The Sheik's Dangerous Temptation

by Mary Jo Springer

  “For tonight, let’s change the subject. I think we both need some time to think about how to proceed from here.”

  She cradled her face in the palms of her hands. “If you think you need time, then by all means take it. My mind is made up. I want you.”

  Good God! This temptress was going to bring him to his knees.

  “I hope I’m not being too forward, but when I see something I like . . . I go for it.”

  He growled his pleasure. He needed to change the subject and do so in a hurry before he tested the strength of the dining table. “Let’s get back to your day.” He choked out. Before I explode.

  She picked up her wineglass, taking a long sip. As her tongue snaked out to capture a wayward drop remaining on her lips, he glanced out over the sea. His hands began to shake and sweat. He was in tune to her every movement, and the sensual magnetism between them was off the charts. He could already think of nothing but being inside her. After dinner, he’d have to stand in a cold shower for a couple of hours. Her next words interrupted his carnal musings.

  “I started to volunteer at the orphanage.”

  What the hell? Who had okayed that? Certainly not him. Tomorrow, when his brain started functioning again, he’d go to the orphanage and install cameras, locks, and anything else he deemed necessary to keep her safe. And if required, he’d strike out time in his schedule to accompany her. Nothing was going to happen to her. Not after he’d just found her. Nothing, he reminded himself. He swallowed down his apprehension. “How wonderful. We can use all the help we can get, and I’m sure you’ll be a great fit with the children. Just make sure a bodyguard or I am with you at all times.”

  She tore her gaze away from him and glanced out over the darkening sea. “Nazem won’t let me go anywhere without one.”

  He chuckled. “Nazem is a very smart man, so you would do well to follow his advice. Your safety is our utmost concern.”

  A faraway look overtook her features. Could she be remembering something?

  “How is your memory? Has anything come back? Any hints about your past?”

  Servants swarmed around them as they began to serve dinner. Their constant hovering was meddlesome, so Malik dismissed them with a flick of his hand. “We’ll serve ourselves tonight. If we need any more assistance, I’ll ring for you.” The silent army of help slowly receded from the terrace, leaving them alone at last.

  He reached for the serving platter, but her hand stopped him.

  “Doctor Hajjah, tell me about your family.” Her soft voice blended with the current of the tropical wind.

  “After the last few moments, don’t you think you can call me Malik? I think we’re past formalities.”

  “Malik,” she corrected, tossing her hair over her shoulder. His gaze followed the gentle movement of her blond curls.

  The sound of his name on those tempting lips did things to his body he had never experienced. Leaning against the back of his chair, he struggled to find the right words. “It’s a ghastly tale, and not one I’m comfortable reliving.”

  He intercepted the faint glimmer of compassion in her eyes before her smile slipped into a frown that bunched the area above her brilliant eyes. “No, I’m not interested in how things ended. Tell me about your childhood.”

  An emotional lump the size of a chicken egg sealed his throat. He sat forward and once again began to serve the meal. “My father was known as the ‘lion of the desert.’ He ruled this land with an iron hand.” For a brief second, he closed his eyes as memories overtook him.

  “And your mother?” Jane’s hand snaked forward to grasp his, and after a nanosecond, his fingers closed around hers.

  He drew in a deep breath before continuing, “My mother was a gentle creature. She loved us with her whole being.”

  Her gaze swallowed his. “And your brothers and sister?”

  A heaviness lacerated his heart, but the nearness of her gave him a comfort he couldn’t explain. His relaxed grip tightened on her hand as a storm of hot emotion welled up inside him. He blinked several times, battling to maintain his composure. Glancing out over the moonlit sea, an immense sadness shadowed him. “As children we were hellions, running through the palace, yelling at each other, fighting with each other, but we began to assume our responsibilities as we grew older. We were as close as siblings could be.”

  His appetite disappeared.

  “I would love to see some pictures of them.” Her voice was breathless, as if she experienced the pain stabbing at his heart.

  “I will show them to you,” he replied, “but right now you need to eat. You are still regaining your strength.”

