by Sue Swift
She reached for her water glass while he ate. He’d gotten to her so completely that she had to clutch the goblet to avoid dropping it.
She breathed, once, twice, three times, very deeply, the way she’d learned in yoga class.
He kissed, offered her food, ate, then kissed her again and again between bites, each kiss intimate, searching, knowing.
What was her yoga meditation mantra? Why had she forgotten it when she really needed it?
She’d forgotten everything, really, except the satisfaction of taking the pleasure offered by this beautiful man. Maybe her nagging about his arrogance had gotten to him, because he’d become as attentive as a bridegroom on his wedding night.
“Don’t look around,” he murmured into her ear as the server took away their salad plates. “But the mighty Hunter again draws nigh.”
She forced a smile. So this was why he was being so charming: Hunter. Selina had forgotten, forgotten their true situation amid the sweet kisses on her mouth and the richer caresses of his full lips along her throat.
Their dinners appeared. The meal was excellent, and Kam’s approach to eating it, blindingly sensual. Selina fought to maintain emotional distance while enjoying Kam, taunting him with her mouth, her eyes, knowing he’d never have her. Her body softened and heated, but she told herself over and over that it didn’t mean anything. She meant nothing to Kam, and, despite the growing desire raising her temperature to a fever pitch, he meant nothing to her. He was this week’s companion and her partner in trickery. That was all.
By the time they’d finished their meal, the restaurant had emptied. Even Hunter had given up on getting any information and left.
Kam signed the bill and stood, holding out a hand to Selina. “Shall we?”
Chapter Six
Selina stared at Kam, her mind in a fog, her body tortured by a heated desire she’d never before felt. “Shall we…what?” He didn’t want to go to bed with her, did he? She hardly knew him. She’d told Jerry she’d be nice to the sheik, but she wasn’t going to give it up to Prince Kamar and knew that her grandfather didn’t expect that of her. She wasn’t interested in becoming another notation in the world-famous sexy sheik’s day planner. Not now, not ever.
“Leave. It is quite late, my goddess.”
“You’re right. The staff probably wants to clean up and go home.” She managed a chuckle, but it was tough. She’d never before lost track of time because of a man’s kisses.
“Will you walk with me on the beach before retiring?”
She could handle a walk, couldn’t she? “Sh-sure.” Rising, she arranged her shawl over her elbows.
He draped an arm along her bare shoulders to lead her out, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver.
“Cold?” he asked, drawing her closer.
“I’m okay.” She couldn’t tell Kam what that shiver meant, because it was a shiver of longing. She had to cover that shiver up, bury that longing deep, maintain at least a shred of control. She would not be defeated by a shiver or by an arrogant foreign princeling who didn’t know who she was or what she’d been through.
He got to her in a way no other man had ever managed—and plenty had tried. She hated that. She didn’t want anyone to get to her, ever.
Worse, he’d looked beyond the games she’d played to see her deep-seated misery. She hated that even more. Her feelings weren’t Kam’s business, and she was sure he didn’t really care. After all, they played the same game, didn’t they? The game of not caring, pretending involvement yet remaining apart, having fun without true intimacy or commitment.
She was sure of something else: Sheik Kamar didn’t play for the same reasons she did. He was easy to figure out, the spoiled scion of a culture that didn’t respect women, he saw females as playthings. She doubted that he was any more complex than the other Peter Pans she’d dated.
With an effort, she dismissed him as a person while accepting his arm guiding her toward the ocean.
Outside the restaurant a lawn sloped down to the water’s edge, dotted by clumps of hibiscus and ginger, their flowers lustrous in the moonlight. The scents of tropical foliage mingled with the aromas of sea, sand and Kam, who wore a spicy fragrance that reminded her of mysterious ports of call and exotic bazaars.
The moon, high in the ebony sky, told her that midnight approached. Though cooler than during the day, the sultry air brushed her skin with a gentle caress.
