Fantasy Girl

by Carole Mortimer

  Adam took her silence as damning, bracing his shoulders determinedly. ‘I may as well leave, then,’ he murmured softly.

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed, wondering how she could bear to let him go.

  ‘I would have been a good husband to you, Natalie,’ still he delayed leaving. ‘You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. But if I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone.’

  Natalie was still stunned by the word she had thought Adam would ever use in a relationship. Husband… And he wanted her to be his wife!

  ‘I love you,’ he told her throatily. ‘I really love you.’ And he turned to leave.

  ‘Adam!’ She was out of the chair and running towards him. ‘Did you just say husband?’

  He frowned down at her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But to be a husband you have to get married.’

  He nodded. ‘That is the usual practice, yes.’

  ‘And to be my husband, you have to marry me,’ she persisted impatiently.

  ‘I’d like nothing better.’

  ‘But neither would I!’

  The wariness began to leave him, his expression lightened. ‘Are you asking me to marry you, Miss Faulkner?’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Temper, temper!’ he began to chuckle as his tension was released, his arms about her as he held her struggling body hard against him. ‘All right, Natalie, I’ll ask you. Will you marry me?’ He was suddenly serious.

  ‘Yes!’ She threw her arms about his neck. ‘Oh yes!’ she glowed up at him. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you!’ She rained kisses all over his face and throat.

  Adam laughed exultantly. ‘I think you really love me,’ he teased.

  ‘Oh, I do!’

  ‘Enough to marry me next week?’

  ‘Enough to marry you whenever you want me to.’

  His arms tightened. ‘That would be now if I could arrange it. Unfortunately, I can’t.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She gazed up at him with love-filled eyes. ‘Stay with me until we can be married.’

  He was shaking his head before she had even finished speaking. ‘I owe you a wedding night to remember, a legal wedding night,’ he kissed her gently on the mouth, ‘and I’m going to see to it that you get one. I’ve been such a fool about you, and all the time you were exactly what I thought you were, a beautiful and intelligent woman—’

  ‘With a cold, calculating brain,’ she teased.

  ‘Don’t!’ he groaned. ‘I don’t enjoy being an idiot, and with you I seem to have been nothing else.’

  Natalie lightly caressed his hard jaw. ‘I seem to remember a few occasions when you were definitely something else,’ she purred.

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’ He put her firmly away from him. ‘The next time I make love to you I’m going to have a gold wedding ring on your finger that’s going to stay there for a lifetime!’

  * * *

  Natalie picked up the green receiver from the telephone as it began to ring, absently wrestling with the accounts, promising herself for the hundredth time that she would get herself professional help.

  ‘Miss Faulkner?’ a male voice demanded to know.

  ‘Er—’

  ‘Miss Faulkner, you and I have an appointment in half an hour,’ the autocratic voice informed her. ‘But I find I’m suddenly free now.’

  Natalie smiled. ‘I’ll have to rearrange my schedule—’

  ‘Then do so.’ The line went dead.

  She moved calmly, serenely, locking away the accounts, picking up her handbag before going into the outer office. ‘I have to go out, Dee,’ she told her secretary. ‘Could you call Tracy and ask her to come in this afternoon instead of this morning?’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ her friend nodded, grinning.

  Natalie hummed to herself as she went out into the summer sunshine, unlocking her car to drive to her appointment. The lift seemed very slow as she took it up to the top floor, stepping straight into the lounge. Morton took her jacket, then quietly disappeared as Adam came through from the bedroom.

  ‘I hope you realise that I had to cancel an appointment with Tracy,’ she told him breathlessly, as always her senses beginning to spin just at the sight of him.

  ‘I’m sure she won’t mind.’ He walked steadily towards her, his gaze firmly fixed on hers.

  ‘She’s doing very well as Fantasy Girl, isn’t she?’

  ‘Very well,’ Adam curved her body into his. ‘She’s even started accepting the odd date.’

  Tracy had been accepted world-wide as the Fantasy Girl. Her image was perfect, the hint of sadness in her eyes only adding to her mystery.