  He spied the longing in her eyes, and when those oh-so-plump lips of hers lifted at the corners, her smile knocked the breath from his lungs. She leaned back and smoothed the napkin on her lap. His gaze followed the motion, envious of her fingers.

  ~ ~ ~

  That was last night and he’d managed to get through the night without taking her to his bed. Today . . . he didn’t know if he could continue to hold back his sensual nature any longer.

  Malik shook his head, returning his mind to the present. That sleek red dress would haunt him for as long as he lived. He swallowed the cotton clogging his throat, lust bubbling inside him like a witch’s brew.

  Damn that bathing suit of hers and all that delicious skin it revealed.

  He froze.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He was lusting after a woman who was under his protection. What type of a man did that make him? He sniffed with disgust—yeah—he had a name for that type of man. He had plenty of them. Cad, selfish bastard, womanizer—they all fit. He’d had other women—lots of women—but this was different. This was . . . instinctive.

  He should go out. Take a drive for an hour or two, long enough to get his body to cool. Yes, that’s what he would do. He picked up his keys from his desk and started for the door, but then remembering his wallet on his desk, he whirled around. That’s when he made the grave mistake of glancing toward the pool area.

  “Son of a . . .” he grumbled aloud. Shoving his hand behind his neck, he rubbed at the tension there.

  The small triangles of her swimwear were not big enough to pass for postage stamps. Her exquisite breasts bounced with her movements. His eyes followed her, glued to the sight of creamy, gyrating flesh. Hypnotized by her movements, he groaned and couldn’t look away. He was on fire, all of his senses vibrating with an urgency that longed to be fulfilled.

  He hurt from it. A cold shower would no longer do the trick. He was beyond that . . . way beyond that.

  As Jane ran a finger under the waist of her suit bottom and snapped it into place, his tongue wet his suddenly dry lips. He threw his keys back on the desk, all desire for escape forgotten. He wanted to rip away the tiny barriers of her suit. With shaky fingers, he reached for the electric fan atop his desk and flipped it on. Fiddling with his collar, he leaned over and forced the cool air down his shirt. His cell phone rang. He ignored it, unable to pull his gaze away from her. Geez, he had it bad.

  I will not survive this day. After their romantic dinner the previous night, his body craved more. He craved more. He already knew her feelings. She’d stated them quite explicitly.

  Edging toward the pool, she arched her arms over her head in preparation for a dive. His gaze froze the image in his memory, searing it in his mind for all eternity. He flipped the fan onto high and let the circulating cool air blow over his face.

  Long tanned legs, bent knees, exposed womanly flesh. He wiped a hand across his brow as desire of volcanic portions racked his body. “Help me,” he murmured, looking heavenward.

  Arching her delicious body in the air, she plunged into the royal blue water of the pool. He strode closer to the window as she surfaced. When she heaved herself out of the pool, water sl
uiced over her body, plastering the translucent material of her suit against her puckered nipples. Blood hammering in his ears, he could do nothing but stare.

  It was the last straw.

  His self-control in tatters, he’d made his decision. He must have her. Now, if his body had any say. He strode out of his office and headed for the pool.

  ~ ~ ~

  She lounged in the cushioned pool chaise next to the gigantic infinity pool, staring out at the cerulean Arabian Sea, her thoughts centered solely on the sexy sheik. Groves of palm trees rippled in the mounting breeze, their fern-like fronds whispering a soothing song. The flagstone terrace appeared to be a mile wide, with numerous sophisticated umbrella tables, along with Moroccan-influenced wicker seating groups, that lined the perimeter of water. A stone wall partially secluded anyone swimming in the expansive pool. The tangy breeze immersed her in delicious mix of citrus and sea. The delectable aromas stirred around her, ruffling her swiftly drying hair and setting her large hoop earrings dancing against her cheeks. Drawing a large-toothed comb through her hair, she struggled with a stubborn knot, working it until the comb slid smoothly through. Picking up her sun tan lotion, she squeezed a dollop into her palm, applying a thick layer. She didn’t have the pale skin that required constant monitoring in the sun. No, she could spend hours in it without burning.