When they reached the boundary between grass and sand, Selina stopped to kick off her shoes. She didn’t own anything else like the white platform heels, and she didn’t want to ruin them on the beach.
“Selina, look.” Kam, who’d walked to the shoreline, pointed. “What is this?”
She looked, then gasped with delight. The waves were edged with a glow like fireflies on a summer night. “I don’t know.” She bent, careful to keep her hem dry and scooped up a little water. Phosphorescent liquid streamed from her fingers.
“Look at it.” Kam sounded awed. The entire long beach was lined with the eerie luminescence.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, but it’s amazing.” They turned to walk along the shoreline, with the sea to their left, the resort and its facilities to their right. The strand stretched out before them, shining in the moonlight, an enchanted highway beneath the stars, bordered by the magic shimmering waves. At the far, curved end of the beach, darkness reigned; a mangrove forest, she supposed. Her feet sank in the sand as they walked, and she leaned on Kam’s arm for support.
They passed villas, detached little houses where couples or families could find even greater privacy than the resort hotel, surrounded by elaborately designed gardens. Swimming pools gleamed aqua-marine, with waterfalls and natural rock decor adding to their allure.
Farther on, they approached the bar where they’d met the night before. Kam must have noticed, too, because he said, “Look here,” and pointed. Through the unglassed window, Selina saw Janis and Marta Hunter talking, though she couldn’t hear anything over the music from the band, which was winding up “It Had To Be You.”
“I hope that twit of a bartender doesn’t gossip about us to the reporter,” Kam grumbled.
“She’s not a twit, and I think we can rely on Janis’s discretion.”
“She didn’t like me much.”
Selina opened her eyes very wide. “Didn’t you say earlier that everyone loves you?”
“Not everyone,” he said with emphasis.
She grinned, pleased to have poked a hole in his massive self-regard.
The band started “Unforgettable,” and he turned his head to smile at her. “Should this be our song?”
“Our song? Why should we have a song?”
“We’re a couple, at least for now. Don’t couples have a special song?”
“Some do. Why this one?”
He shrugged. “You told me this morning that I’m unforgettable.”
Remembering, she giggled. “Oh, yeah.”
“I could easily feel the same way about you.” He took her into his arms and began to dance, following the slow and easy beat. She didn’t dance often, but Kam made it effortless, sweeping her along with the music, the sea and the sky.
She felt the boundaries between them start to dissolve, her carefully honed and sharpened edges heating, softening, expanding to include Kam. She murmured, “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves.”
His smile was lazy, sensual, sexy. “I thought that was the idea.” He pressed his hips to hers, his desire too blatant for her restrained taste. Had the man no subtlety?
She eased her body away a couple of inches. “No sense in going overboard, is there? I’m not interested in becoming another fleeting overnight memory of yours.” She strove to keep her tone light, casual.
“Why not? It’s fun. Besides, I bet you’ve had lots of boyfriends, a beautiful young woman like you.”
She lifted her chin. “You’d lose that bet.”
He stopped dancing to stare
at her. “You are the most surprising person.”
“Why? Because I’m not a slut? Because I respect myself and others?” Good heavens. She sounded like a sanctimonious prude even to herself. “That came out more judgmental than I meant. Sorry.”
He shrugged and began to amble in the direction of the hotel, still with one arm around her shoulders, fingers caressing her neck. Nothing in his posture or profile showed annoyance or frustration over her refusal.
She was impressed. Maybe she’d incorrectly concluded that Kam was immature. “We don’t have to stop dancing now.” Despite herself, her voice came out wistful.
He kissed her temple. “We can dance more tomorrow night.”
As they stopped in front of the private elevator that went only to the penthouse floor, he kissed her again, then murmured in her ear, “Don’t look now, but the mighty Hunter’s at four o’clock.”
“Your four o’clock or mine?”
“Mine, of course.”
Of course, she thought. Just because Kam was a make-out artist didn’t change his essential self-centeredness.
