The moment she’d walked out of the elevator, Omar had wanted to sweep her up in his arms, carry her into the bedroom and pull the delightfully sexy red dress right off her body.
Although, the dress did amazing things to her. The cinched waist made her look slender, but emphasized the thrust of her breasts. The short, full skirt drew attention to the long length of her shapely legs, and Omar wanted nothing more than to trail his fingers up them. He had a feeling her skin would be silky soft and sweetly perfumed.
Now, as they ate their meal of leg of lamb and parsleyed new potatoes, he watched her covetously. Each movement of her lips as she ate heightened the desire that had been thrumming inside him.
“I believe we got sidetracked when we were discussing your brothers,” he said, trying to take his mind off how much he wanted to make love to her, how much he wanted to be the man to introduce her to the pleasure of physical intimacy.
“You told me about Flynt, but you mentioned another brother, as well.”
“Yes, Matt.” She dabbed her lush lips with the napkin, then paused to take a sip of her water. “He shocked the entire family in July by marrying Rose Wainwright.”
“Why is that shocking?” he asked curiously.
“Because for years there has been a long-standing feud between the Wainwrights and the Carsons.”
Omar knew the Wainwright family, like the Carsons, was one of the most powerful families in the state of Texas. He also knew it had been the Wainwrights and the Carsons who had founded the luxury Lone Star Country Club.
“Hopefully this isn’t a Romeo and Juliet kind of story.”
She smiled. “Not at all. They are extremely happy together, but unfortunately their marriage hasn’t really brought the families together. It was more just a temporary truce.”
“That’s too bad—but you’re close to your family.” It was an observation rather than a question.
“Yes, I am.” She took another drink of her water, her dainty pink tongue licking her upper lip when she was finished. “We’ve always been a close-knit family.”
By the time the meal was finished, Omar felt as if he’d been simmering for the past two hours and was on the verge of a full boil. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such intense desire for a woman. Nor could he remember feeling this much concern that he might not be successful in his seduction.
While he saw the promise of fire in her eyes, he knew she hadn’t remained a virgin this long by allowing herself to burn.
After the meal they returned to the sofa where Omar served them after-dinner liqueur coffee. “Hmm, this is wonderful,” she said as she licked a dollop of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth. “What’s in it?”
“A little crème de cacao, brandy, Kahlúa, coffee and whipped cream. You like it?”
“It’s positively decadent.” She took another sip and again the whipped cream clung to her upper lip. Before she could lick it off, he reached out and dragged his index finger across the creamy substance.
His heart crashed into his ribs as she grabbed his wrist and sucked his finger into her mouth, her green eyes never leaving his. He pulled his finger away and hungrily covered her lips with his own. Blood seemed to surge through every vein in his body.
Her mouth tasted of coffee and Kahlúa, a bittersweet combination that drove him half mad with desire. He was vaguely aware of her reaching to set her mug down on the coffee table, and he broke the kiss only long enough to allow her to do so.
When he reached for her again, he pulled her against his chest and claimed her mouth with his, wanting to possess her, body and soul.
She responded with a hunger that surprised him. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against his chest.
He leaned back, dragging her with him so that she was on top of him. His hands caressed up and down her back, enjoying the feel of her warm skin beneath the silky dress.
As his hands moved lower, down into the small of her back, just above the sweet curve of her buttocks, she gasped against his mouth.
The gasp ignited him with want, with the need to further explore her mysteries. He’d begun the evening with a calculated plan to seduce her into marrying him, but now was rapidly losing control.
His hands moved from her back, lingering at her sides where the swell of her breasts began. Still their mouths sought each other’s with hunger. When his hands covered her breasts, a tiny moan escaped her, a moan of pleasure that electrified him.
He tore his mouth from hers and gazed at her, noting that her eyes were deep, deep green and filled with the haze of sexual excitement. “I want you, Elizabeth. I want to take you to my bed and make love to you.”
“I want you, too,” she replied, her lips quivering slightly. She pushed off his chest and sat up. “But I don’t want to make love with you unless it’s on our wedding night.”
Omar straightened, as well, triumph soaring through him. “Then, you will marry me?”
Her lips trembled for a moment before she answered. “Yes,” she said softly.
He grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. “You have made me a happy man,” he said, then kissed the back of her hand. “We’ll get the license tomorrow, then marry as soon as possible.”
“Not as soon as possible,” she protested. “I’ll need some time…”
Omar frowned. “Time for what?”
She worried a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, I’ve never gotten married before. I’d like some time to make the arrangements and to pick out the perfect wedding gown. This will be my one and only wedding and I’d like it to be a special memory.”
Her sentimentality only assured him that she was the right choice for his wife. “How about a month?” Although he would have preferred a wedding as soon as possible, he would not deny her the pleasure of being a bride-to-be for a month. And he would do whatever he could to remain in the States for the next thirty days.
“All right.” She gave him a beatific smile. “Then, I guess we’ll get married right after Thanksgiving.”
He pulled her into his arms once again. “And I will give thanks for the rest of my life that fate brought you into my life.”
