He didn’t like it.
The sharp caw of a seagull floating overhead jerked him back into the present. A woman not interested in him was a shocker. Usually woman pursued him—obsessively. He grimaced. Candace Danvers, however, hated his guts. The headline in this morning’s rag wasn’t going to endear him to her either. “The Sheik’s New Eye Candy” had his father on the phone at dawn, yelling at the top of his lungs about the trouble in their homeland without calling more scandalous attention to their problems. If his father had known the full extent of his shenanigans yesterday, he’d disown him.
Letting his focus slip from Candace to the crowd of paparazzi down her street, he surveyed their mounting numbers. Candace apparently was oblivious to their presence.
He wasn’t.
Their shocking and damaging photographs were slanderous. He’d deal with them later. Right now, all his senses were pleasantly engaged in observing his goddess.
Candace Danvers had knocked him for a loop the moment she appeared in the restaurant. From that second on, it was all he could do to keep from claiming her. If they’d met in his homeland’s desert with his civilized veneer dropped, his objective would already be accomplished.
Possessing her became a driving force, a pulsating driving force.
Yes, he’d have her.
Have her every way a man could have a woman.
He’d take his time with her, extending her pleasure, arousing her until she cried his name into the night, again and again. Oh, how he yearned to hear his name spilling from those bewitching berry-red lips, begging him for more.
Well, he’d better do something fast because right now, she wouldn’t even take his calls.
He’d already sent the apologetic offerings of candy and flowers. He grimaced as she’d stood on her deck, her beach house next to his, opened them, read the card, and then proceeded to dump them in her trash. He snorted his disapproval. He’d try jewelry next. If that option failed, he was prepared to work up to a Ferrari. He vowed she’d be his, body, mind, and soul, even if it took his entire wealth. If she still continued to refuse him? He’d invoke his ancestor’s tactics.
He’d never been possessive of a woman. Never had this strangling knot in his stomach, worrying about when she’d be his.
Never.
On the beach now, she waved to a man who grabbed his surfboard and ran up to her. She jabbed her surfboard into the sand before straining the water from her long blond hair, smiling at the man. Diyari’s teeth gnashed together when the man kissed her on her cheek. When she reached out and placed her hand against his bare chest, paralyzing jealous rifled through him. How dare this intruder touch her? She belonged to him!
A low growl erupted from him as they stood laughing. Were they merely friends or the unthinkable . . . lovers? She’d told him she wasn’t involved with anyone. Had she lied to him?
The sharp beep of his cell phone snagged his attention. Checking the number, he smiled as he answered. “What’s up, Taj?”
“Made quite a splash on the front cover of the newspapers this morning, didn’t you? You better hope Nina doesn’t see them.”
“I’ve already called her. She hasn’t seen them.” He knew his sister. If she’d seen those pictures, she’d kill him.
“Father’s mentioned it already.” The amused chuckle in his brother’s voice irked him.
“He called me at dawn, reading me the riot act.”
“What happened? This isn’t like you. Usually you’re the master of discretion where your women are concerned.”
A flush of humiliation heated his cheeks. He gulped in a huge breath before continuing, “It’s this woman. She’s smart, clever, a match for any man.” He threw his free hand up into the air. “She’s driving me crazy. I’m interested, crazy interested in her. I need to make her mine.”
A long moment of silence stretched between them.
Diyari knew he’d surprised his brother, hell, he surprised himself. Never had he talked about a woman in this fashion. Never had this instant and gnawing yearning crushed his body. Never. When it came to women, he always had the upper hand. Well, guess what, he’d just lost his status.
“What? Hold on, lover boy. You better slow down. You sound like one of our nomadic cousins.” Taj was laughing heartily now. “You can’t just take a woman because you want her. What’s gotten into you?”
He turned his back on Candace and her friend, concentrating all his attention on his younger brother. “I don’t know. She’s got me so tied up in knots, I’m going insane.”
Now his brother was really having a great laugh at his expense, the deep melodious laughter grating his nerves. Taj could laugh. He didn’t burn for a woman.
Taj continued to tease. “You have plenty of women just waiting for the opportunity to be with you. Why these antics?” After a minuscule pause, he shouted, “Oh—I get it! She said no to you.”
Diyari growled.
Silence filled the dead space between them. Diyari slammed his fist against the railing in frustration.
“I’m right. Aren’t I? She doesn’t want you.” His laughter filtered over the air.” Well, Allah be praised. We have found the only woman on the face of the earth that doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Taj’s deep chuckling put Diyari on the defensive. “Funny, real funny, brother.”
“I can’t wait to meet her. You’re bringing her with you tomorrow? Right?”
Diyari left out the breath he’d been holding since this conversation began. “Oh, I’ll have her on that plane tomorrow. You can bet the palace on it! Which I just might have to do.” They both laughed before the line on Taj’s side went silent.
Deadly silent.
“Diyari, I’ve actually called about a more serious matter.”
Acute trepidation permeated him. He trudged over to the edge of the terrace, all his attention centered on the distress he detected in his brother’s voice. “I figured you weren’t that interested in my love life. What’s up?”
