Taming the Sheik

by Carol Grace

  “Tell me more about your date,” Sally said as she zipped up Anne’s dress.

  “He’s not really…”

  “I know he’s not really your date. But he is calling for you, isn’t he? That sounds like a date to me.”

  “I think it’s more like he’s afraid I won’t go to the ball if he doesn’t come and get me,” Anne explained. “As I said, he doesn’t know many women in town and that’s why I got invited.”

  “Well, I’ll just slip away before he comes then so I won’t be in the way,” Sally said.

  “No,” Anne said. “Don’t leave. I might do something rash. Like run away.” She laughed nervously, but that’s exactly what she wanted to do. Run as far as she could so she didn’t have to face the man. Because she was going to have to swallow her pride and explain why she needed a fiancé as much as he did.

  Sally laughed too at the ridiculousness of the idea of her running away in her new black dress from a gala ball. But then she didn’t know the whole story. Anne was afraid that she herself didn’t know the whole story either. And neither did Rafik for that matter. He didn’t know about her headmistress and the pressure on her and though he’d told her his side of the story, she didn’t know what really happened that night. She sighed and the doorbell rang. Her heart stopped beating for one moment, then she took a deep breath and went to the door.

  Instantly all of the air in her lungs seemed to rush out, leaving her totally out of breath. He was that handsome. She’d seen him in a tuxedo before, but somehow she hadn’t appreciated his dark good looks before. Maybe it was the porch light shining on his coal-black hair. Maybe it was the gasp she heard Sally make when she saw him. Maybe it was that he was simply the most attractive man she’d ever met. Physically, that is.

  Anne stepped back, and Rafik walked through the open door. He too seemed to have lost his ability to speak. He just stood staring at her. Of course, she looked a little different from the last time he’d been there when she was in dungarees and a T-shirt.

  Finally she caught her breath and remembered her manners. “I…Rafik this is my friend Sally. She came by to…uh…”

  “To say hello,” Sally said. “Happy to meet you, Rafik. I’ll be off now. You two have a wonderful time.”

  At the door, Rafik engaged Sally in conversation before she left while Anne went to get her wool coat. She could tell by the look on Sally’s face she thought he was charming. He didn’t even know how charming he was being, she thought. It was so much a part of him. But Sally knew. Before she left, she gave Anne a knowing wink and a thumbs-up. Then they were on their own. In the car they talked about the weather and about the newlyweds who were back from their honeymoon. They talked about anything but the matters at hand. Anne was grateful that he was a good conversationalist.

  She dreaded silence between them. Silence would give her time to think and worry. It would give her time to think about him and what she had to ask him. She was only too aware of the way he surrounded her with soft music from his sound system, the smell of leather and the heated seats. It was luxury pure and simple. Of course she’d been in this car before, but she hadn’t been alert enough to appreciate the quiet purr of the engine and the skill of the driver. He kept up an effortless stream of conversation without any mention of an engagement, false or otherwise.

  When they arrived at the historic hotel on Market Street, Rafik helped Anne from the car.

  “May I be the first to say before we go inside, that you look very beautiful tonight?” he said in his deep quiet voice.

  “Thank you,” she said. She was afraid he said that to all his dates. Maybe flattery was just one of the tools he used to get what he wanted. But he sounded sincere. He looked sincere, too. His dark eyes were fixed on hers and of course she wanted to believe him. She also wanted to tell him how very gorgeous he looked, but she thought he probably already knew that and she was way too shy to say anything so personal anyway.

  They walked into the high-ceilinged ballroom together, arm in arm. The scent of expensive perfume was in the air. The candles in gold sconces along the wall gave off a warm light. The tight knot of nervousness in the pit of Anne’s stomach relaxed somewhat. Rafik put his hand on the small of her back, a gesture which might have been annoying coming from someone else, but tonight in that atmosphere, it felt protective and reassuring.

  Rafik introduced her to many people, whose names she instantly forgot. She met his mother, who was a small and graceful older woman with silver hair swept back from her unlined face. She told Anne how much she had been looking forward to meeting her.

  “My sons and my husband have told me so much about you,” Nura Harun said in lightly accented English. “Rafik,” she chided her son. “You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful.”

  He smiled. “I wanted to surprise you, Mother. In any case, Anne’s looks are secondary to her good nature.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you at last,” the older woman said. “I didn’t have a chance at the wedding.” Then she asked Anne how she knew Carolyn and posed some questions about her teaching job. Apparently satisfied by what she had learned, she shooed them toward the dance floor. “Now don’t let me keep you from enjoying the party,” she said.

  Rafik led Anne to the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his parents in earnest discussion while their glances followed him and Anne. He could just imagine what they were saying. How happy they must be, thinking what a good choice Anne would be for him. She would be too if he wanted to get married. But he didn’t. At least not for quite some time. After he’d had his fill of playing the field. When he’d learned how to judge women better.

  As for Anne, he didn’t know if she was interested in marriage, but if she was, he was quite certain it wouldn’t be to him. She’d made it clear he was not her type. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do him a small favor and pretend to be his fiancée.

