Zahkim Sheikhs Series: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  Instead of planning how she might do that, however, she fell asleep remembering how Nasim's hand had felt on her, how his mouth had left her shivering and shattered, how he'd tasted coming in her mouth like that. And how she'd like to do all that again.

  The clatter of china on a metal tray woke her. Getting her eyes open, she glimpsed daylight and a dark-haired maid in one of those flowing white outfits bringing her coffee. She frowned. Not Nasim, but the maid handed her a note with a grin and left. Ginni opened it.

  Seemed Nasim had government stuff to deal with, which left Ginni working hard not to feel disappointed.

  She drank her coffee, showered, pulled out a flowered dress that would do well with the heat already building, and went looking for food. She found the breakfast room with no trouble, but leaned her palms on the back of a chair. Her shoulders slumped. No Nasim there, either—not that she was missing his company. No, sir. She nibbled on something like a pastry, asked one of the guys bringing in food and more coffee about a computer she could use, had a laptop brought to her, and was bowed into the library, which outdid the one her father had put in on the plantation he'd bought as a showcase of his growing wealth from Leeland Enterprises.

  Settling into an oversized leather chair, she chewed on a thumbnail, checked her email from the website, downloaded her proposal for shipping Zahkim oil to fiddle with some of the numbers, and checked her phone five times to see if any of the law firms had gotten back to her. They hadn't. She considered calling the family firm back home, but they'd feel obliged to tell Daddy, and wouldn't Mama have a fit over having missed the wedding. Ginni couldn't face the ruckus. It'd be different if she had a deal in hand. Mama would still kick up a fuss about the wedding, but Daddy would be all smiles and settle Mama’s feathers soon enough.

  An hour later, Ginni's stomach grumbled about her small breakfast, and she went looking for something to eat. Seemed lunch had been set up like a buffet in the room with the glass table. She helped herself but found herself pushing the food around on a china plate rimmed in gold, hardly tasting the delicate spices and exotic dishes, and that was a pure shame. Getting up, she headed for the door and almost ran into Nasim.

  He caught her arms—and she caught a breath.

  For once, he looked a real sheikh. He had on the full deal—white robes, the white scarf over his head, held in place with a black, rope-like ring. A golden sash wrapped his waist, and white, wide trousers ended in soft, black boots. With that trim, black beard, those amber eyes, and the thick, dark eyelashes under the slash of black eyebrows, he looked better than any movie pirate. He also smelled a lot better than movie theater popcorn; his scent of musky spice wrapped around her, leaving her light-headed.

  With a smile, he kissed one cheek, then the other, and said, "Hello, wife. Sorry to have kept you waiting, but the ambassador from Dijobuli insisted on a formal meeting."

  She untangled herself from his arms. "That'd be, ‘good afternoon.’ Hope it wasn't bad." Her stomach knotted. Jasmine's dad had seemed more than a little miffed about Jasmine having ditched her wedding.

  Nasim shrugged. "The formalities of untangling what should have been my marriage to Jasmine Hadad. Have you heard from her? She has not yet told her father where she is."

  Ginni bit down on her lower lip and chewed on it. She really didn't want to get in the middle of Jasmine needing to deal with her family.

  Shaking his head, Nasim said, "Never mind my asking. You've lunched? Good. We start your lessons today." He took her hand and pulled her with him. She went, steps dragging. Given the dress she'd grabbed, she was hoping they weren't headed for the desert again. She'd be happy to stay out of the sun. The palace went in for thick walls and open doorways instead of air conditioning, and it reminded her of her grandma's old house, with its deep porches and breezeways.

  She lost track of the turns they took—down this hallway, turn, down another one. More paintings on the walls, thick carpets, niches with vibrantly colored vases. She started to think this was as much a museum as a place to live. Could she maybe start complaining about that to make Nasim think he'd married the wrong woman?

  And then Nasim led her onto a terrace that overlooked yet another garden, this one outside the main structure, but with a tall, white wall in the distance. She pulled in a breath, took in the flowers and lush vegetation, and wondered how anyone minded living in what was better than the best resort.

