“You won’t be able to guess,” he told her. “Open it.”
She slipped off the bow, then pulled the paper from the box. When she lifted the lid and drew back the tissue, her breath caught in her throat.
Mazin had given her a framed picture of Ayanna.
Phoebe recognized the familiar face immediately. Her great-aunt looked very young, perhaps only a year or two older than Phoebe was now. She stood alone, in front of a pillar. Behind her, open archways led to the ocean. She recognized the palace at once.
Ayanna wore a formal ball gown. Diamonds glittered from her ears, wrists and throat. With her hair pulled back and her posture so straight and regal, she looked as elegant as a princess.
“I’ve never seen this picture before,” she breathed. “Where did you find it?”
“There are photographic archives. You had mentioned that your aunt was a favorite with the crown prince. I thought there might be pictures of her, and I was right. This one was taken at a formal party at the prince’s private residence. The original remains in the archives, but they allowed me to make a copy.”
She didn’t know what to say. That he would have gone to all this trouble for her moved her beyond words. Still, she had to make an attempt to speak. “You’re right. I can’t refuse this gift. It means too much. I have a few pictures of Ayanna, but not nearly enough. Thank you for being so thoughtful and kind.”
“My only motive was to make you smile.”
She didn’t care what his motive had been. There was no other present in the world that could have had so much meaning. Phoebe didn’t know how to explain all the feelings welling up inside her. She wanted to go to Mazin and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to try to explain her gratitude, and she wanted him to kiss her until she couldn’t think or speak or do anything but respond to him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her heart ached and there was a hollow place inside that she couldn’t explain.
“I don’t understand you,” she said at last.
“Understanding isn’t necessary.” She wondered what was.
He sipped his wine. “In two nights there is a celebration of the heritage of Lucia-Serrat,” he said.
“While we are a tropical paradise, our roots are in the desert of Bahania. Along with a special meal, there will be entertainment. Dancers and music. Although this event is not on your Ayanna’s list, I suspect you would enjoy yourself. If you are available that evening, I would be honored if you would accompany me.”
As if she had other plans. As if she would rather be with anyone but him. “Thank you for asking me, Mazin. The honor of accompanying you is mine.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes seeing into her soul. “It is probably for the best that you cannot read my mind,” he murmured. “All that is between you and the death of your innocence is a thin thread of honor that even now threatens to unravel.”
Once again he left her speechless. But before she could try to figure out if he really meant what he said—and deal with the sudden heat she felt in her belly—the waiter appeared with their menus. The mood was broken. Mazin made a great show of putting the picture safely back in the box. They discussed what they would have for dinner. His comment was never again mentioned.
But Phoebe didn’t forget.
Two days later, a large box was delivered to her room. Phoebe knew instantly that it was from Mazin, but what could he be sending her? She unfastened the large bow and ribbon holding it in place, then lifted the cover.
Moving aside several layers of tissue revealed a dark blue evening gown that shimmered as she lifted it up to examine the style. Her breath caught in her throat. The silky fabric seemed to be covered with scatters of starlight. The low-cut bodice promised to reveal more than she ever had before, while the slender skirt would outline her hips and legs. It was a sensual garment for a sophisticated woman. Phoebe wasn’t sure she had the courage to wear it.
A note fluttered to the floor. She set the dress back in the box and picked up the folded paper.
She recognized the strong, masculine handwriting instantly. Besides, who but Mazin would be sending her a dress?
“I know you will try to refuse my gift,” he wrote. “You may even call me names and chide me for my boldness. I could not face your temper—for the thought of your anger leaves me trembling with fear. So I am leaving this dress in secret, like a thief in the night.”
Phoebe knew she couldn’t possibly accept such an extravagant gift. However, Mazin’s note made her smile and then laugh. As if anything about her could ever frighten him.
She made the mistake of carrying the dress over to the mirror and holding it up in front of herself. Then she tried it on.
As she’d feared, the sensual fabric clung to every curve. Yet something about the material or the style or both made her actually look as if she had something worth clinging to. Her breasts seemed fuller, her waist smaller. She had a vision of herself in more dramatic makeup, with her hair cascading in curls down her back. While she’d never believed that she looked anything like Ayanna, with a little help she might come close.
Still wearing the dress, Phoebe dashed for the phone. She called the beauty salon in the hotel. Luckily they had a cancellation and would be happy to assist her in her transformation. If she would care to come downstairs in a half hour or so?
Phoebe agreed and hung up. Then she returned her attention to her reflection. Tonight she would look like the best possible version of herself. Would it be enough?
Phoebe arrived first at the restaurant. Mazin had called at the last minute, telling her that he was delayed with a small matter of work. He had sent a car to collect her and had promised to join her by seven.
