“The school is for you as my province is to me.” Zahad studied her across the table. “It gives your life structure and meaning. Apart from your family, of course.”
“Except that you are desperately needed, while I have a capable staff that was already in place when I arrived,” Jenny replied. “I’m just putting on the finishing touches.”
“Perhaps you would enjoy a greater challenge.”
She’d had the same thought but it had always seemed so impossible. “At one time, this was everything I could have asked for. But it seems as if the more I do, the more I want to do.”
“What is your goal, then?”
Jenny recalled the daydreams in which she’d indulged before the cyber-stalking and subsequent all-consuming events. “Someday I want to take on a bigger challenge, maybe work with underprivileged kids. When Beth’s grown, I might move to an inner-city area and head up some kind of program there.”
“Impressive,” the sheikh said.
“It’s just a pipe dream,” Jenny conceded.
“What did you do today, Zod?” Beth asked.
“Many things. I talked with your neighbors Dolly and Al.”
“Oh, really?” Jenny was glad to hear he’d been investigating despite Parker’s disapproval. “Did you learn anything?”
“Perhaps.” As he outlined his conversations, the sheikh avoided any direct reference to the murder, probably for Beth’s benefit.
When he finished, Jenny saw from his hesitation that there was something more. “What is it?”
“I must return to my country Thursday morning. The president will hold a meeting Saturday morning to consider who is to run my province. My enemies may have me banned from the country entirely if I do not present my point of view.”
“That would be terrible.” Thursday morning. A hollow echo rang through her mind like the slamming of a steel door. Of course she’d known he was going to leave soon, but now that the day had been fixed, she realized she wasn’t ready for him to go.
Amid the turbulence, the three of them had stolen a little time to be together. Now that the end loomed, she prized these family moments even more.
“Will you bring me a camel when you come back?” Beth asked.
Trust her daughter to come up with the unexpected! Jenny would have laughed if not for a lump in her throat.
“He would be most uncomfortable on an airplane,” the sheikh replied solemnly.
The little girl frowned. “He could leave off his seat belt.”
That was too much. Shaking with silent laughter, Jenny gave Zahad a helpless look. She didn’t want Beth to think she was being mocked.
He managed, heaven knew how, to maintain a straight face. “An excellent suggestion, although I am afraid I cannot promise to return. Now, I believe it is time for dessert.”
“Yippee!” Distracted by his last statement, Beth shot to her feet and cheerfully helped clear the dishes.
Dessert consisted of ice-cream bars coated with chocolate and ground nuts. “Wow, you got the big ones!” the little girl said.
“It is a special occasion,” the sheikh told her. “Also, I am very fond of ice-cream bars. The bigger the better.”
How strange, Jenny reflected as she enjoyed her treat, that in spite of everything that had gone wrong, she didn’t recall ever being happier. She refused to allow herself to think about what life would be like without Zahad.
Some things couldn’t and perhaps shouldn’t be changed. The trick was to let the future take care of itself and concentrate on the moment.
After dinner, they joined Beth in watching a VeggieTales video. The sheikh found the smart-talking vegetables hilarious and announced that he would order one for Amy from the Internet.
“I’m glad your cousin will get something for her children,” Jenny remarked. “She’s been so helpful to me.”
“To me also,” Zahad said.
When they put Beth to bed, she insisted on sitting on the sheikh’s knee to hear her bedtime story. At first he looked a trifle ill at ease while balancing the sprite, but the respectful warmth in the way he regarded her touched Jenny’s heart.
“Tell me about your country,” the little girl said.
“It is far, far away.”
“Is it in Russia?”
“It is a separate country.” Jenny wondered if the sheikh would grow impatient with the child’s ignorance, but he simply gathered his thoughts and tried again. “Alqedar is on the Arabian peninsula. Unfortunately, we have no oil and we are not a seaport. The people used to be nomads—that means they traveled around and lived in tents. Now many of them farm and make crafts.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Yes, we have a lot of fun,” Zahad agreed. “The people wear colorful clothes at the marketplace. They make music and have big families, whom they love very much.”
Jenny took a seat on the sturdy toy chest. It amazed her to see how gentle this rough man could be.
“Do you have any children?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“You should.” Beth’s forehead crinkled with thought. “Three. Two girls and a boy. Do you live in a palace?”
“Yes, although perhaps it is not as fancy as you might imagine,” the sheikh admitted. “It is old and rambling and the plumbing has a bad temper. My stepmother lives there, too.”
“What happened to your mother?” Beth asked.
“She died when I was seven. We did not have very good hospitals in our country, although we are building some now. My mother was a proud, brave woman, who taught me to put the good of my country before my own wishes.”
“I do that,” Beth said eagerly. “I recycle. And I conserve water.” Honesty prodded her to add, “Sometimes.”
“Good for you.”
“Was your mother from a royal family also?” Jenny seized on this opportunity to learn more of Zahad’s background.
“Yes. She came from the neighboring province of Bah-rim, where she was sister to the sheikh, Sharif’s father.”
“What about your stepmother?” she asked.
