
“Yes,” he answered. “And not one of them seemed too worried about you. They seemed far more focused on their own safety—your friends,” he added flatly.
Karen groaned deep in her throat, frowning. “They’re a bunch of assholes.”
“Really?” he asked.
“I really don’t need anymore of your sarcasm, Tamir. But I’m sure it pleases you, since you’ve become even more accustomed to doing whatever you want.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “So are you a real reporter or a photojournalist?”
“A real reporter?” Her eyes widened and he resisted the urge to laugh.
“Yes. And do not be offended that I said this. It was much more polite than ‘paid snitch,’ which I originally planned to go with.”
“Paid …” Karen sighed, but he recognized the glint in her eye and knew she was amused.
“You know the only people that worry about snitches, are the ones doing something—snitchable.” She paused. “Is that a word?”
“No, it is not. And you did not answer my inquiry.”
“Because you asked in a way that annoyed me, it was a bit on the condescending side.”
He offered a nod of appreciation before looking at the food spread out in front of them.
“So, now that you’re not trying to distract me, why wasn’t I allowed to leave too?” she asked pointedly.
Tamir leaned forward. “Because I was not ready to let you go.”
Chapter Three
Karen ignored the chill that shook her spine. The direct stare and deeply accented voice of Sheik Tamir Rahman would test a much stronger woman’s resolve. Was she that strong? Usually when she saw a challenge she went after it, to conquer it and any fears or doubts she may have had in the process. But this was different, usually her goals had to do with advancing her career, not advancing on a man.
“The entire world doesn’t revolve around your whims, Tamir.” Staying cool was her top priority.
His aloof shrug made her temporarily bite her tongue against comments she couldn’t anticipate his reaction to.
“Do you think my dad will be happy about this?”
“What a question,” he murmured.
Grimacing, she spat. “I can’t believe I crossed the Atlantic just to get railroaded by another man that wants to tell me what to do! And you think it’s funny! I’m sure your wife will be equally amused!”
For the first time since sitting Tamir decided to partake in the food. Picking up a healthy strawberry he held it to his lips and studied it briefly before biting down on it, almost to the stem. Karen’s mouth involuntarily followed suit, gaping as his teeth sank into the firm surface of the fruit.
“My wife?” he stated, chewing.
“Yes.” She hissed, wondering how the woman could be an afterthought and hating how her thighs tingled at the sight of his angled jaw working.
“And who would that be?” he asked.
He was perusing the table for his next sample, and for the first time Karen noticed his hands held no rings. Tampering her breath, she reminded herself that it didn’t mean anything.
“The one you left m—Morocco to marry.” Her heart quickened from the near slip.
“Oh yes—Ina,” he said after a moment, as if he had to search his memory for the incident. “I never married her. I never married anyone actually.”
Tamir was kind enough not to look at her as he said this, more preoccupied with the strawberries than her reaction.
“Why?” Karen almost let her head fall back with that one; the first question that hit her mind, instantly spilled out her mouth.
Tiny laugh lines pressed the corners of his eyes. “Sometimes things happen, sometimes they do not.”
“Yes, but there’s always a reason.”
He nodded slowly once. “Indeed.”
Karen doubted he was as interested in the meal as he appeared to be, but she was starved, and made sure she had her fill before stopping.
“So what was yours?” she ventured to ask. At least seven minutes had passed since her first blurted inquiry, but Tamir, as she suspected, didn’t miss a beat.
“So you haven’t outgrown your curiosity.”
His eye movements were so subtle, if you weren’t truly watching him you would never know the many nuances they made. But, unfortunately Tamir commanded all of her attention when he was in her presence, even if she pretended he didn’t.
Karen folded back the sleeves on his robe, she’d done it twice an
d they were still too long. The gesture reminded her in a heated rush it was his robe, the same way it fluttered against her skin was the way it did against his. Did he adore its lightness when he wore it, looking every bit the sheik that he was?
“You’ll say anything not to answer me.”
“On the contrary, she married someone else.” Karen studied him but he gave no sign that the admission bothered him. And she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“It was such a long time ago. I’m surprised you remembered. You were such a young girl back then—spoiled,” he added dryly.
