The Sheik's Dangerous Temptation

by Mary Jo Springer

  Malik closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear anymore, didn’t know if he could bear it. “Can it wait until tomorrow when we are dressed for work?”

  “It can, but it shouldn’t.”

  Grrr! What now? If he were a drinking man, he’d be halfway through a bottle of whiskey by now. A shiver of apprehension rolled over him like a dark omen. Pure instinct told him this new information would change his life forever.

  They were interrupted when the door to his office slammed against the wall.

  “Uncle?” Malik asked, amazement filling him. What was he doing here at this hour?

  Safwan moved steadily toward him. “I’ve just heard some very distressing news . . . that another attempt was made on your life.” Safwan halted before Malik’s desk and stared down at him. “Please tell me it isn’t so.”

  Malik rose from his chair and skirted the edge of his desk to come face-to-face with his uncle. “Yes, an attempt was made, but as you can see, I’m fine.”

  Safwan enfolded him in a giant bear hug. “I’m so very glad you were not harmed. You look exhausted.” His gaze swung over to Nazem. “Surely the rest of this can wait until tomorrow?”

  Nazem shrugged his shoulders.

  “You’re tired. You need to get away from the palace for a while. Come to the desert for a few days to regain your focus and your vigor. It will do you good, my son.”

  Some time away from the electronics and the daily grind of duties and reporters sounded perfect, so Malik nodded his head in agreement. He was bone-crushingly tired, and these constant attempts on his life were making him crazy. He needed to get away, if only for a few days. “I’d like that. But it will have to wait until after the fundraiser.”

  “Of course.” Safwan clapped him on the back. “Then it is settled. You can leave for the desert a few days before the council of the elders. Bring your falcon, and we’ll do some hunting. Believe me when I say this will revive you. It will give you a chance to get back to your roots.”

  Behind them, Nazem coughed.

  “Now that I see that you are all right, I’ll be on my way.” Safwan started for the door, then turned. “And your patient, that little girl who lost her memory, she is all right, as well?”

  “My patient is just fine. I’m taking good care of her, but her memory hasn’t returned as of yet.”

  “And this is a concern?”

  “Not yet, but I’m hoping to see some progress soon.”

  “Bring her, as well. We can only hope some time away will jumpstart her memory.” Smiling, Safwan turned and walked out of the room.

  ~ ~ ~

  The hooded man stood in the middle of his armed men. “Once again we have failed in our mission. The king and his whore still live.” The masked man continued to walk around the circle, staring at each of his men in turn. They hung their heads like guilty dogs. Only the snap of campfire wood broke the silence of the night.

  “I need them dead. I need them dead, now.” The winds of the desert kicked up, blowing a whirlwind of stinging sand all around them. The flames in the campfire danced as the wind continued to escalate, casting an otherworldly glow on the men in the circle.

  Frustrated, the hooded man raised his rifle and fired shots into the air.

  “Who will be the savior of this nation and remove this usurper?” Fog from his heated breath surrounded his head as he continued, “I need a man or several men to volunteer to make another attempt on the king’s life. Make no mistake, you will die if you fail.”

  The entire circle stepped forward.

  “Good, I have chosen well.”

  ~ ~ ~

  She appeared so small, fragile . . . sexy. A wave of possessiveness swirled inside him, followed by a surge of desire. For the first time in a year, he had a reason to get up in the morning. Someone actually needed him. He stared at her lying there in his bed, her lips red as succulent berries from his kisses. Her skin as soft as the silken sheets cradling her. His libido urged him forward, but common sense held him firmly in place. After last night’s discussion, he couldn’t shake off this feeling that something was amiss. Call it a premonition, but his brain was on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. Could a woman make love to a man the way she had last night and turn around and kill him? No one was that mercurial. And yet . . . a year ago, he would have sworn the answer was no. But now, after all that happened with his family, doubt edged its way into his soul. Just how well did he know his Jane Doe? Yes, he knew her body like his own, but the musings of her mind? Could any man know the workings of a woman’s brain?