“For his second wife, my father chose a woman from a prominent family in Yazir itself. Unfortunately for me, this makes Numa a local girl supported by many friends and relatives.” Noticing Beth’s large yawn, Zahad said, “It is time to say good-night, little one.”
The girl hugged him. “You can stay with Mommy and me as long as you want to, Zod,” she told him.
His dark eyes shone. “I wish it were that simple.”
“Some things are simple. Like the fact that it’s bedtime.” Jenny said, lifting Beth into bed. She kissed her daughter and tucked her beneath the covers. The child curled up sleepily, pulling her doll close.
When Jenny and Zahad slipped out, she expected him to retreat to his room to work on the computer. It pleased her that he accompanied her to the living room instead.
“We are having a camp night,” he explained as they sank onto the couch. “I am tired of thinking about evil people plotting evil deeds. The world is always full of them, but we need not let them control our minds.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
They had so little time together, Jenny reflected as a peaceful silence fell over the room. Only two more days. So little chance to explore each other.
The excitement she’d felt during the massage tantalized her. She wanted more of that, much more. She loved the person she became around him.
The truth struck Jenny with simple inevitability: She wanted to make love to Zahad. It would be the first time since her divorce that she’d slept with a man, but there was, she realized, no reason to hold back.
She didn’t need to fear the slow, miserable breakdown of a relationship or the stifling attempts at domination she’d endured with Grant. Because the sheikh was leaving, they could enjoy a beautiful coupling that had at least a chance of remaining untarnished in their memories.
Shyly, Jenny stole a glance at the man beside her. He’d propped his fe
et on the coffee table, shoes and all, and leaned back his head. In profile, he had a nose strong enough to balance the pronounced cheekbones and firm lips. Her gaze trailed down the length of him and sparkles played through her as she pictured her legs tangling with his.
In his land, she wondered, how did he address himself to a woman? What conventions did they observe, or did they simply get swept away?
His head turned and he met her eyes. Jenny’s breath caught as it occurred to her that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Many men seek you, but you elude them,” he said in a resonant, contemplative tone. “Yet to me you have never seemed coy. Why have you not availed yourself of these lovers?”
“I haven’t wanted any of them,” she answered.
“How would a man know if you did?” the sheikh asked. “Forgive me if I am too much of a warrior but when it comes to women, I am not certain I can read the signs.”
Anticipation spread deep inside Jenny. “I guess I’m not the temptress I’m cracked up to be or I wouldn’t leave any doubt.”
He gave her a rare smile. “Although I have much to learn with regard to reading signs, I am improving my skill at taking hints.” His fingers drifted through her hair, parting the strands and lifting their fullness. Her eyelids lowered as she concentrated on the heat and smell of him and on the tug that progressed along her scalp toward the nape of her neck.
Zahad shifted closer. His breath stirred promises along Jenny’s jaw and then his lips brushed hers. His mouth lingered for a long moment before letting go.
“I have no further doubts. Have you?”
“I’m the temptress here. I never had any doubts.” With the edge of her thumb, she traced the small white scar on his jaw.
Easing onto her knees on the couch, Jenny leaned over and replaced her thumb with her tongue. A groan wrenched from deep within Zahad and he caught her by the hip. Emboldened, she traced his jaw up to his ear and took the lobe between her lips, relishing his shudder.
With a fluid motion, he swung her onto his lap. A little off balance, Jenny rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart thundering.
“I’ve been wondering about your scars,” she murmured. “How many do you have?”
“I never counted.”
“You have one on your back.” She’d seen it at the cabin when he awoke beside her. “Were you attacked from behind?”
His cheek brushed her temple as he nodded. “By a treacherous coward. I dispatched him to a place where he can never betray anyone again.”
This was the man who had dumped syrup all over his plate to please a five-year-old, Jenny reminded herself. “There’s a side of you that’s so far beyond my experience I can’t even imagine it.”
“We are not so different. You are a woman of courage and resourcefulness. We have simply operated in different spheres.”
She touched the white mark that bisected his left eyebrow. “That must have been a close call.”
“Very close. Witnesses claim I was airborne for several seconds after my motorcycle hit a pothole. Alqedar is famous for its bad roads.”
“You ride a motorcycle?”
“Sometimes it is the fastest way to get where I want to go.” He slid her from his lap and stood, drawing her up with him. “I am accustomed to directness, Jenny.” There was a question beneath the statement as he faced her.
He was offering her a chance to retreat. Even now, after she’d initiated the embrace, he didn’t press her.
“Good. I like directness,” she said.
Zahad gave a slight nod, accepting her decision. “Is your daughter asleep?”
“Let’s find out.”
They stopped by her bedroom. The little girl’s regular breathing and complete relaxation told their own story.
When Zahad released her hand, Jenny glanced at him questioningly. He returned to the living room, from which she heard the beep of the alarm as he set it. On his way back, he switched off the lights.
Did he ever completely lose himself in passion? she wondered, and, with a flutter of excitement, realized she was about to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
When she drew the sheikh into her room, Jenny became aware of the lingering scent of sweet herbs from her drawers. In the intimacy of the boudoir, he loomed large and untamed.
