by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"What is this?" Elena asked, knowing too well who had made this particular gesture.
"Are you Elena Rahman?"
She nodded.
"There's more in the van," the kid said. "And this, too." He reached to a low shelf on the cart and snagged a long, narrow white box, handing it to Elena sheepishly, as if he expected to be attacked again.
Kitty reached into her top drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors as Elena took the box. "This is going to take the rest of the day," she grumbled.
Against her better judgment, Elena opened the box. A single red rose had been laid on white paper. A card lay there, caught on the long stem. You know we better than anyone. Forget what you see and hear and trust your heart. Trust we.
Elena shook her head as she reread the card. She shouldn't. She couldn't. But when Kitty lifted the scissors to the nearest bloom, Elena stopped her with a quick lifted hand.
She set the single red rose down and dug into her purse, coming up with a hundred dollar bill. "Here," she said, handing it to the kid. "Take all these and what's in the van, and take them to the Evangeline Nursing Home. Make sure everyone gets something."
The hundred soothed the pain of hauling all the flowers out of here and making another stop. "Sure thing," he said, reaching for the white box.
Elena beat him to it. "Everything except this," she said.
Kitty shook her head and groaned, but an almost-smile touched her face. "You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?"
"Probably," Elena said, not at all distressed.
"Want me to tie you up until the urge passes?"
"No, thanks," Elena said, carrying the white box into her office.
"Good luck," Kitty mumbled.
"Thanks," Elena said as she closed the door behind her. "I'm going to need it."
* * *
He half expected her not to show up. When 8:00 arrived and there was no sign of Elena, Hassan almost left the restaurant. But he decided to give her fifteen more minutes. At 8:17, when she pulled into the parking lot, he was still there. Waiting. Waiting! Sheik Hassan Kamal never waited, for anyone or anything.
He watched her step out of the truck and give the keys to the valet. She hadn't worn the red dress, probably because he'd asked her to. But he had no complaints. The midnight blue dress she wore was very nice. Silk, he saw as she came closer. The dress hugged her body here and there, emphasizing her slender shape, the swell of her breasts and her hips. It was short enough, cut just above the knee, to give him a decent view of her fine legs. Did she know she was driving him to distraction? Of course she did.
"Sorry I'm late," she said as he opened the door for her.
"You're worth waiting for, hayati." It was the truth. No woman had ever dared to make him wait, but for Elena he would wait a lifetime. If things did not go well, he might have to do just that.
"The flowers were lovely," she said as he led her to their table. He'd arrived early and requested the table they'd shared last time. The hostess had been glad to comply.
Hassan smiled. He'd known she would not be able to resist anything so grandly magnificent.
"I'm sure the ladies at the nursing home are enjoying them," she added with a smile of her own.
"Nursing home?" Well, perhaps that was a step up from destroying the blooms.
"Uh-huh," she murmured as he pulled her chair out for her.
"Did you keep nothing for yourself?" he asked as he took the chair facing her.
She waited a moment before answering, looking at his face intently, as if she searched his eyes for her answer. "Perhaps I did," she finally admitted softly.
The red rose. He knew it. "So you forgive me?"
"I didn't say that," she said, cocking her head to one side and narrowing her eyes. "You and my father..."
"Let's not discuss that tonight," he interrupted.
"Isn't that why I'm here? So you can convince me what a great husband you'd make?"
"No. We're here because I need to see you. I don't want to talk about anything that might cause you to walk out the door without me. I don't want to make you cry, frown, curse, or tell me to leave Texas on the next plane."
She shook her head, sending that silky dark brown hair into an intriguing dance. He saw the questions in her eyes. He could not answer, not tonight. Perhaps she knew that. "Then what will we talk about?"
"Oil refineries. Horses. My sisters. Kitty. Chocolate. The proper way to make coffee. Kahlil Gibran."
A slow, lazy grin broke across her beautiful face.
"And anything else that makes you smile that way."
* * *
Glancing into the rearview mirror, Elena saw the headlights on Hassan's truck as he followed her into the parking lot. He'd insisted on seeing her home, and she hadn't argued. Not much, anyway. The meal and conversation had been much more pleasant than she'd expected. She'd planned for war. A battle of epic proportions. An indignant assault on him for all his crimes.
And yet she'd had fun. Hassan definitely had more than his share of charm, and he was a great dancer. Dancing with him tonight had been different than the first time, because he knew her body and she knew his. They moved together too well, now. And she'd only known him a week. A week and a day.
She hadn't admitted it, and probably never would, but it had been that one sentence in his note with the rose that made her accept his invitation. You know me better than anyone. She felt the same way about him. In a matter of days, Hassan had worked his way under her skin in a way no one else ever had, and she didn't know how to shake him free. More importantly, she didn't know that she wanted to.
The arrogant jerk who had spoken to her father about marriage, excluding her from the conversation, was not the same man she had grown to love. She didn't understand why, or how, but she had no doubts. Which was the real Hassan? Had he manufactured the personality she had come to love in order to work his way into her bed, her heart and her refinery? Or was he playing a role for her father? She wished she could be sure.
