by Leslie North
“Right.” She chuckled.
“I am serious.” Transfixed, he lifted one of her dangling curls, winding it around his finger. “Your hair is like moonbeams.
“Do these lines work on most women you meet?” She gave him a soft smile.
“Only the ones I want to kiss.” He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, before claiming them with his own. He licked his tongue over her bottom lip and she gasped, allowing him entrance into her mouth. She tasted of sweet wine and potent desire.
Nassir couldn’t get enough. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curves against his hard form. Janna moaned deep and low then twined her arms around his neck, as if seeking even more intimate contact. He was about to gather her in his arms and sweep her inside when she pulled away.
“No. Stop.” She shoved him away, backing up. “We can’t do this.”
“Janna!” He took a step towards her, but she was already on the move, headed for the ramp. “Come back. I don’t know what came over me.”
“This cannot happen again.” She turned and fled toward the palace, carrying her high heels this time.
Nassir went back inside the tree house and slumped down on the loveseat they’d used earlier. Kissing Janna had rocked him like nothing before. His pulse still throbbed with need and his breath was ragged.
If he wasn’t careful, she would cost him more than his bachelorhood. And that was entirely unacceptable. The company was all that mattered. Business was business and pleasure was pleasure. He’d never mixed the two before and he wasn’t about to start now.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Janna rolled over and groaned. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton, her head felt three times its normal size, and her first attempt to open her eyes were met with significant resistance.
She rubbed her hands over her face and focused on her fuzzy memories of the night before. Her and Nassir, dinner in the treehouse, the kiss… She bolted upright in bed, then clutched the mattress as the room spun around her.
Oh, God. The kiss.
After several more moments to allow her equilibrium to settle, Janna stumbled from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Half an hour later, she’d showered and brushed her teeth and felt at least marginally human again. The two aspirin she’d swallowed had definitely helped.
She took a deep breath and hung her head. No way around it. She couldn’t stay here. Not after making out with the groom. That was not who she was. She was a professional. These things simply did not happen to her. She placed all of her toiletries back into her travel bag then headed back into bedroom.
Pack first, then call and see if the hotel room she’d vacated the day before was still available. It wouldn’t do her budget any good to end the project, but that was the price she’d pay for her indiscretions. She tossed her toiletry bag on the bed, then headed for the closet to haul out her large suitcase. The thing wasn’t particularly heavy when it was empty, but it was cumbersome. With the handle in one hand, she turned to wheel it toward the bed and promptly ran smack into a solid wall of muscle. “Oomph!”
“Good morning, Janna,” Nassir said, looking entirely cool and collected and entirely too sexy.
She shook off his grip on her shoulders and attempted to step around him, forcing a chipper tone she didn’t feel. “Good morning.”
Nassir crossed his arms and watched her struggle with the awkward bag. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” She dared to meet his gaze and then faltered. “I think it’s best.”
The rest of her sentence—after last night—hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken.
He exhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I came to apologize for what happened. We both had too much to drink. It was a stupid mistake and best forgotten.”
Janna looked away. “May I ask you something?”
“Do you love your bride?”
Nassir seemed to choose his words carefully. “I…am falling for her.”
“I see.” She unzipped her suitcase and began piling clothes into it. “Then do us all a favour and don’t lie to her. Things with this wedding are awkward enough as it is. Tell her what happened last night and if she is still okay with me acting as your event planner, then I’ll carry on. If not, I’ll book a flight home tomorrow.”
Nassir nodded. “Fine. I will tell her. In the meantime, why don’t you leave your things here. I promise there will be no more… awkwardness between us.” He waved his hand. “From a business standpoint, it makes no sense to move at this juncture. Things will proceed much smoother and faster if you are on premise.”
Janna looked at him and wished she could argue, but couldn’t. “Fine. But no more treehouse rendezvous. Understand?”
“Understood.” He bowed slightly then left.
Alone, she wandered into the small sitting room attached to her bedroom and sank into one of the overstuffed armchairs. Her head still thumped from the wine last night and if she licked her lips she could still taste Nassir there. Eyes closed, she curled into a ball. She felt sick and not just from the alcohol she’d consumed. How could I have kissed an almost-married man?
Chapter 8
Nassir left Janna’s room and strode toward his office, feeling less than chipper due to a slight headache from his overindulgence with the wine the prior evening. Still, business and a meeting with his brother beckoned. As per the old saying, seemed there really was no rest for the wicked.
“What’s up?” Adilan asked, as Nassir walked in. much later than usual. His brother made a show of staring at his watch then back at Nassir to emphasize the point.
Tired and restless, Nassir didn’t bother ignoring Adilan’s unspoken question. “I had something to take care of this morning.”
“Hmm.” Adilan took a seat on the couch along the wall of the office and crossed his ankle over his knee “I heard you had lunch with Hazim yesterday?
