Sam sipped her coffee and nibbled on a crunchy treat made with sesame seeds and honey. Osman lounged on the cushions opposite her and they talked about the differences between New York and California in what passed for a semi-normal conversation while one of the men hung dividing curtains inside the tent that turned the open space into distinct bedrooms, with cushions now laid out in each in the shape of a bed.
Of course there was only a thin layer of fabric, and about fifteen feet of carpet covered desert floor, between her and the seductive sheikh. This promised to be a rather long night.
“Would you like a massage?” Osman tilted his chin back slightly, as if defying her to refuse.
A very long night.
“No, thanks.” She should probably offer to reciprocate, but she was already pretty revved up and rubbing tension from Sheikh Osman’s many taut muscles was not likely to help matters.
“Can I get you anything?”
A Xanax might be good. She kept the thought to herself. “I’m fine, thanks.”
She went into her “room” and dropped the piece of curtain that was hitched back with a rope tie to serve as a door. She didn’t have a change of clothes. Most of their stuff was still at the palace. Which in retrospect was lucky because if they’d left their bags in the car all day they would be in ashes by now. There were some folded blankets she could wrap herself in, but she’d have to stay dressed.
“Here’s a change of clothes for you. I’m afraid it’s a man’s robe, but better than wearing the same clothes all night.” He stood at the entrance, holding a folded pale blue robe in his hand.
“Thanks.” His uninvited presence in her bedroom did not exactly help relax her. Worse yet, her fingers brushed his as she took the robe. The effect was startling, sending shivers right up her arm.
“You can feel it, too.” He spoke softly, holding her gaze.
“Wha…what do you mean.” She clutched the robe to her chest, where at least it would hide her tightening nipples.”
“The energy passing between us.” His olive-green eyes narrowed slightly, like he was concentrating. “It’s powerful.”
“We’re probably both a bit wound up from all the excitement of the day. Or the danger. Or both.” She was babbling.
“No.” He took a step toward her. “It’s more than that.”
She struggled to stand her ground, lifting her chin to make herself taller. She wished with all her might that he would turn around and leave. But her body was singing an entirely different song, and Osman could hear it because she saw that slow hint of a smile creep over his sensual mouth.
Her insides snarled into knots of anticipation as he took another step forward, cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and kissed her full and hard on the mouth.
9
Sam’s hands fisted into Osman’s robe as emotion flashed over her. She knew she should resist. She hadn’t flirted with Osman or invited him into her bedroom or given him any hint at all that she was interested in him.
Had she?
She was excited and scared and confused and aroused. Too many feelings for her to process. Her lips pressed against his, and her tongue crept out to explore his mouth as arousal flashed through her like fire in the wind.
How could she do this?
Osman’s big, broad hands held her against him, and the hardness of his body seemed to hold her steady. Even as she thought about how she should tear her lips from his and pull back, she somehow kept pressing herself closer, letting herself fall into his powerful embrace.
She was engaged to another man.
Guilt gnawed at the outer edges of her consciousness. Her body ignored them and reveled in Osman’s passionate touch. His chest rose and fell against hers, and she felt their heart rates quicken in unison. Energy, the force of desire, tied them together like rope, pulling them tighter.
This was so wrong.
The scent of his skin filled her nostrils, binding them closer together. She wanted to inhale him all the way down to her core and let him fill her up. The roughness of his chin excited her, along with his hard jaw and the thick, roping muscles of his back. He felt so different from any man she’d ever kissed before: more masculine, more powerful, more demanding—and more giving.
Passion crackled in his touch, and she could hear it in his breath. He was a king—or almost king—with an entire country at his command, and he was totally immersed in kissing her, Samantha Bechtel, mild-mannered producer of public television documentaries who didn’t have a scrap of makeup on and who had been wearing the same easy-care travel attire all day long.
His fingers pressed into the flesh of her hips, and her body responded with a flare of heat at its core. They’d done nothing but kiss yet already she felt thoroughly ravished.
And she wanted more.
The sound of a throat being cleared made her start. Osman eased his lips from hers and looked up.
A man spoke in the local dialect behind her, and Osman nodded and replied something about radio communication.
Samantha wished she could just die right now. Or that the carpet beneath her feet could turn into a magic one and whisk her away to an alternate dimension. Osman’s hands still rested on her hips, warming her skin and claiming her. She couldn’t bear to turn around and acknowledge the presence of the intruder, which was foolish because he’d seen everything.
Her face heated until she was sure it must be the same crimson as the light from the glass lantern in the corner. She heard the man’s footsteps retreat and she summoned all her self-discipline and pulled herself back from Osman.
He let go of her easily enough, though his fingertips did drag reluctantly over her skin as she slid from his grasp. Even the dim light in the tent was bright enough to make her blink. She staggered backward, her legs feeling weak and insubstantial without Osman’s strong body holding her up.
