Her Ardent Sheikh

by Kristi Gold

  Between the steady rain and the fact he had been so lost in his thoughts, he had not realized she had come in. How well would his inattention to his surroundings serve her?

  Rising to a sitting position, he draped his legs over the edge of the bed. “Is there something wrong, Jamie?”

  She took a few steps toward him. “I’m just feeling a little uneasy with the storm making such a racket outside. And I know it’s really childish of me, but do you mind if I sleep in here with you?”

  Yes, he minded, but not because he did not want her in his bed. Because he did want her in his bed. In his arms. Very unwise. Yet his inherent need to protect her, make her feel safe, kept him from refusing her request.

  Moving to the far side of the bed, he raised the sheet and patted the mattress. “Come.”

  Quietly she moved to the bed and slipped in beside him. Ben turned onto his back close to the opposite edge, fearing even a brush of her smooth skin would cause him to lose control.

  He glanced at her and saw that she, too, had turned on her back, studying the ceiling fan that whirred above them.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “When you kissed me in the pasture, did that mean anything to you?”

  He wasn’t prepared to discuss this now, not while she was so close. So soft and warm beside him, although they were separated by several inches. But he still sensed her heat, smelled her fragrance, longed for her touch.

  He rubbed a hand over his bare chest, imagining her slender fingers there. “Jamie, please know that I find you very beautiful. Yet I cannot let what has happened between us interfere with the job I must do.”

  “Protecting me?”

  “Yes.”

  “If that wasn’t the case, do you think there might be more between us?”

  Turning his head, he studied the outline of her delicate features set against the shadows. “Perhaps, but my life is complicated. I come from a culture that has certain expectations. Women are very different in my country. I am not accustomed to American beliefs.”

  “You mean you’re not accustomed to women with a backbone?”

  “Women who do not understand the way I have been raised,” he corrected. “I cannot change who I am, or what I believe.”

  “I don’t know, Ben. I think everyone has the capacity for change.” She laced her hands together and stretched her arms above her head, pulling the nightshirt taut over her round breasts. Ben tried to avert his gaze but could not, and his whole body paid the price for his weakness.

  “So I would guess that you see me as some wild, frivolous twenty-two-year-old girl who doesn’t have the sense to take care of herself,” she said, sarcasm in her tone.

  He saw her as a woman any man would want, as he wanted her now. Young, yes, but with insight beyond her years. How could he explain this to her? How could he tell her that she was a precious gift that some man, some day, would be fortunate to claim? But not him.

  He no longer knew where he fit in the grand scheme of things, even where he fit into his culture these days. He had changed, and change was not necessarily good. He was bound to his birthright, to honor his father’s memory. If he no longer knew who he was, or what he wanted from life, then how could he involve her in his indecision, his inability to fit into either his culture or the one he had recently chosen?

  He could only attempt to explain and hope she would understand. “I believe you are a strong woman, Jamie. That is a good thing here in America. In my country, it is frowned upon. We are much more progressive than most, but our customs are slow to change. I have never been involved with an American woman for that reason.”

  “Never? Not even in college?”

  “No, but I have not lived a celibate life, as you might believe.”

  She turned her face toward him. “Then who keeps you from being celibate?”

  “Certain women in my country.”

  “Prostitutes?”

  “No. Not in the sense you think. No money is involved.”

  “Mistresses?”

  “Yes.” He wanted to move off the disconcerting topic. He sounded like a dishonorable man when in reality it was an accepted part of his culture.

  He looked at her once again. “Go to sleep or we will both be exhausted in the morning.”

  “One more thing.” She turned on her side facing him, slipped one arm beneath the pillow and curled a delicate hand against her chest. Lightning flashed through the curtained window, illuminating her eyes. “My marriage to Payune. It wasn’t my idea. It was my father’s. I was trying to help him out. He needed the money for his farm. I just wanted you to know that. I would never marry a man I didn’t love otherwise. And never again would I even consider such an archaic thing.”

  Ben internally flinched over her comment. Arranged marriages were common in his country. Still, he had often wondered why a beautiful young American woman such as Jamie had agreed to a marriage arrangement. Now he knew—an attempt to save her father from himself. His respect for her increased tenfold. “Where is your father?”

  Her quiet sigh echoed in the room. “I don’t know. He left before I was supposed to leave for Asterland. He has a problem with gambling and drinking. He’s been that way ever since my mom died over a year ago. I’ve tried to help him, but he won’t let me.”

  The sadness in her voice made Ben want to hold her, shelter her. He remembered how much his mother grieved his father’s death at the hands of a dissident. How much she still grieved. And Ben had been too young to save his father from that fate and his mother from that grief. That was the reason he had vowed never to let harm come to anyone he cared about. But because of his mother’s fortitude, she continued on with life as best she knew how. A testament to her strength.

  “I am sorry about your mother,” he said. “And your father’s problems. Perhaps he will come around with time.”

  “Thanks. I hope so.” She smiled. “What about your parents?”

  “My mother is well in Amythra. My father died many years ago, when I was only a boy.”

  Jamie touched his arm. “I’m sorry, too, Ben. What happened to him?”