He plowed his fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her updo and using its length to tug her head back, exposing her throat. “Let’s give her a show,” he growled into her ear.
He sucked on her neck and she jerked away. “Don’t you dare give me a hickey,” she hissed. , Laughing, he shoved his key into the elevator, which opened. “You need to relax, my goddess.” His cell phone rang, and he took the call.
She had a strong suspicion that his mind wasn’t on business, since his eyes never left hers.
Relax, Kamar told himself three hours later. Though he’d taken a shower and stretched out in bed, his active mind refused to allow him to sleep. Instead, images and memories of Selina Carrington lingered.
She’d gone to a lot of trouble to prepare for their dinner. Her beautiful new dress, her coiffed hair, her makeup and manicure spoke of an infatuated woman. However, he’d seen that she wasn’t so simple. There was something going on with this girl that was quite out of the ordinary.
She kissed like a courtesan, but claimed celibacy. He doubted she was untried—she was, after all, an American girl, and everyone knew that American virgins were rarer than diamonds.
Was she concerned because of the presence of her grandfather at the resort? Perhaps, but Jerome Carrington had tactfully absented himself for the entire evening. Kamar fleetingly wondered where the old man had been, then decided it really didn’t matter. As long as Jerome wasn’t around when Kamar made love to his granddaughter, the old fellow could take himself to perdition for all Kamar cared.
And he’d have her. It would take much effort, though. He knew women, and this one carried a shell like a hermit crab. Or perhaps like one of the tortoises that abounded in Zohra-zbel. They’d poke a head out and then retract, sometimes for weeks at a time.
He wanted to discover the woman within the shell, but what would it take to persuade Selina to abandon her shields? And why had she raised them in the first place?
Perhaps he could simply ask, but he doubted it. He’d already startled her, with his talk about the sophisticated games that men and women played, and his declaration that she wasn’t happy. She hadn’t liked that. Perhaps it had scared her, even, to know that someone had seen through her act.
But she was vulnerable, he’d discovered, vulnerable to tender kisses and the rapt attention he’d bestowed.
Selina was a challenge, a challenge too compelling to ignore. The presence of her grandfather would add spice to the seduction. Kamar knew he was taking a risk, especially given the pesky reporter. What if the deception came to his father’s notice?
The desk job.
Women always clad in enveloping veils.
No more gorgeous American girls.
Ah, but Selina…Selina was worth the risk. He promised himself that he’d have his goddess sometime within the next two weeks. He’d lay her bare and uncover her secrets, know her mysteries.
This little jaunt to Florida was proving much more interesting than Kamar had anticipated.
Chapter Seven
The next morning Kamar arose early, eager to resume the chase. As he dressed, he opened his drapes, and there she was, as though answering his prayer: Selina, all flaming hair, flashing white legs and bouncing breasts, jogging along the beach at the waterline, where the sand was packed firm.
“Good morning, my goddess,” he said to himself, before going downstairs to intercept her. On the way, he bought small bottles of orange juice and water from one of the hotel shops. Marta Hunter was already there, purchasing several newspapers and a diet bar. Kamar masked his irritation, telling himself that this was an opportunity to again play Hunter like a fat stupid huta.
“Ms. Hunter,” he said. “I trust that last night my intended and I supplied you with enough copy for your article?”
“Not nearly enough,” Hunter said. Today the reporter was dressed more appropriately for the weather, in Bermuda shorts. Her bright fuchsia blouse would be easy to spot and evade, if necessary. Kamar smiled.
She continued, “I’m betting you’ll marry while you’re here. You know about the famous La Torchere spell, don’t you?”
“Spell?”
“An unusual proportion of visitors to this resort marry. Right on that beach.” She pointed, then patted a pocket, bulging with an oblong shape; her camera, Kamar supposed. “I’m wagering you’ll be one of them.”
“You’ll lose that bet,” Kamar said icily. The nerve of the woman, assuming that he’d elope as though ashamed of his fiancée. No. When he wed, it would be with the ceremonies befitting a prince of the Diamond Mountain.