“Yes. He offered to broker me a bride. Seems he doesn’t think me capable of procuring my own in time to meet the board’s demands.”
“Who did he have in mind?”
“Nehla.”
“What?” The amusement in Adilan’s tone quickly turned to shock. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
“I wish I were.” Nassir rubbed his eyes then pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, I sent them both packing.”
“Why do you still seem troubled then?” Adilan uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“Janna arrived while Hazim and Nehla were leaving and now she believes Nehla is my fiancée.”
Adilan burst into laughter and Nassir wanted to punch something. Namely, his brother.
“It is not funny. Even worse is the fact Janna and I had dinner in the treehouse last night where we shared two bottles of wine between us.” He sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Things got out of hand. I kissed her.”
His brother cleared his throat and seemed to do his best to school his features into something resembling decorum, but his twitching lips still betrayed his underlying mirth. “Yes, I can see how this would be a problem. Kissing the woman you intend to marry. Why, it’s positively unheard of.”
A muscle ticked near Nassir’s clenched jaw and he gave his brother a pointed stare. “If you are not going to take this situation seriously, then perhaps you should leave. Or meet me back in the boxing ring. Your choice, brother.”
“Calm down.” Adilan shook his head and chuckled. “I’m just giving you a hard time. So, explain to me why this kissing Janna is so bad.”
“Because she still believes me to be engaged to another. Nehla. And she made me promise her this morning that not only would I never kiss her again, but that I would tell my fiancée the truth of what I’d done or she would leave.”
“Oh.” Adilan slumped back on the sofa, frowning.
“Exactly.” Nassir took a seat behind his desk. “Now do you understand my dilemma?”
“Was the kiss good?”
“Excuse me?” Nassir raised a brow in irritation.
“I’m trying to ascertain if the chemistry between the two of you was worth the risk.”
Nassir straightened the papers on his desk then dug through his drawer for nothing at all, doing his best to avoid his younger brother’s too-perceptive gaze. The kiss with Janna had been more than good. It had been exceptional, explosive, exquisite.
And the chemistry between them seemed to burn brighter than a thousand suns. As for his part. If he rolled his lips inward, he could still taste her there—sweetness and sin all rolled into one. He sat up and found Adilan still looking at him expectantly. “It was fine.”
“Fine?”
“Good. It was very, very good.”
“Excellent. You’re falling for her. Hard.”
Lips compressed, shook his head. The truth of his brother’s words hit far closer to home than he was comfortable admitting. “I am doing no such thing. This is purely business.”
“Right.” Adilan clasped his hands and tapped his index fingers against his lips. “And when do you plan to tell your little wedding planner that she is your intended bride?”
“Not until the last possible second. That way her perfect wedding will already be planned and underway and besides, I plan to convince her to marry me anyway. My research into her background indicates she supports not only herself, but her disabled mother and two younger siblings with her business.”
“And you intend to use her desperation against her.” Adilan’s expression shifted to disgust. “That’s extremely heartless, even for you.”
“I am not heartless and I don’t intend to do anything, unless she forces my hand. This marriage would be to her benefit as well as mine. I would gain the bride I need to retain my position in the company and she will gain the funds she so desperately needs to pay for her mother’s care and to provide her siblings with a better life.”
“And what of her career goals? Her independence?”
“There will be no need for her to work once she is my wife. And independence is overrated.”
“Yes.” Adilan gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sure that’s exactly how she will see it.”
Nassir gave his brother a withering look then glanced at his watch. “We could still go a few more rounds in the ring before lunch.”
“Fine. What of Nehla?”
“What of her?”
“Perhaps Hazim is right. Perhaps things would be easier if you married her.”
“Never. I will marry Janna when the times comes. That is my final decision. Now, I promised her I would meet her at a cake shop to choose the dessert that will be served to our wedding guests.”
“Cake, huh? Sounds like this reception will have a definite Western flare.”
“I wanted a cross-cultural ceremony. Evidently, cake is part of that.”
“Well, then.” Adilan stood and clapped Nassir on the back as they walked out of the office together. “Good luck with all of your cake related decisions, brother.”
“I have reason and good planning on my side, Adilan.” They strode down the hall and Nassir did his best to convey a confidence he didn’t quite feel. “I do not require luck.”
*****
Janna fidgeted in the small chair, trying not to search for Nassir in the people passing outside the bakery window. He’d instructed her to do whatever she wanted and now that she’d had a chance to immerse herself in a bit of his culture, the idea of East meets West appealed to her. And you couldn’t get much more Western than a big old tiered wedding cake.
Unfortunately, the cakes on display at the shop were all decorated in bright colors representing every color of the rainbow. Every spectrum except the traditional white or ivory she needed. The shapes were also a problem—squares and even triangles instead of elegant circles. Something out of the norm might be fine for the groomsmen’s cake, but definitely not for the main show.