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Yes, her beauty was beyond compare, but a pretty face can disguise what is truly in a person’s heart. His eyes bore into her, hypnotized by the slight slippage of the sheet with each breath she drew. He moved closer, unable to resist.

  Was she bent on seduction? Or betrayal and assassination? And how had those ideas taken a foothold in his mind? Why were they plaguing him? He no more believed she was an assassin than he would suspect Nazem or his uncle.

  She stirred, whispering his name in her dreams. He stripped and sank to the bed, his knee dipping the mattress, his fingers fisting the silk sheet. His eyes narrowed, regarding her like his falcon observed his prey.

  Her eyes opened. “Your reputation, my lord, is greatly deserved,” she sexily murmured, her voice husky with the fragments of sleep.

  All suspicion evaporated.

  He instantly hardened. He smiled, then bent and kissed her, closing his eyes against the irresistible impulse to crawl back into his bed and take her. He wanted this woman, wanted her in his bed and in his life. She’d brought him back to being human again. Shifting, she drew the covers back and invited him in. What man could resist such an open invitation? Not him. He was right where he wanted to be tonight. In the arms of the woman he cared for deeply. Kissing her, his fingers spread out over her naked flesh. How smooth, how tempting, how sexually arousing her little sounds of elation were . . . They thrilled his masculine soul. Rolling over her into a push-up position, he settled those silken strands of her hair behind the delicate shell of her ear.

  “You hold me captive with your beauty.”

  Her fingers traced the structure of his face, lingering on his mouth. He drew her finger into his mouth, sucked on the delicate flesh, the sexual sensation barreling straight to his gut.

  “You’ve been gone forever. I missed you,” she groaned, as his fingers slid down her stomach.

  The honeyed pleading in her voice made him throw caution to the wind.

  “I’ve missed this,” he confessed, as his lips descended over hers. Hot flesh melded to hot flesh. He growled his satisfaction. Allah help him if Nazem proved right. Pain formed in the area around his heart, as if Nazem’s accusations had sliced off a part of that vital organ.

  “Do not make me beg, my lord. Take me.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Chapter 8

  The party cascaded around him in the ballroom. He paused to take in the enchanted splendor of the One Thousand and One Nights evening. Black silk tablecloths with gold silk overlays donned the circular tables. Huge gold candelabras dominated the center of each table. A sixteen-piece orchestra occupied the far wall, and the melodious strain of Gershwin’s “Someone to Watch Over Me” had the couples swaying across the dance floor. His nose picked up the delicious scents of the extravagant buffet. There was lamb, grilled chicken, and hors d’oeuvres to suit every palate. More gold silk draped the walls and ceiling, giving the room the appearance of an elegant desert tent. If he remained on target, he’d raise around fourteen million dollars for his new orphanage tonight. He smiled, adjusting his black bow tie. He was happy to do his part for the good cause, and whatever the final sum, he’d promised to match it. It was money well spent.

 
He moved farther into the ballroom, nodding and shaking hands with people he recognized, as well as those he knew only by reputation. He was delighted that so many people had shown up to support a cause so dear to his heart.

  He waited for Jane to appear, marveling at how present she had been in his thoughts. In fact, she was constantly on his mind. Their lovemaking was on his mind day and night— memories of the feel of her around him, taking him in, pleasuring him until he cried out in his climax. He spent every second of the day desiring to be with her, on top of her, inside her. She drove him to distraction. Thoughts of her ruled his waking hours and when night fell, her body was his dominion. It didn’t help that her mind and soul seemed to be as beautiful as her body. He admired the work she did at the orphanage, starting new programs, interviewing prospective adoptive parents, and working with educators to develop a curriculum for the future. She was developing her own following of adoring fans. Everybody loved her. He worshipped her, yet those crazy doubts still lingered . . . festering within him, popping up at the most inconvenient times.

