Millions To Spare

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Welcome back,” came Harrison’s soft voice, and she turned her head toward the sound.

  He smiled down at her. His dark eyes were uncharacteristically warm and kind. She guessed swooning was what a girl had to do to bring out his softer side. Had she known, she could have swooned days ago.

  His fingertips touched the cool cloth on her forehead.

  “Thirsty?” he asked.

  “I guess I passed out.”

  “That you did.”

  He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, propping her up while handing her a glass of water.

  She took a few sips of the tepid liquid. “Is there air-conditioning in here?”

  “They use it sparingly.” He took the glass from her hand and let her lie down again. “The settlement has a generator.”

  “It feels like heaven.”

  He sat back in his chair. “I’m glad you approve. We may be here for a while.”

  Reality crept back into her consciousness. “Are we safe?”

  “As safe as I can make us.”

  She nodded, feeling suddenly emotional and maudlin. “Thank you,” she croaked.

  “No problem.”

  She wheezed out a weak laugh. “Right. I can’t imagine I’ve been any trouble at all.”

  He paused. “You are exciting. I’ll give you that.”

  She willed her strength back, reminding herself they were still in precarious circumstances.

  “Exciting is one way to put it.” She pushed herself into a sitting position.

  He reflexively reached for her, but then backed off when it was clear she wasn’t going to keel over.

  She took another drink of water.

  Gazing down, she realized she was wearing some kind of loose cotton tunic and skirt instead of the evening gown. She blinked at the maroon-and-yellow fabric, layered over the full-length brown skirt. Had Harrison undressed her?

  “Yes,” he answered her unspoken question.

  She wasn’t sure how strongly she objected to him undressing her, or even if she objected at all. But she wasn’t going to let him know that.

  “Well, I sure hope you didn’t look,” she said.

  “I thought about closing my eyes,” he responded mildly. “But then I realized I’d have to feel my way around.”

  “So you ogled me while I was unconscious?” She drank some more water, feeling stronger by the second.

  He gave her an enigmatic smile, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

  “Is that what they teach you at Oxford?”

  “You were wearing underwear. And you were dying of heat prostration.”

  Julia reflexively scrambled to remember if her bra and panties matched. Stupid thing to worry about under the circumstances, but she couldn’t help herself.

  And she really couldn’t remember. It had been too long since she’d dressed yesterday, and it was dark when she switched clothes with Brittany.

  So she was either wearing a stylish little white set with royal-blue piping, or she’d gone with the comfortable, canary cotton panties with the beige sport bra. She wriggled a little to see if she could tell the difference.

  Using a clay pitcher on the table, Harrison refilled her water glass. “You’d rather I’d let you die?”

  “I’d rather you’d found a nice, matronly woman to take off my clothes.”

  She took another drink, unable to stop herself from wondering if, aside from the underwear, Harrison had liked what he saw. Between her busy job and her gym membership in Lexington, she was in pretty good shape. At least she had that going for her. And she had a decent tan. Was he the kind of guy who cared about tan lines?

  “We’re hiding, remember?” he pointed out. “The fewer people who see us, the better.”

  He made a good point. She forced herself to set aside thoughts of Harrison and her near-naked body, taking in the room around her, reminding herself she was only temporarily safe. “What is this place?”

  “It’s a guest cottage. It belongs to Ahmed Hassanat. He’s Nuri’s brother.”

  Julia’s stomach contracted at the mere mention of the dour man. Maybe she wasn’t so safe after all. “I think he’s the one who called the police.”

  “Nuri?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “He hates me.”

  “He doesn’t even know you.”

  “He glares at me so hard, I think he’s willing me back to jail.”

  Harrison grinned.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I doubt Nuri thinks about you one way or the other.”

  “You didn’t see the expression on his face.”

  “He’s a product of a Middle Eastern upbringing forty years ago. He’s incredibly chauvinistic.”

  “So he hates me because I’m a woman?”

  “He doesn’t hate you. He thinks you’re, well, you know.”

  “Inferior?”

  “Not too bright and rather childlike.”

  Julia could feel her blood pressure going up. She took another swig of water, knowing she’d need her strength.

  “Him, not me,” Harrison hastily added. “I think that’s why his relationship is so strained with Leila.”

  “I thought Leila grew up in England.”

  “She went to school there-Nuri’s second wife was British,” Harrison explained. “When she fell ill, she made Nuri promise to send Leila to school in the West. She died, and Nuri honored her wishes. But he hasn’t a clue what to do with Leila now.”

  There went Julia’s blood pressure again. “She’s not his property.”

  “He doesn’t dare marry her off to an Arab man,” said Harrison. “It would be a disaster.”

  “What does Leila want?”

  Harrison paused. “I doubt he’s asked her.”

  “Have you ever asked her?”

  “Oh, of course. Because there’s no way that could go bad.”

  “The girl deserves a chance to live her life.” Julia liked Leila.

