Desert Jewels & Rising Stars

by Sharon Kendrick

  But maybe she moved anyway—if only fractionally—because his lashes suddenly fluttered open to reveal the watchful black gleam of his eyes.

  Did she suck in a sudden breath and then expel it with a sigh which shuddered out from somewhere deep in her lungs? The kind of sigh which could easily be mistaken for longing? Was that why his arm suddenly snaked up without warning, effortlessly curling around her waist before bringing her down onto his bare chest in one fluid movement?

  ‘T-Tariq!’ she gasped, feeling the delicious impact as their bodies made unexpected contact.

  ‘Izzy,’ he growled, as every fantasy he’d been concocting over the last few days burst into rampant life.

  Izzy with her hair loose and cascading around her shoulders. Izzy wearing some ridiculously oldfash-ioned pair of pyjamas. Izzy warm and soft and smelling of toothpaste, just begging to be kissed. Reaching up, he tangled his fingers in the rich spill of her curls and brought her mouth down on his.

  ‘Oh!’ Her startled exclamation was muffled by his kiss, and it only partially blotted out the urgent clamour of her thoughts. She ought to stop him. She knew that. A whole lifetime of conditioning told her so.

  But Isobel didn’t stop him, and the words which her mother had once drummed into her floated straight out of her mind. It no longer mattered that Tariq was the worst possible person to let make love to her. Because her body was on fire—a fire created by the blazing heat of his. She wanted him, and she wanted his kiss. She wanted it enough to turn her back on all her so-called principles, and now she gave in to it with greedy fervour, her mouth opening hungrily beneath his.

  She could hear the small moan he made as the kiss deepened. He crushed his lips against hers and a fierce heat began to flood through her body, from breast to belly and beyond.

  Frantically, her fingers slithered over his chest and began to knead at the silken flesh, feeling the mad hammer of his heart against her palm. She moaned into his mouth as his hand skimmed down from the base of her throat to her breast, slipping his fingers inside her pyjama jacket and capturing the aching mound with proprietorial skill. She could feel him stroking one pinpoint nipple between finger and thumb until she gasped aloud, wriggling uselessly as she felt the flagrant ridge at his groin pressing against her belly.

  Tariq groaned. She tasted of mint, and her hair tickled him as the thick curls cascaded down the side of her face. She felt amazing. Was that because this had come at him out of the blue? Or was it novelty value because she was the last person in the world he could imagine responding with such easy passion? My God, she was hot.

  He kissed her until he had barely any breath left in his lungs, and it became apparent that her narrow sofa was hopelessly inadequate for two people who were exploring each other’s bodies for the first time.

  ‘This is getting a little crowded,’ he managed, pulling his lips away from hers with an effort.

  He slid them both to the ground, barely noticing the hard flagstones beneath the thin rug. All that concerned him was the gasping beauty in his arms, her hair spilling out all over the floor like tendrils of pale fire and her eyes as tawny as a tiger’s.

  ‘Comfortable?’ he questioned, as he smoothed some of the wiry corkscrews away from the pink flush of her cheeks.

  Heart thundering, Isobel gazed up at him, wondering why she didn’t feel shyer than she did. Was it because Tariq was staring down at her with such gleaming hunger in his eyes that in that moment she felt utterly desirable? As if almost anything was possible? ‘Oddly enough, yes, I am.’

  ‘Me too. Deliciously comfortable. Perhaps I can help make you more comfortable still, anisah bahiya.’ Pulling open her dressing gown, he began to unbutton her pyjamas—until two rosy-peaked breasts were thrusting towards him. Unable to resist their silent plea, he bent his head to suckle one. Slicking his tongue against the tight bud, he felt the responsive jerk of her hips and heard her gasp his name. ‘I’ve never seduced a woman in pyjamas before,’ he whispered against the puckered flesh.

  ‘Are you…are you going to seduce me, then?’

  ‘What do you think? That I’ve got you down here because I want to discuss my diary for next week?’