  He could barely keep his mind on work. When he wasn’t around her, his mind spun with ideas of what he wanted to do to her, like a risqué filmstrip on repeat. He found himself turned on at the most inopportune moments, usually right in the middle of an important meeting. It was hell, it was heaven, and he didn’t know how to function anymore without her.

  Even now, waiting for her, he felt restless, edgy, his body reacting to a summons only her body could issue. But in the back of his mind, the dark questions lingered. Was she a dangerous temptation placed in his way, solely for the purpose of distracting him? Was she connected with the revolutionaries as Nazem still feared? No way, his mind screamed.

  He hunkered down and opened his arms as a group of children from the orphanage ran to him, hugging him like he was a favorite uncle. He adored these kids; they were the song of his heart. Truth be told, he shared a kinship with them. They were all orphans. They had become his personal salvation when the fates chose to take his family from him. He’d do anything for them.

  One cherub-faced little girl dressed in a multi-layered pink lace dress yanked at the hem of his tuxedo jacket.

  “Your Highness,” she said, her sweet voice tugging his heartstrings.

  He glanced over, bringing his face down to her level. “What can I do for you, Lacey?” Lacey wasn’t her real name, but she always wore tons of ruffles and lace. He was the one who’d come up with her nickname, and the endearment had stuck. At six years old, she’d already vowed to be a princess one day.

  Huge saucers of gold locked onto him.

  “Pick me up, Your Highness. I can’t see—everyone’s taller than me.”

  He flicked a finger against her nose playfully. “And just what is so important for you to see?”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “The beautiful lady everyone is talking about.”

  “Which lady, honey?” he asked, drawing his brows together.

  The little elf jerked on his jacket hem again and pointed her tiny appendage at the door. He turned around, following her dainty finger until his gaze found . . . Jane.

  The rest of the room fell away.

  Standing in the entrance, she appeared every inch the supermodel in a floor-length black chiffon and silver beaded dress. Her long blond hair, shining like burnished gold, was pulled into a severe knot at the back of her head. Tucked behind her left ear was a huge gardenia, and her lips were stained with bright devil-red lipstick. Her sleek demeanor resembled a Spanish Flamenco dancer.

  Ice and heat overtook his body as his blood pounded through his veins.

  Everyone else seemed as enchanted as he was; silence filled the ballroom as she advanced deeper into it.

  She was positively stunning. He wanted her, right now, in that incredibly gorgeous dress.

  His eyes glided over her, taking in the way her gown hugged every shapely curve. Though covered from head to toe by a layer of floating chiffon, she still managed to capture the attention of everyone at the party. The multitude of hand-sewn crystals caught the light, and she appeared to be floating in the night sky among the stars. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. A spark of jealousy flared. She appeared flawless and demure, and he never wanted a woman so bad in his life. His whole being filled with longing. She was absolutely beautiful in the gown he’d picked out with her only yesterday. He never imagined shopping with a woman could be so enjoyable. And it appeared their trip had been successful if the hush of the crowd was any indication.

  Flashbulbs popped incessantly as she made her way deeper into the room. Tomorrow she’d grace the cover of every magazine around the world. Tonight . . . she erased every doubt he ever had.

  People crowded around her, and she greeted them with an extended hand and a dazzling smile, as if she were the one born to royalty. Despite his fierce possessiveness, he smiled. If Lacey melted his heart, his lover made it sing. Soon the crowd around her grew to such proportions it stole her from his vision. Again, he felt a slight pull on his jacket. Lacey. Oh, hell, he’d forgotten all about her.

  Hunkering down next to her, he asked, “Would you like to meet her?”

  A wide smile, highlighted by her missing front teeth, spread across her cherubic face, forcing her dimples into deep lines. His heart did a free fall.

  “Oh, can I, Your Highness?” Her voice sounded airy and fragile.