She was shown to a private table upstairs. Carved screens kept the curious from knowing who sat there, while allowing her a perfect view of the stage. A cluster of musicians sat on one side of the room playing for the diners. Candlelight twinkled from every table.
The waiter lingered for several minutes, talking and staring until Phoebe realized he thought she was attractive. She’d never captured a man’s attention before, and while the appreciative gleam in the young man’s eyes flattered her, there was only one opinion that mattered.
The waiter disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with champagne. He poured her a glass. When he would have lingered longer, she told him she would be fine by herself. Obviously disappointed by the dismissal, he left.
Phoebe sipped the bubbly liquid. To think that after nearly three short weeks on the island a young man had actually noticed her. Much of it was the dress and the makeover, she thought, knowing she had never looked better. But she suspected there was some other reason. She was a different person than she had been when she arrived on the island.
Being with Mazin had changed her.
She leaned back in her chair. Except for the occasional afternoon when he’d had to return to work or his family, Mazin had spent most of his days with her. They had talked about everything from history to books to movies to her youth to her plans when she returned to Florida. They had shared sunsets, meals, laughter and he had been more than kind the few times she had given in to tears. They had been to every place on Ayanna’s list. Every place but one. Lucia’s Point.
Phoebe took a deep breath to calm her suddenly frantic nerves. She had little time left on the island, and then she would return to her small, solitary world. She knew that being with Mazin was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but when she was home things would go on as before. She would attend college and get her degree in nursing. Perhaps she would do better at making friends, perhaps she might even meet a young man. But there, no one would ever be as much a part of her as Mazin. Wherever she went and whatever she did, he would be with her.
She knew that their time together hadn’t meant the same thing to him as it did to her, and she could accept that. But she liked to think that she mattered a little. He had indicated that he found her attractive, that he enjoyed kissing her. So she had to ask.
Voices in the hallway distracted her. She turned and saw Mazin slipping between the screens. He was as tall and handsome as ever. The black tuxedo he wore only emphasized his good looks. She rose to her feet and approached him. His smile turned from pleased to appreciative, and their kiss of greeting seemed as natural as breathing.
“I see you are wearing the dress I sent you. I trust you will not punish me for my boldness.”
His teasing made her smile. In that moment her heart tightened in her chest, giving her a little tug. Phoebe had the sudden realization that she was in more danger than she had thought. Had she already fallen in love with Mazin?
Before she could consider the question, the pace of the music increased. Several young women took to the stage and began to dance. Phoebe and Mazin were seated and the waiter appeared with their first course.
Something about the rapid movement of the dancers captured Phoebe’s attention. Part of it might have been that it was safer to look at them than gaze at Mazin. Apprehension made it impossible for her to eat.
“Some dances are for entertainment,” he said, leaning close to be heard. She could inhale the masculine fragrance of him, and the appealing scent made her tremble. “Some tell a story. This is the journey of the nomads in their search for water. The life-giving force is essential.”
He continued talking, but she couldn’t listen to anything but the thundering of her heart. Could she do this? Could she not? Would she rather ask and know, or would she rather wonder? Hadn’t Ayanna made her promise not to have regrets?
“You have yet to touch your food, and I suspect you are not listening to me.”
She turned to him. The beat of the music seemed to thunder in her blood.
She studied his face, the way his dark hair had been brushed back from his forehead, the strong cut of his cheekbones, the faint bow in his top lip.
He touched her face with his knuckles. “Tell me, Phoebe. I can see the questions in your eyes, and something that looks like fear. Yet you need not fear anything from me. Surely we have spent enough hours together for you to know that.”
“I do know,” she whispered, unable to look away from his compelling gaze. “It’s just…” She drew in a breath. “You have been more than kind to me. I want you to know that I appreciate all you’ve done.”
He smiled. “Do not thank me too heartily. Kindness was not my motivation. I’m far too selfish a man for that.”
“I don’t believe that. Nor do I understand what you see in me. I’m young and inexperienced. But you’ve made everything about my time here really wonderful. So it seems wrong to ask for one more thing.”
“Ask me for anything. I suspect I will find it difficult to refuse you.”
He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. She shivered. The contact made her want so much, and it also, along with his words, gave her courage.
“Mazin, would you take me to Lucia’s Point tomorrow?”
His dark eyes turned unreadable. Not by a flicker of a lash did he give away what he was thinking. She swallowed.
“I know the custom. That I may only go there with a lover. I don’t have one. A lover, I mean. I’ve never…” Why didn’t the man say something? She could feel herself blushing. Words began to fail her. “I thought you might like to stay with me tonight. To change that. To—”
Her throat closed and she had to stop talking. Unable to meet his gaze any longer, she stared at her lap and waited for him to start laughing.
Mazin studied the young woman in front of him. He had always thought of her as a quiet beauty, but tonight she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Some of her transformation came from the dress and makeup, but much of it was the result of a subtle confidence. At last Phoebe didn’t doubt herself.