She knew good and well which man she wanted the real Hassan to be.
"No need to walk me to the door," she said as he sidled up beside her in the parking lot.
His eyes searched the empty lot. "It isn't safe for you to be out so late unescorted."
"I can take care of myself," she said defensively.
He grinned as he opened the lobby door, apparently satisfied that no one was lurking about. "I'm sure that's true. Where's your baseball bat?"
Perhaps it hadn't been intentional, on Hassan's part, but the mention of the baseball bat reminded her of the stormy night at her ranch, and what had happened after he'd taken the bat from her hands. They'd made love for the first time that night, and she'd been caught up in sensations more powerful than she'd ever imagined.
He must've remembered, too, because an awkward silence filled the air as they walked toward the elevator. Something in the silence shimmered.
"I think I'll be okay from here," she said softly as the elevator doors whooshed open and she stepped inside. She turned to face Hassan, who remained on the lobby carpet.
"Are you sure?" he asked softly.
She nodded, and he stayed where he was.
The doors began to close, the two sides slowly drifting toward one another. Hassan didn't move. His eyes remained riveted on her face. Just as he was about to disappear, Elena whispered his name. Once, and so softly she didn't think he could possibly hear her.
His hand shot out and was caught between the elevator doors, which obediently opened once again.
"What?" he asked, stepping onto the elevator to stand before her.
The doors closed once again, and the elevator began to move upward.
"Was everything you ever said and did a part of your plan to be a partner in Rahman Oil?"
"No," he answered sharply.
"Why should I believe you?"
The elevator stopped on her floor and Hassan moved aside, taking her arm as she stepped into the hallway. "
Can't you believe me without question?"
"No," she said honestly. "I can't."
Hassan walked her to her door, thoughtfully silent as they took those last few steps that carried Elena home. She unlocked the door and turned, not ready to invite him in, not ready to send him away, either. He reached out and touched her face, gently tracing the line of her jaw with one finger.
"Blind faith," he whispered. "There comes a time in everyone's life when they must find it. When they must trust without reason, believe without proof. I've known you a week, no more than a blink of an eye in a lifetime, and yet I am asking you now to have blind faith in me."
"What if I'm incapable of...blind faith?" she asked, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it thudded louder than her voice.
"You are not incapable of such trust," Hassan said, lowering his head slowly, bringing his lips to hers. "You've simply never had need of it before."
He kissed her, wiping all thoughts of argument from her mind, stealing the last of her resolve with that sinful mouth. And that was all it took. One kiss, and she was ready to forget and forgive anything. His hand rested on her hip, warm and possessive, as he kissed her thoroughly.
Blind faith. More than anything, she wanted to be able to believe in Hassan that way. Just because she had never placed herself in anyone's hands so thoroughly before, just because she'd never trusted in something she couldn't see and touch, that didn't mean she couldn't. Or shouldn't.
Arrogant and condescending one minute, tender and thoughtful the next. Which was the real Hassan? This one, she decided as he reached around her to open the door. The man she kissed. The man who held her close and sent her head spinning and tried to teach her to have faith in that which she could not hold in her hands.
Inside her condo, he closed the door and locked it, then turned to her again. The expression on his face touched her. She saw passion, maybe even love. But there was more, lurking in those black eyes of his. Indecision—something she was quite sure he rarely felt. Sorrow, maybe, for the day he would have to leave.
"Love me tonight," he said as he placed his arms around her once more. "Tomorrow.. .tomorrow we will worry about the rest."
She said yes with a kiss, and Hassan responded by slowly unzipping her dress and taking a step toward the hallway. She kicked off her shoes and he shrugged out of his jacket. With a little help from Hassan her dress slipped down. She stepped out of it, leaving a midnight blue puddle of silk on the carpeted floor.
As they walked toward her bedroom, they kissed and touched, they loosened and discarded clothing. They didn't speak. Hassan was right; everything else could wait until tomorrow.
By the time they reached the bed they had shed all their clothing. Hassan lowered her to the bed gently, hovered above her staring into her eyes as his hand stroked her thigh. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but the moment passed and he lowered his head to flick his tongue across an already hardened nipple. Sparks shot through her body, and when he took that nipple deeply into his mouth, the sparks turned to
lightning that pooled between her thighs. He suckled tenderly, but not too tenderly, until she arched her back and her body cried for more. Instinctively, her thighs parted, and Hassan lifted his head to look down at her again.
Enough light spilled into the room from the hallway to illuminate his body and hers. She marveled at the sight of his flesh touching hers. His hard chest against her pale, soft breasts. His arms, corded with muscle, keeping his weight from her. His eyes, showing her nothing but passion, now. Any earlier indecision was gone, swept away by desire and need and blind faith.
She hooked one leg around his, entwining her body with his, bringing him closer. One anxious hand raked down his side, coming to rest on his hip. His body against hers, the feel of flesh to flesh and heart to heart, the rise and fall of his chest.. .every breath was arousing. Exciting. Most of all, she was filled with the certainty that this was German, her lover. In the heart and soul she possessed him, and he possessed her.