  A couple of fellows in those long, white tunics waited. They smiled, swapped a bunch of words with Nasim, who'd dropped her hand and was pulling on a thick glove that came up to his elbow. One of the fellows offered her the same kind of glove—just one of them. She tried to pull it on like Nasim was doing and looked up to find yet another guy headed toward them with what looked like a hawk perched on his arm.

  A black, leather hood with a tassel sticking up covered the bird's head. Brown feathers on its breast contrasted with a paler brown, and grey feathers stood out on the wings as it spread them and fluttered. Ties dangled from killer talons. The servant moved the bird to Nasim's arm. He said something to it, fed it some kind of treat, and it settled.

  Slipping the hood from the hawk's head, Nasim turned to Ginni. "This is Kazakh. She is a saker falcon, and she has much to teach you."

  Ginni eyed the bird, which seemed to be staring back as if sizing her up for a tasty meal. "That beak of hers—you sure she's not intending to take one of my fingers off?"

  Nasim gestured for her to lift her arm. She did so—ready to jump back. The bird was still looking her over, but shifted from Nasim's arm to Ginni’s, digging into the glove with long talons in a way that left Ginni glad of the glove and also glad she worked out.

  "She's no lightweight," she said, trying to balance her arm with the bird on it.

  He grinned. What with him in the flowing robes and the sun sparkling in the blue sky, she thought he looked younger—happier. She kind of liked this Nasim better than the one in the button-down tailored suits.

  They headed out into the garden, following a dirt path, her carrying the falcon and trying not to let her arm sag. The bird fluttered as if it wasn't happy, and Ginni caught Nasim's elbow with her free hand.

  "I think she likes you better."

  He took the falcon back onto his arm, soothed its feathers, and with a word to the falcon, threw it up into the sky. Ginni gasped. In the sky, the giant bird took on an unexpected grace as it stretched out its wings, beating up into the wind. It went from looking a menacing creature to a thing of utter beauty. Ginni decided the plan to make Nasim want to ask for a divorce would just have to wait.

  "She's hunting now," Nasim said, sounding about as proud as a daddy watching his kid graduate.

  "How does she know what to get?" Ginni asked, watching the bird soar overhead. "How does she know to come back?"

  "I raised Kazakh from a hatchling. Her training has been one of the great joys of my life. But wait and watch—we hunt with her." Nasim kept talking, his voice low, almost mesmerizing. He stepped closer to Ginni and put an arm around her waist.

  Ginni didn't care. She was caught up in the moment. "You ever wish you could be up there with her—flying high and free?"

  Letting out a breath, Nasim nodded. "Kazakh is like me—a captive in luxury. She has the best food, the best care, but she is never truly free. Ah, look, she's spotted something—a rabbit perhaps. See how she circles. She'll dive soon, if she thinks the prey worth a chase."

  He kept his stare on Kazakh, but he could feel Ginni's gaze on him now. "Ever thought about letting her go free?" she asked, her voice soft.

  He looked down at her. "She is also like me in that regard—neither of us would do well without the surroundings we have grown up in. We are creatures of our world."

  Ginni gave a snort and looked up at Kazakh again. "That sounds more like an excuse to me."

  Kazakh's cry pulled Nasim's stare from Ginni. He needed his focus to be on the falcon now. Kazakh missed her first try at prey and came back to his ar
m when he whistled. He started to explain the finer points of falconry to Ginni—how it was not so much the hunt as the pleasure of watching Kazakh fly. And how Kazakh had infinite patience.

  "She never minds if she misses. Never gets frustrated and quits. She knows that sooner or later, she will succeed."

  In the end, Kazakh came back with a snake in her talons. That had Ginni giving a small screech and hiding behind Nasim. He almost laughed at her, but she glared at him, warned him snakes were no laughing matter, and told him he could just get rid of it, and she didn't care if it was already dead or not.

