Ah, westerners. They were all the same. All impatient. All wanted to head into business immediately without giving proper respect to the hospitality of the host. Dahar was far more westernized than it used to be, but they did have their traditions.
He’d thought Lily Harkness would be more aware of this, especially considering one of Harkness Oil’s major selling points was their sensitivity to local customs.
Perhaps this was an example of her inexperience? If that was the case, then she would need to learn how things were done here.
He smiled at her, allowing the mask of charm to thin a little. “Of course. But as much as the idea of conducting a business meeting on the airstrip fills me with joy, perhaps this would be better discussed at a later date. It is the custom in Dahar to leave business until the proper time.”
She blinked. “The proper time?”
“Yes. There is a time and place for all such things, Ms. Harkness. And now, is neither the time nor the place.”
Like a ripple on a still pond, the faintest trace of emotion disturbed her smooth expression. Then it was gone, professional smile firmly in place. “But of course, your Highness. I understand.”
So cool. As if even the fierce sun’s heat couldn’t touch her. A heat she clearly must be feeling given the deep flush in her golden skin and the obvious sweat on her brow and upper lip.
The hunter’s instinct stirred again, wanting to test her in some way.
“You look a little pink, Ms. Harkness,” Isma’il observed lazily, deciding to keep her outside little longer. Heat was something she would have to bear if the desert trip he’d planned to meet with the tribes affected by the drilling was to go ahead. “Are you sure you don’t want the parasol after all?”
Another ripple of emotion crossed her face. A trace of what could have been irritation. “That’s very kind, but I assure you I don’t need it.”
“It is no weakness to want a little bit of shade.”
Small tendrils of hair were now stuck to her forehead, a drop of sweat sliding down the elegant column of her neck. Yet she may as well have been standing in an air-conditioned office for all the notice she gave. “It’s only a touch of sun. It doesn’t bother me.”
Isma’il found his gaze drawn to that small drop. To the way it sheened her golden skin. “Forgive me, but you look bothered, Ms. Harkness.”
She frowned. Raising a hand, she absently undid the very top button on her shirt, the drop of sweat sliding further to pool in the hollow of her throat.
An unexpected and extremely unwelcome pulse of physical desire went through him. Hardly appropriate. This was business and important business at that. The issue of Dahar’s oil rights would set the stage for his future rule and getting side tracked by animal lust was not the kind of stage he wanted to set.
Quelling the inconvenient desire, he gestured to the bodyguard standing behind her, who obediently raised the parasol over her head. He had to hold it up quite a way.
She betrayed no relief as her gaze flicked up at the bright pink and blue silk that shaded her, though surely she must have felt it. “That’s very kind,” she said. “But gallantry is wasted on me I’m afraid.”
“It is not gallantry. It is practicality. Women of your delicate complexion are prone to sunstroke and that, I assure you, is not pleasant.”
She eyed him. “I’m from Sydney, your Highness. I know about sunstroke.”
So very cool. So very self-possessed. A natural kind of authority radiating from her that he found both confronting and oddly exciting.
It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. She wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Maybe Harkness Oil wasn’t to be dismissed from the running after all.
“I think you will find that sunstroke in the desert is not at all like sunstroke in Sydney.” He gestured to another bodyguard who stepped up, hand outstretched to carry her briefcase for her.
Her gaze switched to the bodyguard, a faintly hostile look on her face, her hand staying very firmly on the handle. “Thank you, but I prefer to keep my briefcase with me if you don’t mind.” Her tone was cool, but he heard the edge of command in it.
Another challenge.
Isma’il studied her. “Is there a problem?”
“No. I just carry my own bags.”
“Is that a fact? Or perhaps it is that you do not trust my guard?”
Dark lashes, shot with gold in the sunlight, flickered. “Not at all.”
“Then what in particular do you find so offensive about having your bags attended to?”
Her mouth opened. Shut. A very clear flash of annoyance showing briefly in her brown eyes before her expression smoothed. “Nothing, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoed. “Then, if you will be so good as to grant my poor bodyguard the care of your briefcase, please do so. We place a lot of importance on paying the correct respect to guests here in Dahar.” He paused. “But then you are probably already aware of that fact, are you not? I expect all the companies competing for the rights to Dahar’s oil to have done their research, including research about our customs. I suspect Harkness Oil is no different.” Isma’il raised a brow. “Or is it?”
Her jaw firmed at the subtle dig. “Naturally we have done our research, your Highness. Though I wasn’t quite prepared to be tested on it so soon.”
“One must be prepared for everything, Ms. Harkness. Anything—at any time.”
Lily’s mouth, soft and rather lush looking in comparison to the masculine cut of her suit and the guarded look in her eyes, thinned. She looked as if she was about take issue with him. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned and handed her briefcase to the bodyguard hovering at her side. Then she turned back and looked him in the eye. “There. I would certainly not want to offend anyone. Are we happy now?”
A small shot of adrenalin went through him, the hunter’s instinct rousing still further. He smiled. “Ecstatic.”
Lily eyed him again, as if she was the one assessing him not the other way around. Then she gave a small, definite nod as if she’d decided something. “Good. Shall we proceed then?”
Such intriguing behaviour. He’d never encountered a woman who measured him up like an opponent. Like a man measures another man he’s about to fight. It was exhilarating, a breath of fresh air after the suffocating hours spent in his father’s study. In his father’s head.
Maybe Lily Harkness had more potential than he’d first thought, despite her inexperience. It was certainly going to be interesting getting it out of her.
“By all means.” Isma’il pulled the limo door open for her. “Your chariot. You’ll find it far more comfortable than the air strip, I am sure.”
Her brown eyes narrowed as if she found the gesture in some way suspicious.
“I am being gallant now, Ms. Harkness,” Isma’il said pointedly. “You will indulge me.”
She held his gaze for one long second and he did not miss the flare of unmistakable challenge lighting the darkness of her eyes.
And the hunter inside him woke up completely. Riveted.
“Well, in that case, of course I shall indulge you,” said Lily Harkness. “This once.”
Find out what happens next in Never Seduce A Sheikh…
Buy now!
The International Bad Boy Series
If you enjoyed Never Refuse a Sheikh, you’ll love the new International Bad Boy stories!
Book 5: Bound to the Sheikh by Carol Marinelli
Buy now!
Book 6: A Deal with the Devil by Louisa George
Buy now!
Book 7: Never Refuse a Sheikh by Jackie Ashenden
You won’t want to miss the original International Bad Boy stories!
Book 1: No Rest for the Wicked by Katherine Garbera
Buy now!
Book 2: Never Seduce a Sheikh by Jackie Ashenden
Buy now!
Book 3: Born to be Bad by Carol Marinelli
Buy now!
Book 4: Sympathy for the Devil by Ke
lly Hunter
Buy now!
About the Author
Jackie Ashenden has been writing fiction since she was eleven years old. Mild mannered fantasy/SF/pseudo-literary writer by day, obsessive romance writer by night, she used to balance her writing with the more serious job of librarianship until a chance meeting with another romance writer prompted her to throw off the shackles of her day job and devote herself to the true love of her heart – writing romance. She particularly likes to write dark, emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just got the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand with her husband, the inimitable Dr Jax, two kids, two cats and two rats.
To keep up to date with Jackie’s new releases and other news, you can sign up to her newsletter at www.jackieashenden.com.
* * *
For the latest news from Tule Publishing, visit our website at TulePublishing.com and sign up for our newsletter here!
Never Refuse a Sheikh Page 17