“There’s nothing to say, Pete. And I’m quitting. I can’t work for you anymore.”
“Hey, babe, you owe me. I gave you a job without any experience. Gave you a chance to scoop the world with some photo snaps of one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. I could have sent someone else. Give with some details! What’s it like living in the lap of luxury? Does anyone speak English? Are you in a harem?”
“For heaven’s sake, Pete, you make it sound like I’ve gone back to the Dark Ages. Most of Kamtansin is as modern as Algiers. There are some lovely old mosques and buildings, small tiny streets with a lot of traffic, and the people are friendly. I haven’t had a chance to do much shopping, but I bet there are some real bargains to be found. I am not in a harem. Kharun has a beautiful villa right on the Mediterranean Sea.”
“So if you’re not a prisoner, why not contact me? We’ve been waiting for a week for some news. That country’s hot—with the proposed new oil leases and the potential for more.”
“It’s also pretty, but deprived in many ways. That’s why the oil leases are so crucial. The new income will enable them to progress more rapidly. Not that everyone is in agreement over that. But it doesn’t matter, family rules over here.”
“Your guy’s rich, the country’s poor, what else?”
“Stop, Pete. I’m not giving a report. I called to tell you to stop calling my mother.”
“Give me your number then. I don’t like one of my reporters being out of touch.”
“Didn’t you hear me, I quit! You can’t call here.” Sara looked up—Kharun stood in the doorway watching her.
“I’ve got to go, goodbye.” She disconnected and looked at him wondering how to explain.
“Your mother is welcome to call anytime she wishes,” he said mildly.
Flustered she tried to smile. Not for anything did she want him to know she was speaking with her editor. He’d be convinced she still planned to do a story!
CHAPTER EIGHT
“UM, MY mother wants to know when we are available to have dinner with them,” Sara said, hoping her flustered feeling didn’t show. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before she invited us.”
Kharun tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying her. “Whenever you would like.”
“In a couple of days, then?”
“Fine. You took longer than I expected with your call. My mother needs to leave soon for an appointment and she wishes to discuss your taking more pictures with a view to working to devise a campaign for promoting our country.”
“Do you think I can take that quality of pictures? Wouldn’t a professional be better?”
“What do you think?”
She almost held her breath. Had she finally found something she was good at? “I’d give it my best shot. But I’m really a novice at this. Photography has always been a hobby.”
“The quality of the pictures is assured by the camera you have. It’s the composition and artistic eye that captures the essence of what you see. Your unique perspective will insure the attraction of the pictures.”
“You’re good for a woman’s ego,” she said, warming with a heartfelt glow at his praise.
“By speaking the truth?”
“By bolstering my courage to try.”
“That is within you, Sara. Come, arrange things with my mother. I have work to do. Shall we ride this afternoon at five?”
“I’d like that.”
The day passed swiftly. Sara went with Angelique when she left for Staboul, catching a ride to the Samin Industries headquarters.
Meeting up again with Jasmine was an eye-opener for Sara. The tall building in the heart of the business section housed several businesses owned and run by the Samin family, from shipping lines to oil exploration to import-export. The latter was headed by Jasmine herself.
“Mother said you could help with the idea we have of trying to bolster the tourist trade,” Jasmine said after welcoming Sara to her office.
Glancing around the lavishly appointed office, Sara was envious. She had had a tiny cubbyhole of space at the newspaper. Nothing like the splendid view Jasmine had, nor the solid furnishings or artwork on the walls. The carpet beneath her feet was thicker than in her apartment at home!
“I’m glad to do what I can, but I don’t know much about luring tourists.”
Jasmine laughed. “Neither do we! But it’s something my father supported. Kharun and I have badgered our uncle tirelessly until he finally told us to do what we wanted. Carte blanche is great, except that we don’t have any idea how to proceed. I have one person working on it, though it technically shouldn’t be done by a private firm. Still, we can get it rolling. You’ll be perfect for telling us what would appeal to an American tourist—you’re so new here.”
“That’s what your mother said. I must say, before my father became interested in dealing for the oil leases, I hadn’t heard anything about your country.”
Jasmine made a face. “So true for everyone, I suspect. So that’s a good place to start. Come, I’ll introduce you to Tamil, who has started this project. Between the two of you, maybe we can really get going.”
Jasmine’s enthusiasm was catching. Sara felt excited for the first time since she started work at the newspaper with such high hopes. But as she followed Jasmine to a lower floor, she began to question what she was doing. Her stay in Kamtansin wouldn’t be lengthy. Once her marriage to Kharun ended, she had no reason to remain. Jasmine should have thought of that, as well—she was the only other person privy to the reason for their hasty marriage.
Before she could voice her concerns, however, Jasmine stepped into an office and introduced Sara to Tamil.
Sara was relieved to discover he spoke English, though rather slowly and formally. Still, it would facilitate working together.
By the end of the afternoon, Sara’s head was swimming with ideas and plans. They had discussed various strategies and ambitions, jotted pages of notes, and arranged to meet in another couple of days to take a tour of what Tamil considered the most appealing aspects of the city to get Sara’s opinions.
