by Tara Quan
Her words didn’t ring true. “Is that a line from some sort of dieting pamphlet?”
She popped a morsel of fish into her mouth and chewed with aggravating slowness, her gaze trained on his steak. “It probably is.”
He sliced off a small portion of the rib-eye and forked it over to her plate. “If my opinion matters, a few pounds wouldn’t change your shape one way or the other.”
She took a sip of sparkling water before digging into the juicy red meat. Her gusto suggested she preferred it to the fish. She had gone out of her way to avoid food she liked. Did she exercise the same restraint with men?
“I’m five foot three, and any excess weight goes straight to my thighs. I don’t have a teenager’s metabolism anymore. I watch what I eat and work out. It’s a way of life I’ve embraced in my old age.”
He almost choked mid-chew. “By my calculation, you are ten years younger than me. I must seem close to the grave.”
She gave him an admonishing look. “Hasn’t anyone taught you it’s inappropriate to discuss diet and age with a woman you barely know? Let’s revisit our most recent topic—why haven’t you settled in Boston, New York, or London?”
Though unaccustomed to being chastised and asked probing questions, he rather enjoyed it. “This place is my home. The country is in its infancy, and I have a rare opportunity to help chart its course. That prospect is far more exciting than any research.” He seldom admitted to idealism—his peers and relatives had a habit of either laughing outright or dismissing his statement as empty posturing. But he had been confident she would take his assertion at face value.
He waited for the question that never came. “Don’t you want to know why I’m going to New York?”
After polishing off the chunk of steak he gave her, she lay her fork down. The majority of her dish remained uneaten. “If you were going to tell me, you already would have. If I asked, you would say something vague and change the subject.”
She had a habit of anticipating his actions with alarming accuracy. He couldn’t decide if he liked it.
She reached for her glass. “Besides, I’m more curious about why you were flying business. You’re clearly made of money.”
He shrugged. “The government is footing the bill for my trip. It didn’t seem appropriate to travel first class.”
She snorted. “Your royal family has the largest sovereign wealth fund in the world. It would have been a drop in the bucket.”
He steepled his fingers. “The world will eventually be weaned off oil. No matter how well it’s managed, the money won’t last if our next generations spend it the way we do now. Some measure of reform is required. The best way to lead is by example.”
She didn’t appear convinced. “That’s a rather hypocritical statement considering your leather sandals cost more than my monthly paycheck.”
She did have a point. “I won’t apologize for being rich. My wealth is mine to spend. What I object to is the use of public funds to support extravagance and waste.”
The server arrived to clear their plates. After making her dessert choice, she asked, “So why not just pay the difference out of pocket?”
He sighed. “I was trying to make a statement.”
“And you got upgraded, anyway.” She shook her head and made clucking sounds with her tongue. “I guess being a millionaire has its drawbacks.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her mock sympathy. “It really does. Why do you think I’m a millionaire?”
“Because you act like one.” She teased with a smile
Their waiter arrived to present him with an assortment of baklava. Another served her crème brûlée.
Once they left, she murmured, “So I guess this is dessert.”
He caught her gaze. “How am I faring on your list of pros and cons?”
Her lashes fluttered. He doubted she had been aware of the gesture.
“Surprisingly well. I’m still not quite sure what you have in mind.”
Since he had gotten used to being honest, he admitted, “That makes two of us.”
Chapter Three
“Do you make a habit of propositioning women?” Michelle asked as she reached for her spoon.
Kal sniffed his espresso and pondered her question. “You might be my first.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She had an intent look on her face as she cracked the hardened layer of sugar. He began to suspect she did a cost-benefit analysis on everything she ate. If she didn’t like it enough, she refused to take a second bite.
He took a sip of the smooth, bitter brew. “I seldom initiate contact. Women approach me. If I fancy them enough, I reciprocate the attention.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why on earth would women come on to you?”
He found her apparent disbelief amusing. “I suppose I’m easy on the eye and have a well-lined pocketbook. My title also acts like a beacon for eligible and not so eligible women.”
“You have a title, too? My panties are melting as we speak.” Her last words dripped with sarcasm.
His fondness for her irreverence grew with each iteration—a curious development. “I’m technically a Sheikh, so the term ‘Your Excellency’ gets bandied about upon occasion.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are a romance hero cliché. Too bad you’re not a vampire—they’re trending these days.”
Feeling playful, he bared his teeth. “How can you be sure I’m human?”
She leaned to the side and pointed at the tempered glass wall behind him. Though long past noon, sunlight poured in with near-blinding intensity. “I have a feeling vampires avoid the desert. The high concentration of UV rays would make them a fire hazard.”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “I thought they just glitter like diamonds.”
Her eyes grew wide. He had managed to make an impression.
She placed one elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “I can’t picture you reading Twilight.”
He shuddered. “I haven’t. But I have four younger sisters who recently insisted on a marathon movie night.”
