Heaven above, he was going to kill her. She was going to die a virgin, without knowing the love she’d waited for or the meaningless sex Lexie recommended. At this rate she’d never know the joy of being an almost-psychic mother, like her own mum. She was going to die in a perfectly acceptable but definitely dreary navy blue suit, with her hair tangled and hopelessly mussed by the wind that had undone her French braid long ago.
The car whipped around, jerking the very breath out of her, and came to a sudden stop. Cassandra very cautiously opened her eyes. Al-Nuri had pulled the car to the side of the road. Just ahead was a sign that read Barton 8 kms.
She glared at him. “You were speeding.”
He was so obviously enjoying himself, she couldn’t remain angry. “I know,” he said. “It was marvelous.”
She didn’t want to smile, but how could she help herself? Sheik Kadir, His Excellency, looked like a ten-year-old boy who had just discovered the joys of the roller coaster. There was such delight on his very masculine face. “Why did we stop?”
To her surprise, he leaned across the console, cupped her head in his large hand and pulled her mouth to his. Slowly, and yet with urgency. That hand was firm but gentle, and she had time to pull away when she realized what he was about to do. She didn’t.
He kissed her. Deeply, completely and with the same joy with which he had driven this borrowed sports car, he kissed her. She kissed him back, even though it was entirely inappropriate and unexpected and wrong. This time her stomach did more than flutter. It clenched, leapt and danced. So did her heart. The tip of his tongue just barely teased her bottom lip, and she felt something powerful climb into her throat. A moan. A demand.
Something she had to drive down and ignore.
Cassandra drew away, confused by her intense reaction. She should be stronger than this. She knew better. He knew better! “Excellency, I have known you three days.”
“I know.” One masculine hand brushed away a wild strand of blond hair that teased her cheek. “Three days is a long time to wait for a kiss, but…”
“No, it has not been a long time,” she said sternly. “The point is, I barely know you!”
He was not chastened, that she could tell. “You sound disapproving, and yet you did not kiss in that way. Should I believe my ears, or my mouth?”
“Believe whatever you want. Just don’t do that again.”
He pulled back into the driver’s seat and studied her. She could not see his eyes behind those dark glasses to judge his reaction. “If I misread your interest, then I apologize.”
“Apology accepted, Excellency,” she said.
He sighed. “I thought you might call me Kadir when we are alone.”
“You thought wrong.” About a lot of things.
Al-Nuri drove the rest of the way more sedately, and he kept his eyes on the road. The wide smile that had been so oddly enchanting was gone now, and that was for the best. She knew he was a playboy of sorts. Did he always seduce his female aides for his own pleasure and entertainment? Did he keep notches in his headboard? Were there broken hearts spread all around the world?
Fluttering stomach or no, she would not be made a fool by a man whose only interest was a bedmate for his three-week stay. Two and a half weeks left, she noted, as she mentally counted down the days.
Barton College was an old and prestigious campus, and the grounds were well kept. They were not as annoyingly tidy as the manicured garden he had visited yesterday, but still the grounds were neat. There were old trees and precisely trimmed hedges on soft green hills, and the buildings that made up the campus were constructed of sturdy gray stone that looked cold even beneath the early-afternoon sun, which shone down brightly.
Kadir had met the dean—a stern and intelligent middle-aged woman—and he’d spoken with several students. A few of the students had giggled in an annoying and inexplicable manner, but they were very young and silly, so he’d dismissed their inappropriate behavior.
He had more important things on his mind.
He’d been planning to move to his yacht this weekend, at least for a few days. It was clear that Lord Carrington had no intention of agreeing anytime soon to the meeting Kadir had requested, and Kadir had no desire to play tourist for the next two weeks, before the gala he had come here to attend was held. The yacht was anchored near the north shore town of Leonia, in the quiet Leonia Bay, and a few days of peace in a place he could truly call his own would be welcomed.
But moving onto the yacht so far away from Silverton would surely mean leaving his assigned aide behind, and he was not ready to walk away from Cassandra Klein. She intrigued him in a way no woman ever had.
Cassandra had been unusually silent during the tour of the college. Not just silent, but subdued. Withdrawn. It was the kiss that had done it, he knew. Even though she had enjoyed the kiss and had participated fully, it continued to disturb her. It was easy enough for Kadir to decipher the true reason for her mood.
They walked along a shaded path that led to a small park that overlooked the Lodan River. He found an empty bench and sat, leaving room for Cassandra beside him. She chose instead to stand behind the wooden bench, rigid and unforgiving.
He patted the seat beside him with patient fingers.
“No, thank you,” she answered softly.
“I won’t bite,” he said. “Or kiss.” He waited a moment, and she didn’t move. “Please,” he added in a lowered voice.
Eventually Cassandra rounded the bench and sat beside him—if you could call perching at the far opposite end of the bench “beside.” She’d been forced to take her hair down, since the brisk ride in Redmond’s convertible had mussed her hair so that there was nothing to be done but let it down and brush it out. He had not realized her hair was so long. It was always tightly restrained, which he could now see was a true crime.
“I don’t normally kiss diplomatic aides,” he began.