  ‘I had a call from my parents this morning,’ she told him. ‘Judith and Jason are getting married.’

  ‘They are?’ He didn’t seem particularly interested.

  ‘Mm,’ she nodded. ‘Maybe they really do love each other.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He kissed her throat.

  Judith and Jason had left for America only weeks after Jason’s marriage had split up irrevocably. The fact that they were now going to get married must mean they felt genuine love for each other. As Natalie remembered Jason’s furious statement about being obsessed with Judith she thought perhaps that wasn’t so unlikely after all. Although she very much doubted the marriage would be tranquil and contented!

  ‘You know why I had to see you?’ Adam interrupted her wandering thoughts.

  She smiled, gladly putting thoughts of her sister and Jason out of her mind, although she knew her parents were relieved that the relationship was going to be legalised, and shocked at their younger daughter’s behaviour. ‘I think I can guess,’ Natalie grinned.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you all morning, darling.’

  ‘It’s only eleven o’clock!’ she laughed mockingly.

  ‘Three hours since I last made love to you!’ Adam groaned. ‘Come to bed.’

  ‘Gladly!’

  Afterwards she lay with her head on his shoulder, tracing patterns on his chest, loving the warm caress of his skin. Morton had become very adept at making himself scarce during the last ten months, and Natalie blushed as she realised just how much of that time she and Adam had spent in bed together.

  ‘You’d better make the most of this,’ she smiled up at him. ‘Soon there won’t be any lunchtimes spent in bed.’

  ‘No.’ Adam sat up to curve a hand round the contour of her stomach, her five months of pregnancy clearly showing in her otherwise slender body. ‘There is just one thing—’ He quirked one dark brow at her.

  She was lazily relaxed and satiated, smiling. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think the time has come to change the name of the agency,’ he mocked. ‘If I can call you “Miss Faulkner” and still get a response what must other people think when they see how very pregnant you are?’

  ‘They must think I have a very virile lover!’

  Adam chuckled. ‘And instead you just have a sex-craved husband!’

  ‘Yes,’ she laughed with him. ‘Besides, Adam Thornton has the monopoly on enough things around here without including my agency.’

  He rolled over and pinned her to the bed. ‘Do I have the monopoly on you?’ he sobered.

  ‘Well, not any more.’ She touched the hardness of his face. ‘Your son or daughter will soon have a large chunk of me too.’

  ‘If that’s the only competition I ever have I won’t mind,’ and he began to kiss her.

  Natalie marvelled at the passionate love she and Adam still felt for each other after almost a year of marriage. And soon they would have a child as a result of that love. Yes, perhaps now was the time to change the name of the agency to Thornton. She had so much. She was going to continue running the agency in an advisory capacity even when the baby had been born, with Dee taking over the management of it with the help of a young assistant.

  Adam had given her everything—the pride of being his wife, the honour of giving him a child. And he had done it all without smothering her own sense of independence, making her
bond to him all the stronger. Yes, Adam was a clever man, who knew her better than she knew herself, and he had bound her to him with a love that grew deeper as each day passed.

  * * * * *

  Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of USA Today bestselling author Sharon Kendrick’s new release,

  THE SHEIKH’S BOUGHT WIFE

  Marry for money? Jane Smith would normally laugh in Sheikh Zayed’s handsome face—but her sister’s debts need paying. Zayed must marry to inherit his land—and plain Jane is a convenient choice. But he hasn’t bargained on Jane’s delicious curves…

  Read on to get a glimpse of

  THE SHEIKH’S BOUGHT WIFE

  PROLOGUE

  ‘SO WHAT’S THE catch?’

  Zayed detected the faint ripple of unease which ran through his advisors as he shot out his silky question. They were nervous, he could tell. More nervous than was usual in the presence of a sheikh of his power and influence. Not that he cared about their nerves. On the contrary, he found them useful. Deference and fear kept people at a distance and that was exactly where he liked them.

  Turning away from the window which overlooked his magnificent palace gardens, he studied the men who stood in front of him—the guileless expression on the face of his closest aide, Hassan, not fooling him for a moment.