She was delivered back to the villa by Angelique’s driver. She rang the doorbell and the same maid who had let her in before opened the door. She smiled and again said something to Sara.
“Probably telling me to get a key,” Sara murmured as she headed for her room. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was almost five. If she wanted to be on time for her ride with Kharun, she had better hurry.
She was bubbling with all she wanted to tell him. As she donned her jeans, she almost laughed. They would be just like regular married couples—telling each other about their day.
Except, Kharun didn’t tell her about his day—did he still suspect she was a spy? How absurd. Maybe if she tried—
Tried what? She sat on the edge of her bed. What did she want? To get to know Kharun better? Theirs was a temporary arrangement—to avoid scandal and make sure the oil treaties weren’t jeopardized. They’d already discussed an annulment once the leases were signed.
She glanced around her room and then out at the garden, taking a deep breath. The fragrance of the flowers was light, mingling with that of the warm sea air. Her restlessness wasn’t as strong when she was here. The setting was idyllic. And despite the suspicions Kharun seemed to hold, she enjoyed being with him.
Liked his kisses.
Whoa, don’t go there! She jumped up and finished changing, hurrying to the stables as if trying to flee her own thoughts.
The horses were already saddled. Kharun was talking with one of the grooms. He turned and watched as she came up to him.
“Ready?”
“As ever.”
They followed the trail to the beach, Sara in the lead. Alia was prancing impatiently, anxious for the run she expected.
“Beat you!” Sara called, tearing down the beach. She could hear Kharun following, the pounding hoofs of Satin Magic drawing closer every moment. Laughing in exhilaration, Sara urged Alia faster. Th
e wind blew through her hair, the sea sparkled like diamonds in the sun.
This is what she should capture to lure tourists. The sheer joy would entice even the most jaded traveler. How could she convey this feeling to the world?
Satin Magic was gaining. He was a strong horse, with a longer stride. Sara knew she couldn’t keep her lead, but she and Alia would give it their best. Soon they were neck and neck, then Kharun pulled ahead.
Sara began to ease Alia down into a slower gait until they were trotting. Kharun slowed, turned and came back to where they were.
“You win!” Sara called.
He was grinning as he fell into step with her. “Next time, I’ll win quicker with an equal start. I take it by your absence all day that you and Jasmine agreed to work together?”
“Tamil and I will be working on the project. We have so many ideas. He’s traveled a bit, and so have I, so we each have ideas on what we look for and what’s appealing. We need to explore hotels and restaurants and see who is ready for an influx of customers. See what tours we might devise. Decide where to target our campaign initially. There’s so much to do!”
Sara was full of her day and wanted to share the excitement. She told Kharun every idea, from their plans to visit the various sights in the city of Staboul, to interviewing hotel managers, to testing restaurants. She was unaware of how her eyes sparkled in excitement, or how the color flooded her cheeks from her ride.
“Of course, what would make it perfect would be a desert trip. It’s so different from what most of the world knows, I’m sure it would be a draw unto itself.”
He looked at her. “You like the desert?”
“I don’t know, except for my foray to try to photograph your retreat, I’ve never been.” She patted Alia’s neck. “The thought of riding a horse along the dunes has a lot of appeal. The oasis where the jail was rose so unexpectedly from the barren land. I imagine it could be romantic given the proper preparation. And you have to admit it would be quite different from what most people are used to—always supposing there’s enough water and shade to support a tour group.”
“Sometimes I go beyond the oasis. Satin Magic and I spend days on the desert. It is cleansing. Rejuvenating, yet relaxing.”
She nodded. “I would love to see it sometime,” she said wistfully. “But this is nice, along the sea. Look, there are pleasure boats out today. I haven’t noticed them before—just the big ships out on the horizon.”
He glanced at the two boats apparently at anchor a few hundred yards from the shore. “Another feature you can include. For those who sail the Med, we can offer docking facilities. We already have a couple of large marinas in Staboul. Others could be built.”
“How about docks large enough for pleasure cruises?”
“Ah, you think big. We could convert one or two of our deep water docks from freight, I suppose.”
“I can’t wait to talk to Tamil about that! So I told you about my day, how was yours?” she asked daringly. They turned the horses for home. She liked the ride back each afternoon, it was slower, took longer and allowed them to talk. Gave her time with Kharun—just the two of them. For a while she could forget he didn’t trust her. For a while it was just Kharun and Sara.
She watched as he sat on his horse. His dark hair gleamed in the sunshine, his shoulders broad and strong. Savoring the image, she burned it into her memory. She never wanted to forget a single minute with him.
“I didn’t realize your family was involved in so many businesses. Jasmine runs the import-export firm. Do you oversee them all?”
“You didn’t know?” he asked. Suspiciously, she thought.
She shook her head. “I was very impressed,” she said. “I thought you just helped out your uncle with the oil leases and other projects he needed done.”