He started to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a finger over his lips. “Omar, I don’t think we should do any more kissing tonight. In fact, I think I should go home.” She held his gaze with somber eyes. “I’m feeling fairly vulnerable right now, and I really want our wedding night to be special.”
Her candor enchanted him, and although he would have loved to have her at that very moment, he abided by her wishes and stood. “I’ll summon Rashad with the car.”
As he picked up the phone, he watched her stand and straighten her dress. Her lips were slightly swollen from the kisses they’d indulged in, and her skin glowed with a radiance that was bewitching.
He thought of that night at the cotillion so long ago. He, along with every other man at the dance, had coveted the dazzling, beautiful, flirtatious Elizabeth, and he couldn’t help but be pleased that he was the man who had captured her.
Cara sat in the back of the limo carrying her away from the hotel and back to her cottage. She couldn’t believe she’d just agreed to marry Omar.
It hadn’t been her intention to agree to his marriage proposal, but his lips had been so hot on hers. His hands had been so masterful as they stroked along her skin. Rational thought had fled beneath his sensual onslaught and she had fallen into the sweet promise in his eyes.
Even though she hadn’t intended to accept, she couldn’t help the wave of joy that fluttered through her. She was officially engaged to a handsome sheik, a man who caused her pulse to race and her heart to warm.
She didn’t want to think about all the reasons why she shouldn’t be engaged to him. As the limo pulled up before her little cottage, she decided that just for tonight she would wrap her happiness around her and worry about tomorrow…tomorrow.
“There’s a butt pincher at table seven,” Haley fume
d to Ginger as the two met in the kitchen to pick up orders. They were both working in the Men’s Grill that evening, and the night had not started well for Haley.
As always, she was wired by the FBI, who hoped she would overhear something, anything that would benefit them in their investigation into the mob’s smuggling operation.
She was always nervous when working in the Men’s Grill, knowing that she was wired and playing a dangerous game.
Tonight her nerves seemed more jangled than usual. She’d spilled a drink on the first person she’d served, and mixed up another order. Now, having had her butt pinched three times so far by the creep at table seven, she was ready to walk out.
“There’s nothing worse than a butt pincher,” Ginger said sympathetically, then grinned. “Unless it’s a breast brusher.”
Despite her irritation, Haley laughed as she loaded up her order on a tray. “Ah, the perils of waitressing.”
“Daisy.”
Haley turned to see Harvey Small hurrying toward her, a worried frown between his beady little eyes. “What?” she asked.
“Put your tray down. Meagan is going to cover your tables. I need you to bartend for a party in the blue dining room.”
“Now?” she asked. Usually the private dining rooms were booked far in advance, and she hadn’t heard of any private party being booked.
“Yeah, now. Somebody called a few minutes ago and said they’d be here in fifteen minutes. I don’t even know if the bar is stocked, so you’d better hustle in there and get things ready.”
“All right.” She put her tray down and, with a wave to Ginger, hurried from the kitchen and headed toward what the help called the Blue Room.
The private dining room was small and decorated in navy blue. Its single table seated eight people, but could accommodate twelve. There was a built-in bar against one wall, and Haley went directly there to make certain everything she would need for serving drinks was stocked.
She didn’t mind working the private rooms. Not only was there an automatic gratuity built into the patrons’ checks for the bartender, but usually the private parties tipped well.
And she needed the tips.
It was ironic that she’d been raised in wealth, had never wanted for anything, and for all she knew there was still a bank account somewhere with her name on it, but a dead woman couldn’t access funds. And as far as everyone was concerned, Haley Mercado drowned in a lake many years ago.
Long live Daisy Parker, she thought bitterly.
While she waited for the party to arrive, she opened a jar of olives and another of cherries, and sliced several limes and lemons, ready for whatever drinks they might order.
She heard them before they entered, the sounds of gruff male voices and the higher-pitched voice of Harvey as he greeted them outside the door.
Then the first of the party walked in, and her breath caught painfully in her chest. Her father and her brother. For a moment, fear of being recognized was overwhelmed by the need to run to them, throw herself in their arms and weep.
This was what she’d both yearned for and feared. She’d hungered to see her family again, but knew that if they recognized her, if they discovered she was alive and well, then all she had worked for would be destroyed and her very life would be in danger.
She drew several deep breaths to steady herself, and watched as her father and brother sat at the table. She could only hope that with her now-blond hair and the plastic surgery she’d had many years ago nobody would recognize her.
Still, she drank in the sight of her father. She hadn’t seen him since before her mother’s death and she was vaguely surprised by how much he’d aged. His once dark, lustrous hair was almost completely gray and his hazel eyes held a sadness that broke Haley’s heart.
Ricky was as handsome as ever, and more than anything, Haley wished she could hug the brother she’d grown up idolizing.
She turned and faced the wall of bottles behind her, needing to get her emotions under control. Tears burned hot against her eyes and a ball of emotion pressed heavily in her chest. She had never felt so alone in her life.
