The Sheik's Dangerous Temptation

by Mary Jo Springer

  The knock at his office door startled both men, the heat of their conversation put on hold until they were once again alone. At this point they couldn’t be too careful. Malik signaled Nazem to answer it. When the door flung wide, a man in his late sixties walked in.

  “Uncle, this is a great honor,” Malik said, rising to his feet. “What brings you to my office so early in the morning?”

  The man walked around Malik’s desk and pulled him into a bear hug. “Nephew, I’ve heard so many rumors about your safety. I wanted to check on you and get the facts.”

  Safwan was Malik’s father’s illegitimate older brother. There had always been a haze of resentment between his father and his uncle due to the circumstances of Safwan’s birth, but Malik and his uncle had formed a close relationship, particularly since the passing of his family.

  Malik watched as Safwan took in the modern decor of his newly remodeled office. Malik could swear the renovation bothered Safwan, perhaps because the office appeared so different from when it belonged to his father. Gone were the gold in-laid walls and fancy furnishings, replaced by cream-colored walls and mahogany wood.

  “So tell me about this woman you found amid a shoot-out in the desert. I’m told your medical heroics saved her life. How thankful she must be that you came along when you did.”

  Safwan slid into the other chair in front of Malik’s desk, waiting for an explanation of the events over the past forty-eight hours.

  “There’s not a whole lot to tell. The facts are still sketchy.”

  Safwan leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “And has she told you what she was doing in the desert?”

  Nazem’s cell phone beeped, and he quickly muted it, glancing at the screen.

  A tap at the door had Nazem on his feet. From the corner of his eye, Malik caught a glimpse of a man in a dark suit motioning to Nazem. Malik returned his attention to his uncle as Nazem followed the man down the hall.

  “My patient has not been able to tell us anything about the incident in the desert.”

  “Really,” his uncle interrupted, “and why is that?”

  “She’s suffering amnesia from a blow to her head, along with a bullet wound to her side. I retrieved the bullet, but the memory loss will be a wait-and-see thing.”

  “So she has told you nothing.”

  “No, she doesn’t even remember her own name.”

  Safwan rose and strolled over to the window. “When do you think she may regain her memory?” he asked, staring at the gulf below.

  “There’s no way of knowing at this point.”

  Safwan returned to Malik’s desk. “I should let you get back to work. Based on the stack of folders on your desk, you must be very busy today.”

  “Yes, yesterday was a nightmare. Between the time I spent in the desert in the morning, to the woman’s surgery, to what happened last night, I haven’t been able to focus on much else.”

  “Last night?” Safwan asked, as he dropped back into the chair. “What happened last night?”

  Malik dropped the folder he’d been reviewing and focused on his uncle. “Someone tried to kill her.”

  Safwan jumped out of his chair. “What? Who would do such a thing? The poor girl. What steps have you taken to protect her?”

  Malik blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Nazem is moving her into the palace.”

  “I think Nazem may be onto something. No one would dare make an attempt on her life here. Not with the top-notch security forces you have.” Safwan stood and moved toward the door. “Dear nephew, I will leave you to your duties. If you need any help, please give me a call. I intend to spend some time at the desert encampment, but I’ll have my phone with me if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.”

  “Any time, my son. After all, we are all that is left of this family. We need to help each other whenever we can.”

  “Thank you, Uncle, for all your support. I appreciate everything you do for me.”

  Moments after Safwan left, Nazem returned to the room. One glance at the worried look on his face told Malik there was more trouble.

  “What?” Malik asked.

  “We’ve identified the men in the cars.”

  “And?”

  “They were part of a special ops force. They’d notified their superiors that they had captured the person in charge of a new assassination plot against you.”

  “Let me guess. The other perpetrators got wind of the capture and ambushed the caravan, freeing the assassin?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Malik spun his desk chair away from Nazem and stared out the window. “So, they have outsmarted us once again.”

  Nazem shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, “Your Highness, we will capture and destroy your enemies. You have my word on it.”

  “Thanks for all your hard work, Nazem. Now, I really need to get to this stack of problems on my desk.”

  Recognizing his dismissal, Nazem turned for the door. He halted in his tracks when Malik spoke again. “And you might find out why those desert diamonds were buried in her bra while you’re at it.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Chapter 4

  Big mistake! He’d made an enormous error in judgment by allowing her to stay at the palace. These past weeks, she’d changed from a scared little mouse into a vibrant woman. And that meant trouble on so many levels. All of his concerns about her being part of a plan to kill him had been laid to rest. She’d had plenty of opportunities to assassinate him. Maybe she was just a woman. A woman who had accidentally witnessed something, or overheard a morsel of information that prompted this ‘master’ to issue her death warrant.

