But he understood that aching loneliness. He’d felt it when he’d got here. More than that—he’d relished it. It had proved that he’d got away, taken the first step. He knew how real it was for others, though. He loved Dubai now. Loved its pace and its vibe and its outrageous ambition. Sure sometimes, occasionally, the yearn for grey rain and green moss had him hopping on a flight home, just to inhale the sweet smell of damp Irish earth and sit for long, uncomplicated hours in the company of quiet, uncomplicated people. But as soon as his family knew he was back and started bearing down on him he hopped right back on the plane.
But Georgia Anne Blue... She was a family girl. And she was now in the middle of a nasty piece of action that, all joking aside, could result in jail time. Of course she was emotional!
‘Georgia.’ He folded his arms round her but she held herself tense.
‘I’m honestly fine—it’s fine.’
‘Sure it is. But everyone needs a little comfort sometimes. I miss my sister too. We’re a long way from home. We all get lonely, Georgia.’
That seemed to undo her. She literally wilted in his arms—a flower without water. He stood her up. Her cheek landed on his chest. He scooped her closer, let his hand cradle her head and pressed his arm across her back. Steadied her and held her while she let soft sobs rack her body. She held her arms bent, tight against him, hands still in fists. Long moments of silent sadness.
‘I’m sorry—I don’t know where that came from.’
She pulled back a little and he felt his shirt wet with tears. That undid him. He hated to see a girl upset. In his iron-clad armour it was the one thing that could really pierce a hole. He blamed his sister Frankie for that—she always knew how to get to him.
‘I know where it came from. And it’s fine to let it go.’
She looked up at him, her dark green eyes glassy as a forest pool. Her lip wobbled again and she buried her head. This time she wrapped her arms around him.
‘Thank you. I’m sorry.’
‘Shh.’ The last thing she needed to do was thank him. There was nothing he would rather do than hold her and soothe her. And his body was all the evidence she needed that he was getting payback. Holding her close was playing with fire. And he was calculating the risks attached to that right now.
He hardened—fast and fierce. He leant down and breathed in her scent: flowers from her hair, sweet spice from her neck. He felt her body through the thin fabric of her dress as he held her. Slim, strong, soft. He dropped his arm to her waist and the sensation of the curve of her body hugged close sent him another sharp kick of lust.
She must have realised how aroused he’d got—she pulled back and looked up at him as if she was weighing up her odds, testing him for trust. He’d show her she could trust him...
It would have been nice to start slow, to brush his lips against hers and gently learn their shape. But steady and sweet had bailed out and he was riding the crest of a giant wave of lust. He snaked his hands through the thick red waves of her hair and scooped her mouth right under his. Fierce. He felt his body absorb the sensation of her curves. Not enough. His tongue took over—fired right between her open startled lips and plunged and tangled with hers.
She was shocked. Then she moaned. Then she settled even closer and her tongue met his with a hunger that fired his blood.
What a kiss.
Wild stabbing darts with their tongues—shallow at first and then duelling. Every thrust had him harder. Their mouths open wider, to taste more and more. He took and tasted her like a starving man. On and on they kissed. He heard her moan as if it was a surrender from her soul. Felt his face and her face wet from their mouths. Felt such a desperate need to feel her flesh that he dropped his hands to her full, plump cheeks and squeezed hard.
He pressed her closer and she opened her thighs to him. He ground himself against her, taking whatever pressure he could get against his length. He could feel a delicious tension start to build and knew he was losing control. She nestled herself hard against him, snaked her arms up and gripped the back of his neck. And, oh, that let him feel those breasts against him. He put his hands on them. Right on them. Filled his hands. Felt firm, hot flesh and hard buds through the fabric. Felt as if he’d never get enough.
He stared at her dress, tugged the V apart and slid his hands inside, pulling the cup of her bra out of the way, exposing a bare white breast.
‘Danny—stop!’
She pulled away and he was stunned. His head thick. An uppercut of lust to the brain. Literally reeling with what had just happened.
‘I heard a noise,’ she whispered, fixing her bra, closing up her dress.
He stared at her stupidly. She couldn’t really want to stop this now—could she?
‘It’s all right. It’s the penthouse. No one can come in.’
She stared—huge dark eyes.
‘Trust me. You’re safe in here.’
There was a knock at the door.
She stepped further away, looked from him to the door and back again. ‘It’s the police. It must be.’
‘Georgia, calm down—it’s fine. I told you.’
But she was panicked. The knock came again. He shook his head, walked to the door. Unlocked it and opened it. In the wide landing in front of the elevator stood two cops. No one and nothing else. They passed on the information that the place had been cleared. Sarwar had been as good as his word.
Just so long as the paps weren’t hovering.
He nodded at the guys and went back inside.
‘What’s happening? Is it all right? Am I able to go home now?’ She was smoothing down her dress, patting her hair.