  Thinking was the last thing Isobel wanted to do—because if she did that then surely she would realise that what they were doing was crazy. Wouldn’t thinking remind her that Tariq was a cavalier playboy, and that there was a reason why men like him should be avoided like the plague? Wouldn’t it prompt her into doing the only sensible thing—which was to tear herself away from him and rush upstairs to her room, away from temptation?

  She felt the graze of his teeth against her nipple and shut her eyes. Far better to feel. To allow these amazing sensations to skate over her skin and fill her with an urgent longing which was fast spiralling out of control.

  ‘Oh!’ she breathed, eagerly squirming her hips beneath him and feeling a warm, wild heat building up inside her. And he answered her voiceless plea by slipping his hand inside the elasticated waistband of her pyjamas.

  She held her breath as his warm palm navigated its way down her belly, tiptoeing tantalisingly to the fuzz of hair which lay beyond. Still she held her breath as he stroked at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and then gasped as his fingertips seared over her moist heat.

  ‘Oh!’ she said again.

  ‘You’re very wet.’

  ‘A-am I?’

  ‘Mmm…’ Tariq’s mouth brushed over hers as his finger strayed to the tight bud at the very core of her desire. Her instant compliance didn’t surprise him—he was capable of reducing a woman to a boneless state of longing no matter what the circumstances. But the sheer and urgent spontaneity of what they were doing made him tense—just for a moment. And that moment was enough for him to remember one vital omission.

  He froze, before snatching his hand away from her. Damn and damn and damn!

  ‘I don’t have any protection with me,’ he ground out.

  For one stupid moment Isobel thought he was talking about the bodyguards he sometimes used, and then she saw the look of dark frustration on his face and realised what he meant. A wave of insecurity washed over her.

  Should she tell him?

  Of course she should tell him—they were on the brink of making love, and now was not the time for coyness.

  ‘Actually, I’m…’ Isobel swallowed, wanting his fingers back on her aching flesh. ‘I’m on the pill.’

  Her admission dampened his ardour fractionally. He drew away from her, his black eyes slitted in a cool question. ‘The pill?’

  Isobel heard the unmistakable disapproval in his voice. ‘Lots of women are.’

  There was a pause. ‘Yes. I imagine that they are.’

  Suddenly she shrank from the truth in his hard black eyes, indignant words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. ‘I suppose you think that the kind of woman who happens to have contraception covered is easy?’

  Tariq shrugged. ‘You must agree that it does imply a certain degree of accessibility.’

  ‘Well, you couldn’t be more wrong, Tariq,’ she declared hotly. ‘Because…because I’ve never had a lover before!’

  He stared at her, genuinely confused. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘I was prescribed the pill because my periods are heavy, and that’s the only reason. I’ve…Well, I’ve never had any other reason to take it.’

  This commonplace and unexpected disclosure highlighted the unusual degree of intimacy between them, and Tariq frowned. He brushed a corkscrew lock of hair away from her forehead, trying to make sense of her words. ‘You’re trying to tell me you’re—?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a virgin,’ she said, as if it didn’t matter.

  Because surely it didn’t? What mattered was Tariq kissing her and transporting her back to that heavenly place he’d taken her to before. Just because she had waited a long time for a man to turn her on as much as this, it didn’t mean that she should be treated as some kind of leper, did it?
/>
  Sliding her arms around his neck, she lifted her face to his, hungry for him. ‘Now, kiss me again,’ she whispered.

  How could he refuse her soft entreaty? Tariq groaned as he tasted her trembling lips and a shaft of pure desire shot through him. He could feel the softness of her breasts yielding against his bare chest, their taut tips firing at him like little arrows towards his heart. Irresistibly, his fingers slipped inside the waistband of her pyjama trousers again, and he heard her little gurgle of anticipation.

  For one moment he was about to peel them right off. Then his hand paused, mid-motion, as he forced himself to recall the unbelievable facts.

  She was a virgin!

  And more importantly…

  She was his assistant!

  ‘No!’ he thundered, dragging his lips away from hers. ‘I will not do this!’