  He rewarded Kazakh for her hunting, gave orders for her to have some of the snake in her meal that evening, and led Ginni from the rear gardens and back inside. They'd spent more than a few hours outside, and he was glad to step back into the cool of the palace. Ginni walked with him, asking questions about how he'd gotten started with falconry, if it was popular in Zahkim, and if he'd ever lost one of his falcons, having it just take off.

  "I mean, don't you think they'd want to be out in the open sky, really?"

  "Perhaps. But Kazakh has always come back to me when I call. I think that must mean she is content. As I hope you will be." He ushered her into the central gardens.

  He'd ordered a meal to be waiting for them—fresh oysters, crab and lobster flown in just for this meal, the finest aged beef from Japan, pheasant from his favorite restaurant in London, capon from Paris, and even a few dishes from Ginni's New Orleans, made with catfish and alligator. Ginni's eyes widened as she took in the candlelit table—set with the palace china and crystal only for the two of them. Nasim snapped his fingers, and music from a jazz band hidden at the far end of the garden sweetened the evening air.

  Ginni glanced at him. "Wow—you sure know how to impress."

  He held her chair for her, and the dishes were served to them, one after the other. Her delight in food had him smiling. "You, Virginia Leeland, are a sensualist."

  She sipped at the beer he'd made available for her. "I've been called worse."

  They finished the main courses, and servants cleared the table, leaving behind delicate pastries, fresh fruit, and cups of chilled sorbet. Ginni glanced at them and groaned. "I couldn't eat one more bite, but I'd sure like to.

  Pushing back his chair, Nasim stood and held out his hand. "Dance with me."

  She glanced at his hand and then up at his face. "Well…we should talk some business. But I could do with working off some of that meal."

  "You can talk and dance."

  She gave a laugh. "I sure hope so."

  Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her onto her feet and into his arms. Now he could see the use of those once much-hated dance lessons he'd been given. He twirled Ginni around and pulled her back into his arms. "So why should Zahkim contract with Leeland Enterprises? Your father's company has a reputation for—"

  "For what?" She pulled back a little bit and met his stare. Her hips, however, pressed against his, moved against him. "Bein' smart?"

  "Ending up owning others." He twirled her again, under one arm, and then wrapped his arm around her waist. "Zahkim could expand its current fleet of tanker trucks."

  "And train a whole bunch of operators fast enough? Then there's the logistics of loading and unloading, plus you don't have a fleet of tanker ships waiting on any docks, now do you? You hire ships, and that costs you." She touched a finger to a spot just under his jaw and ran her touch down his neck. "Takes time and money to build all that structure—a lot more than you'd be paying Leeland."

  He smiled and pulled her closer. The music slowed. He swayed with her under the just-emerging stars. "What assurance do I have that Zahkim will not end up paying…too much?"

  "Isn't business always a risk?" she asked, her voice breathy now. "But…we could put clauses…in the contract. Now couldn't we?"

  She stared up at him, eyes huge. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her hips swayed, and he could no longer think about business. Lips pressed tight, he swept her up in his arms. She gave a small squeak. "Cher, I'm no lightweight."

  "No, you're my wife." Carrying her out of the garden, he headed for the stairs.

  She put her head on his shoulder. "I always wished a guy'd come along and sweep me off my feet—never figured I'd find one."

  "Well, I could throw you onto a saddle and ride out into the desert with you."

  She giggled. "That sounds…uncomfortable."

  Reaching his room at the palace, he stepped inside, kicked the door closed and carried Ginni into the bedroom. He put her down and pulled off his keffiyeh.

  Eyes alight, Ginni sat up. "Keep going." She kicked off her shoes.

  He stripped off his boots and threw off his robe and shirt. She reached behind her, unzipped her dress, and shimmied out of it, leaving her clad only in scraps of black lace that barely covered her. Nasim slipped out of his trousers, left them pooled onto the floor. Ginni's eyebrows rose high. "No underwear underneath. I'll have to keep that in mind."

  He covered her body with his, pressed her down into the mattress, took her mouth with his. She wrapped her legs around him, reached between them—and suddenly he found himself on his back, with her over him, her eyes bright. He frowned at her.