Karen dipped her finger into a decadent melted chocolate. “It’s better to be a spoiled young girl than a spoiled grown man. Do you do anything out here without a manservant at your beck and call?”
Through half-veiled eyes, pristine teeth flashed between his lips. “You should mind that tongue of yours, Kari.”
“Or what?” she asked leaning forward, the idea of breaking his cool demeanor intrigued her far too much to let it pass.
She almost forgot her finger was full of chocolate until a gooey gob threatened to hit his robe. Holding her other hand under it, she leaned forward, sucking the sweet confection from her finger. “Mmm.”
“Do you always eat like this?” Rich dark brows had gathered over his eyes when she straightened.
Shrugging she answered, “I hang around a lot of guys.”
Tamir said nothing as he reached forward for his glass of Bourbon and tossed it back, grimacing at its strong contents before standing. “I am going for a ride.”
Widening eyes followed him as she cried, “Where?”
“Not by vehicle, imp, by horse.”
Expression deflating she said, “Oh.” After a second she looked up at him, “imp” had been his pet name for her. “D–don’t call me that, Tamir.”
“Or what?” he mocked, walking around the table.
When she realized he was intent to leave, she cursed, scrambling to get up from amongst the folds of robe and uneven surface of the pillows.
She felt like an imp in the robe, it was far too big and too wide for her, but truly, if she had to choose between its soft confines and her tight smelly clothes the robe would win hands down.
He stood at the open flap, broad back to her, and the cool breeze that wafted in through the opening made her feel almost as serene as the bath.
Turning his head slightly he spoke. “You would like to go for a ride with me?”
“Depends, can I get my own horse, or do I have to ride with you?”
Tamir’s sigh stretched his back. “You could not give a simple yes or no.”
“Are you getting your own horse, or is someone going to fetch it for you?”
His nostrils flared, and somehow Karen refrained from laughing when he stalked off, leaving deep imprints in the sand with his feet.
Several minutes passed, Karen didn’t venture too far from the tent, anxious to see any of Tamir’s men and what they would have thought upon seeing her in his robe after they’d spent so much time alone together. But she saw no one, and it made her wonder if he’d ordered them to stay away from the tent.
He returned, walking a stunning gray Arabian horse that made Karen’s breath catch. “God.”
He stopped in front of her with the animal, stroking its mane. “Oh,” she cooed, what’s his name?”
“He has no name. I just acquired him yesterday from a Bedouin tribesmen.”
“Do I want to know what you paid?”
He shook his head quickly.
“As you can see, there is only one, so yes you will be riding with me.” Karen’s shoulders slumped as he continued. “Consider it punishment for your snappy tongue.”
“I do.” She grimaced.
Tamir gracefully mounted the gentle horse first, and offered his hand to her to help her up. Karen stepped forward and accepted his grip, ignoring her conscience that was saying what a bad idea this whole thing was. With one foot in the stirrup, he tugged on her and she was sidesaddle on the horse in front of him.
The combination of height adjustment and being shoulder to hard chest with him made her clamp her mouth shut. Legs dangling off the side she tried to adjust herself on the animal’s bare back. The process caused her to lean into him three times, smelling what could have been faint cologne or his natural scent. Regardless, the cool breezes soon turned to flames in her lungs.
“I—don’t think this is going to work.”
“Why not?” The sound of his voice vibrated against her shoulders, the awareness of the large solid texture of his frame forced her knees together.
“This isn’t comfortable for me. I’m sorry. If you start to move, I’m going to fall.”
“I would not let you fall, Karen.” He tried to offer assurance to her by grabbing her hips, a process that pulled her closer to him, a process that did not assure her. “You need to open your legs.”
Karen was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Tamir’s arm was wrapped around her back, his hand rested on her thigh. “To ride astride, you will gain balance and not be afraid.”
He was right; she’d ridden horses before and should have known that, but all thoughts had evaporated when her body pressed against his.