“I wish to see you,” Zahad announced. “All of you.”
“You want me to strip for you?” She’d never done anything like that for Grant. He’d made her feel a bit self-conscious, and as a result she’d instinctively protected herself.
“You need not make a production of it.” Zahad lounged across the flowered coverlet on her bed, forming a brown exclamation point in his sweater and slacks. He had removed his shoes, she noticed. “I want to enjoy the sight of you.”
She nearly protested that she felt too shy, until she realized that wasn’t true. Not with Zahad. She didn’t fear he would find her too bony or too small-breasted or that he would compare her to some airbrushed, men’s magazine standard. He always seemed to accept and appreciate the real Jenny.
She wanted to excite him. She wanted to make this tightly leashed man lose control. Jenny smiled. She was going to do it, too.
She replaced the overhead glare with the soft glow of a table lamp. The golden circle shut out the rest of the world, creating a private realm.
She reached behind her and unzipped the blue dress. The cloth rustled as it slithered to the floor, unveiling a clingy, flesh-colored slip.
On the bed, Zahad swallowed. Jenny dipped her head to let her hair partially obscure her face, then tossed it back as a photographer had once taught her to do when she’d modeled. Then, she’d had to force herself to relax. Tonight, she felt safe enough to play at sexual fantasies with her sheikh.
Her sheikh. It amazed Jenny that this hardened desert warrior was here with her, fascinated by her, longing for her. In so many ways, he still seemed an enigma, and yet she was about to know him intimately.
Slowly, teasingly, she drew the slip up over her hips, her waist, her shoulders. When she tossed it aside, she enjoyed the sensation of his eyes feasting on her. As Jenny pushed her hair atop her head and then shook it free, the sheikh stirred restlessly.
She kicked off her pumps. The first one landed with a satisfying thump near the bed while the other fell onto the carpet nearby. Leaning forward seductively, Jenny eased down the waistband of her panty hose. As she lowered it, the tension in her midsection tightened into a knot of longing.
Zahad shifted to the bed’s edge and reached out, his callused hand gentle as it traced Jenny’s thigh. His fingers brushed so close to her yearning center that she gasped.
“Let me finish for you,” he said, and swung his legs so that he sat straddling her where she stood.
Every brush of his fingers as he rolled down the silky stockings reverberated through Jenny. When he angled forward and kissed her bare navel, she had to catch hold of his shoulders to keep from losing control.
She wanted him more than she had ever dreamed of wanting a man. There was something deliciously liberating about the sensations he aroused, something that made her secure enough to surrender without a second thought.
When he left, Jenny would miss him terribly, but she would still be complete. She could give him everything without losing control.
The pleasure when he unhooked her bra and his hands closed over her breasts felt almost unbearably intense. Jenny shut her eyes but immediately opened them again so she could watch this scarred man radiate joyous desire.
Passion transformed the sheikh, softening his angular features. As his mouth and hands roamed over her, peeling away what little clothing remained, wonder animated his dark eyes.
From where she stood, Jenny bent to nuzzle the unruly length of his hair. She found the rim of his sweater and helped him take it off.
Beneath lay more scars than she had expected, some of them puckered and others crisscrossing savagely. The evidence of his co
urage stimulated her. Playing her breasts against his hair, Jenny caressed his back.
She could feel Zahad pulling free of his remaining clothes from where he sat on the bed. When they were both naked, he tipped back his head and traced his tongue across her breasts. She stood above his seated figure with nothing to hold them apart.
Their frenzy burned too fiercely to prolong as Zahad’s knees separated Jenny’s legs. He gripped her waist and lowered her atop him while their mouths claimed each other.
Catching her rounded bottom, he pulled her onto him. Jenny felt the incredible length of him penetrating her, the upward thrust searingly pure. A flame leaped between them, drawing her down, lifting her up again, intensifying until she ignited.
Zahad pulled her onto the bed. Cool fabric met the heat of Jenny’s bare back as the sheikh lifted himself over her.
Although it had happened quickly, Jenny was glad to have spent her own desire so she could relish the climax of this amazing man. It thrilled her to see the wild yearning that overcame him.
He poised above, touching her in only one place, the one that joined a man and a woman in a thousand ways. Fiercely intent, he entered her again. His movements slow and deliberate, he drew himself in and out, eyes half-closed, breath rasping as he held himself in place with his powerful arms.
An ache grew inside Jenny. It was only a hint at first, but the incredible fullness of him and the sight of his strength poised above her rekindled the sparks. When he speeded his movements, the embers sizzled into fireworks.
The sheikh possessed an elemental maleness that let him please himself, vibrantly and without hesitation, while drawing Jenny into the brilliance with him. A blast of joy seized her when she felt Zahad’s explosive shudders. They flew together, merging until they became a single glorious entity.
Then they were two again, their chests rising and falling rapidly, his arms encircling her on the bed. She felt the coolness of his damp skin against her cheek and inhaled his masculine essence. Inside her, a dozen unseen scars, as profound as the ones marring his body, were reabsorbed.
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