Sexy Sheikh Bundle (Harlequin Presents)

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘So quick to do business?’ he murmured.

  ‘One should always strive for professionalism,’ she answered coolly.

  ‘Ironically, that is what Abdul-Aziz always says.’

  Sienna remembered the aide who had seemed to so dislike her. ‘And is he here with you now?’

  Hashim shook his head. Hot-headedly, he had blamed his aide for showing him the calendar, even though he had only been doing his job. But for a while the Sheikh had seen him as a bearer of bad tidings—and he was as superstitious as the next Qudamah man. So he had sent him home, and in a way the split had been necessary—for the older man had begun to see himself in a role which was not befitting a royal aide. He had begun to love the fatherless Hashim as a son. And Hashim had no need of extra love.

  ‘Abdul-Aziz was posted back to Qudamah,’ he said. ‘He is married now, with a son of his own.’

  ‘Married?’

  ‘Yes.’ And then, because this exchange seemed almost too cosy, too familiar, he allowed his eyes to drift over her face. ‘Aren’t you going to thank me for the calendar?’ he questioned deliberately.

  She had wondered when he would get around to mentioning it, and she had practised her response until she had it word-perfect. ‘No, I’m not. And if you continue to talk about it then I will walk out of here right now.’

  He gave a faint smile. ‘Then I guess we’d better get the ordering out of the way.’

  She glanced down at the menu, which was like a blur though she knew it backwards. ‘I’d like the Dover Sole, please. Grilled, no sauce. With a side salad.’

  ‘The choice of a woman on a diet,’ he observed.

  ‘Not at all. A woman who is careful about what she eats, that’s all.’

  ‘Careful?’ His black eyes glittered. ‘How very curious. Not a word I would have associated with you.’

  She leaned forward. Big mistake—for now she was in full range of his subtle, spicy scent, and it crept over her like sensual fingers. She sat right back again. ‘Why don’t we clear something up before we go any further? You don’t know me. Maybe you never did—but you certainly don’t now. So you aren’t qualified to make any judgments about me. Understand?’

  The waiter reappeared as Hashim glittered her a look which said Aren’t I? Sienna watched as he gave the order quickly, almost impatiently—like someone who had spent much of his life eating in expensive restaurants and was bored by them. She guessed he had.

  And now take charge, she told herself. Behave like you would with any other new client. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a notebook. He eyed it with distaste.

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ he questioned acidly.

  ‘I’m afraid so. You wouldn’t be very happy if I forgot everything you told me, would you? And so far you haven’t told me anything.’

  ‘But you look like you’re interviewing me—and we’re in a restaurant!’

  ‘Well, you chose it.’

  ‘I know I did—but would you have agreed to dine in my suite if I had asked you?’

  ‘Not a snowball’s chance in hell.’ She looked at him, daring him to defy her. ‘Presumably you wanted me to be a captive audience?’

  Hashim’s eyes narrowed as he considered her quickfire responses. Smart. And sassy. No matter how good an actress she was, she couldn’t play smart unless she really was smart. ‘Captive?’ he mused. ‘Yes, perhaps I did.’ He imagined her tied to his bed with black satin ribbons, wearing nothing but scarlet underwear and a pair of matching high heels, and he felt the heavy stab of an erection.

  ‘So, is it going to be a big party?’ Sienna asked, cutting into his erotic thoughts.

  ‘Party?’ With a distracted movement of his shoulders Hashim brought himself back to the subject in hand with an effort. ‘No. Very small. A private dinner party for ten.’

  ‘And the guest list?’

  ‘One of my assistants will organise that side of it. I am afraid that most of my guests will refuse to deal with a stranger.’

  Defensively, Sienna picked up her water glass. ‘In that case I’m surprised I’ll be any use at all.’

  ‘But that is where you are wrong. You will be responsible for the event itself,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to organise the music—I thought perhaps a string quartet. And the lighting—I like lots of candles, by the way. And the wine and the food—of which there must be an interesting and imaginative vegetarian selection. The mood of the evening will be down to you, Sienna. Everything you need you must ask for, and it will be supplied.’