  Malik studied her from his office window as she walked out onto the terrace. He’d been struggling since midnight to banish her from his mind. Had it really been only two weeks since he found her in the desert? Two weeks of lying awake at night fantasizing about her hair, those lips, and those incredibly long legs. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He shook his head and glanced away, but no matter how hard he tried to forget her, her face kept floating before his eyes, constantly enticing him, heating his blood like a pressure cooker. Every day the torture mounted. He’d mistakenly thought if he paced his office long enough he’d diminish some of the sexual desire building inside him. He’d been terribly, terribly wrong. One more temptation, no matter how tiny, and he’d blow. She was getting to him, on a level that no other woman ever had, and it both thrilled him and scared the hell out of him. He would no longer be responsible for his actions. Yesterday, he’d come close to acting on his barbaric nature. Waiting like the predator he was turning into, he’d purposely stepped in front of her in the hallway just to inhale her perfume. It was a concoction of the devil, all pheromones and musk mixed with an exotic blend of tropical flowers. Every time she came within twenty feet of him, his libido crippled him. He craved her with a hunger so intense it was all he could do not to take her on the dining room table for dessert.

  The hypnotic scent still haunted him. Still saturated his fingers from where he’d touched her arm the night before. Every time he was around her, his mutinous body betrayed him.

  His gaze strayed to the window.

  Frustrated, he rubbed a hand over his face, momentarily blocking out the sight of her statuesque body. The way the sunlight infiltrated her hair, turning it to newly minted gold. And those eyes, they had enchanted him from the first moment they latched onto him. As the days progressed, he became more and more involved in her life. She was all around him, her laughter, her dancing eyes, the heat of her fingers when he handed her a book from his personal library which he’d given her access to. And his body responded. Even now, his blood hammered in his veins as all his blood rushed south. What the hell was wrong with him? He
was acting like a teenager. He drew in a deep settling breath between clenched teeth, the self-control he prided himself on maintaining . . . gone. He walked around aroused, every day, all day, just knowing she was in the palace and within his reach. Night brought its own form of torment. In his erotic dreams, she was beneath him, her head thrown back from the pleasure he invoked—his name on her satiated lips. Madness, utter madness. He grabbed the edge of his desk as his legs buckled beneath him. Never had a woman affected him like this. Never. She was killing him, messing with his ability to not only function, but do his duty for his people.

  He ventured another glance out the window to where the water in the pool glistened like tiny mirrors beneath the sun’s rays, but it wasn’t the tranquil waters of the pool that enthralled him. No. His focus zeroed in on her with complete clarity. His penetrating gaze raked every delectable inch of her body as she glanced out over the sea. Simple attraction between a man and a woman? Hell no! This was an uproar of sexual need that made his body shake. Consumed him. And every time he saw her, that need skyrocketed. The driving passion within him acted like a living and breathing thing. His throat went dry, and the palms of his hands began to sweat. He moaned aloud.

  This is ridiculous!!

  She shimmied out of the short, breezy dress, revealing the smallest turquoise bikini he’d ever seen. Grr! His brain went on lock-down—he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk. Where had she purchased such a piece of clothing? The swim suit barely covered . . .

  Needing to distract his thoughts from the amount of tawny skin revealed by her swimming attire, he glanced at her wound sites. They appeared to be healing quite nicely. Yes, quite nicely. Her skin was sun-kissed and utterly appealing. He closed his eyes as an earthquake of longing rocked him to his core.

  He struggled, without success, to concentrate on the business of running his country. Fat chance. The sensuous image of her long blond hair blowing around her naked shoulders in the salted breeze off the sea beckoned him like tentacles of burning desire. Every cell of his masculinity prickled. As if that weren’t enough to make him detonate, he suddenly remembered her eyes laughing up at him last night at dinner as he commented on her new dress. That dress! Ha! Memories of that incredible dress filtered through him. The shiny red silk confection clung to every curve, every delicious mound, every perfect indentation, coaxing his hands to roam over her flesh. His eyes still burned from the indelible image of her in that dress . . .

  The erotic flashback continued to pulse at the corners of his mind. Sunset, a table for two overlooking the aquamarine Arabian Sea. Candles flickering in the tropical breeze, an elegant white tablecloth dotted with silver place settings and domed serving dishes. He’d dressed in his favorite black Prada suit. He closed his eyes, gathering his wits that seemed to elude him every time she appeared. No way to get around it. He was bedazzled by her. Wringing his hands, he had glanced out over the tranquil sea, wishing for just a smidgeon of its calmness. Then, the doors had slid open, and his mouth went dry as a hot tide of passion seized him. Gah! The ache to have her was so intense it nearly bent him in half. He tightened his lips to prevent a moan from escaping.

  His gaze had zeroed in on the book in her hand, then flashed up to her face. What? Why had she brought a book to dinner? Did she intend to read it while they ate? Was he that boring? But all thoughts of books and libraries dissolved when his gaze connected with hers. Her eyes, those fantastic verdant eyes of hers, remained glued to him as she placed one stiletto foot in front of the other. Suddenly suffocating, his finger tugged his collar away from his throat as everything around him ceased to exist. The birds no longer sang, the waves no longer crashed against the shore, his breath no longer drew—everything stopped except for her. The way she moved, her laugh, that gorgeous, untamed hair fanning out behind her in the rising breeze, her expressive eyes outlined in black kohl. How his fingers itched to bunch that red material of her dress in his fingers, peel away the layers, until he reached her womanly heat. His breath swooshed out. What was happening to him? He was a man noted for his steel control. Why were his palms sweating?