Leaving Hunter behind, he went to meet Selina as she returned from her run. She’d stopped by one of the swimming pools and taken off her shirt, exposing the same lime-green halter top she’d worn yesterday. As he watched, she toed off her running shoes and socks, then pulled down her shorts.
His breath stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat, and it wasn’t because of the humidity in the air. It was because Selina’s body was surpassingly beautiful, and because she’d stripped down to her scanty bikini.
She stretched her arms above her head, then touched her toes with ease before placing her palms fully on the ground. Limber, he thought. Perfect. He liked the many positions of pleasure a limber bedmate could assume. He intended to enjoy every one of them inside Selina’s luscious body.
Straightening, Selina twisted her torso from side to side, her breasts shifting with every movement.
Kamar’s khaki shorts, though properly fitted, seemed to tighten. He pulled his shirt away from his chest while finding the shade of a tree. He wondered if he was wise to pursue Selina. Father, desk job, veils. Remember?
Selina dove into the water, shattering its turquoise stillness, which refracted into a million glittering shards, reflecting the morning sun. She stroked up and down the pool several times, her speed and vigor reflecting excellent fitness.
Kamar sighed. He loved American girls. Too bad he couldn’t marry one, for no woman of his country would consider immodestly stripping down to underclothing and jumping into the water.
A family, complete with father, mother, babe in arms and a couple of toddlers carrying inflated water toys arrived. They took over a table near the pool.
Approaching the area, Kamar picked the top towel from one of the several stacks laid out. He met Selina at the shallow end, reaching to help her out. She took his offered hand with an almost dainty gesture and leaned on his arm as she stepped out of the pool. Her dripping hair soaked his shirt. He didn’t care. It felt good, and her hand in his felt even better.
“Oh, isn’t that cute,” he heard the mother murmur. He assumed that one of her tykes had done something adorable, so he turned to look. To his surprise, the family was giving him and Selina identical warm smiles. Even the baby had a toothless, gummy grin for them.
Selina’s pale skin flushed. She opened her mouth, no
doubt to deliver one of her stinging put-downs, but before she could speak, he muttered, “Hunter’s around.”
She closed her lips with a snap, pressed them together, then said, “Already?”
“Already.” He gave her the towel.
“Thank you.” She wiped her face, then wrapped the towel around her hair. He led her to a lounge chair and offered her the water and the juice. She accepted the juice with a strained smile and tried to loosen its top with wet, slippery fingers. Without speaking, he took it, unscrewed it and handed it back before opening the water for himself.
As he sipped, he watched her drink, her white throat working. She tipped the bottle to get the last few drops. “My, that’s good.” She leaned back into the lounge chair with a satisfied sigh.
Kamar wondered if she sighed with such completion after the act of love, and what it would take to find out. Whether she knew it or not, Selina Carrington was no prude, but a very sensual woman faking chastity.
“Jerry’s expecting us both for breakfast. Our suite, our treat.” Though her smile flattered, she looked over his shoulder.
He pivoted to see Marta Hunter. After giving her a scowl, he smiled at Selina and said, “If that is the case, let us go.” Just for the fun of it, he kissed her. “Good morning.”
She kissed back. “And good morning to you. Sleep well?”
He hesitated. He couldn’t tell her what he’d been thinking about all night, could he? “Fine. But it is always odd, getting used to a new bed.”
They gathered her things and walked to the hotel, with Kamar feeling the stares of the family and of Hunter piercing him like arrows in the center of his back. He glanced at Selina, who said, “I didn’t sleep a wink myself.” Her smile was wan. “Considering how late we were up, I should have slept, but…” She shrugged.
He took out his card key and unlocked their private elevator. “It is a strange situation, is it not?”
Stepping into the elevator, she waited until it had closed. “You bet it is,” she said fervently. “It’s a combination of crazy and fun that I.. I never…”