  “Yes, she does. But this is the UAE. Nuri’s her father. And we’re currently guests in his brother’s house.”

  Julia started to argue further, but then she clamped her jaw. Unfortunately, she was going to have to pick her battles today.

  “Clever girl,” Harrison said approvingly.

  “What do we do now?”

  She remembered Harrison saying they’d doubled back. Did he mean they were on their way back to Cadair? Would it be safe for her in Dubai that quickly?

  “We’ll spend the night here,” said Harrison. “Maybe a couple more days.”

  “And after that?” She didn’t mean to sound demanding, but she needed to get back to the U.S. The sooner, the better.

  “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

  She opened her mouth to pose another question, but then she took in his wrinkled shirt, his sweaty brow and his red-rimmed eyes. An unexpected emotion tightened her chest.

  “You should be back with Brittany,” she told him. She was sorry he’d been dragged into this. Although, she had to admit, she wasn’t sorry he’d ignored her request to take her back last night.

  He blew out a breath. “I can’t disagree with you on that point.”

  She steeled herself once more to try to do the right thing. “Is there somewhere…that you could…”

  Was she brave enough to offer? Was she principled enough to suggest he walk away and leave her?

  Part of her wanted to be principled, but another part of her was scared to death.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said.

  Thank God. “You should.”

  He cracked a very small smile. “Do you actually think I could live with myself if I left you to corrupt policemen and unruly mobs?”

  “Don’t forget about the snakes.”

  “And, of course, the snakes.”

  She resisted the urge to reach for him. He had no reason to help her, and yet here he was.

  Her throat thicke
ned. “You’re a very nice man, you know.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  She fought to toss off her emotions. “Well, your staff did have me thrown in jail. And you did try to kill me.”

  “There is that,” he agreed, but laughter lit a glow behind his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t really have strangled me, would you?”

  He shook his head. “Not a chance. I was as angry with myself as I was at you. I thought I’d let you dupe me. I thought I’d fallen for your soft voice and your smooth skin, and let my-”

  He cleared his throat.

  She thought again about how he’d driven like a maniac through the hot desert sun, carried her from the Jeep, changed her clothes and brought her water. An overwhelming feeling of gratitude invaded her and along with it, emotions she was powerless to stop.

  He was a very good man, and she had no business feeling the way she felt about him.

  “We’re both fools,” she said in a quiet voice.

  This time, the glow behind his eyes wasn’t laughter.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “There is that.”

  Harrison was definitely a fool.

  He was sitting here staring at a woman with bare feet, disheveled hair, the plainest of cotton clothing and a half-sunburned face. And all he could think was that she was so beautiful, he wanted to drag her into his arms, kiss those tender lips and make soft, sweet love to her until she forgot everything else in the world.

  Leave her?

  Not a chance.

  He was going to get her to safety or die trying.

  He liked to think it was chivalry, but he was beginning to worry it could be something else.

  Okay, he was positive that it was at least one other thing-desire. And right now, she was staring at him with those round, crystal-blue eyes. And he knew that she knew. Hell, she’d have to be both blind and amnesiac not to know he wanted her.

  Their kiss had been incredible.

  Even now, he remembered her smooth skin, her delectable lips, the fresh scent of her hair. His memories moved him subconsciously forward. He breathed her in, while his fingertips feathered her knees, and the warmth of her skin filtered through the rough, cotton dress.

  He was going to kiss her again.

  He was going to do it now, simply because he had to.

  She’d obviously guessed his intentions, because her body tilted toward him in response.

  “You’re engaged,” she breathed, a pained expression flitting across her face.

  “Not yet.” He hadn’t even bought a ring, never mind popped the question.

  Her head tilted, and her lips softened. “But you will be.”

  His hand crept around to the back of her head. “Let’s survive this little adventure before-”

  “Are we in that much danger?”

  He hesitated.

  He didn’t want to lie. But he knew those men in the desert weren’t the police, and they’d looked extremely dangerous.

  At his silence, her expression shifted. She wriggled forward. Her hands rose to cup his cheeks. “If we’re in that much danger…”

  He sucked in a sharp breath as her lips touched his.

  Reaction ricocheted through him. He tangled his fingers in her hair, gripping convulsively at its softness. His free arm snaked around to press against the small of her back. He came to his feet, pulling her with him, bringing their bodies flush together while he deepened the kiss and reveled in passion that consumed his body.

  A tidal wave of emotion washed through him. He closed his eyes and let every millimeter of her body imprint itself on his brain. He lowered his hand to her buttocks, pressing her meaningfully into him, letting her know he was aroused-as if there was any question.

  His mouth opened wider. His tongue probed deeper. His breathing grew labored. And his hands squeezed her intimately.

  He moved his lips to the crook of her neck, and she groaned as he tested the tender skin. Her hands wound around his neck, clinging tight, pressing her breasts against his body, her hardened nipples spurring his desire.