  ‘Catch, Your Most Supreme Highness?’ questioned Hassan.

  ‘Yes, catch,’ Zayed echoed, his voice growing impatient now. ‘My maternal grandfather has died and I discover he has gifted me one of the most valuable pieces of land in the entire desert region. Inheriting Dahabi Makaan was something which never even entered my mind.’ He frowned. ‘Which leaves me wondering what has prompted this gesture of unexpected generosity.’

  Hassan gave a slight bow. ‘Because you are one of his few remaining blood relatives, sire, and thus surely such a bequest is perfectly natural.’

  ‘That much may be true,’ Zayed conceded. ‘But until recently he had not spoken to me since I was a boy of seven summers.’

  ‘Your grandfather was undoubtedly touched by your visit as he lay on his deathbed—a visit he must surely not have been anticipating,’ said Hassan diplomatically. ‘Perhaps that is the reason.’

  Zayed’s jaw tightened. Perhaps it was. But the visit had not been inspired by love, since love had long departed from his heart. He had gone because duty had demanded it and Zayed never shirked from duty. He had gone despite the fierce pain it had caused him to do so. And yes, it had been a strange sensation to look upon the ravaged face of the old king, who had cut off his only daughter after her marriage to Zayed’s father. But death was the great equaliser, he remembered thinking bitterly as the gnarled old fingers had clutched at his. The stealthy foe from which no man or woman could ever escape. He had made his peace with his dying grandfather because he suspected it would have pleased his mother for him to do so, not because he’d been seeking some kind of financial reward.

  ‘Nobody gives something for nothing in this world, but perhaps this is an exception.’ Zayed’s eyes bored questioningly into those of his aide. ‘Are you telling me that the land is to be mine, without condition?’

  Hassan hesitated and the pause which followed sounded heavy. Ominous. ‘Not quite.’

  Zayed nodded. So his unerring instinct had not failed him after all! ‘You mean there is a catch,’ he said triumphantly.

  Hassan nodded. ‘I suspect that you will see it as one, sire—for in order to inherit Dahabi Makaan, you need to be…’ nervously, he licked his lips ‘…married.’

  ‘Married?’ echoed Zayed, his voice deepening with a dangerous note, which made the aides shoot glances of increasing anxiety at each other.

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  ‘You know my feelings about marriage.’

  ‘Indeed, sire.’

  ‘But just so there can be no misunderstanding, I will reiterate them for you. I have no desire to marry—at least, not for many years. Why tie yourself to one woman when you can enjoy twenty?’ Zayed gave a fleeting smile as he remembered visiting his mistress in New York last week and the sight of her lying on rumpled satin sheets clad in nothing but a tight black basque, her milky thighs open and welcoming. He cleared his throat and willed the hardening in his groin to subside. ‘I accept that one day I will need to provide my kingdom with an heir and that is the moment when I shall take a bride—a pure young virgin from my own kingdom. A moment which will not come for many decades, for a man can procreate until he is sixty, seventy—in some cases, even eighty. And since I believe it is the modern way for young women to enjoy all the expertise of an older lover, it will be a highly satisfactory arrangement for both participants.’

  Hassan nodded. ‘I understand your reasoning entirely, sire, and usually I would completely concur with your judgment. But this land is priceless. It is oil-rich and of huge strategic significance. Think how much it could benefit your people if it were to be yours.’

  Zayed felt indignation heat his blood. Didn’t he spend almost all his waking hours thinking about his people and how to do his best by them? Was he not the most successful of all the desert Sheikhs because of his dedication to his land and his determination to be a peacekeeper? And yet Hassan’s words were true. Dahabi Makaan would undoubtedly be a glittering jewel in the crown of his kingdom. Could he really turn his back on such a proposition? His mouth flattened. He remembered his dying grandfather croaking out a plea for him not to leave it too long to produce an heir, so that their bloodline could continue. And when Zayed had coolly remarked that he had no intention of marrying for many years, the old man’s face had crumpled. Had the wily old king decided that the only way to achieve his heart’s desire was to force the issue, by making marriage a condition of the inheritance?