“What happened?” Her voice shook. And it was a stupid question. They kissed, that’s what happened.
Osman’s wide mouth eased into that lazy smile. He didn’t bother to answer. “You’re quite a woman, Samantha.”
“I’m overtired and possibly in need of some aspirin.” She tried to keep her voice low and her thoughts as simple as possible. Which was hard when unwanted desire roamed through her. “Don’t think that means anything.”
His eyes glowed almost golden in the reflected light from the ornamental lanterns. Who brings elaborate stained glass lanterns on an emergency camping trip? “I know what it means.” His gaze dared her to argue.
She made a fuss of smoothing her shirt and tucking stray hairs behind her ears. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
“You’re wrong.” He didn’t elaborate, just cocked his head slightly and let that golden gaze drift over her. Her nipples, already taut and willing, sprang to attention. Her belly rippled with sensation, and once again her knees threatened to buckle.
“Would you please stop that?” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. They were in her “bedroom,” so if she marched out in a huff she didn’t really have anywhere to go. His gaze was arrogant, commanding and infuriating.
“Stop what?” Her toes tingled as he looked right at them. A vision of him washing them filled her brain
“Looking at me like that.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” His eyes eased slowly back up her body, stirring a frenzy between her hips, pounding in her chest and making her swallow hard. “I’m not fully in command of myself right now.”
“I’m engaged to be married.” Her muted howl of protest was for herself as much as Osman. She wanted to kiss him again and had to stop herself.
A furrow appeared in his majestic brow. “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. Allan and I have been engaged for…some time now.”
His eyes darkened. “If I were him I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
She had to admit it was a bit unchivalrous of Allan to run off so enthusias
tically into the desert night to explore Nabattur nightlife. And to leave her with another man—a ridiculously handsome and charming one! Maybe Allan really didn’t care that much about her? No. It was because he trusted her. Just like she trusted him not to get involved with any of the fallen women he might encounter.
“That’s exactly why he’s right for me and you’re not.” Had anyone said Osman was right for her? He certainly hadn’t. He was probably just trying to prove a point. Possibly that he could have any woman he desired at any given time. “I’d hate a possessive man who tried to tell me what to do.”
“What about a possessive man who knows exactly what you want to do.” His low, seductive voice crept into her ears, calling her to walk into his arms and kiss him with passion.
She managed to restrain herself. “I want to go to sleep.” Her voice sounded shrill. Right now she wasn’t sure she’d ever sleep again.
He shook his head slowly, that rude gleam of humor in his eyes. “You don’t.”
“Oh, really?” She pretended to act indignant, to pretend the energy snapping through her was anger, not excitement. Still, curiosity pricked her. “What do I want to do?”
“You want me to peel off your clothes and wash your body with cool fresh water scented with rose petals. Then you’d like me to massage your skin with soothing oils that fill the senses. When you’re so tense with arousal that you can no longer stand the feel of my hands on your body, you’d like me to fill you up and make love to you until you can no longer move or breathe.”
His lips formed the words with casual ease, as if this was all matter-of-fact stuff. His gaze never wavered. He still wore the long robe that gave him a formal appearance, but now she had a much better idea of what exactly lay under it.
It was hard to argue with him. Her body screamed for him to do all the things he’d suggested, even as her mind spluttered protests and begged her to run for Allan and the car.
Allan. A twinge of sadness mixed with pity crept over her. Until yesterday she’d been so sure of their life together.
Now that entire vision of the future lay in ruins at Osman’s feet.
“You have quite a nerve,” she spluttered. “I barely know you. I just came here to film the festival.”
“You enjoyed the kiss.”
True. She blinked and fought for words. “I didn’t want to kiss you.”
“But you did.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.” She hated the way her body still sizzled with the aftermath of his touch.
“You didn’t scream. Or beat me with your fists.” Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
She wanted to slap him. “Would that have made it more exciting for you?”
He shook his head slowly. “I enjoyed your willing and enthusiastic response to my advances. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t already sure you wanted me to.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“I prefer to think of myself as perceptive and confident.”
“Then you’ll have perceived that I’m here with my fiancé.” She gestured vaguely in the direction her fiancé had disappeared in.
His eyes followed her hand. “He seems to have abandoned you.”
Osman’s words hit her like a blow to the gut. Mostly because they echoed her own feelings. Allan had been pushing her away the entire time they’d been here. Maybe he did it all the time at home, too, and she didn’t notice because she was so settled in her routine and busy with work. Still, it was Osman who’d got him interested in Nabattur’s red-light district. “You enticed him away on purpose.”
“You deserve better.” He said it softly. “You deserve a man who’ll support you and protect you and stay by your side in times of trouble.”
She felt her lip begin to quiver, and she bit it. Maybe he was right. She and Allan could be sharing a magical evening of romance in this gorgeous tent and a grand adventure, and instead he’d left her with another man.