Closing her eyes briefly, Karen turned on the horse, her shoulders pushed back against his chest. White fabric fell back exposing her leg all the way down to her thigh, and she quickly dropped it down over the other side, allowing the fabric to fall back into place. Sitting up she swallowed, glad he couldn’t see the lost deer expression her features rendered.
Her back tingled where she touched him, like an electric current slowly winding its way through her blood.
Stretched before her was the barren sand of the Sahara. The sky that met it was a surreal deep blue, and the retreating sun on the other side of the horizon was at their back. For a moment all she could do was stare in awe at the beauty of it.
They rode at a steady pace over the sand dunes, and Karen didn’t know what was more intense: the spectacular contrasts of red and dark blue or the friction of her back hitting Tamir’s chest each time the horse galloped.
When they stopped in a small valley, she wasn’t sure how long they’d ridden.
Tamir helped her off the animal to stand in front of him. “W–what are we doing out here?”
“Taking a rest before we return.” The wind had pushed shiny locks of his hair to the side and she was tempted with unexpected urgency to run her fingers through it.
“Do you do this often?” she asked when he backed away from her.
“When I can,” he answered softly. “Which isn’t often enough. It would be easy for you to think I’m spoiled,” he added. “Many men rely on me from day to day. I cannot do what I want, when I would like to. The only person you have to look after is yourself, and you are not doing much of a job at that.”
Feet mingling in the heated sand, Karen shook her head. “You make it seem like you were never young. Have you always made the right choices, each and every time? You don’t even know a thing about me, or what I’ve done in the past ten years. I don’t remember you being such a—condescending ol’ fuddy duddy.”
His expression ranged from blank to confusion in a matter of seconds. “Old?” He gasped. “What is this fuddy duddy you are talking about?”
Folding her arms, she didn’t answer, content with letting him stew. She hated the fact that it hadn’t even occurred to her that the manservant she so quickly belittled must have respected Tamir a great deal, and that he’d most likely done so with great reason.
“We shall bet.” The breeze caught his voice on the air as he walked. Leaning over, he pulled off his shoes. “We will run a hundred paces. If you arrive at my horse first, I will let you go.”
“What?” She stared at him as he bent over to remove his socks.
“I believe you heard what was said.”
Cautiously moving toward him she asked, “So what happens if I lose?”
“I woul
d advise you not to lose.”
Undeniable challenge lay in his tone, and Karen couldn’t deny her interest had been piqued. “I hardly think this is fair. You’re taller than me, which means you have longer legs.”
“Yes,” he said, taking off his jacket and carelessly tossing it in the sand. “And you are lighter than I, so we both have disadvantages.”
Standing next to him she mentally weighed her chances while voicing how absurd the challenge was.
Tamir’s answer was to draw a line in the sand with his bare foot. “If it makes you feel better, I will leave on my shirt, surely it will provide some wind resistance.”
Karen pretended she didn’t notice the way the luxurious button down shirt framed his well-muscled shoulders, a thin gold chain he wore glinted in the sun. “I want a ten second head start.”
Pursing his lips, he answered, “Now who is being absurd? You will be at the horse well before then and you know this.”
“What are we doing? ‘On your mark, get set?’”
“As you wish.”
“Who’s going to say it?”
“I will.”
“W—” she started.
“If you keep testing me I will name a stipulation for your loss,” he ground out. “Now get your tail behind the line.”
Huffing, she did as she was told, and after a silly ceremonious silence he began.
“On your mark, get set … GO!”
Muscling as much stealth as she could, Karen hustled over the hard, uneven sand. She couldn’t recall running this fast since she was a kid. She resigned to keep her eyes on the Arabian, because if she dared look across at him she would most certainly lose.
In the closing seconds, she wondered if he was still a man of his word. If she beat him that meant he would let her go. And then what? She would rejoin her friends, like none of this had ever happened?
They would go on, and this would all be another memory, just like watching his back as he strode out of her life.
Karen stumbled slightly, and the next thing she knew Tamir touched the horse.
Both hunched over in the moments after, out of breath.
“That was interesting.” Tamir panted. “We have not done that in quite a while.”