  He was just going to ask her about that little favor, but once he put his arms around her, and her hair brushed his cheek and the fragrance of her skin filled his senses, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to spoil the mood. She fitted perfectly in his arms, as if she’d been made for him. Which was probably what his parents were thinking as they watched them dance.

  He probably ought to move away, just put a little distance between them to avoid any gossip, if possible. But she felt so good, so right in his arms. He pressed her close and heard her sigh softly. He didn’t know what it meant. But if she’d wanted to pull away, she could have. After a few songs, he thought of taking a break and getting a glass of champagne for each of them, but he didn’t want to break the spell. The music, the soft lights and a beautiful woman in his arms. What more could a man want?

  She didn’t speak and neither did he. What was there to say? He wished the music would never end. When it did end, and the orchestra took a break, they stayed where they were, hand in hand, their gazes locked on each other. What did he see in her eyes? He saw something he’d never seen before. Something he hadn’t seen in any other women he’d romanced. And there had been quite a few. They were usually beautiful, always sexy and self-assured. They played the same games he did. They knew the rules. Nobody gets involved and nobody gets hurt. They were fun and exciting. You could talk to these women, laugh with them and love them. For a while.

  Anne was not one of these women. She was different. In her eyes he saw honesty and trust. He saw a woman without pretense, without guile. A woman who didn’t know the rules. And that scared him. It scared him so much he wanted to run away. But even more he wanted to stay. Stay with her in his arms there on the dance floor forever.

  He thought he knew a lot about women. But he didn’t know how to handle Anne. The music started again, and she went into his arms without a word, as if it was meant to be. So much for his running away. He knew there were other couples around, he knew that the lights went up again and then dimmed, he knew that time was passing, but all he really knew was that he wanted the night to go on forever.


  He wondered if Anne felt the same. He couldn’t get over how stunning she looked tonight. Her one bare shoulder tantalized him. He wanted to bare the other one, too. He wanted to press his lips against her skin. He wanted to inhale her scent and never let her go. She was by far the most beautiful woman in the room. The sexiest and the most desirable. And she was his. His for tonight, anyway.

  She was his until his brother tapped him on the shoulder and cut in. Before he could tell him to buzz off and leave them alone, Rahman introduced himself to Anne.

  “Hello,” Rahman said to Anne. “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Rahman, the younger, good-looking twin. I’m sure you don’t mind leaving my brother for a dance or two. You two have been at it forever as my parents have noted. It’s time you stopped monopolizing this lovely lady, Rafik,” he said to his brother.

  “Get lost,” Rafik said, glaring at his brother. “Go find somebody else to dance with. Anne is taken.”

  “Really? That sounds serious. By the way, Rafik, the parents want a word with you. They’re getting ideas.”

  “Ideas. What does that mean? Oh, all right.” Rafik recognized the determined look on his brother’s face and he didn’t want to make a scene on the dance floor, so he clamped his lips together and walked away just as he heard his brother saying to Anne, “May I say that you look sensational tonight?”

  Rafik almost turned around and cut back in, but he didn’t want to overreact. His brother was a born flirt. He used words like that all the time. Most women didn’t take him seriously. But Anne was different. She might think he was serious. He looked serious, Rafik thought with a quick glance over his shoulder. It was a mistake to look backward, he realized, as he ran right into his parents. He found that they were positively beaming at him.

  His father put his arm around his shoulder. “We’re very pleased with your choice of partner, Rafik,” Massoud said. “She’s a lovely girl.”

  “Partner? You mean dance partner, of course. Yes she is very lovely, Father, but don’t get the wrong idea.”

  “I couldn’t possibly get the wrong idea about such a woman,” Massoud said. “Nor could your mother. We all agree you couldn’t have made a better choice.”

  Choice? Choice of partner? Did his father mean choice of dance partner or life partner? He was just about to warn his father not to jump to conclusions, but at that moment a business acquaintance interrupted them with some news of an investment prospect for his father. Rafik leaned against the wall by himself moodily watching his brother dance with his date. Not only dance, but talk animatedly, as if they were old friends. Anne didn’t seem shy at all. He regarded them with narrowed eyes, hoping Rahman would feel his animosity from there and give her back to him. How soon would it be proper to cut in on them, he wondered. And why didn’t his brother find his own woman to dance with?

  He couldn’t stand it another moment. He went out to the dance floor and as politely as possible told his brother it was his turn now. Rahman shrugged and retreated.

  “I’m sorry you got stuck with my brother,” Rafik said, taking Anne into his arms again.

  “I wasn’t stuck,” she said. “I enjoyed talking to him.”

  “More than you enjoy talking to me?” he asked.

  She blushed but didn’t answer. Maybe because the answer was yes.

  “You’ve made quite an impression on my family,” Rafik said.

  “They seem very nice, but I hardly know them,” she protested.

  “They like what they see,” he said. “I’m afraid that’s your fault. You look beautiful and you’re charming, too. I’m afraid they’re going to be disappointed when they find out you’re not going to be my fiancée. That is if you haven’t reconsidered my proposition.”