  How effortless everything was when you were rich! You snapped your fingers and got what you wanted. Sienna allowed herself a small smile. Well, not quite everything. He couldn’t have her.

  ‘And what kind of ambience do you want?’ she questioned. ‘Is there any particular reason why you’re giving this party?’

  There was one brief moment of hesitation. ‘As a thank-you,’ he said smoothly, running the tip of one finger reflectively along the soft linen of his napkin. ‘For some of the many people in England who have done me favours.’

  Bizarrely, Sienna found herself wondering if that included sexual favours—but since his dark, lean looks were attracting all kinds of predatory glances maybe it wasn’t such a bizarre thought after all. ‘Have you thought which of the hotel’s function rooms you’d like? There are several.’ She looked at him expectantly. ‘Or do you just want to me to choose?’

  He stared at her. ‘But that is the whole point, Sienna,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want it held here—or indeed in any hotel. A hotel is too impersonal for the needs of this particular event. I want you to find me a house.’

  Sienna looked up from her pad and met the dark steel of his eyes. ‘What kind of house?’

  ‘A fine country house—with gardens and a view—a very English house. It should have at least ten bedrooms, so that my guests can stay overnight should they so desire it. There should be a lake which will magnify the light of the moon and double the number of stars. Somewhere that symbolises everything which is beautiful about your country. Can you do that for me, Sienna?’

  The poetry of his words momentarily threw her, as did that fleeting, dreamy look which had softened his hard face, and she swallowed. ‘How long have I got?’

  ‘A month.’

  ‘A month? That isn’t long. Certainly not to find the kind of house you’re looking for.’

  ‘Are you saying you can’t do it?’

  ‘Oh, I can do it,’ she said. ‘But you might have trouble getting your guests there if they’ve only got four weeks. Important people have busy diaries—especially the kind of people I imagine you’ll be inviting.’

  He gave a low laugh. ‘Please do not concern yourself on that score. They will attend,’ he said softly. ‘If I so wish it.’

  ‘By royal command?’ she mocked, resting her wrist against her water glass and enjoying the sudden cool sensation. ‘Tell me—just out of interest—have you spent your whole life getting exactly what you want?’

  ‘Material things, yes. That is, I imagine, what you meant?’

  ‘It wasn’t, actually.’

  ‘No?’ He studied the dark shadows beneath her eyes. Was he responsible for those? Or had some lover shared her bed last night—making use of her body and denying her sleep? He found himself unprepared for the dark jealousy which twisted his gut, and his voice hardened. ‘Money is the preoccupation of most women,’ he said harshly. ‘Surely not even you would deny that?’

  How cynical he sounded. Sienna felt a wave of something like regret wash over her—for she had only helped to convince him that women would do all kinds of things for money. She wished the food would arrive, so that she could eat it and go. Yet wasn’t there a tiny part of her which was revelling in the opportunity to be this close to him again? To feast her eyes on a man she had once loved to distraction—and told him so.

  Briefly she closed her eyes as she remembered whispering it to him, on that last, terrible evening. And the way
he had just ignored her trembling statement.

  Try and obliterate the past, she told herself, but she stared down at the food on her plate without really seeing it.

  ‘You aren’t really hungry at all, are you, Sienna?’ he said, his silken voice weaving its way into her troubled thoughts.

  He breathed her name in a way she remembered him once breathing it in passion, putting the emphasis on the last syllable and holding it in his mouth as if it were a mouthful of fine wine.

  ‘Not really, no.’ He was looking at her in a way which was making whispers of longing tiptoe over her flesh—and she had to snap out of it.

  She needed to protect herself against his enchantment, and she found herself wondering how other women coped. Surely she couldn’t be the only woman he bewitched with his curiously old-fashioned air of mastery and chauvinism? And women weren’t supposed to be bewitched by qualities such as those. They were supposed to look for tolerance and compassion—not simply the desire to be swept off their feet by a flashing-eyed Alpha man.