Until she had asked him to be her lover. He read the uncertainty in her posture, the questions in the quiver of her mouth. He knew she was unaware of how much he desired her, nor would she understand the iron control it had taken for him to keep his distance. Even as they sat there, his arousal pulsed painfully. If she had any experience, she would not question her appeal. But she did not possess that kind of worldliness.
He supposed a better man would find a way to refuse her gently. He knew he was the wrong person to take the precious gift she offered. For the first time in his life, he did not feel worthy.
Yet he could not find it in his heart to walk away. He had wanted her for too long. The need inside him burned. To be her first, to hold her and touch her and make her his own—no one had ever offered him more.
“My dove,” he murmured, leaning close.
She raised her head, her eyes brimming with tears. Doubt clouded her pretty features. He brushed away a few tears that spilled over, then kissed her mouth.
“I have ached for you from the moment I first saw you,” he said, speaking the absolute truth. “If I do not have you, a part of me will cease to exist.”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Is that a yes?”
He laughed. “It is.”
There would be consequences. To make love with a mature woman of experience was one thing—to take a virgin to his bed was another. Honor was at stake. Perhaps in this modern time there were those who took such things lightly, but not him. Not with Phoebe.
He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth. Would she still want him in her bed? His conscience battled briefly with the notion of telling her. But he needed her too much to risk it.
He shifted so he could speak directly into her ear.
“Tell me of your appetites,” he murmured. “Would you like to stay for the rest of the meal and watch the dancers? Lingering will increase the anticipation. Or do you prefer to adjourn now?”
“I don’t want to wait.”
Her simple words sent a bolt of desire through him. His arousal ached. Tonight would be both endless torture and ultimate pleasure. He was determined to show her all the possibilities and make her first time as perfect as possible. Assuming his need did not kill him first.
Seven
They left the restaurant immediately. Phoebe tried not to be scared as they stood waiting for Mazin’s car. But instead of his usual Mercedes, a black limo pulled up.
“I wanted tonight to be special,” he said with a smile as he helped her into the back seat. “I thought you would enjoy the change.”
She’d never been in a limo before, but saying that would make her sound even more unworldly and innocent than she was. Instead she tried to smile her thanks, even though her mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
Her brain was a complete blank. The drive back to the hotel would be about fifteen minutes. Obviously they had to talk about something, but she couldn’t come up with a subject. What exactly was one supposed to discuss before making love for the first time?
She glanced frantically around the luxurious interior. The seats were camel color, and the softest leather she had ever touched. To the left was a complicated entertainment center with dozens of dials, levers and switches, along with a small television. To the right was a full bar. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket.
“Had you already planned on us…” Her voice trailed off.
Mazin followed her gaze and touched the bottle of champagne. “I had thought we might take a walk along the beach and enjoy the moonlight,” he said. “But I had not hoped to have the honor of doing more than kissing you. If I had, I would have been more prepared.”
More prepared? Was that possible? Didn’t the limo and the champagne spell seduction? Had her invitation simply made things easier for him?
She wanted to ask Mazin, but he was no longer paying attention to her. Instead he seemed to be searching for something. He ran his hands along the back of the seat and pressed against the wood paneling o
n the doors.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, bewildered.
“There is a storage compartment somewhere.” He shifted to the seat behind the driver and examined the leather.
“My oldest son mentioned it to me,” he said, more to himself than to her. “He joked about always keeping the car stocked.”
Phoebe had no idea what he was talking about. She assumed he meant the older of his four boys, the one away at college.
“Why would your son be using a limo?”
Mazin didn’t answer. He pressed against the wood panel. “At last,” he said as it gave way.
The paneling opened to reveal a good-sized compartment. There was a change of clothing, more champagne and a box that she couldn’t quite see. Mazin reached for the box. She shrank back into the corner of the seat when she read the labeling.
Condoms.
Phoebe’s romantic images of what might happen that evening crashed in around her. Reality was not a fuzzy, slow-motion dance of kissing and touching. If they were going to make love, then there were potential consequences of the act. Protection was required. The sensible part of her brain applauded Mazin’s sensible nature. Her romantic heart shriveled inside.
He glanced up and saw her. She was unable to turn away before he had a chance to see the expression on her face. She didn’t know what she looked like, but whatever it was, it was enough to make him swear under his breath.
He shoved several packets into his tux pocket, closed the compartment and returned to her side.
“You do not want me to be practical?” he asked, putting an arm around her and pulling her close.
“I know it’s important.” She stared at the crisp edge of his collar rather than at his face. “I appreciate you taking care of me by, um, you know. Making sure you had, ah, protection.”
“But it has destroyed the fantasy, yes?”
She raised her gaze to his face. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
The Paternity Proposition Page 21