‘All sorted. If that’s what you want to do you can go—any time you like.’
She looked at him. ‘Oh...’
He faced her, still semi-aroused. But she was elsewhere now—her mind was in a different place. Spooked.
He pulled out his phone, fumbled with the screen, irritated.
‘All right.’
‘All right? I’d like to finish our “discussion”.’
She swallowed, looked at her shoes. He looked at her shoes. Red, pointed...perfect Friday night shoes.
‘I...I think I should just go. I’d rather put all this behind me.’
She thought she should go? She could think what she wanted for now. He’d make his mind up in a little while.
‘You need a lift somewhere?’
She glanced at the two discarded glasses that sat on the table. Neither of them had had any more than a sip of alcohol. ‘No, thanks. My car’s parked.’
‘Okay.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s head down, then.’
They left the penthouse and headed back into the elevator. The doors closed between them and the magnificent Persian Gulf. His mind was playing catch-up as he stared out at the rose-gold sun sinking fast into sapphire-blue. Diamond-white iconic buildings held shards of every other precious jewel and metal, all polished to precision and laid out for people to worship and desire. It was some town. And he was proud that his fingerprints were all over it.
They stepped out onto the fifty-ninth floor. Better not to go straight to the lobby. He wanted to see the place cleared for himself. Passed the open door of the Jumeirah Suite. There was nobody lazing or relaxing now—only empty glasses to show that anyone had been there. A vacuum.
Her shoes clicked as she walked. He put his hand out and grasped hers, squeezed it. They moved along the marble corridor to the internal
elevators. Noise bubbled up from downstairs—the chatter of everyday hotel life. He still grasped her hand. Toyed with what he was going to do next.
They paused when they got to the elevators. Both stared at their fuzzy outlines in the burnished gold doors. He let go of her hand and pulled her close. But she held herself back. He hadn’t expected that.
The elevator doors opened. She tucked her head down and went in.
He pressed the button and the doors closed.
‘Are you okay?’
She nodded. ‘Thanks.’
The elevator sped down, landed softly. She stood apart. He reached for her hand again but she shook her head.
‘Danny I’ve... It’s been... I’m grateful to you for helping me out but I just want to go home now and forget that this ever happened.’
She extended her hand for a handshake and he nearly laughed. Okay—that he really hadn’t expected.
‘No problem, Georgia. You’re a lovely woman. I was happy to help.’
She shook his hand. Firmly. ‘It was lovely to meet you.’
He nearly let her go at that. Nearly. But they’d had the hottest kiss he’d ever known. Had been heading fast to what he was sure was going to be the hottest sex. He wasn’t letting her go just like that.
He pulled her up sharply, out of sight, inside the elevator. Put his mouth right over hers and kissed her the way he knew she needed to be kissed.
She wanted to say goodbye with a handshake?
He kissed her just long enough to have her moan and soften against him and then he pulled back. Twisted her a smile that told her she’d had a lucky escape.
But she eyeballed him, wiped her mouth. ‘Bye, Danny.’
She turned on her heel. His eyes fell to her backside, swinging as she stepped away. He doubted he’d ever forget it.
And then his eyes fell on the photographers who were sitting in the lobby, cameras trained covertly. He knew it. Oh, hell...
He stepped forward. Grabbed her.
‘Georgia, come with me.’
‘I don’t think so, Danny. I think we’ve—’
‘Georgia, don’t argue. There’s paparazzi over there and if you don’t want your picture to be going global any time, come with me. Now. I need to know what they know, what other pictures they’ve got—and so do you.’
She stared with panicked doe eyes up at him and he got that kick to his guts again. Protect her. He needed to protect her. He took her hand in his—no argument. Walked. Brisk. Together. Striding. Out past the fountain, the guests and the bellhops and into the darkening night.
CHAPTER THREE
JUST WHEN SHE’D thought she was in the clear. Just when she’d thought she could go home and soak away the mind-blowing night she’d just had. The shock of that party. The raid. The run. The man. The man...
She felt his hand wrapped round hers. Felt the firm, unyielding strength seep right into her. She walked at his side, matching his stride. Heads turned to watch them. She kept her gaze high. He drew glances and glares from the people exiting their cars and heading into the hotel. And there at the corner, where limos were disappearing to be valet-parked, was a posse of photographers.
‘There are more of them,’ she said, panic ringing clear in her own ears.
‘Yep.’
He was focussed. Intense as the sultry night.
‘Car’s here.’
‘I have a car.’
‘I know. But we’re not going to start discussing whose car we travel in now, are we? We’re going to get in mine and get the hell out of here.’
For a heartbeat she wavered. She could still call the valet for her own. Get in it and head back to the complex. Close the door and hope for the best. But the change in Danny as he strode forward to the sleek black sports car was making her think that they were by no means in the clear. And though he seemed to have the police in his pocket the paparazzi were a whole different animal.