“My father started two of the firms. Jasmine and I started the import-export. She assumed full control when our father died. By then I was heavily involved in the shipping lines, and now oversee the other company, as well. It’s a family concern. Some cousins are involved. And my mother takes an interest, though not an active role.”
“No wonder you work all the time,” she murmured.
“When a person enjoys what he does, it’s not a hardship.”
“What do you do for fun?” Sara asked as they neared the path leading back to the stables. Was their ride coming to an end so soon? She wanted to cling to the moments, stretch them out.
“I enjoy riding.”
“How about swimming? You’ve never gone once since I’ve been here. Living right by the sea, having that lovely pool, I’d think you’d take advantage of the water.”
“Ah, but I do. I usually swim first thing in the mornings, while you’re still sleeping.”
“Oh.”
They turned into the path, going single file, Kharun in the lead. Sara watched him as they rode quietly, wondering if it would look suspiciously obvious if she arose early the next morning and happened to wish to go swimming.
“Do you ever swim at night?” she called.
He looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes enigmatic. “Sometimes. Want to go tonight?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She nodded.
“After dinner, we can take a walk. If the warmth holds, we’ll swim in the sea,” he said. His voice was rife with sensual promise, his eyes captivating.
Sara felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but smiled slowly, hoping the sheer joy she felt didn’t show. “I’d like that.”
Sara wondered if their walk would take place when they reached the house and found Piers waiting for Kharun.
“It’s late,” Kharun said when greeting his friend and adviser. “Couldn’t whatever you’re here for have waited until morning?”
Piers shrugged, looked at Sara. “You never minded before.”
“Things change,” Kharun answered shortly. He lifted Sara’s hand and kissed it blatantly. “Change for dinner. I’ll see to Piers.”
Sara was aware of the men watching her as she headed for her wing of the house. She paused just around the bend and stopped.
“You play a dangerous game, my friend,” she heard Piers say in English. His voice grew fainter as they moved away from her. “You still don’t know for sure she wasn’t sent as a spy. Does she have access to your office?”
She knew he didn’t trust her. How did Kharun really feel? His voice was too indistinct from the distance. Maybe he’d even switched to Arabic. With a sigh, she continued to her room.
Kharun closed the door to his office. “Do you have reasons for thinking she is here to spy? A woman who speaks no Arabic and has yet to ask one question about our position on the oil leases?”
“It’s just odd she showed up at this particular time, that’s all.”
Kharun shrugged. “What is so important you have to come this late?”
“I believe the Americans have agreed to your last counteroffer. We should go over it all in great detail, but I believe we are almost ready for you to send the version to your uncle for his approval. Then we can sign.”
Kharun nodded, his expression schooled to show no emotion. It was too soon. He shook his head. They’d been working on this deal for weeks now. The new leases would mean a great deal to his country.
But it would also mean the need to be married to Sara would end. And he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
“I thought you would be elated,” Piers murmured, drawing out the thick folder from his briefcase.
“I’m pleased,” Kharun said. “But let’s make sure before we begin to celebrate. No use anticipating.”
But it was clear when he read the counteroffer acceptance that the contracts were almost ready to be drawn and signed.
“It doesn’t look like anything Sara could have told her father has changed our position on this,” Kharun said.
“Doesn’t mean they didn’t try, that’s all I’m saying. So, is it an annulment, or divorce?”
Kharun looked at his friend, his eyes cold an
d hard. “You’ll be one of the first to know—when the time is right.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds,” Piers said hastily.
Kharun was still considering the question, and the possible answer when he changed for dinner. He had Aminna set the table on the patio overlooking the garden. After dinner, he and Sara would take that walk along the beach, and maybe go swimming.
The more he grew to know her, the more she fascinated him. Was it her quicksilver mind, flitting from one topic to another that entertained? Or the way she had of looking at him sometimes like he was the most important person in the world, that he found so beguiling? Or that air of innocence she portrayed so well?
Maybe Piers had been correct, she’d come to seduce him into revealing secrets. Yet she’d made no overt attempts at seduction. He wanted to believe she had been caught up in circumstances. Nothing so far had shown him differently.
Sara dressed with care for dinner. The sundress she donned was her favorite, loose and flowing, yet clinging as she walked, displaying her figure to full advantage. She felt she needed all the advantage she could get. Time was growing short.
She’d resented being forced into this marriage of convenience. But it had turned out to be much more pleasant than she’d expected. Granted she would change some things if she could, but for the most part she was satisfied with avoiding the scandal, which would have reflected so poorly on her father.
She had not counted on developing such an interest in her husband, however. Would he want to continue to see her after they parted?
A pang struck her. What if he didn’t?
“All the more reason to make memories while I can,” she said, staring at herself in the mirror. She dabbed on a hint of perfume, and recapped the bottle. Taking a deep breath, she turned and headed for dinner.
A most romantic setting, she thought, stepping into the patio after Aminna told her where to find Kharun when she found the dining room empty.
Discreet lighting gave soft illumination. The breeze had died down. The air was redolent with the fragrance of roses. And the soft murmur of the sea made a soft, melodic background.
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