  She laid her fork down and pushed her plate away. ‘Well, since we’ve tied up the business side of things, and neither of us looks as if we’re about to tuck into the food, then you’ll forgive me if I take my leave—’

  ‘No.’ The word was emphatic. ‘I will not. You aren’t going anywhere because I haven’t finished with you. Not yet.’

  Did he mean to make her sound disposable? she wondered. Like something he could just crumple up and throw away? And suddenly it wasn’t easy not to be intimidated, to take charge and be calm and unflappable—all the things she had learnt to do in order to survive and succeed.

  Maybe this was one conversation she couldn’t get out of having, and maybe it was a waste of time to try. Like having a tooth pulled—wasn’t that ravaging moment of pain worth it just for the blessed relief you felt afterwards?

  ‘Well, fire away, Hashim,’ she said, using her last bit of bravado. ‘And get whatever it is you want to say off your chest.’

  He traced a thoughtful forefinger along the edge of his lips. ‘I simply cannot understand why you chose obscurity,’ he said.

  She stared at him. ‘Excuse me?’

  He gestured towards her, as if he was about to introduce her to someone at a party. ‘Oh, there is no doubt that you have become successful—’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ she said drily.

  ‘But only in a purely relative sense.’ His gaze was very steady. ‘It puzzles me that you have stayed working in hotels.’

  ‘Lots of girls do.’

  ‘But lots of girls do not look the way you do.’

  ‘Hashim, please—’

  ‘You could have earned a fortune by capitalising on your body, and yet you chose this. So tell me…’ His question hung on the air and Sienna waited breathlessly. When it came out it was disguised with the silken cloak of civility, but the look of disgust which hardened the ebony eyes told its own story. ‘Why did you never pursue your career in topless modelling?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHYdid you never pursue your career in topless modelling?

  With Hashim’s critical question ringing in her ears, Sienna felt like someone who had put a piece of expensive lingerie away in a drawer, only to pull it out and discover that it had become faded and moth-eaten. He made her feel cheap. Tawdry. Something she hadn’t felt for a long, long time, and she glanced around them, as if the other diners might have overheard.

  ‘You worry that people might be listening?’ A cruel smile curved his lips. ‘So you have not boasted of your days working in glamour?’ The word dripped with contempt. ‘You are concerned about what others think, perhaps? I cannot believe that, Sienna—for why reveal your body if you are afraid of people finding out about it? Why allow men to feast their eyes on your nakedness if you then act coy about it?’

  ‘I’m surprised you bother asking me questions to which you obviously have all the answers,’ she said quietly. ‘Or rather, you have decided you know the answers. You think I am a certain kind of woman—so why don’t we just leave it at that?’

  ‘Because I am…curious.’

  Yes, of course he was. He was fascinated in the same way that people couldn’t help themselves looking at a roadside crash—they didn’t want to be part of it, but something compelled them to watch. ‘Why do you think I didn’t pursue it, Hashim?’

  He shrugged. ‘Because I suspect you saw that in the end it would work against you. Would spoil your greatest ambition of all.’

  ‘And what ambition would that be?’ she asked faintly.

  The tip of his forefinger rested thoughtfully against the dark shadow of his jaw. ‘I think that you saw the seamy side of the industry, as girls who expose themselves often do. You anticipated that real dangers existed—and so you decided to work in the real world instead. An honest though a much harder living. But I suspect that you found it even harder than you imagined, and so you looked for an escape—an easier way—easier even than taking your clothes off.’

  Sienna flinched. ‘Go on,’ she said, in a pinched kind of voice.

  ‘You realised that you had an extraordinary gift which few are given. The gift of beauty.’ His voice became cold as he recalled how he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. ‘Sirens had it, and lured sailors to their death. Men are driven mad by beauty. And you decided to use it as women have used their youth and their looks since the beginning of time. As a bargaining tool.’