She could only remember feeling like this one other time and that had been when she’d posed as a nun to get into the hospital to see her mother after Isadora Mercado had been beaten by thugs. Thugs she suspected had been hired by one particular member of the family.
That night, after she’d tearfully revealed herself to her dying mother, she’d gone to the Saddlebag. At the popular bar she had made the mistake that set in motion the chain of events that led her here, to the Lone Star Country Club, working in disguise and wearing a wire for the FBI.
More male voices joined those of her father and brother, and she turned around to see several other “family” members arriving. Included in the group was one man who made her blood run cold—Frank Del Brio, the man she believed had hired the thugs that had killed her mother.
The tall, muscular, short-haired man swaggered into the room as if he were already head of “the family.” Her engagement to Frank had prompted her to fake her own death. That and the fact that she wanted out of the Mafia family. Even in the brief time they had been engaged, she had sensed his ruthless nature, been repelled by his blind ambition and had seen his explosive temper.
To her relief, it was her brother who approached the bar. He flashed her a quick smile, his gaze shooting to her name tag. “Hi, Daisy. Why don’t you set us up with two Scotch and sodas, a Scotch on the rocks, and a couple of gin and tonics.”
“Coming right up,” she said with a thick Texan twang.
Minutes later, as she served the drinks, she relaxed. None of the men paid her any attention. It would appear that her disguise was successful. Now all she could do was pray that at this meeting the men would discuss enough business that the FBI could make the arrests they wanted. Then Haley could claim back her life.
Five
“A month?” Grace Carson stared at her daughter in disbelief. “You can’t get married in a month! It will take at least that long just for me to get together an appropriate guest list.”
The two women were seated in the sunroom just off the kitchen, where Cara had found her mother having a late-morning cup of coffee. “We don’t want a big wedding, Mother,” Cara protested.
Again that morning, as she and Omar had driven to City Hall to get a marriage license, she’d tried to find a way to tell him that she was Elizabeth Cara, not Elizabeth Fiona. But he’d spent most of the time on the telephone, and for the few minutes they’d had to talk, she hadn’t been able to find the right words to confess.
She told herself that before the wedding she would certainly find the right time and place to tell him the truth. After all, she had a full month. However, each time she thought of confessing, her heart bucked and kicked in protest.
“Even a small wedding takes time and planning,” Grace exclaimed, pulling Cara back to the moment at hand. “We’ll have the ceremony at the Lone Star Country Club, of course, and a beautiful reception afterward. We’ll get Ramon to do the flowers. He does such nice work. Have you thought about colors, Cara? And how many bridesmaids should you have? Oh, and what about the cake? Whom should we hire to do the cake?”
“Mother, please, take a breath,” Cara exclaimed, her own head spinning with all the details her mother had brought up.
Grace paused, then laughed. “I guess I do need to take a breath, don’t I?” She leaned forward in her chair and covered Cara’s hand with hers, her expression suddenly serious. “Are you sure about all this? Do you really love him, Cara?”
“I do,” she replied softly. And that was the problem. She had fallen in love; first with the man who had written the beautiful letters she had bundled and tied with pink ribbon and kept next to her bed.
In the past couple of days since spending time with Omar, her love for him had grown. He was tender yet passionate, intelligent yet sensitive. He stirred her not only on a physical level, but on an emotional level.
H
e made her feel special and exciting and wanted, and she was so afraid of losing that, of losing him.
“It’s quite a challenge you have ahead,” Grace said as she sat back in her chair and wrapped her plump fingers around her coffee mug.
“What do you mean?” Cara asked curiously.
“You’re going to go live in a foreign country, with new people and new customs. You’ll be going there as a wife to a man you haven’t spent much time with. Are you sure this is really what you want?”
Cara paused and took a sip of her coffee, then smiled at her mother. “I feel as if all these years I’ve been living a practice run for real life, and now suddenly I’m about to begin living for the first time.”
Grace looked at her with empathy. “Your sister is a difficult act to follow.”
Cara laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.” Her burst of laughter faded and she frowned thoughtfully. “You know I adore Fiona, but Mission Creek has never been big enough to allow both of us to shine. Omar looks at me, and I feel as if I’m the most unique, special woman in the world. More than anything, I want to build a life with him in Gaspar.”
Once again Grace reached out and took Cara’s hand in hers. She squeezed it and smiled. “You know your daddy and I only want happiness for you. And if your happiness lies in Gaspar with Omar, then, you know you have our blessing.”
Cara rose and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I know, and thank you. And now I’m going to change and get ready for the barbecue.”
That afternoon, the barbecue turned into an engagement party of sorts for Cara. Her sisters-in-law, Josie and Rose, oohed and aahed over her ring and teased her about finding a handsome sheik who was sweeping her off to live in a desert palace.
It was near dusk and the barbecue was winding down when Cara carried her glass to the kitchen and found Josie sitting at the table with a tall glass of milk. Baby Lena was in a stroller next to her, sound asleep.
Cara placed her glass in the dishwasher, then joined Josie at the table. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
Promised to a Sheik Page 6