by Miranda Lee
Samantha melted, then overheated as outrage joined in.
She smacked his hand away, her cheeks going bright red whilst her heart did a tango within her chest. ‘Don’t you dare flatter me just to get me into bed! I know what’s ailing you, Mr Moneybags. You’ve had to leave your playboy lifestyle behind and you’re missing it like mad. You’ve been almost a week without one of your three girlfriends, and you’re feeling like a bit on the side. Well, I’m not going to be that bit. Foryour enlightenment,’ she threw back at him, using the same expression he’d used earlier, ‘I’m not in the business of being used by men—especially arrogant, up-themselves sheikhs with more money than morals.’
Her tirade seemed to shake him almost as much as it shook her. Samantha could not believe she was doing what she was doing. Her fantasy man wanted to take her to bed and she was knocking him back! Not only knocking him back but insulting him so much that he was sure never to ask her again. How self-destructive could you get?
Samantha was trembling all through her body as she pushed open the driver’s door and leapt out of the four-wheel drive. Knowing that she’d ruined everything once more only made her madder.
‘I am going to the ladies’,’ she spat out. ‘When I come back, I am going to drive us back home. When we get there, you can explain to the men why we didn’t stay for the auction. I’m sure Trevor will be thrilled that you bought some of the horses he recommended and won’t give a hoot if you paid scads for them. After dropping you off, I am going to go straight to my cottage. You can tell everyone I have an upset stomach. I’m sure they’ll believe you. You’re obviously an excellent liar!’ she finished, whirling on the heels of her riding boots and stalking off.
Bandar gritted his teeth as he watched her stomp across the lawn, her arms swinging back and forth, her ponytail bouncing up and down.
Never in his life had he been spoken to in such a manner. No one would dare—certainly not a woman!
Why he wanted this impossible creature as much as he did was a complete mystery to him. Not only was Samantha Nelsonnot truly beautiful—she was right about that—she had a tongue laced with acid.
Right from their first meeting she had burned him with her words. Burned and challenged him.
A light suddenly snapped on in Bandar’s head. Yes, of course!That was the reason behind his unlikely obsession with her. She challenged him.
Challenges had always compelled Bandar. Give him an unbreakable horse and he would go to any lengths to tame it, to have it welcome him as its rider, to have the animal eating out of his hand.
He had never actually foundany woman a challenge before.
Up till now.
It galled Bandar that Samantha was his first failure with the opposite sex.
She came back into view in the side vision mirror, her body language still full of defiance and defensiveness.
He studied the stubborn set of her mouth, thinking to himself how satisfying it would be to have that mouth soften under his, to have it pleasure him as he liked to be pleasured.
His loins leapt at the image of her totally stripped of her defences as well as her clothes. She had a good body: high, firm breasts, a small waist, long, slender legs.
She would look good naked.
Bandar grimaced at the physical effect his thoughts were having on him. He would have to control his desires for now, or risk potential embarrassment.
But he was not done with this woman. She would be his. It was just a matter of finding out the right approach.
What a pity he had so little time. Less than three weeks and he would have to return to London. He might have to be ruthless.
Of course he was already rather ruthless where western women were concerned. Materialistic creatures, most of them. Always pretending they wanted you for yourself, when underneath it was really your money they wanted.
Was Samantha susceptible to money? he wondered as she wrenched open the door and climbed back into the driver’s seat.
She did not look at him. Did not say a single word. Just stabbed the key into the ignition and got going.
The sexual chemistry was still there between them, regardless of how much she wanted to pretend it wasn’t. Its pull sizzled through the airwaves, making Bandar suddenly aware of the perfume she was wearing.
She had not been wearing perfume the other night, he recalled. So why was she today?
Because she wanted him to smell it. Wanted him to be attracted to her.
So why had she rejected his advances?
Bandar considered the reasons behind her contrary behaviour all the way back to the stud, her ongoing silence giving him plenty of time to explore various possibilities. Nothing made sense—unless she was of a religious persuasion which precluded sex outside of marriage. That would also explain her outraged reaction to his having three lady-friends.
Somehow, however, having religious beliefs did not seem to match this girl with her acid tongue and prickly manner.
No, the reason had to be more personalised than that. Maybe she had been hurt by some man—some two-timing womaniser who had cheated on her and made her lose confidence in herself as a woman?
Horses who had been badly treated often became sour-tempered and contrary. Like Samantha was.
He was considering this idea when another possibility popped into Bandar’s head.
What if she were still a virgin? What if the reality of sleeping with a man simply terrified her?
Bandar glanced across at Samantha’s steely face and quickly dismissed this last notion.
No way was this girl terrified ofanything .
Which left him with what?