  Something about her made him think of his little sister, Sattia. He would miss her first ball, her first crush on a boy. Sorrow filled his soul like a knife to his gut. Sattia. He whispered her name, his chest constricting. Sometimes, late at night in the darkness of his bedroom, he’d pull up the last message she’d left him on his cell phone. He’d listen to it over and over again, wanting to hear her say how much she loved him. He hadn’t returned that message; he’d been too busy. How he wished he had. He swallowed the lump of emotion blocking his throat and glanced down at the smiling innocent child at his feet.

  He picked her up in his arms and headed toward Jane. The crowd parted to make way for him.

  “Habib albi,” he said as she came into sight once more, his eyes raking her from head to foot. The heat flowing through him could melt steel. Her cheeks burned a bright red; she must have read his carnal thoughts. “This is Lacey. A big fan of yours.”

  To his surprise, Jane reached out to take Lacey from his arms. Pulling the child close, Jane feathered her dark curls over her shoulder. “Miss Lacey, I’m so happy to meet you,” she said, her smile going even wider. Nervous giggles erupted from Lacey. “You are so beautiful that even His Highness thinks you’re beautiful!”

  Now his cheeks burned like the desert sun against the sand.

  “But you are so much more beautiful than me,” Jane teased, nestling the child’s head into her shoulder. “I love your dress. It’s very pretty.”

  “His Highness bought it for me,” the girl said proudly, picking at the ruffles.

  Jane’s gaze turned to him. “What a coincidence. His Highness bought this dress for me also.”

  They both laughed, several guests from the crowd joining them. Malik merely bowed. “It was my pleasure, ladies.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask Jane to dance?” Lacey asked. “I’m sure she wants you to.”

  Giving the girl a stern look, he said, “You little minx, I can do my own asking, thank you very much.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Lacey’s forehead. “Would you like to dance?” he asked Jane, raising an eyebrow.

  “Go on, Miss Jane, he’s a great dancer.”

  He pulled at the cuffs of his formal silk shirt. “Thanks for the recommendation, little one.” Now everyone in the crowd was laughing. Reaching for Lacey, Malik pulled her from Jane’s arms and set her on her feet. “Run along and employ your matchmaking services elsewhere.”

  J
ust as he finished speaking, the head mistress of the orphanage appeared and claimed Lacey’s small hand. “I apologize, Your Highness, sometimes she’s . . .”

  “Perfect just the way she is.” He interrupted the woman before she could say another word.

  Turning to Jane, he extended his hand in invitation. She took it, shooting a blast of heat straight to his groin. From deep within the crowd, a man’s voice shouted, “I’ll donate one million dollars if His Highness will dance the tango as he did at the Children’s Gala in L.A. last year.”

  He smiled, holding up his hand. “I’m sorry. A professional dancer gave me many, many lessons before I did that.”

  Everyone laughed, but the determined guest upped the ante. “Two million, Your Highness!”

  How could he refuse? The money was needed. What were the chances that Jane knew how to tango? She probably didn’t even know if she did. He looked up to heaven for some sort of divine intervention.

  “Okay, okay,” he conceded, waving his hands in front of him to ward off further encouragement. “Do you tango?”

  “Three million.” The man continued to up the ante. How could he say, no.

  “Jane, do you tango?” Malik asked again, his eyebrow rising.

  Jane gave him a shy smile before answering, “Of course, Your Highness.”

  With a wave of his hand, the orchestra began the slow, intimate beat of the South American dance. He held his breath as Jane stepped into the circle of his arms. He faltered as her passion, the scent of that glorious perfume she wore, and her bigger than the desert smile hit him smack in the solar plexus. His breath rushed out.

  She hooked her arm around his neck. For a quick moment, the heat of her fingers brushed against the sensitive nape of his neck, tangling in his hair, and the unexpected sensation made his body jerk. A bolt of sexual yearning detonated inside him.