‘Okay. I’ll come with you.’
He raised one of those perfect brows as if to ask if there was any other choice.
Slipping into the bucket seat took her aback. So low her knees knocked against the dashboard.
He slipped his hand to the side, pressed a button that sent her seat back. ‘Comfortable?’
She grasped the seatbelt that had slid itself forward and clasped it in place, looking at his face, reading it for clues. He was utterly composed. There was even a hint of a smile. But she sensed the change in him—even if he masked it better than a black veil.
‘Thanks. Where are we going?’
‘To limit some damage.’
‘What damage?’
‘That’s the part I don’t know yet.’
‘You’re saying words that scare me but you’re acting as if we’re off for a picnic.’
‘I don’t think it’ll be a picnic, but there won’t be anything scary.’ He turned and fired his stare at her. ‘Have no fear about that.’
She continued to watch the side of his face in the flare of streetlights that shone as they passed. They scooted effortlessly along Sheikh Zayed Road. Alongside the road signs and streetlights huge illuminated monoliths loomed, then passed. Taxis, SUVs and the occasional truck switched in and out of lanes. His driving, like everything else, inspired confidence, and she let herself sink back into the leather, sure that he’d be able to negotiate any of the manic moves that sometimes had to be dealt with on the roads out here.
‘We’re not being followed.’
She stared at him. Then turned her head to try and peer out of the tiny rear window. All she could see were lights. ‘You thought we were? Being followed?’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘It was possible.’
Another somersault in her mind. ‘Why? Who cares about us? Why would anyone want to follow us?’
His jaw was definitely tight and getting tighter. He drew in a breath, then twisted her a bemused look. ‘When they’ve taken enough pictures of the WAGs they come looking for the rich.’ His hand tightened on the wheel. ‘And rich ex-pats in trouble—beautiful ex-pats in trouble—sell papers. Here and at home.’
‘But you said we weren’t in trouble!’
‘With the police—no. But if those snappers have pictures of me or you anywhere near that suite then both our reputations will be in question.’
She stared. Her mouth had dropped. ‘So I could still lose my job?’
He took his hand off the wheel. Laid it on her hand, resting on her thigh. Rubbed and soothed. ‘Yes. You could lose your job. And I could lose myself the biggest contract I’ve been working towards for the last ten years. That’s why we need to get our mitigation.’
He cut a swift track into another lane and took them off on a slip road to another row of illuminated sky-high obelisks. He slowed, pulled in and stopped. An avenue of palms. Staff in attendance. Another exclusive hotel.
‘Public, but very restricted. Definitely no photographers. Come on.’
She was struggling to keep up but he was already out of the car and heading round it. The valet opened her door and she did her best to get out. No need as Danny hooked a hand under her elbow and steered her up and into the hotel so quickly she was sitting in a booth and sipping mineral water before she could even catch her breath.
His phone rang. He excused himself with a look and walked away, talking quickly. She watched him pace, overawed all over again. She felt as if she was playing catch-up, just being in his company. He se
emed to move so fast—assured and swift. His mind raced as fast as his car. Tenacious and fiercely intelligent—you could tell just by looking at the concentration in his face even as he took his call.
So she’d thought she could climb into her own life raft and row herself to safety? Make out with the most amazing man she had ever met—would ever meet—and then go and soak in a tub of bubbles and chalk it down to experience?
He was too much. Too intense. That kiss had nearly blown her mind—never mind what it would do to her heart if she spent any more time with him. She had to cut loose from him. Had to let him fix whatever he was going to fix and then get him to drop her back at the hotel. Or maybe she could just pick her car up in the morning.
She shook her head, pulled out her smartphone, tapped her social media apps and started to browse.
She must have been in a state of shock. That was the only thing she could think of to explain her behaviour tonight.
Even as a child, Babs had drilled into her, Scent trouble, head home. And, though she’d rarely been in more trouble than choosing the wrong shade of lipstick, if she’d followed that advice tonight none of this would have happened. She should have listened to her gut the minute she’d seen that woman being pawed. Headed straight for the door and not been waylaid by Danny Ryan.
She looked at him. He was gorgeous. Utterly, unmistakably, overwhelmingly gorgeous. But that five-minute chat could cost her far more than Babs’s debts.
He was still on his phone. Pacing. He spun round. Dragged a hand through his hair, then gave a fist-punch to the air. It didn’t look like a celebratory one.
She scrolled through her news feed.
Oh. My. God.
This was what he was talking about. She stood up and he looked right at her. She saw him mouth some words and he was moving to her, a stern look of concern on his face, pinning her with his eyes. He clicked off his phone and pocketed it.
The Scandal Behind the Wedding Page 4