  Sienna swallowed, willing herself to float out from her body—to hover suspended in the air above them, looking down at this horrible little scene to hear the words of vitriol which were spitting from his lips.

  ‘With you, presumably?’

  He shrugged. ‘With me, yes—or with anyone else who happened to fit the bill at the time. I do not flatter myself that I would not have been moved aside if somebody even richer than I had stepped into the frame. You wanted a wealthy benefactor and for that you decided to play the Cinderella role. You chose a humble job as a receptionist, where your beauty stood out like…’ He frowned, as if he was trying to remember something, the ebony brows knitting together, and then his face cleared. ‘Ah, yes! Like a diamond in the rough,’ he said softly. ‘Hoping and praying and plotting that someone would sweep in and take you away from all that.

  ‘And I must say that you were very good,’ he continued, eyeing her thoughtfully. ‘Even I was taken in by your deceit. You really did come over as an innocent and unspoilt girl. In a way, I suppose I should commend you for your acting ability!’

  ‘Your English is quite perfect, Hashim,’ she said unsteadily.

  ‘I know it is,’ he agreed arrogantly. ‘I had an English tutor as a young child, and I am as fluent in your language as I am in my own. But why do you change the subject, Sienna?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ She felt as she imagined battered wives might feel. That after a while the punches no longer seemed to hurt. Insult someone enough and eventually the slurs would simply run off their skin like water. Let him rant and have his poisonous say, and then it would be over.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘And still you do not contradict me?’

  ‘What’s the point? You are the worst kind of bigot—for you do not open your mind to the possibility that you might be wrong. You have made your mind up that something is so—and therefore it must be. I’m a topless model without any morals, and now it seems I’m an old-fashioned gold-digger to boot! Nothing will change the way you view me—so why should I even bother trying?’

  ‘Because you have no defence against what I say!’ he accused.

  ‘We aren’t in a court of law!’

  ‘No, but that is where you might have ended up!’ he declared hotly. ‘In the end you did make the right choice—even though you have had to work hard for a living. But the women who continue along that path so often end up compromised. Next time—or the time after that—the photos that you agreed to do would not have been so tasteful. You would have got older, and as your yout
h faded you would have become more desperate. Soon you would have accepted less and less for more and more. And one day you might have ended up fully naked on some garage mechanic’s wall in one of those explicit shots—’

  ‘You bastard!’ she hissed.

  ‘But that is where you are wrong, Sienna. Your barb does not offend me because it is untrue—my birth was completely legitimate. Whereas what I say to you is true. The facts are indisputable.’

  Sienna lifted a hand to the waiter who had begun to hover anxiously on the periphery of her vision. ‘A glass of red wine, please.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘You did not storm off,’ he observed. ‘As I suspected you might.’

  Sienna shook her head. Her legs would not have carried her anywhere. She took the wine from the waiter and drank a large mouthful. Gradually its warmth and vitality began to seep through veins which felt as though they had been injected with ice.

  ‘Why does it bother you so?’ she questioned. ‘Haven’t you had girlfriends with questionable pasts before?’

  ‘Of course I have. But they did not pretend to be something they weren’t.’

  There had been women who had made no secret of their hunger for his body and his money. And there had been actresses, too—of course there had—including one who had starred in a film which had broken the mould at the time. Some of the critics had called it soft porn. But none of that had mattered—they had just been cheap flings. What he’d seen had been what he’d got, and he had accepted that.

  With Sienna it had been different—or at least he’d thought it had. They had been much more serious about each other. And when the sordid truth had been revealed to him he had felt outraged. It had made him question himself—he who had never had to question anything.

  To a man impervious to self-doubt it had been a hard lesson to learn—that his judgement was not infallible—but ultimately it had made him stronger. And if there had still been one small fragment of his character which had believed in the fantasy of the perfect woman, then she had banished it for ever. He would never make that mistake again.