  He slipped a hand between them and covered one breast with his palm, reveling in the soft weight and the delicate texture. Her mouth found his again, kissing hard and deep, leaving no question of her acceptance.

  Then she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

  He shrugged out of it, and she pressed her hot lips against his chest. He held still for a moment, palms swirling in her hair, eyes closed, teeth gritted.

  Then he pulled off the tunic, flipped the clasp of her bra and gazed at her creamy breasts, topped with perfect, pink nipples. For a second, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

  He reached for her breast, watching in fascination as his broad, tanned hand covered the pale mound. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head tipped back.

  He kissed her exposed neck, drawing the skin into the hot cavern of his mouth. She gripped his upper arms to brace herself, fingertips digging into him in a way that ratcheted up his desire. He kissed his way down to one nipple, then the next, drawing the taut pebble into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, trying desperately to hang on to some semblance of control, even as he fought the urge to rip off the rest of her clothes.

  Her breaths came in pants.

  He pulled at the waistband of her skirt, dragging it over her hips, past her buttocks, down her thighs, until it pooled on the floor.

  Then he drew back to gaze at her.

  She was drop-dead gorgeous. He’d never seen a more beautiful, more desirable woman. He put his palm flat against her chest. She watched as he eased his way down, over her breast, her flat belly, her hip bone, her downy curls.

  She tipped her head up, and met his eyes.

  They stared at each other, frozen in time.

  Then his free hand went to the button on his slacks.

  She didn’t blink as he flipped it open. He drew down the zipper. Their last chance to stop, and they both knew it.

  Neither of them took it.

  He kicked out of his pants, and drew her down on the bed, stretching full length beside her, legs entangling, hands caressing.

  He slowed his kisses, touching her face, smoothing her hair, whispering in her ear, using French to tell her she was beautiful and desirable, and he’d never been with a woman who moved him more.

  His hands wandered, while hers did the same, discovering secrets and hollows, speeding up their breathing, then slowing it down again.

  In French, he told her everything he was doing, everything he was feeling, everything he wanted.

  She kissed him deeply, her hands on a journey that forced him to grit his teeth, sweat popping out on his brow.

  He needed her. Now. Right now.

  His fingertips skimmed their way up her long, smooth legs, and her thighs twitched apart, inviting him. He swiftly extracted a condom from his wallet, positioning his body, feeling the hot, enticing entrance to hers.

  He kissed her one more time, entwined their fingers, murmured words of passion and want and desire.

  “J’aussi,” she whispered breathlessly, flexing her hips.

  Before his brain registered her French response, he was inside her, and his world contracted to a single primal urge. He thrust and withdrew, over and over.

  A freight train roared and throbbed to life inside his brain, growing faster and louder and harder, in sync with his body. But he held the urgency at bay.

  He kissed her deeper. He clasped her to him, feeling the twitches of her body, hearing the gasps of her breath, tasting the pure nectar of her swollen mouth.

  She whispered his name.

  Then she said it again.

  He wanted her to stop, but he wanted her to go. His name on her lips was pulsing incredible sensations through his bloodstream.

  Her hands tightened in his. Her hips twitched and her thighs tightened. He could sense her shimmering.

  He smiled and whispered her name, urging her over the edge. Then he felt her slide, and he
gave in himself, and pure, pristine pleasure cascaded like a waterfall around them.

  When it finally stopped, the world filtered through.

  The fan whooshed above them, puffing tepid air.

  The colorful room came into focus.

  Julia’s breathing sounded long and deep, her bare breasts rising and falling against his slick chest.

  He shifted to remove his weight from her.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, smoothing stray wisps of hair from her cheek, impulsively kissing the space afterward.

  “You suppose it was the adrenaline?” she ventured, gazing straight up at the rotating fan.

  He didn’t know how to answer that.

  He didn’t think they could blame the adrenaline.

  “Because,” she continued, still obviously searching for an explanation, “we don’t really like each other all that much.”

  “We seem to connect on some level,” he pointed out.

  “I suppose.”

  Okay, maybe it was ego, but he had to know if he’d been alone in that.

  He raised his head on his elbow, gazing down at her. “I mean, have you ever…”

  She looked at him. “Had sex?”

  He shook his head. “Had sex like that.”

  “You mean in French?”

  He cringed. “I didn’t realize you spoke French.”

  She grinned at his discomfort. “No kidding.”

  He couldn’t even remember all he’d said.

  “You’re not going to tell me you just had the most incredibly mind-blowing experience of your life, are you?”

  “Are you the kind of guy who needs to hear that?”

  Her words were tough, but her expression was guarded. He realized that even if they had both felt it, he needed to let the subject drop. Sex alone was complication enough. Sex that might mean something in these circumstances couldn’t even be contemplated.

  “It must have been the adrenaline,” he agreed.

  Then they stared at each other for a moment of pure, unadulterated understanding. Adrenaline had had nothing to do with it.

  Chapter Ten