The tip of his erection touched her where she throbbed for him, as he lowered his head to kiss her neck, to nibble and suck there until her body no longer cried for his. It screamed.
When he pushed inside her she arched her hips and closed her eyes, urging him deeper, letting herself get lost in pure sensation. Every stroke drove her closer to completion, every sway of his hips and hers was like another step in a dance toward the highest cliff. If there was danger, they didn't see it. They simply danced.
He surged deep, and with a cry Elena shattered. She dropped off the edge of the cliff, falling hard and fast. Hassan fell with her. She felt his release, his shudder, and as he drifted down to cover her, their bodies joined and quivering, he whispered something indecipherable.
Elena threaded her fingers through his hair. "Either I'm going to have to learn Arabic, or you're going to have to start speaking English all the time." At the moment she had no doubts about Hassan. A single misgiving would ruin this moment, and it was too precious to spoil. "Want to tell me what you said?"
"No," he answered quickly. "Not tonight."
There had been a moment when she'd been certain he was making love to her like it was the last time. But the way he said not tonight... Oh, she didn't want to think right now. She didn't want to wonder what tomorrow would bring.
He rolled to his side, and Elena rolled with him. They lay there, face to face, bodies touching as they regained their breath and their hearts slowed. Elena reached out and touched Hassan's face.
"I love you," she whispered. "I don't know where we stand, I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but.. .I do love you, Hassan."
He didn't answer, but to pull her head against his shoulder and sigh deeply.
He should have returned to the refinery to survey the area around the water treatment plant where the Brothers of Darkness met. And yet it was morning, just turning light outside, and still he lay in Elena's bed, her bare body close to his as she slept, her hand resting on his chest.
She thought she loved him. When she found out the reason for his trip to Texas, that love would die a quick death, he imagined. He had told her to have faith, but when it came to this.. .he had none of his own.
Last night she had asked for a translation of the words he'd spoken as he loved her, and he had refused. She hadn't pressed, which was good. He would have had to lie, if she insisted.
It was too soon to tell her that he had never felt this way about a woman. That he would die for her. That he loved her.
He was tempted, so tempted, to sweep Elena up, carry her to Tamir, and leave her there while he came back and tended to business. He wanted her safe, and as long as she lived in the circle of the Brothers, she was not safe. Unfortunately, Elena was not the kind of woman one swept up and carried off. She wouldn't stand for it. Would she?
She woke slowly, and lifted her head to smile at him. "Good morning."
He stroked a strand of hair away from her face. "Good morning."
"I'm glad you're still here," she whispered.
Did she think he would sneak out of the room while she slept? "So am I."
She settled down, cuddling against him. "Oh, I dread going to work today," she groaned.
"Then don't," he said, almost gruffly.
"I have to."
He didn't want Elena anywhere near Rahman Oil, not today, not tomorrow. If he could, he'd bundle her up this morning, take her to Tamir, and leave her in the only hands other than his own that he could trust.
"Why do you stay there?" he asked softly.
Elena rose up to look him in the eye. "What do you mean?"
"Why do you work for your father? He treats you badly, sometimes. He doesn't give you the power to make decisions." He felt a growing anger for her. "You're too good to stay there. You could get a job anywhere in the world. Any oil company would be happy to have you."
"Now you sound like Cade," she said testily.
"It's the truth," he said, softening the harsh tone
of the argument with a kiss.
She lost her flash of anger quickly, and as his mouth left hers she said, "I stay because as frustrating as my father is, as.. .as stubborn and controlling as he is, he's still my father. And he's the only family I have. I can't just walk away."
"You love him," Hassan whispered.
"Of course I do," she said with a half smile. "And even though he drives me crazy and has never been a particularly affectionate father, he loves me, too. He just.. .doesn't know how to show it, that's all."
Hassan cupped her head in his hand and brought her forehead to his. This was going to be harder than he'd imagined.
Chapter 15
Hassan leaned against the phone booth, one hand holding the receiver to his ear, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd come to the shopping mall to make his call, again. The background noise would make it difficult for anyone to listen in, even though he felt confident that no one was following him.
It was early evening in Tamir, and he took a chance that Rashid would be in his quarters and have access to his personal phone.
"I know I said I'd call last night," he said calmly, in answer to Rashid's testy admonition. "I was detained."
"By a woman?" Rashid snapped.
"Yes," Hassan answered.
Rashid had to be as careful as Hassan, in choosing his words. The security breach had everyone taking extra precautions. "When will you conclude your business?" he asked, no more anger in his voice.
"Soon."
"Tomorrow?" Rashid pressed. "Next week?"
"I don't know."
"Father is anxious for your return."
So far it had been a perfectly innocent conversation. No one listening in would give their words any weight.
"Soon," Hassan said once again.
Rashid sighed. "When will you telephone next?"
"I will try to call in a couple of days, but I'm not making any promises." Hassan leaned further into the space formed by the protective sides of the booth. "A few unexpected complications have arisen."