“All five movies in one go?”
He winced at the memory. “In full high definition glory with surround sound. It might have been the longest night of my life.”
She reached over and patted his hand. Could she detect the contact’s electric effect? He hoped not. If he let it show, the intensity of his attraction to her would put him at a disadvantage.
“Poor baby. You make me thankful I’m an only child.”
He turned his palm up and caught her fingers. In an uncharacteristically romantic gesture, he brought them to his lips. “Considering what I plan to do with you, I’m grateful you don’t have an elder brother skulking about.”
Her cheeks colored. “What do you plan to do with me?”
“Do you really not know?”
She retrieved her hand. “Not precisely. We’re in an airport lounge waiting to board a plane. There are certain logistical impediments to a tryst even if you can convince me it’s a good idea.”
“We will have to wait until the plane lands in New York,” he admitted. “Thus far, I’m not confident of success. As I mentioned, I’m more accustomed to fending off unwelcome advances than making my own.”
She dug into her crème brûlée. After tasting a small portion, she closed her eyes and purred. “Well, you’ve earned some points by scoring me this meal. The dessert is pretty orgasmic.”
He finished his coffee and tried not to focus on the sudden discomfort around his groin. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She licked her spoon, forcing him to shift in his seat.
“So why exactly do women come after you? You’re attractive, but not enough to have girls lining up to jump your bones.”
He bit off a piece of his honey-coated pistachio dessert. The crispy flakes melted on his tongue. “I’m not implying women hunt me down. They subtly indicate their interest. If the attraction is mutual, I make an effort to fi
nd out what they want.”
She took a sip of her Moroccan mint tea. “What would they want besides the pleasure of your company?”
He chuckled. “I doubt that’s ever been my primary draw. You may have noticed I don’t have the most amiable personality.”
She didn’t deny his assertion. “What do you think your past girlfriends wanted from you?”
“Most wanted to be spoilt. Many craved attention. Some needed to feel important. I bought them whatever they wanted, and being with me lent them a certain status.”
Based on her independent, career-driven lifestyle, he expected her to take umbrage on behalf of her entire gender. Instead, she seemed to ponder his statement.
“I have to admit, you’re probably half right. Most girls want to feel like a princess—myself included. But I would guess your wealth puts you at a severe disadvantage.”
Her mind seemed to work in mysterious ways. Realizing the futility, he no longer attempted to predict her next words.
Her hands moved as she spoke. “Don’t get me wrong. I love presents. But a diamond necklace from someone as rich as you means a lot less than a sterling silver pendent from a normal guy.” She paused and ate another mouthful of the creamy custard. “Purchasing the gift didn’t inconvenience you in the slightest. Relatively speaking, it cost you nothing. I wouldn’t feel spoiled if you gave me something expensive. I would feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure the necklace’s monetary value has some bearing.” He had never had anyone respond to his gifts with a lack of enthusiasm.
“Sure it does.” She nodded for emphasis. “If I won it in a raffle, I’d be thrilled. But if a guy showered me with expensive jewelry, I’d wonder if he’s compensating for something.”
Her statement hit a bit too close to home. “Such as?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Such as the fact that he doesn’t plan on sticking around.”
While occasionally uncomfortable, he found her astuteness preferable to the inane chatter that characterized most conversations. “So if I can’t bribe you, and you know all I want is a brief affair, how do I convince you to sleep with me?”
Her spoon paused in the air for a few seconds before resuming its path. He watched her face as she savored the mouthful.
“What makes you so certain you have to pay for sex?” He didn’t detect any accusation in her tone, only curiosity.
He popped the remaining baklava into his mouth. “I don’t. I never have.”
“I’m not implying you solicited prostitutes.” She lifted her free hand in the air. “I meant, why do you think it has to be an exchange? Why do you need to make up for your inability to commit by showering your girlfriends with gifts? People who aren’t involved can still have sex. They do it all the time.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Do you?”
Her nose scrunched up. “Well…no….”
“That’s what I thought.”
She wagged her spoon at him. “Past behavior is not always the best predictor of future actions. I don’t have anything against it. The opportunity just never presented itself.”
He tried his best not to let disbelief color his voice. “Are you telling me no man has approached you for a casual fling?”
She squinted at him. “Of course they have.”
Since she had eaten less than a quarter of her dessert, he reached over and spooned a bite. He liked the taste, though he’d had better. An invitation for her to join him at his favorite restaurant sat on the tip of his tongue. “So why didn’t you take those men up on their offer?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I was too busy being someone’s girlfriend. I started dating this guy my freshman year of high school. We continued to date all through college.” She sighed. “It put a damper on my intentions to be a wild and crazy party girl.”
She sounded so forlorn he snorted his sparkling water, a painful mishap. He focused on the most pressing issue. “That’s what—a little over seven years? So where is this high school sweetheart now?”