She scoffed.
“Actually, I have never kissed a diplomatic aide before today. It’s unprofessional and potentially messy.”
“Exactly,” she said, obviously relieved. Apparently she had mistaken his comment to mean that he agreed with her. He did not.
“But you, Cassandra, you are different.”
Her head snapped around, and soft, pale hair danced. “I am not different,” she argued. “And you can’t expect me to believe…” Her sentence trailed off, but he understood her meaning. How odd, that he could look at her face and know what she was thinking. It had been years since he’d felt so deeply connected to any person. And a woman he wanted to sleep with? Never.
“It has been a very long time since I wanted anything for myself,” he said. “Years. So many years, I can’t even say how many.” Well, he could, but he wouldn’t. There would be time for that later, perhaps. “I have been caught up in my purpose, my career, my mission, until there is nothing else in my world. You make me want something else. From the moment I saw you—”
“Stop,” she commanded. “Excellency, this is…”
“Kadir.”
She turned her head to glare at him. “Excellency, I am not the kind of woman you obviously think I am.”
“I think you are beautiful and intelligent and kind. Am I wrong?”
Her lips pursed slightly. “I’m not the kind of woman who can give a man…something else.” She blushed. “Anything else. My career is very important to me, Excellency. I won’t do anything to tarnish it.”
Sleeping with him would definitely tarnish her reputation. And his. If they were caught, that is. He was not blind to the fact that they had no future. Her life was here in Silvershire. His was in Kahani, and as Kahani’s representative around the world. They were too dissimilar to even think of anything beyond the span of his visit in her country, but did that mean they had to deny what they both so obviously felt?
“Your career is more important than the excitement and the beauty of life?” he asked. “More important than joy?” More important than lo
ve? He would not put that question to her, since he had not known her long enough to speak the word love. He would not promise—or even hint at—anything he could not offer.
“My career is the most important thing in my life,” she explained, and her eyes begged him not to make the coming days difficult for her. “In truth, it’s the only important thing in my life. Don’t misunderstand, I love my sisters and my parents, and I have friends. But I’ve dedicated myself to my career to the exclusion of everything else. Yesterday you asked about my personal life, and I made it very clear that I don’t have one. I don’t have time for anything beyond my career. One day, perhaps, but not now.” She appeared flustered, and more uncertain than she wished to be. “I can’t allow you to come in here and ruin everything I’ve worked for.”
Kadir sighed. There was nothing he could say to make Cassandra understand that his interest in her wasn’t entirely casual. They had no future—that was true enough—but still…she was special. Different. There was no way he could sit here and make her understand that he couldn’t replace her with another woman and be just as happy if that woman welcomed his attentions.
He wanted her. No one else would do. And judging by the expression on her face, he was not going to have her. He could try to change her mind, if the opportunity arose, but he could not—would not—push her into a temporary relationship that she obviously didn’t want.
A pair of students walked by. One carried a sloppily folded newspaper. They both tittered.
Kadir was suddenly easily annoyed. “What is wrong with these idiotic, snickering students?”
Cassandra purposely saved the visit to the art department for last. The least amount of time Al-Nuri and Piper Klein spent together, the better off they’d all be. Hello, goodbye, we’re back on the road again.
Oh, she did not look forward to the return trip.
“Cassandra!” Piper rushed forward, leaving behind her desk piled high with books and papers. “I was just about to go out and hunt you down. I heard hours ago that you were on campus.”
With a smile Cassandra said, “I was saving the best for last, of course.”
Piper turned calculating and approving eyes on Al-Nuri. “You must be the sheik.” She offered her hand. “Piper Klein. Pleased to meet you.”
Cassandra took a deep, calming breath. “Mum, you’re to address him as Excellency. That’s what’s proper.”
Al-Nuri turned on his most brilliant smile as he took Piper’s hand. “Don’t be proper on my account. I have told your daughter many times that I care little for what is proper.” He continued to hold her hand. “Call me Kadir, please.”
Oh, no, no, please don’t, Cassandra thought.
“Kadir,” Piper said. “What a lovely name.”
So much for almost-psychic Mum.
Piper Klein was fifty-six years old, still trim and still pretty. She had lively blue eyes and a sense of adventure, and usually had paint or clay—or both—under her fingernails. Cassandra had gotten her gray eyes from her Dad, but everything else in the gene pool came straight from her mother. She had missed the sense of adventure, however, which was just as well. That sense of adventure hadn’t done Lexie any good at all.
For a few long minutes, Piper regaled Al-Nuri with tales of her years at Barton College. Cassandra listened closely. If her mother ventured into “When Cassandra was a baby…” territory, this visit was over. But their conversation remained all about the college, and about Al-Nuri’s plans to fund one much like it in Kahani.
He was a man like all others in many ways—the kiss had proven that point—but in many ways he was unique. He did want to change the world for the better. He wanted to make a difference in a country where a college like this one would affect countless lives.
She wouldn’t kiss him again, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire him, as a man and as a politician.