  Anne knew what she had to say. She just couldn’t say it. Now that she needed him to pretend as much as he needed her, she was tongue-tied. When she was in his arms, swaying to the music, her head against his chest, she felt as if she was made of molten lava. The way he looked at her made her feel very desirable. His arms around her made her feel soft and fragile and protected.

  But then that was his way. He was born to seduce women. Pretending anything with him could be very dangerous. Like playing with fire. She reminded herself that he was a handsome, rich man who only wanted a fiancée to please his parents. As he’d told her, he had no intention of getting engaged or married for real. But she was not a player the way he was. She was a vulnerable young woman who’d never had a serious boyfriend. Any more romancing, dancing and flattery and she might succumb and start believing…that fantasy was reality. She’d allowed herself to come under the spell of the night and the music and the man. Now was the time to shake off these romantic delusions and face the facts.

  She knew what she had to do. She must tell him now that she couldn’t possibly reconsider any scheme to fool his parents. Not for her sake or theirs. Yes, it might cause her a problem at the school, but she’d have to deal with that. It would be better than tricking his family, whom she was beginning to like. His brother was amusing and fun and his parents seemed very kind and not at all overbearing. If he was going to disappoint them, that was his problem. They had no business fooling such nice people as that.

  The music stopped and she pulled away out of Rafik’s arms and immediately felt the loss. She realized she could spend hours in his arms, with his breath fanning her cheek, the scent of his skin and his clothes surrounding her, seducing her. Making her want more. Yes, it was time to put an end to this charade. He was not interested in her except as a novelty, and she was not interested in him. She didn’t belong in this society any more than a robin belongs in an aviary. She dropped one hand from his shoulder but he didn’t let go of the other.

  “Rafik,” she said. “I have no intention…”

  A hush fell over the room as his father stepped onto the bandstand. The drummer executed a drumroll. Anne had a feeling of foreboding. She wished she’d spoken to Rafik earlier.

  “What does this mean?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his forehead drawn in a frown.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Sheik Massoud Harun began. “We have invited you here tonight to get to know you. And for you to get to know us. We are strangers here in San Francisco, but you have made us feel welcome. My wife and I have the honor to announce the engagement of our elder son, Rafik.”

  Anne felt the blood drain from her face. “What on earth…” she murmured.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him not to get the wrong idea,” he muttered. “But apparently he did. He told me he was pleased with my choice of a partner. I thought he meant dance partner. I should have known. Don’t worry. It’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll straighten him out.”

  “He seems to be beckoning to us,” Anne said. She felt her face flame. She wished she could find a hole and hide. Instead she felt all eyes on her as she and Rafik walked hand in hand to the bandstand. How would he tell his father that it was a mistake when everyone in the whole room was clapping, the orchestra was playing something romantic and the lights had been turned up so everyone could see them?

  In fact, telling his father at this moment would be next to impossible. She knew and Rafik must also know that his family would be humiliated. So they stood next to his parents on the bandstand for what seemed to be an eternity. She smiled until she felt her face would crack while Rafik whispered in her ear that she was not to worry, that he’d fix everything.

  When they’d received congratulations from dozens, maybe hundreds of strangers, they finally filed into the dining room where white tables were set up for a sumptuous buffet. Seeing the pride on Rafik’s parents’ faces, she knew he couldn’t tell them now. With her plate full of lobster thermidor and slices of rare roast beef, tiny new potatoes and green beans amandine, she was seated between Rafik and his mother. Rafik seemed subdued. She couldn’t blame him. He had an enormous task ahead of him, telling
his parents it was all a mistake. Anne supposed she too ought to be subdued, knowing she had an unpleasant task ahead of her, trying to explain to her headmistress that she was no longer engaged.

  Fortunately there was no more dancing after the dinner. Rafik promised they’d leave as soon as possible, but so many people wanted to talk to him and congratulate him, it took at least another hour to get away. It was an hour of agony for Anne. She could hardly bear to look at his parents and listen to them telling everyone how happy they were for the young couple. She could tell that both his mother and father were genuinely pleased. That this was something they had wanted for a long time. She seriously wondered how Rafik would be able to burst their bubble and tell them it wasn’t true.

  Rafik’s mother took her aside and told her how happy she was. “We will have to get to know each other better,” Nura said.

  Anne didn’t know what to say. All she could manage was a nervous smile.

  “We don’t have a house yet for entertaining, but I would like to invite you to tea at the hotel. They tell me they do it rather nicely. Nothing like the Dorchester in London, of course, but if you are free one day…?”

  Again, Anne could only smile, which seemed enough encouragement for Rafik’s mother.

  “Shall we say Tuesday then? Since you are a school-teacher—such a suitable occupation for a young unmarried woman—then I hope you will be free to join me. Meet me in the lobby of the St. Francis at two, if that is convenient.”

  Anne nodded. How could she say no? How could she say anything at all with her throat clogged? Nura was so kind and would be so disappointed when she learned the truth. Anne hoped she wouldn’t have to face her after that happened. As soon as Rafik explained that the engagement was not for real, the invitation would probably be recalled.

  In the car on the way back to her house Rafik promised her that he would tell them.

  “Just do me a favor and give me a little time,” he said as he pulled up in front of her house.