  Yet the thought of marriage made Zayed want to recoil. To turn away from its insidious tentacles, which could bind a man in so many ways. He loathed marriage for more reasons than a high libido which demanded variety. He loathed the institution of marriage with all its flaws and baseless promises and the very idea of finding a bride in order to inherit was something which repulsed every fibre of his being.

  Unless…

  His mind began to pick over the possibilities—because wouldn’t only a fool turn down the chance to be master of a region renowned for the black gold known as oil, as well as its prized position straddling four desert countries?

  ‘Perhaps there is a way in which the conditions of the will could be met,’ he said slowly, ‘and yet not tie me into all the tedium and inconvenience of a long-term marriage.’

  ‘You know of such a way, sire?’ questioned Hassan. ‘Pray, enlighten us, Oh, knowledgeable one.’

  ‘If the marriage were not to be consummated,’ Zayed continued thoughtfully, ‘then it would not be legal and, as such, could quickly be dissolved. Is that not so?’

  ‘But, sire—’

  ‘No buts,’ said Zayed impatiently. ‘For the idea grows on me with every second which passes.’ Yet he could see the look of doubt on his aide’s face and knew very well what had caused it. Because Zayed was a man known for his virility. A man who needed the regular release of sex in order to sustain him—in the same way that a horse needed oats and exercise in order to live. He doubted there was a woman alive who could resist him in her bed and the idea that he could tolerate a sexless marriage was almost laughable. Yes, there were undeniably obstacles to such a chaste union but Zayed was a man who thrived on overcoming obstacles, and as he stared into Hassan’s perplexed face a brilliant idea began to form in his mind.

  ‘What if I were to choose a woman who does not tempt me in any way?’ he said slowly. ‘A drab woman who makes a mockery of all that is feminine. A woman who would turn a blind eye if I happened to stray. Surely that would provide the perfect solution?’

  ‘You know of such a woman, sire?’

  Zayed’s mouth flattened into a hard line. Oh, yes. He knew of such a woman. An image swam into his mind as he thought about Jane Smith who, with her mousy ha
ir and the colourless clothes which swamped her figure, fitted the bill perfectly. What was it that the English said about a woman on whom the gods had not gifted much in the way of looks? Plain Jane. Yes, indeed. Never had such a description been truer than of the uptight academic who was in charge of the archives of his embassy in London. For not only was she plain, she was also immune to his charms, some might even say disapproving—a fact he had registered a while back with something approaching incredulity. At first he’d thought she must be playing games with him. That she was using that well-known feminine ploy of affecting indifference towards a powerful man, in the hope that it would stir some interest in his groin and in his heart. As if any part of him could ever be stirred by Jane Smith! He had discovered her attitude to be real and not feigned when he’d overheard someone mentioning his name and, as he had silently rounded the corner of his London embassy, had seen her rolling her eyes. Insolent, foolish woman!

  Yet Jane loved his country with a passion which was rare for a foreigner and she knew it better than many of its natives, which was why he hadn’t instantly dismissed her for gross insubordination. She adored every contour of its deserts, its palaces and its rich, sometimes bloody history. Zayed’s heart gave a savage wrench of pain. A pain which had never quite healed no matter how hard he had tried to turn his back on it. Might not it help that healing process if he accepted his grandfather’s bequest and acquired Dahabi Makaan? To close a door on the past and to look beyond, to the future?

  ‘Prepare my jet, Hassan,’ he said harshly. ‘And I will fly to England to take the wretched Jane Smith as my bride.’

  Copyright © 2017 by Sharon Kendrick

  Don’t miss

  THE SHEIKH’S BOUGHT WIFE

  by USA Today bestselling author

  Sharon Kendrick,

  available May 2017 wherever

  Harlequin Books and ebooks are sold.

  www.Harlequin.com

  If you enjoyed this story by

  USA TODAY bestselling author

  CAROLE MORTIMER,