  “Good evening,” he had managed, his appreciative gaze inching over her as he rose from his seat and bowed. Pulling her chair out, she scooted past him to take her seat. Once again that damn perfume of hers melted his senses and his ability to function.

  “May I have your permission to call you Jane until we solve the mystery of your identity?

  He observed her as a plethora of emotions crossed her face. Silently, her lips formed the word Jane as she tested the name to see if it fit. His hopes soared, only to be dashed a few seconds when her brows drew together.

  “Of course.” She lamented

  He could tell by the confused look on her face that not knowing who she is was beginning to take a toll on her. If he could do anything to wipe away her stress he would gladly do it. He wanted her to be happy, to begin to enjoy her life again until her memories flooded back to her.

  “How did you spend your day, Jane?” he inquired as he seated himself across from her. He shook his optic white napkin out and spread it over his lap, hiding his arousal. He grabbed the crystal glass filled with ice water and drained it, signaling for the waiter to refill his glass. At this rate, he’d need an ocean of ice water to resolve his desire. She laid the book on the table. Obedience in the Harem. He nearly choked on the water. Harem! Visions of the two of them entwined amid a bed of multi-colored silken pillows burned through his mind, heating his blood in the process.

  Blinding longing flashed through him as an intense shiver of desire shook him to his masculine core. It was a miracle he didn’t ignite right on the spot. Or worse, shame himself like a school boy. But he was not a school boy, he was the sheik, and he needed to act accordingly.

  “All the classics in the library, and this is what you chose to read?”

  Her brilliant smile extended across the red roses of the centerpiece and smacked right into his heart.

  “I was mesmerized by the content.”

  He leaned in closer, his fingers tingling and crying out to touch her. “Really, do tell.”

  Jane scooted her chair closer, then leaned in. In a voice just above a whisper, she said, “It explains a great deal about life in a harem.”

  To say he was intrigued was a gross understatement. His gaze raked over her, taking in every aspect of that delicious body. His entire being hummed with excitement as he waited for her next words. “You do realize the harem disbanded years ago,” he said.

  “Too bad.” She let out a great huff of disappointed breath. Again, ice water nearly shot out of his nose.

  But not even ice water could dose the pressing need unfurling deep in the lower part of his body. He was hard. Harder than he’d ever been, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

  Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and his stomach hit his toes.

  She was coming on to him? Now he was mesmerized. A seed of hope germinated. An eyebrow shot upward. “Are you saying you think the idea of the harem is romantic? That you wouldn’t mind being at a man’s beck and call?” Now that hot current of yearning ramped up to searing fervor. Any minute now, steam would shoot out his ears.

  “With the right man . . . I wouldn’t mind at all. Are you that right man?”

  Her bold suggestion startled the hell out of him. Shoving his fingers though his hair, he concentrated on breathing in and out. He didn’t dare pick up his ice water again for fear of humiliating himself further. Those damn tantalizing images kept flashing through his mind, getting more and more provocative by the second. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Her thick eyelashes blinked one, twice, before her intense gaze locked on him. A sexy-as-hell smile teased the corners of her lips. “I’m saying I wouldn’t mind being in the harem with you.”

  Kaboom! Explosive desire, savage in intensi
ty, crippled him. He reached to grasp her hand, but in his excitement, knocked over not only their glasses of wine but the entire bottle. He jumped to his feet as the pinkish liquid soaked the tablecloth. Servants sprang into action, rushing to strip the tablecloth, and clean up the mess. The entire time, Malik refused to break eye contact with her. As soon as the tablecloth was replaced, the servants once again blended back into the darkness of the night.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t understand the concept of the harem. It would give me permission to . . .”

  A small giggle escaped her, and the sound, so melodious, so feminine, sent a shock wave through him.

  “Oh, Malik, I understand a lot more than you think I do. If I enter into this relationship, I enter with my eyes wide open.”

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed those long legs of hers, her dress riding up her bronzed thigh. Spellbound, the inferno ravaged his body. He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t think of anything but that damn concept of her amid the scattered pillows, awaiting his pleasure.

  “Of course, I would have a few demands of my own.”

  Malik sat forward, waiting for her terms to be expressed. At this point, he’d agree to anything within reason, and within reason covered a broad amount of territory.

  “State your terms.”

  She flashed a smile so brilliant it lit up the night sky. “I would insist on exclusive rights to you.”

  His lips eased up into a slow smile. “Done. I’m flattered . . . more than I can say.”

  She reached across the table and patted his hand. His fingers immediately threaded through hers.

  “Just think about it. There’s no rush.” She murmured, her voice as soft as a desert breeze.

  What was there to think about? He wanted her. Had since the first moment he saw her. Yes. The answer was definitely yes, but he didn’t want her to make a rash decision based on something she’d read in an ancient book.