“I took the liberty of calling the Black Scorpions together.”
Diyari frowned. Oh no, something else has happened. Damn. Maintaining his even breathing, he awaited the terrible news. “Because?”
“There are problems arising on the northern border, The National Resistance Group stirring up more than blown up oil refineries. Their making threats to Dad’s welfare . . . that sort of thing.”
Dread solidified his blood. “You’ve increased Dad’s bodyguard and the munitions they carry, right?”
“At dawn.”
“Good thinking.”
Dragging his hand along his thigh to dry his suddenly sweating palm, Diyari let out a weighted breath. This type of threat escalated at break-neck speed. Thoughts of what could happen streamed through his brain. Closing his eyes, he struggled against mounting fear for his father’s life. Duty to his family and the overwhelming love he felt for his father demanded he get home. The sooner the better. No one could protect his father better than his family.
Him.
“Where are you?” Diyari asked.
“Sitting on the tarmac in New York awaiting clearance for B’Quara.”
“Good. I’ll feel better when you’re home. Where are Khalid and Hasan?”
“Khalid is in the desert, he’s the one who alerted me to the trouble. Hasan is with Dad.”
Diyari breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent. In your opinion, how serious is the threat?”
“Extremely. After the incident with the oil wells and refineries, I’m not taking any chances. I’ve already changed your bodyguards to our men.”
“I noticed. Both yesterday and today, the place is flooded with personnel.”
“You need to use utmost caution.” Taj’s voice lacked any hint of the laughter i
t had only moments ago. “Do you need me to fly out to California and return with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine. I’ll be flying on dad’s personal jet.” A strained breath shuddered through him. “You stay on Dad.”
Taj took his job as head of security very seriously, his love for his family even more.
“Taj. You still haven’t told me your reason for calling up the Scorpions.”
Again, after a long silence from the other side of the line, his brother took an audible breath.
“Someone within the palace may be involved, and we are getting encrypted messages that the CIA may try to imbed an agent among us.”
Diyari’s mouth dropped open. “The CIA has been working with us for the past six or seven years, why would this make you nervous?”
“Rumors are flying that The National Resistance Group will attempt to assassinate Dad and spark a revolution . . .”
“Leading the extremists to take over the country?” Diyari finished.
“It appears that might be the case.”
“Unbelievable,” Diyari all but moaned.
“Yeah. None of this is good. What type of weapon do you have on you?”
“I have my Glock.”
“Good. Keep your eyes open, we don’t know how long of a reach these people have.” Taj paused for an elongated moment, letting the horror of the information sink in. “Diyari . . . I’ll be glad when you’re home.”
So would he.
“You stay on Dad. Do you hear me? If anything happens . . . you stay on Dad. And Taj, one more thing, do me a favor and run a background check on Ms. Candace Danvers. I’m not talking about the usual employment check, I need you to dig deeper.”
Amazement flooded Taj’s voice. “The wedding planner? Why?”
Diyari cocked his leg out to the side. “Just humor me, okay. With this type of news, one never knows where the threat will come from.”
“But the wedding planner . . .”
“Just humor me for once. And while you’re at it, get the details of Ms. Danvers’ husband’s death.”
“If you say so. Will do, Bro. Hurry home.”
As the line went dead, he pressed his phone against his forehead. He never felt so distanced from his homeland. He’d wrap up this ordeal with Candace and get home. They needed to leave today. He’d put in a call to his sister, and without giving her the explicit details, ask her to call Candace. Hopefully, Candace wouldn’t be able to resist a bride’s plea for help.
Chapter 3
“You can wipe that smile off your face. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. The only reason I’m doing this is for your sister. How she puts up with the likes of you is a mystery.” Candace pronounced, holding up her hand to ward off any caustic comment from Diyari as she stepped aboard his sleek private jet. She pitched her carry-on luggage at him. He caught it, his upper lip curling into that hormone-jolting smile, sucker-punching her in her solar-plexus like a right hook from a titled boxer. Devilishly handsome, the man had some excellent bone structure.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Danvers.”
With his slim hip balanced against the back of a bucket seat and his ankles crossed, one over the other, he appeared more like one of the college friends she used to have coffee with. Except for that smile. Wow! When he turned on the full wattage, it was impossible to think, to breathe . . . to function. But she already guessed at his secret. This warrior kept his Draconian persona under wraps. The apprehension she discerned radiating off him yesterday was still there. Embedded more deeply but magnified. What was making him so edgy? Surely, she wasn’t the core of his anxiety?
Senses on full alert as the engines roared to life, she moved deeper into the cabin, scanning the plush interior of the customized plan, the epitome of extravagance and elegance to the highest degree. The soothing strains of Gabriel Faure’s “Requiem” circulated around her as she walked. An aphrodisiac veil of his delicious cologne wreathed her.
The jet’s interior rivaled an exclusive motel—immense, lavish, richly decorated . . . opulent. Perfect for a jet-setting playboy sheik.