  "How did you do that?"

  She wiggled herself onto him, her breasts swaying, utterly distracting him. "Aikido—it's not just good for fitness. And now…" Swinging her leg up and over, she got herself turned around. Her ass rested in front of him now—a tempting globe. So he put his hands on it, spread her cheeks, and swiped a lick from front to back.

  With a groan, she pushed back onto him, pushed herself onto his face, and rubbed. The scent of her drove everything else out of his head. She smelled of the ocean—of an aroused woman. She smelled elemental…and divine. He pushed his tongue up into her, started a slow fucking, in and out, with just his mouth and tongue.

  Another wiggle of her hips had him groaning and losing concentration. He tightened his hold on her hips, but she had her fist around his cock now, had one hand stroking firm, and then she put her mouth around him. The world slipped into sucking sounds, into the slap of skin on skin, her slick body sliding over him, her breasts pressed into him. She pulled off him and put his cock between her breasts, caught it there, squeezed herself around him. He pushed his tongue as deep as he could, pressed her into him. He tried to hold on, tried to make her come first, but he couldn't. She squeezed him tighter.

  The orgasm burst out of him, shooting down his spine and leaving him almost senseless. Ginni gave a groan, wiggled her hips so he could get to her clit and suck on it. She started to lick the semen from him with broad swipes of her tongue.

  Another spasm shook him, and she milked him with her hand, pulled on him, muttering, "Yeah, gimme more, gimme more."

  He did, coming a third time, the world whiting out for an instant. And then he was aware only of Ginni lying on top of him, humming softly, and patting his thigh. "Now that's what I call dessert."

  He wrapped his arms around her legs. He'd wanted to be inside her—not this. But how could he fault such pleasure as his Ginni could bring? He drifted into dreams of her—of her at his wedding, but with her pulling back her veil, smiling up at him. Then turning and running from him.

  He woke cold and abruptly to find his bed empty and Ginni gone. Sitting up, he glanced around. She had left a note on the bed—a scribbled and lopsided happy face.

  Nasim fell back on the bed, arms spread wide. Last night had been amazing. But it had left him even more determined to make Ginni his wife in more than name.

  Chapter Nine

  He would seduce his wife. Or that was his plan. This was no longer about business. She had set herself as a challenge to him. One he intended to meet. She was his wife. He would see she became more than one in name, and then they would talk finally about this bloody stupid deal she wanted for Leeland bloody Enterprises.

  But a seduction needed a plan.

  It took him two days to arrange everyt
hing and every ounce of patience he could muster not to simply walk into Ginni's room and have done with the business. He kept telling himself this would be worth the effort, but a small voice niggled in the back of his mind that he was deluding himself. She had shown no interest in remaining his wife—he had made discreet inquiries and discovered she had contacted several law firms in Al Resab about divorce. He quickly put a stop to such a thing. But she was Aldrich Leeland's daughter—she would have resources back in America to get what she wanted, if what she wanted was her freedom from him. So how did he make her want to stay with him? This was, after all, a point of honor. He could not lose both a bride and a wife within such a short time.

  And so he began his seduction of his wife with a tour of Al Resab.

  He had sent a midnight-blue evening gown to her room, along with a set of dark sapphires and diamonds for her to wear. She walked down the stairs of the palace, however, in a gold dress that clung to her curves and showed off her legs. He frowned. She was already upsetting his plans—yet again. But she gave him a brilliant smile and her hand, and he found it difficult to bring up the topic of her ignoring the dress he'd sent her.

  On the drive into the city, he talked about the sights of Al Resab—the museums, the new hotels Tarek was working to build to lure tourists to Zahkim, the university that Arif wished to expand. Ginni asked questions—didn't she always—about the oil fields, what folks did to earn a living, and then about the city, as the desert gave way to buildings, parks and crowds.

  Turning to him, she asked, "Just how many folks live here?"

  "In Al Resab? Most of the population of Zahkim—it is the major city. Tarek is thinking of building a reservoir to the north, which would help provide water to grow the capital and provide a water feature for tourists."