“I don’t know what I deserve. Apparently, not loyalty.” She’d fallen into someone else’s arms so easily. How would she feel if Allan did something like that to her? Devastated.
Or relieved. Guilt racked her at the thought.
“Why would you try to seduce me when you can see I’m with someone? Is this a game for you?”
“My brothers told me he was your boyfriend, and I didn’t believe them. A woman like you with a man like that? It doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean, a man like that?” He hadn’t said it with distaste, merely a touch of incredulity. Okay, so Allan wasn’t six-foot-three and weighed down with useless muscle, but he was smart and creative and reliable….
She wanted to say sweet and kind and loving, but she wasn’t really feeling those last qualities right now.
“He’s cold to you. He thinks about nothing but himself and his ideas. He feels distaste for my land and its people, that much is obvious.”
“It’s all unfamiliar to him. He feels uncomfortable out of his element.”
“You need a man who can handle any situation.” He shifted his weight and she tried not to think about all those muscles rippling under his robe. “A man who can solve all your problems.”
“I don’t. In my job as a producer I’m used to handling problems. If anything I need someone who will get out of the way and let me take charge.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Curiosity. “I have no doubt that you could take command of any situation, Samantha.” His voice suggested that he was visualizing a sensual situation.
A vision of herself riding his muscled body assaulted her. She blinked again to dispel the image. She couldn’t let this man put thoughts in her head. “If that was true I’d be getting a good night’s sleep right now. Don’t forget that I’m here on business. I’ll need to concentrate to make sure Allan gets the best possible footage tomorrow.”
Allan. Her heart sank. How could she even look him in the eye after what she’d done with Osman? She’d better not say anything. He might fly into a mood, and that would be the end of them filming the festival.
“Don’t worry. My men and I will assure you have privileged access to everything worth filming.”
Her mind flashed back to the events of that evening. “Why did you throw the garland over my head?”
“To claim you.” He held her gaze.
Panic rushed over her. “But you can’t. I’m not from here, I’m not staying, and I’m not available to claim. And you originally got the garland for Allan to throw. How did you know that he’d miss?”
“I didn’t.”
She stared at him. “If he’d succeeded you would have left me alone?”
He tilted his head slightly. “He missed. The hand of fate is always at work.”
Maybe he was right. Had fate brought her here and shoved her into his muscled, robe-clad arms? An ugly thought occurred to her. “How did you manage to get this entire tent setup erected in less than half an hour? How did you even have it handy so far away from the palace? Did you plan to spend the night here before the explosion even happened?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you plan the explosion?”
He laughed aloud. “You think I’d blow up my own car just to engineer a night with you?”
Embarrassment mixed with anger and heated her face. “It just seems very convenient.”
He rubbed his upper arm, which had the unfortunate effect of pulling his robe tight across his chest and the other thickly muscled arm. “I confess that I did intend for us to spend the night out here under the stars. I knew you would enjoy sharing in my people’s ancient way of life.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But I had nothing to do with the explosion. Either the one outside the city walls, or the more distant one in the mountains. And truly, we will be safer here instead of traveling the expected route. I can only assume I was the target of the explosion in my car. I don’t wish to place you in danger.”
“Allan and I would surely be in less danger far away from you and safely tuc
ked away in a hotel.”
“True.” There was no hint of teasing in his face. “I admit to selfishly desiring your company. You’re the first woman I’ve met since I’ve been back in Ubar who has treated me like a man and not a living god.” Humor lit his eyes again.
“I treated you with common politeness, I hope.”
“Your manners are impeccable, as is everything else about you.” His olive-green eyes drifted offensively over her body again. “But you don’t fawn or flatter or try to win my affections.”
“I thought men liked flattery.” Not Allan, of course. He’d always liked what a straight shooter she was. She sucked in a shaky breath at the renewed realization that she’d really screwed things up with Allan, even though he didn’t know it yet.
“Men who doubt their own self-worth, perhaps. I prefer a woman who is self-possessed and independent and who approaches me as an equal.”
She lifted her chin. “Such a woman does not take kindly to a man who engineers an unexpected night in the mountains and surprises her with an unwanted kiss.”
He let out a long, slow sigh, but the sparkle of amusement never left his eyes. “No. Women like you are more of a challenge. But worth it in the end.”
No doubt the end was when she finally gave herself to him. Then he could cast her aside, having had his fill of the whole experience.
Luckily, she had no intention of sleeping with him, despite the disturbing feelings rippling through unexpected parts of her body.
Sam wished she could tell him where to shove it and storm out of here, but her first responsibility was to the documentary and the people who’d provided the funding to make it. With no car and no translator and Allan in a snit, the whole project would fall apart before noon tomorrow if she didn’t somehow keep Osman on her side.
She straightened her shoulders. “Are you going to let me get some sleep, or do you have other plans for me tonight?”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 47