  Her body screaming out its protest, Isobel looked up at him in confusion. ‘Will not do what?’

  ‘I will not rob you of your innocence!’

  She stared at him, still not understanding. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Are you crazy? Because a woman’s purity is her greatest gift. And it’s a one-off—you don’t get to use it again. So save it for a man who will give you more than I ever can, Izzy. Don’t throw it away on someone like me.’

  For a moment he cupped her chin between his palms, looking down at her with a regret which only compounded her intense feeling of rejection. She jerked her face away—as if to allow him continued contact might in some way contaminate her.

  ‘Then w-would you mind moving away from me and letting me get up?’ she said, trembling hurt distorting her words.

  ‘I can try.’ With a grimace, he rose to his feet, the heavy throb at his groin making movement both difficult and uncomfortable.

  Despite the scene he now rather grimly anticipated he couldn’t help a flicker of admiration as he looked at Isobel clambering to her feet, tugging furiously at the jacket of her pyjamas. Passion always changed a woman, he mused, but in Izzy’s case it had practically transformed her. Her hair was falling in snake-like tendrils all around her slender shoulders and she stood before him like some bright and unrecognisable sorceress. For a moment he experienced a deep sense of regret and frustration—and then he steeled his heart against his foolishness and turned his back on her.

  With shaking fingers Isobel began to do up her pyjamas, realising that she had let herself down—and in so many ways. She had shown Tariq how much she wanted him and he had pushed her away, leaving her feeling guilty that she’d been prepared to ‘throw away’ her virginity on someone like him. How did you ever get back from something like that? The dull truth washed over her. The answer was that you didn’t.

  Biting her lip, she watched as he turned away to adjust his jeans, trying to ignore the sense of having missed out on something wonderful. Of having been on the brink of some amazing discovery. Inevitably she was now going to lose her job, and she didn’t even have the compensation of having known him as a lover. But surely it was better to face up to the consequences of her behaviour than to wait for him to put the knife in?

  ‘You want me to hand my notice in?’ she asked quietly.

  This was enough to make Tariq turn back and scrutinise her, steeling himself against the enduring kiss-ability of her darkened lips, knowing that if he didn’t get out of there soon he’d go back on everything he’d just said and thrust deep and hard inside her, tear her precious membrane and leave his mark on her for ever. He shook his head. ‘Actually, that’s precisely what I don’t want. That’s one of the reasons I pulled back. I value you far too much to want to lose you, Izzy.’

  In spite of everything, his words took Isobel aback. In five years of working for him it was the first time he’d ever said anything remotely like that. She screwed her face up, wondering how to react to the unfamiliar compliment. ‘You do?’

  ‘Of course I do—and this week has shown me just how much. I have a lot to thank you for. You’re a hardworking, loyal member of my staff, and I’ve come to rely on you a great deal. And believe me—I’d have a lot of trouble replacing you.’

  Isobel kept her face expressionless as something inside her withered and died. ‘I see.’

  ‘And just because of this one uncharacteristic lapse…’

  She grimaced as his voice tailed off. Now he was making her sound like a docile family dog which had unexpectedly jumped up and bitten the postman.

  ‘I don’t see why it should have to change anything,’ he continued.

  ‘So you want that we should just forget what has happened and carry on as normal?’

  ‘In theory, yes.’ His black eyes bored into her. ‘Do you think you can do that?’

  It was the patronising tone of the question which swung it. Isobel had been on the verge of telling him that she didn’t think there was any going back—or forward—but his arrogant assumption that she might struggle with resuming their professional relationship made her blood boil.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think I’d have a problem with it,’ she answered sweetly. ‘How about you?’

  Tariq’s eyes narrowed as she tossed him the throwaway question. Was she now implying that she was some sort of irresistible little sex-bomb who was going to test his formidable powers of self-control once they were back in the office? He gave a slow smile. He thought she might be forgetting herself.

  Once she was back in her usual environment, with her hair scraped back and her rather frumpy clothes in place, there would be no reoccurrence of that inexplicable burst of lust. There would be no flower-sprigged pyjamas and soft curves to send out such sizzling and mixed messages, threatening to make a man lose his head.