  She paused, her mouth dropping open in surprise. How did she know that? She sat forward, drying her hands on her beach towel. She’d give anything to have the entirety of her memory back, anything. If only those insistent flashbacks would put themselves into some sort of order, she could begin piecing the puzzle of her life back together. Her frustration was growing daily. Settling back against the comfort of the chair, she endeavored to calm the emotions threatening to propel her into a panic attack. She paused and reviewed Malik’s instructions. She mustn’t push herself. Relax. The memories would come back. She just had to give her brain time to heal. When . . . when . . . when, beat the mantra in her head.

  Disheartened, she felt like throwing something against the wall. Okay . . . okay, you need to calm down. Getting upset won’t solve the problem, and it certainly won’t heal your mind any faster. She opened the magazine she’d brought to the pool and, sliding her sunglasses on, compelled her body to de-stress. Taking deep, calming breaths, she stretched out on the opulent chaise like a lazed cat on a sunny afternoon.

  Concealed within the pages of her fashion magazine was Rapture, one of those trashy tabloids everyone reads to get the scoop on celebrities. This particular one was her secret obsession. She’d been known to travel to a multitude of stores in order to get the latest edition, hot off the presses. She gasped—it was another small piece of her memory. Maybe this relaxing thing could prove advantageous to her recovery.

  She flipped through the magazine. This copy was of interest because Sheik Malik el Hajjah dominated the pages. Her infatuation with the sheik was growing daily. She desired his company constantly, and when he wasn’t with her . . . she fantasized about making love to him. About being in those oh-so-strong arms of his. About having those luscious lips of his taking hers. It had been excruciatingly hard to walk away from him last night after she’d stated how much she craved to become involved with him. She fanned herself with the magazine one whole minute before she glanced around to see if any of his servants were present. She didn’t want any of them to come out and catch her reading up on him; they were sure to gossip. She didn’t need gossip.

  One picture showed him looking breathtakingly handsome in a black tux at a charity event. The blonde on his arm, curvaceous and strikingly beautiful, gazed up at him adoringly as if he were a god. Another exhibited him streaking across a polo field in full gallop, scoring the winning goal. Then a full-page displayed him sharing a candlelit dinner with a redhead in an expensive restaurant. The caption read: International playboy Sheik Malik el Hajjah changes women with the ease that other men change shirts.

  “Hmm,” she murmured, tapping a nail against her lips.

  She glanced up when she heard the terrace doors opening, and her breath caught when the man himself stepped onto the terrace. She lowered her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose to get a better look. She’d never seen him in anything casual. Usually he was dressed in long desert robes, loose fitting hospital scrubs, or the mesmerizing suit he had worn last night, which had fully captured his royal aura. But not today. Today his black designer polo shirt hugged his biceps, emphasizing the powerful sculpture of his chest. Well-worn jeans molded his thighs and waist, drawing her attention to his . . . anatomy. His mirrored sunglasses gave him an added air of mystery. Certainly, the pictures in her magazine didn’t do him justice.

  His inky hair caught a breeze, disheveling the sexy layers around his face. The illusion gave him the appearance of a satisfied man who’d just been tossed out of a women’s bed. Of course, a woman would have to be certifiably insane to topple such a fine masculine specimen.

  He dripped sex, oozed it from his pours. She blew a heated breath through her bangs. Way out of her league, she cautioned. Think self-preservation. She had no business ogling him like he was a tempting pastry. Oh, for heaven’s sake! This could only be a short-termed relationship. Any day now, her memory would come flooding back, and she’d be gone. No sense complicating her life any further. As mouth-watering as he was, she could almost bet the ranch that she didn’t belong in this realm of high society, let alone as the houseguest of a powerful sheik.

  Wise up, Cinderella, soon it will be pumpkin time . . . and when the clock strikes midnight, you’ll be standing on the side of the road with your suitcase. She let out an exaggerated sigh, closed her eyes and decided to indulge herself just this once. People had summer romances all the time. Didn’t they?