  He truly did not want to discuss something so painful, but when Jamie looked at him expectantly, he had the strongest urge to tell her, reveal something he had never told another soul in America. “He was murdered at the hands of a extremist member of my father’s opposition. As I said, I was very young. I was by his side when he was attacked outside the palace, yet I could do nothing to stop it.”

  “That’s why, isn’t it?” she said, her voice only a notch above a whisper.

  “I do not know what you are asking.”

  “This whole protection thing. Your honor. It all has to do with the fact you couldn’t save your dad.”

  How well she could read him. How well she seemed to know and understand his deepest secrets. “Yes. From that day forward, I vowed to defend and protect innocent people from those who have no regard for life.”

  She took his hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If I haven’t said it before, thanks for protecting me. I really do appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  If only she knew how much more he wanted to do for her, including making love to her in ways that would make her cry out with pleasure. “You are welcome.” He closed his eyes against her scrutiny. Guarded himself against sexual urges he could not ignore. Guarded himself against rising emotions he dared not claim.

  He felt the mattress bend and sensed her turning over. Again he opened his eyes. He rolled to his side, facing her back, yet resisted the temptation to reach for her. Pull her against him. Lose himself in her.

  “Ben, just one more question.”

  Hadn’t she said that a moment ago? He hoped this would be the last request so he could try to sleep, if that were possible with her in his bed. “Yes?”

  “Are you ever afraid?”

  He was afraid now. Afraid of his growing feelings for this woman who seem
ed so strong, yet so vulnerable at times. Afraid that some day he would no longer be able to battle those feelings and would then give in to a yearning so intense, it almost consumed him. But he must resist, for many reasons.

  “We must learn to face our fears,” he said. “Otherwise, they will destroy us.”

  He heard her yawn again and prayed she was ready to sleep. “I think that’s great advice. I’ll remember it.”

  Silence stretched between them, and just when Ben thought she had fallen asleep, her silky voice broke the quiet. “Ben?”

  More questions, he surmised. “Yes.”

  “Would you just hold me? I’d feel much better knowing you’re close.”

  Against good judgment, Ben pulled her to him, much in the same way he had that first night. It took all his resolve not to turn her over into his arms, kiss her with all the emotion welling inside him. Prepare her body for him. Make love to her as if the dawn would never come.

  The steady drone of spring rain kept time with his pounding heart. Drawing on his inner strength, he remained still, and waited until her breathing grew deep and he knew she slept.

  Only then did he relax. Only then did he pull her closer, stroke her hair, savor her fragile body curled into his.

  Only then did he whisper, “Jamie Morris, what have you done to me?”

  Five

  Jamie was just about at wit’s end.

  Two whole days and he’d barely talked to her. For two whole days he’d made it a point to avoid her, like she was a virus. Some contagious disease that threatened his health if he came near her.

  Between mysterious meetings and business dealings, most conducted in the privacy of his home office, Ben had all but said she was a nuisance. An unwelcome guest.

  Last night at dinner, she’d asked him to pass the salt. When he had, their fingers had touched, and he’d pulled away as if he’d been burned. The shaker had tumbled from her hands, spilling the salt. Out of habit, she’d tossed some of it over her shoulder for luck. Obviously that old wives’ tale hadn’t worked. Ben had only muttered an apology then gone back to reading the financial page of the paper. No luck there.

  She’d resorted to telling jokes just to see if he would laugh. Every now and then she’d managed a smile from him. She’d even told him about her plans, her ambitions, things she’d rarely told other people.

  But she hadn’t returned to his bed after he had told her that she wasn’t his type. Well, big deal. That didn’t mean he had to be rude. Or that she couldn’t change his mind.

  She’d had enough of his avoidance. Had enough of reading every magazine on the premises, cover to cover. Had enough of watching soap operas with Alima, the daily bedroom scenes only providing fuel for her dreams and the fire in her body Ben had stoked with his kiss. And, most importantly, she was fed up to here with Ben’s continued withdrawal, his annoying silence.

  Today she was determined to end it, even if she had to tie him up and force him to talk to her.

  Jamie smiled at the thought of Ben shackled so she could do with him what she wanted, and what she wanted had nothing to do with talking.

  You are a very bad girl, Jamie Morris. This time her mother’s voice filtered into her conscience.

  Jamie tuned out the scolding as she walked in to the living room, surprised to find Ben seated on the sofa instead of in his office, dressed in his cowboy clothes—torn jeans, ragged T-shirt, worn boots. He held a cordless phone propped between his jaw and his shoulder.

  She couldn’t decide whether she liked him as cowboy or prince. Both, actually. She liked him any way she could get him, which lately had been neither way.

  His Arabic words, interspersed with English, floated around the room like cottonwood through spring fields. A soft lyrical sound, as if he spoke to a loved one. Maybe even a lover.

  The jealousy hit Jamie full-force. Okay, so maybe he’d lied about having a girlfriend from his country. Maybe he’d lied about a lot of things. It didn’t matter.

  She was with him now. She wanted his company. She wanted to give, and to receive all that he had to offer as a man. In doing so, she’d just have to protect her heart.