  ‘I wouldn’t over-estimate your appeal, if I were you,’ he said coolly. ‘Because that would be a big mistake. I can resist you any time I like.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HOW could he have been so damned stupid?

  Tariq stared out of the window at the darkening London skyscape which gave his office its magnificent views. Stars were twinkling in the indigo sky, and in the distance he could see the stately dome of St Paul’s cathedral.

  He should have been on top of the world.

  The doctor had given him the all-clear, his car was in the garage being painstakingly mended, and his acquisition of the Premiership team looked almost certain. Khayarzah oil revenues were at an all-time high, and he had received an unexpected windfall from some media shares he’d scooped up last year. It seemed that everything he turned his hand to in the world of commerce flourished. In short, business was booming.

  He turned away from the magnificent view, trying to put his finger on what was wrong. Wondering why this infuriating air of discontentment simply would not leave him—no matter how hard he tried to alleviate it.

  He gave a ragged sigh, knowing all too well what lay at the heart of his irritation yet strangely reluctant to acknowledge its source. Its sweet and unexpected source…

  Izzy.

  His rescuer and tormentor. His calm and efficient assistant, with all her contradictory qualities, who had somehow—against all the odds—managed to capture his imagination.

  Had it been pure arrogance which had made him so certain that his lust for her would dissolve the moment they were back in the office? He’d decided that the crash had weakened him in all ways—mentally, physically and emotionally. He’d thought that was why he had been so curiously susceptible to a woman he had never found in the least bit attractive. An insanity, yes—but a temporary one.

  But he had been wrong.

  Since being back at work he’d been unable to stop fantasising about her. Or to stop thinking about those prudish pyjamas which had covered up the red-hot body beneath. His mind kept taking him back to their tangled bodies on the floor of her cottage, reminding him of just how close they’d got. If common sense hadn’t forced him to call a halt to what was happening he would have…would have…

  But it was more than just frustrated lust which was sending his bloo
d pressure soaring. His desire was compounded by knowing that she was a virgin. That she had never known a man’s lovemaking before and she had wanted him. Just as he had wanted her.

  He swallowed. The fact that she worked for him and that it was entirely inappropriate did little to lessen his appetite. On the contrary, the thought of making love to her excited him beyond belief—perhaps because it was his first ever taste of the forbidden. And for a man like Tariq very few things in life were forbidden…

  His erotic thoughts were interrupted by the cause of his frustration as Izzy walked in, bearing a tiny cup of inky coffee which she deposited in front of him with a smile. Not the kind of smile he would have expected, in the circumstances. It was not tinged with longing, nor was it edged with a frustration similar to the one he was experiencing. No, it was a bright and infuriatingly sunny smile—a sort of pre-weekend kind of smile. As if she had forgotten all about those passion-fuelled moments back in her country cottage.

  Had she?

  ‘You aren’t changing?’ she questioned.

  Tariq blinked at her, her question arrowing into the confusing swirl of his thoughts. ‘Changing?’ he growled. ‘What’s wrong with the way I am?’

  Isobel felt her heart hammer in response. Oh, but he was edgy this evening! Even edgier than he’d been all week. Mind you, she’d been feeling similarly jumpy—just determined not to show it. Her pride had been shattered by his rejection, and she was determined to salvage what was left of it by maintaining a cool air of composure. But it was difficult trying to pretend that nothing had happened when your boss had fondled your naked breasts and part of you was longing for him to do it all over again.

  She tipped her head to one side and pretended to consider his question. ‘How long have you got?’

  ‘Izzy—’

  ‘I meant changing in a literal sense,’ she clarified, with a quick glance at her watch. ‘Aren’t you due for a party at the Maraban Embassy at seven? And don’t you usually wear something dark and tailored instead of…?’ Her bravado suddenly evaporated, her voice tailing off as she was momentarily distracted by his physical presence. Why had she allowed her eyes to linger on his physique, when she had determinedly been avoiding it all week?