A bell jangled above the door and Nassir entered at last. Janna stood and smoothed her hands down the front of her slacks and grabbed her planners’ portfolio. Maybe with Nassir around the shop owner would be more attentive. He’d all but ignored her since she’d walked in.
As expected, at the first appearance of Nassir, the shop owner hustled around the counter and bowed before him like he was royalty. “Sheikh Nassir, I am humbled to have your presence in my shop.”
Nassir merely stared down at the man, his expression a mix of forbearance and annoyance.
Tired of being treated like a second-class citizen and with her head still aching, Janna stepped forward as the man straightened. “We would like to get started, please?”
The man continued to address Nassir as if she didn’t exist. “Sheikh, may I show you our most exclusive selections. Over here we have a—”
“Excuse me?” Janna said, louder this time, not even attempting to keep the anger from her voice. “I am the one planning this wedding. It is me you will need to address.”
Nassir smiled, one of his crooked half ones that sent her heart tripping. He leaned over and whispered something to the shop owner, whose eyes widened.
“As you wish, Sheikh.” The man turned to Janna, all politeness and servitude. “How may I help you?”
She glanced up at Nassir, her tone accusing. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing. I simply mentioned that if he wished to have the honor of making my wedding cakes, he must keep you happy.”
“I see.” She sighed and did her best to relax her tense shoulders. “Let’s hope he treats your bride better than he has me.”
“I can assure you he will. Now, I believe the owner has a private space set aside for us.” He gestured for her to precede him through a door off to the side of the room. “Please?”
“Fine.” Janna started into the showroom. “He’s supposed to have several samples ready for you to try. All you need to do is decide which flavour you like best. That will be the main cake. The others he’ll make into sheet cakes for the rest of the guests to eat. Given the size of your list, his ovens will be going twenty-four seven.”
“No. We will not require that much cake. A large portion of those invited live in other parts of the world.”
“Great.” Janna tapped her fingers on her planner to dispel some of her excess energy. Still for so long, waiting on him, had put her on edge. Well, more on edge than she’d been already. That stupid kiss had really knocked her for a loop. “Did you tell her about our kiss last night?”
“Who?”
“Your bride.” Janna gave him a perturbed look. “I can’t believe you told her and she’d still be okay with me planning the wedding.”
“I told her.” He watched her carefully. “And she is fine with it.”
“She’s fine with it?” Janna shook her head. “No woman in their right mind would be fine with another woman kissing their fiancé only days before their wedding.”
“She is…very forgiving.”
Janna doubted his story, but she had bigger problems to deal with than his doormat bride at the moment. Besides, arguing with the man was like talking to a wall. Infuriating. “So, how many out of this multitude do you think will actually attend?”
“Five hundred. Maybe a few more.”
“Only fifty percent?” She opened her planner and made a few notes. That was a huge difference. She’d need to adjust everything, from food to place settings.
“I am sure you will handle everything beautifully.” He tipped her planner down and smiled. “Shall we pick out our cake now? Then you may tell me what else you need help with.”
She swallowed hard and shut her portfolio. Stern Nassir was sexy enough for her overtaxed nervous system. Kind, polite Nassir was damned near devastating. She took the arm he offered and allowed him to lead her to a secluded corner alcove where a table was set up with two chair and a plethora of cakes.
After sampling a few bites each, she turned to Nassir. “What kind of cake doe
s your bride like?”
“What kind of cake do you like?” Nassir countered.
Janna frowned. Not this again. Not today. “My preference is chocolate. I love anything chocolate. Cocoa, candy, s’mores.”
“S’mores?” He frowned. “What are these s’mores?”
“Graham crackers with hunks of chocolate bars and melted marshmallows. They are fantastic. We eat them mainly when we’re camping.”
“Camping?”
“Yes. In trailers or tents or if you’re really brave, just you and a sleeping bag under the stars.”
“And this is something you enjoy? This camping? With s’mores?”
She could contain a giggle at his skeptical tone. “Yeah. At least I used to. Haven’t been camping since I was a kid.” Her heart pinched at the memories of her and her siblings having fun, before her mom’s accident. She looked away and refocused on the task at hand. “So, yeah. Like I said, I prefer chocolate, but not everyone likes chocolate.”
“I see.” He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, his handsome face serious. “Then I suppose we must try them all to decide. Yes?”
“Um.” Janna chuckled, “Have you seen how many flavors there are?”
“What is the problem? Do you not like sweets?”
“I love sweets. But I also like fitting into my clothes.” She wiped her mouth on a linen napkin, then put down her fork. “Come on, what is your favorite flavour?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has at least one they prefer over the other.”
“I don’t. Sweets are not my forte.”
She barely managed not to roll her eyes. There was the understatement of the century. She grabbed another selection of cake and set the plate between them. “Here, let’s try this one.”
They each took a bite off opposite sides, watching each other as they chewed. It was a spice cake, laced with cloves and cinnamon.
“Well?” she asked.
“Not bad. I like that it isn’t overly sweet.”