  But first she had to convince him that she had certain needs he wasn’t meeting. It had all started with that kiss, and she’d always been one to finish what she’d started.

  Tiptoeing to the back of the sofa, she began kneading Ben’s shoulders and the rigid muscles beneath her fingertips. He reached up and grasped her right hand but continued his conversation. She still had one unoccupied hand and didn’t miss a beat with her massage.

  “I must go now, Mother,” he said, then clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the nearby end table.

  Mother? So he hadn’t been talking to a girlfriend after all. Jamie was filled with relief, and a strong determination to get his attention.

  She dropped her hand and joined him on the sofa, leaving a comfortable distance. She didn’t want to get too close—yet.

  “That was your mother?” she asked.

  Ben stared straight ahead. “Yes. She wants me to return to my country soon for a visit.”

  Jamie tried to fight back the disappointment. “Will you be leaving then?”

  “No. I told her I could not because of unfinished business. She is not happy about it.”

  “I guess that’s why you’re so tense. You really do need to relax, Ben.”

  Only then did he look at her. “I will not relax until I see to it that Klimt is captured, and you are safe.”

  The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t hang a face on it. “Klimt? So that’s the man who’s after me?”

  She could tell by the look in Ben’s eyes that he regretted the slip. “Yes. Do you know him?”

  Jamie chewed her bottom lip and searched her brain. “I remember the name. Is he from Asterland?”

  “He was on the plane. He sustained injuries that until recently, kept him hospitalized. He escaped the morning you were almost run down.”

  “He was driving the car?”

  “So we assume. And you have something he wants. Or he thinks you have.”

  Here we go again. That mysterious something. “What could I possibly have that he wants? I don’t have anything anyone would want.”

  Ben locked into her gaze with those damnable gray eyes. “You are wrong. You have much that a man would want, although Klimt is after an object that has nothing to do with your feminine attributes.”

  At the moment, Jamie didn’t give a darn what this mysterious man named Klimt wanted. She only knew what she wanted. Ben’s kisses. Ben’s hands on her. Anywhere. Everywhere.

  She inched closer and brushed back a dark curl from his forehead. “Where’s Alima?”

  “At the market with J.D.”

  Jamie wanted to shout with glee. “So we’re alone?”

  His well-defined chest rose with the deep breath he drew. “Yes, we are alone.”

  “Good.” Jamie moved closer, flush against his side. Oh, how she wished she had more experience in seducing a man. Her one boyfriend, Billy Joe Adams, had been all hands. After spending two years fending off his weekend groping, she’d eventually broken off their relationship with her virginity still intact. The boy had bored her to tears. All he wanted was a make-out session in the back seat of his father’s revamped ’56 Chevy. Jamie had wanted sweet words and gentle touches, not a tongue jockey with more moves than a seasoned wide receiver.

  She wanted romance. A slow and easy seduction. Sweet, sensual words. Then and now. She wanted a man, not a boy.

  She wanted Ben.

  Considering the set of Ben’s strong jaw and rigid frame, she doubted he could offer her what she wanted most. Correction. She doubted he would offer her what she wanted, needed. She had absolutely no doubt that he could handle it quite well, if he had a mind to.

  Well, she’d just have to give it her best try, and see where things went from there.

  Leaning closer to Ben, she traced a path along the tear at the thigh of hi
s worn jeans. The dark hair on his legs tickled her fingertips, and tripped her pulse into a frantic rhythm. “Looks like you should’ve sent Alima for a new pair of jeans. These are threadbare.”

  “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” She smiled and sent her fingers back in motion, circling the bare flesh on his taut thigh. “I’m just making an observation.”

  “It is not your observation that is troubling me.”

  “What is troubling you, Prince Ben?” Her voice came out in a throaty whisper, taking her by surprise.

  “We cannot do this, Jamie. What happened the other day cannot be repeated.”

  She lowered her voice to a teasing tone. “Why not? Don’t you like the way I kiss?”

  “I liked it too much.”

  Jamie was overcome by such power. A power that made her feel as if she could conquer the world, and maybe even Ben’s resistance. “Then I don’t see a problem. You won’t let me leave the house, so why not spend the time getting to know each other better?”

  She was beginning to get the hang of this, and she really, really liked being in control. “You’re a man, I’m a woman, and we both have certain needs.”

  His expression didn’t change, his face as hard as granite. As beautiful as polished stone. “What needs do you have that are not being met? I have opened my home to you. If you wish something special to eat, I will be more than happy to tell Alima. If you wish me to get you some rental movies, I’ll send one of my men. Tell me what you desire, and I will see to it that you have it.”

  “I desire you, Ben. Just you.”

  Letting her eyes drift shut, she braced for the impact of his lips on hers. Nothing.

  Opening her eyes, she found him studying her, looking completely composed, but at least he hadn’t moved away.

  “You do not know what you are asking,” he said, his voice deep and husky.

  “I know exactly what I’m asking. Just a simple kiss, Ben.”

  “Kisses are not simple, Jamie. You have no idea what will happen beyond that kiss. I cannot promise you that I will stop. Many nights I have imagined what it would be like to hold you, to take you beyond the limits you have only dreamed of.”