The buzz of her ringtone snapped her out of the erotic stupor he managed to weave around her every time they met. Rummaging through her backpack, she searched frantically for her iPhone. Pressing the talk button, she jerked as Jasmine’s voice all but blew out her eardrum.
“Are you insane? Get off that plane, right now!” Great! Already skeptical about being here. This was just what she needed.
Cupping the phone closer to her ear, she jumped in. “Jasmine, calm down, I know what I’m doing—”
“No, apparently, you don’t,” Jasmine interrupted before continuing, “Of all the crazy schemes. You can’t just zip off to a foreign country with some guy you know nothing about. Wait until I can send someone with you.”
Candace blotted the beads of sweat forming on her forehead, fighting to ease the mounting tension knotting her brows together. “But . . . but . . .” She tried to interject, but Jasmine continued to rant like a mother hen missing one of her chicks. “Jasmine,” she tried again, rolling her eyes. Nothing. Adding to her embarrassment, she realized Diyari and the crew could hear every word. “Please Jasmine, if you’ll just stop and listen to me for a moment!”
“No! Get off that plane!” Jasmine was literally shouting now. If it had been anyone else, she’d hang up. But this was her best friend, and Jasmine cared about her. That’s why she was so worried. This was fear for her best friend.
Candace drew in a deep breath as her gaze swung around the cabin as Jasmine continued to rant. Evidently, she didn’t give a flip who was eavesdropping. And then what was really bothering her emerged. “My God Candace, those pictures of you and him in the newspapers . . . What were you thinking?” she hurled. “You know the rules about crossing the line between business and pleasure! He’s the bride’s brother for God sakes! This isn’t like you. What’s gotten into you?”
Candace turned her back on the Sheik, her foot tapping out a frantic tempo. “Jasmine, really, give me a little credit. I’m on top of this.”
Jasmine’s exaggerated sigh whispered against her ear. At this point, she knew her friend wasn’t about to give up.
“This is grief talking, Candace.” Jasmine continued, eliminating her chance to respond. “You’ve had a horrendous year, you’re not thinking straight. You can’t fly off with the first man who kisses you.”
What? Where was this coming from? She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a second.
Her cheeks sizzled like pancakes on a griddle. “That’s not what I’m doing! I’m working on his sister’s wedding. Period. Nothing else.”
“Nothing else? Right! Did you see those pictures? You and him . . . Oh, my God. Are you blind? They were scandalous, like something from an R rated movie. You can tell that lie to everyone else, but this is me, your best friend, and I know better. You are enthralled with this guy.”
She literally shook with rage. “No. I’m. Not.” Candace protested, turning and watching the prince beneath her lowered lashes. “I can handle this.”
There was a long pause before Jasmine proceeded. “That’s just it! You can’t.” Jasmine stressed each word and syllable. “This guy is way out of your league. The whole world is his playing field. He can do anything and get away with it.”
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
A hard knot formed in her stomach, but she ignored the pressure and renewed her protest. “I’m not attracted to him. Get over it already!” She lied, defiance sharpening her tone.
Unfazed, Jasmine bounded on. “He has a harem—a freaking harem, Candace! And unless you’re willing to be one of his playmates, you better get the hell off this merry-go-round before it’s too late. I’ll send someone else.”
A harem. Really . .
. Boldly her gaze inched up his body until her eyes hooked with his. That bad-boy grin of his confirmed her suspicions. Good God! Was it possible? Did he maintain a harem? Placement of rose petals . . . Her heartbeat was off the charts. Nah, she shook her head, reassuring herself. That idea went out with silent movies. So why did that forbidden thought send an intense rush of heat down below?
Narrowing her eyes, she gave him her sternest glare, daring him to say anything. His hand slid across his mouth, hiding the hearty snicker he couldn’t prevent, those wide-wide shoulders shaking with the effort. She liked this playful side of him, liked it more than she should. Pointing a finger at him, she mouthed the words ‘stop it.’ When she got off this phone, he was toast.
Again, Candace rolled her eyes in exasperation. Of course, she understood Jasmine’s concern. Jasmine had picked her up from a groveling pile of misery after Bobby’s death. She’d fought diligently to restore her to a living, breathing, functioning individual. Candace sighed audibly. Yes, she owed Jasmine—a hell of a lot—for everything. She realized that. She’d always be grateful, indebted to her. But her mission was her principal concern. If her hunch proved correct, Prince Diyari secured her a permit to complete that mission, giving her a chance to pick his gorgeous brain. Shouldering her distress to the back of her mind, she centralized her thoughts. Her determination congealed into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach. She needed to rally her thoughts, her plans, and get on with the business of producing intel. She’d allowed this conversation to continue way too long. But this situation required her to use kid gloves while dealing with her friend.
Snapping her mouth closed, she bit her tongue to keep from saying something she’d be sorry for later. Something in the neighborhood of I’m a grown woman, stop treating me like a child. Instead, she said, “Drop it Jasmine! I’m going to B’Quara. What could happen?”
For the Sheik's Pleasure (Sheiks in Love Book 2) Page 6