Cassandra knew she would probably never forget that kiss, and though she would never let Al-Nuri or anyone else know…she wanted another one. Strictly as an experiment, of course. Would another kiss be as wonderfully alarming? Would it make her heart do strange things? She might be a virgin, but she had kissed men before.
None had ever kissed her the way Al-Nuri did, sinfully and with a delicious completeness. None of those previous kisses had made her want more than she could have. Surely her reaction to his kiss was an aberration, and another would prove that he was no different from any other man.
The dean arrived with a folder of papers that contained some details about finances and curriculum for Al-Nuri, and the sheik wandered in her direction. Piper took that moment to scurry over to her daughter.
“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered. “He’s amazing. Handsome, rich, powerful and nice.” Piper waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure he has qualities that are less than wonderful—all men do—but what I have seen so far is absolutely perfect.” She smiled widely. “You were right to wait for a man like this one to come along.”
Cassandra’s expression didn’t change. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Almost-psychic Mum’s answer was a gentle slap on the arm. “Don’t be embarrassed. Bad salad dressing, indeed. Even if you hadn’t told me, I still would’ve figured it out on my own.”
“I didn’t tell you anything,” Cassandra argued, her voice low.
“You told me everything I need to know in your letter, though I did have to see beyond your little code. He’s marvelous, he’s smart, I ate bad salad dressing.”
“I think it was rancid.”
Piper snorted. “Besides, I saw the picture. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Cassandra cocked her head to one side and blinked, confused. What on earth was her mum talking about? “What picture?”
“Isn’t it a little late for playing innocent, Cassandra? Really, a man doesn’t go to such measures unless he feels something. It’s very gallant and romantic, and…” Piper narrowed her eyes as she studied her youngest daughter’s puzzled eyes. “Oh, dear, you really haven’t seen it, have you?”
It was the expression on her mother’s face that caused Cassandra’s wave of sick dread. “Haven’t seen what?”
Piper rushed to her desk, and Cassandra followed closely. A quick glance back showed her that Al-Nuri was keeping the dean entertained for the moment. At the messy desk, Piper moved a stack of books aside and grabbed a newspaper.
One quick glance, and Cassandra knew what newspaper it was. “Mother! You read that trash?” The Silvershire Inquisitor was nothing more than a tawdry gossip tabloid. The Quiz, as it was called by most, was certainly not fit for Barton College’s esteemed art professor.
Piper folded the paper so the top half of the front page was revealed. The logo of an eye—all-seeing, apparently—dominated. But just beneath that eye was a photograph that grabbed Cassandra’s attention and held on.
It was her. And Al-Nuri. Well, it was their legs, more specifically. Entangled and extended from the back seat of the limo, moments after he’d grabbed her and thrown her toward safety.
Al-Nuri’s legs were covered by his dark trousers. Since her skirt was riding high on her thighs, her legs were very much bare. And rather…spread, so that he was, for that second in time, between them. Beneath the photo, in bold type, words screamed, Sensational Sheik Saves Sexy Secretary!
“I am not a secretary!” Cassandra protested.
“Don’t take it personally, dear. I’m sure the word choice was strictly for the alliteration.”
Beneath the photo, on the bottom fold of the front page, there were two less sensational photos. One head shot of her, and one of Al-Nuri. No wonder the students had been giggling all day.
A quick glance at the article did nothing to ease her dread. Apparently the sensational sheik had thrown himself in front of a bullet in order to save her. There had been one bullet, and it had been intended for him, not her. Why did they have to make him out to be a hero? Later in the article, there was a not-so-subtle hint that perhaps
Al-Nuri and the diplomatic aide he risked his life for were “involved.” “Stay tuned for more juicy details,” the author of the article promised.
All her care about sacrificing for her career, and this is where it got her. If people believed she and the sheik were improperly involved, it was just as bad—well, almost as bad—as if they really were….
Stealing kisses. Sharing personal confessions. Starting to like one another in a very undiplomatic way.
“What’s this?”
That deep voice at her shoulder startled her, and she tried to crumple the paper in her hands. Al-Nuri reached out and took the Quiz from her, unfolding it slowly until the horrible photo was fully revealed.
“I’m going to sue,” she said in a calm voice.
“Why? It’s a very good photograph.”
“It is not!”
He cocked his head to one side, as if he could see more that way.
“You were there, Excellency,” Cassandra said. “There’s no need to study the photo so closely.”
“I did not see the incident from this angle,” Al-Nuri said as he continued to peruse the photograph.
She tried to take it from him, but he was taller and stronger—and he managed to hold the newspaper out of her reach. Maybe it was foolish, but looking at that photo reminded her of how she’d felt at that moment. Not when he’d tossed her into the car, but just after, when his weight had been on her body and his lips had been so close….
“Please give me that paper, Excellency.”
“I’m not finished.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I have not read the article.”
Her heart leaped in pure dread. “Since half of it is untrue, there’s no need, Excellency.”
He looked down at her and smiled. The man had such a wicked grin. “Call me Kadir, and it is yours.”
She hesitated, and he turned his attention to the article. The article in which he was a hero who’d saved her life, and they were lovers.
“Please give me the newspaper, Kadir.”
The Sheik and I Page 5