He had no idea. All Bandar could be sure of was that shewas attracted to him. He had felt it more than once.
On his part, he was more than attracted to her. Frankly, he could not think of anything else. Even when he’d been lying in bed the other day, suffering from the most excruciating headache, his mind had been filled with thoughts of her.
He wasn’t suffering from a headache now. But his body was aching. Aching with a need which had plagued mankind since the Garden of Eden.
At another time, in another place, he might have walked away. But not this time. By the end of this month he could very well be dead.
Such thoughts made a man prioritise. It also gave an urgency to his desires. Dead, he would never know what it felt like to hold this woman in his arms, to kiss her contrary mouth into compliance, then make love to her from dusk till dawn.
Bandar suspected that sleeping with this intriguing girl would be an experience such as he had never had before. An experience he wanted whilst he could still seize it.
He spent the rest of the drive home plotting and planning her seduction—a seduction which seemed as difficult as it was desired.
Patience, he told himself. Patience.
Facing imminent death, however, robbed a man of his patience, as well as his conscience. Samantha Nelson was going to become his, no matter what the cost!
CHAPTER SEVEN
TEARStrickled down Samantha’s face. Slow, sad, self-disgusted tears.
She was curled up in the corner of the comfy lounge in her cottage, dressed in pink flannelette pyjamas and clasping a mug of hot chocolate in her hands.
The sun had set a couple of hours earlier. The night ahead promised to be chilly, but the combustion heater was pumping out plenty of heat. The television was on, but she wasn’t watching it. She was sitting there, thinking what a pathetic creature she was. Full of bluster and bravado on the outside. But inside full of fear. Fear of making a fool of herself. Fear of the most important area of her life as a female.
Being with a man.
The drive home had been dreadful, with Bandar not saying a single word to her. And of course she had returned the favour, her tight-lipped pretence at being offended and outraged lasting till she’d dropped him off and gone straight to her cottage, as she’d said she would. There, she’d swept the phone off the hook, clicked her m
obile off, then dived into bed, fully dressed, pulling the bedclothes up over her head in a vain attempt to shut out the world and the pain which had quickly flooded her.
She’d cried herself to sleep and not woken till it was nearly dark, at which point she’d risen, lit the fire, then taken herself into the bathroom for a very long bath and an even longer assessment of why she’d reacted so heatedly and adversely to Bandar’s declaration that the attraction between them was mutual.
After all, it should have been welcome news, shouldn’t it?
At first, she’d comforted herself with the excuse that what she’d said to him was spot-on. Hehadn’t been overcome with desire for her because she was anything special. He’d wanted sex, and she was the only game in town. No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t the only game in town. She was, however, the easiest. Why? Because she’d made it perfectly obvious to this man-of-the-world that she fancied him. Hadn’t he caught her practically drooling over him at the dinner table the other night?
And of course he must have noticed the changes she’d made in her appearance today. He’d have smelt her perfume, at least. That would have been very telling to a man of his experience.
Then there’d been her manner towards him during their inspection of the horses. She’d been all smiles and deferential questions. Maybe not sweet, but as close as she would ever get. By the time they’d had lunch together, she couldn’t have blamed him for thinking she would be agreeable to a pass or two.
And what had she done?
Snapped and snarled at him like some rabid dog.
Truly, he must be thinking she was crazy!
Which she wasn’t. Just a coward.
If only she could go back in time, she would do things differently.
The knock on the front door brought a grimace to Samantha’s face. It would be Cleo, for sure. Dear, kind Cleo, worried that she was sick. Once before, when Samantha had been laid up in bed with a bout of flu, Cleo had come down every day with home-made soup and other tempting things to eat.
Samantha put down her mug of no-longer-hot chocolate and uncurled herself, hurriedly wiping her tears away with the back of her hands.
‘I’m coming, Cleo,’ she called out, when the knock came again on her way to the front door.
It wasn’t till she was actually turning the doorknob that it occurred to Samantha that Cleo would have called out to her with her first knock. She would have said,Hi! It’s just me, love.
Samantha’s stomach scrunched into a tight knot when she saw who her caller was. Fate could not have planned a more humiliating scenario.
He was dressed in smart beige trousers and a pale blue crew-necked top, beige leather loafers on his feet, not a hair out of place, his face freshly shaven. And there she was in her bare feet and flannelette PJs, her hair all over the place and her eyes all puffy from crying.
‘What…what are you doing here?’ she stammered, both her hands coming up to clasp together just under her neck.
His eyes flicked over her from head to toe, their incredulous expression doing nothing to make her feel more comfortable.
‘Cleo wanted to bring you some soup before she went into town,’ he said, indicating the flask in his hand. ‘She and her husband spend every Wednesday evening at some club, it seems. I told her I would do it. I explained that I wanted to personally check on how you were.’