“I left the country, and the relationship died a natural death.” She sighed and elaborated. “We weren’t that enamored with each other. It had just been easier to keep going than break up. I’m still good friends with the guy, which says something about how mellow our relationship had been.”
He leaned over with the intention of digging into her uneaten crème brûlée.
She swatted his hand. “You get one more bite. The rest is all mine.”
Shaking his head, he enjoyed the treat before continuing his line of questioning. “So you two broke up three and a half years ago. You could have had many torrid affairs in that timeframe.”
With her skin clear as a baby’s, her cheeks round and her eyes huge, the world-weary expression had a comical effect. Those features would give her a youthful appearance even in old age.
“Hooking up is harder than it looks, especially if you are a busy single woman living overseas. Most expats who come to your country are married, and adultery is a line I’d never cross. Those six months here proved a complete bust. In China, I might as well have had two heads. Men gawked at me from afar but focused their efforts elsewhere.”
He couldn’t help but draw an obvious conclusion. “So it’s been over three years since you’ve slept with someone?”
Her glare confirmed his suspicion.
He shook his head in amazement. His chances at getting what he wanted had just exponentially improved.
So it had been a while since she’d had sex. For a healthy single woman in her mid-twenties, it might as well be an eternity. But until now, she hadn’t noticed. She’d been busy with work, travel, and life, so her libido had taken a back seat.
And now the dry spell came back to bite her in the rear. She didn’t understand her body’s sudden throttle into pheromone-charged overdrive. Handsome, built, and masculine or not, she shouldn’t react to Kal like a teenager. After all, she possessed an intelligent and self-aware brain. Logic dictated she ceased pretending to be someone else.
Anything she did with this man would be the opposite of forgettable. The pesky reality blew a canyon-wide hole into the theoretical possibility of casual sex. If she slept with him, she would remember every second of it. And when he walked out of her life soon after, she would miss him.
Kal’s voice cut through her internal panicked diatribe. “Would you mind if I tested a theory?”
It took a moment to process his question. “What theory?”
His smile could only be described as wolfish. “It wouldn’t work if I told you.”
Though certain agreeing to his request would lead to numerous negative repercussions, curiosity got the better of her. “What does the test entail?”
His eyes gleamed. “Why don’t I just show you?”
What could he possibly do to her while seated at a dining table in an airport lounge? Swallowing nervously, she waited.
The heat from his palm warmed the side of her left knee. She almost jumped off her seat. Thank goodness a floor-length cloth covered their small table. She opened her mouth to voice a protest when his hand moved up her thigh. Heat bloomed between her legs and severed her brain’s connection to her vocal chords.
His voice dropped to a husky murmur as he reached the hem of her shorts. “How does this feel?”
Her cheeks burned.
His expression gave enticement a whole new meaning. “Don’t worry. No one can see what I’m doing. Do you want me to stop?”
Of course she did. The number of social and legal rules this broke boggled the mind. But for some reason, her entire body refused to acknowledge her brain’s instruction to vacate the seat.
She shuddered when he slid his fingers back down to caress the sensitive crease behind her knee.
“So my theory is simple.”
She struggled to remember how this all started. “Kal…I don’t think….”
“You’ve been denying your body’s needs for very long time.”
&nbs
p; The words rolled down her spine and made her tremble.
He tugged at her knee, urging her legs to part. “When was the last time you did something naughty?”
She should have protested, but her lack of mental fortitude seemed to have become a running theme. She searched through her memories and came to a disheartening realization. Letting Kal feel her up in this quasi-private space might just be the most sexually adventurous act she had ever engaged in. Resisting him would be more difficult than she anticipated.
He wore a smug smile. “That long? I figured as much.” He switched his palm to her other thigh.
She had to fight hard not to moan. “Do you have a point?”
“I always do.” The tips of his fingers slid under her shorts and brushed the edge of her panties. She bit down on her lower lip. He wouldn’t dare.
To her relief and disappointment, he pulled his hand back. “My theory is simple. When I touch you, your impulse control diminishes. It’s a great way to stop you from thinking”
The man had a flair for stating the obvious. “So?”
He grinned. “So I have a proposal.”
She tried to get her breathing under control, without much success. “Why am I sure it’s an indecent one?”
He motioned his head toward the far end of the lounge. Latticed wooden screens gave that particular section more privacy. In an L-shaped room, the tucked-away location prevented a direct line of sight from the dining or reception areas.
He got up and offered her his hand. She hesitated for a long moment before taking it. With faltering footsteps, she followed him. More private or not, limits on how far this could go existed due to them being in an airport lounge. Since her self-control had chosen today to take a vacation, she appreciated the imposed constraint.
He lowered himself onto a plush leather sofa deep inside the cordoned area. With walls on either side and screens strategically angled, the space seemed to have been designed as a spot for people to nap.
On the brink of crossing a dangerous line, she hesitated. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