  He prowled closer with all the superior grace of his elevated rank. As she continued to stare, she sensed some purposeful new determination in his stride. He bee-lined toward her as if in pursuit. Pursuit, really? Now she was becoming delusional. Too much time in the sun had cooked what was left of her brain; soon she’d be seeing flying carpets. Closer he came, a symphony of masculine movement, and a shiver racked her body. The candid conversation they’d had last night upped the sexual ante. He knew she wanted him. And she knew he wanted her. The heat of the day only made the situation more explosive. Her eyes drifted over him again, taking in every splendid detail, from his bare feet up.

  Her wobbly confidence of a few minutes ago disintegrated. This man was dangerous, more so now that he’d let her see his tender side. Last night they had talked for hours while dining. The sadness he felt about his family was tangible. A monumental tragedy. Her heart went out to him. And that was a precarious spot for her to be in. Her heart was thumping so hard she feared he could hear it. She removed her sunglasses as she closed her magazine.

  In little more than an instant, he was standing beside her, staring down at her. He was big and masculine, and a primal power haloed him. The sight of his body literally stole her breath, not to mention the way he talked and walked and those lips of his—their shape and size calling to the deepest feminine part of her.

  “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

  Disturbing her? Hell yes, he was disturbing her, but not in the sense he meant. Her mind struggled to form a mere thought when she was this close to him. Disturbing her? She almost laughed aloud.

  She finally managed to form a sentence. “No, I was just perusing this magazine.” Hurriedly she tucked the magazine under her leg, hiding the scandalous articles about him.

  He shifted his weight, cocking his leg into a lazy stance. “I was about to order some lunch. Would you care to join me?”

  Impeccable manners, but something told her he had more on his mind than lunch. Raising her hand to shield the sun obscuring her view, she replied, “Of course.”

  He looped a thumb through his belt loop before continuing, “C
an I have the pleasure of ordering for you, or is there something special you’d like.” As he spoke his lips twitched into a melt-your-brain smile.

  Oh. My. God.

  Were they still talking about lunch? Because she had a strong impression he’d moved on to a more heated menu. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

  He dragged his sunglasses off. The blatant heat in those translucent sapphire eyes scorched her skin. The smoldering flames she spied within the depths of his eyes confirmed her suspicions No doubt about it, he was talking about something other than lunch. Her whole being skittered away as she waited for whatever he’d say next. She was hoping he was about to order a little afternoon delight. Her pulse ramped up, hammering against her temple. His next question confirmed her fondest wish.

  “Whatever I want?” he questioned, the whiteness of his even teeth contrasting starkly against his tanned skin. He slung her beach towel out of his way as he sat down beside her. “A woman should be careful about blindly agreeing to a man’s appetite,” he counseled.

  “All I’m agreeing to is sustenance, Sheik Hajjah. Nothing more.”

  Again, with the sexy smile. “Malik,” he corrected, his eyes tracking unhurriedly across every inch of her body, devouring the sight of her as if she were his noon meal. “Yes, sustenance,” he added. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Obtaining sustenance. A man needs sustenance.”

  Although the day was sweltering, his words made her shiver, even as her cheeks glowed like the core of a pottery kiln.

  He stood, turned, and walked a short distance away, giving her an excellent view of his backside. He pulled out his cell phone, and as he ordered lunch, she continued her scrutiny from beneath lowered lashes. Long, muscular legs propelled him to the far side of the pool. The arrogant tilt of his head unequivocally proclaimed that he was master of all he surveyed. Seasoned regal power radiated from his every movement. Instead of taking away from his appeal, it amplified it. Strong, handsome, sexually overpowering . . . she craved him with a fever that would pop any thermometer. Still, something told her that becoming intimate with a man like him would be the biggest blunder of her life . . . or life as she now knew it. Stop! Stop! Stop doubting yourself. Stop doubting this! Go with the flow.