‘You walked all this way?’ she said, before glancing over his shoulder and seeing the golf cart which Jack used to transport people and luggage from the helipad up to the house. ‘Oh, I see,’ she mumbled. ‘You drove down in the buggy.’
Finding some composure—goodness knew how—she straightened, then reached to take the flask from his hand, holding it in front of her as if it was a protective shield.
‘As you can see, I’m fine,’ she said somewhat stiffly. ‘If you recall, I wasn’t really sick.’
He peered at her more closely, the low-wattage globe above the door not providing the best of light. ‘You are not fine,’ he said, sounding both concerned and surprised. ‘You have been weeping.’
‘If I have, it’s none of your business.’
‘I am making it my business,’ he said firmly. ‘I am coming inside and you are going to tell me why you are so upset.’
‘You arenot coming inside,’ she said, denying him entry by standing in the middle of the doorway. Her pride would not let him humiliate her further.
His gaze was unflinching, his wide-legged stance and clenched fists reminding her of a street fighter about to do battle. ‘I assure you that I am. If you do not move, I will pick you up and carry you inside with me.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ she gasped, her head whirling at the thought.
‘You will learn that I would dare to do of lot of things, Samantha,’ he said, in a voice which sent shivers running down her spine. ‘My time here is limited, and I refuse to waste it playing the gentleman. I know that you want me as much as I want you. Iknow it, Samantha,’ he repeated, his eyes giving her no mercy. ‘Your words might say one thing, but your eyes say another.’
‘You’re mad,’ she snapped. But it was she who was mad. He was giving her a second chance and she was blowing it again.
‘That won’t work, Samantha. I can see through this façade you hide behind. It is nothing but a bluff. I am a very good poker player, and I know when my opponent is bluffing. In your heart of hearts, you want me to pick you up and carry you inside. You want me to make love to you till the dawn breaks. You are like an unbroken young horse who fears the saddle and makes a fuss if one is brought near. If I did not know better, I might think you were still a virgin.’
‘Avirgin !’ she exclaimed, totally taken aback. ‘Where on earth did you get that ridiculous idea?’
From the stupid way you’re carrying on, that’s where,came the rueful realisation.
But Samantha couldn’t seem to stop. She’d been fighting with the opposite sex for far too long. Her bloody-minded attitude was deeply ingrained, and seemingly inescapable.
‘Nota virgin,’ he said, with satisfaction in his handsome face. ‘That is good news. If you had been a virgin I would have had a dilemma on my hands. I do not sleep with virgins.’
‘Oh, right. He doesn’t sleep with virgins. Give the man a medal!’
He smiled. ‘You have a saucy tongue. I will enjoy silencing it with mine.’
Samantha sucked in sharply. ‘You really have tickets on yourself, don’t you?’
He frowned. ‘Tickets on myself? Aah, yes. I understand what you are saying. You are right. I do. But you, Samantha, do not have enough tickets on yourself. Yes, I can see the problem more clearly now. I should have seen it earlier. The clues were all there. You think you have no natural beauty, so you also think I could not possibly desire you. You think I just want to use you, like some streetwalker. But you are wrong. I find you incredibly desirable. You have aroused and intrigued me from the start. I want to make love to you more than I have wanted to make love to any woman. Ever!’
Samantha just stared at him, her heart thudding loudly in her chest, her head spinning at the passion in his highly seductive words. It might still be flattery—his claim that he wanted to make love to her more than any woman ever—but she thrilled to it all the same.
‘I do not have time to play games,’ he went on with fierce intent. ‘I strongly suggest you say nonow if you are still determined to reject me. Because once I touch you it will be way too late.’
She opened her mouth to say no, but nothing came out. It seemed her excited body had finally over-ridden her self-destructive brain.
When he reached to take the flask out of her hands she let him, watching with widening eyes as he tossed it carelessly aside. When he swept her up into his arms she let him do that too. Without struggle. Without protest.
With the decision to remain silent, all that silly defiance and pretence abandoned Samantha, to be replaced by something she had never experienced before, but which she found both delicious
and intoxicating.
Surrender.
Her arms found a home around his neck, her head nestling under his chin and a sigh escaping her lips just before they pressed against his throat.
‘That is better,’ he growled as he carried her inside and kicked the door shut behind them.
Yes, Samantha thought dazedly as she melted into him. Much better.
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, his head turning to the right to glance into her bedroom, then left into the lounge room.
‘Your bedroom is too small and cold,’ he announced, and headed into the larger, cosier room.
His lowering her to her feet on the rug in the middle of the floor brought Samantha out of her daze somewhat. So did his fingers going to the top button on her pyjamas.
