Rachael Thomas - Hired To Wear The Sheikh's Ring

‘Indeed, yes.’ He moved towards her and the scent of his aftershave, exotic and wild, hit her as it had done on the dance floor. At least this time she wasn’t pressed against his body, feeling every move he made, igniting sensations—hot, burning sensations—she’d never felt before. ‘And therefore I would like to engage your services.’

‘You’re getting married.’ She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. This man was a playboy desert sheikh who made no secret of the many women he’d loved and left. She’d found that out very easily when she’d looked him up on the Internet, just as she always did with every best man she was paired with. At least then she was able to find out the type of man he was, but Sheikh Jafar Al-Shehri had surpassed every other best man she’d worked alongside. Ruler of a desert kingdom, a reformed playboy prince after unexpectedly inheriting the title, he was the ultimate incarnation of everything she wanted to avoid in a man.

He was also everything she’d been searching for in a man, yet had never expected to find. Ever since her only steady boyfriend had dumped her because she’d wanted to wait until they were married to share intimacies, she’d been very cautious about getting involved again. The idea that the desert sheikh could be the man to have a wild, passionate one-night stand with in order to shake off her past, as her friend Lilly had put it, was a step too far.

‘I am.’ His deep and commanding voice crashed through her wild train of thoughts, bringing her sharply back to the present. How could she be having such thoughts about this man?

She forced herself to look into those sexy eyes, to appear in control even though her heart began to thump harder in her chest. Was it his sudden closeness or her thoughts? ‘And you want me to organise your wedding and be bridesmaid to your bride?’

He looked at her, assessing her; an air of calculation lingered around them. ‘No, I want to hire you—as my bride.’

She blinked and looked up at him, unable to say anything, then to her utter embarrassment she laughed.

* * *

Jafar inhaled deeply and waited while the prim and proper Miss Chapelle’s laughter subsided. How dared she laugh at him? Nobody but his closest friends would dare to do such a thing. Didn’t she know who he was?

‘I think you have had too much champagne, Mr Al-Shehri.’ Her voice still rang with laughter and a smile twitched at the edges of his mouth as she teased him, showing him a light-hearted side to her he found intriguing, but he forced it down.

‘I am in full and total control,’ he said as he prepared to play his ultimate ace. ‘I have need of a bride and you, I believe, have need of a large sum of money to cover debts.’

Silence sliced between them as she looked at him suspiciously, all trace of laughter suddenly gone. The dark rims of blue around her eyes reminding him of the ocean that formed one border to his kingdom, but the paler centres had become hostile, like the heat of the desert. ‘I see I am not the only one to have been doing some research.’

The tartness of her voice warned him he was pushing her too far but, as ever, the challenge of getting exactly what he wanted pushed him on. ‘I never enter into anything, not even being a best man to my childhood friend, without doing my research, Miss Chapelle.’

‘So, do enlighten me, what has your research turned up?’ She folded her right arm across her, beneath her breasts, placing the elbow of the other arm in her hand. Then, in a sexily tormenting gesture, she placed her thumb under her chin and her finger on her lips, sending a bolt of hot desire surging through him.

Her eyes blazed like the purest of gems, and her full lips snagged his attention as a bright red fingernail pushed into their plumpness. The late-afternoon sunlight danced in her hair, turning it to fiery bronze, highlighting the freckles sprinkled over her face. All he could think about was pulling her hard against his body, pressing her curves into him and kissing her. There was nothing gentle about the heat in his body, the need to touch her, kiss her, possess her. Without a doubt, he knew that if he gave in to the demands of his body now, it would be fierce, savage and wild. It would be total possession and if he weren’t putting such an outlandish deal to her, he might already be taking her to his suite here in the hotel.

‘I think you are bluffing, Mr Al-Shehri.’ Her words dragged him from the erotic images of just what he’d like to do to her, sharply focusing his attention once more.

‘You are in debt and you also need more, much more, thanks to your brother-in-law, who has left your sister in a very precarious financial situation.’ He’d discovered that useful bit of information at almost the eleventh hour.

She gasped, her eyes becoming wide with shock. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I made it my business to know, Miss Chapelle.’ He moved towards her, unintentionally breathing in her delicate scent, serving only to stir his body’s needs once more. ‘Everybody has a price and I now know yours.’

‘So you want to pay me to be your bride?’

‘Yes, Miss Chapelle, I do.’ He’d just heard Damian say those words to his bride, but they’d been said with love, with hope for the future. Now he was saying them to this woman who stirred his senses in a way no other woman had; even Niesha, the woman he should have married if his life hadn’t careered off course, hadn’t ever roused in him such intense passion.

‘And what makes you think I would agree to such a bizarre request?’ Both her arms were folded protectively in front of her now, one hand pulling firmly on the other arm, serving only to press her breasts together in a way the pale blue dress couldn’t disguise. Lust throbbed through him but he pushed it aside. This was not one of his casual affairs; this was a woman who held the future of his kingdom in her hands. The answer she gave him decided the fate of his people—and his.

If she declined, then his cousin, Simdan, would have every right to challenge his ability to rule. He didn’t have the time to find a wife in the conventional way of his country. Besides, with his sister expecting her first child, which he intended to name as his heir, he didn’t require a wife, merely a bride.

‘As I intend our marriage to take place in two weeks’ time you will be financially rewarded and therefore able to settle all your debts, and those of your sister. I will also ensure you have a substantial amount of money once our agreement is complete.’

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I have absolutely no intention of getting married for any sum of money and certainly not in two weeks.’

Jafar hadn’t expected her to say yes instantly. Indeed, he would have worried that she saw him as some kind of knight in shining armour, the answer to a woman’s dreams of happy ever afters, if she had. But in light of her current financial situation, he hadn’t expected an outright no.

‘So what has happened to the bridesmaid who ensures a bride’s dream comes true to make her so against marriage?’ He taunted her and satisfaction filled him as he saw her visible blanch at his question. It seemed she too had issues with the state of matrimony.

‘What makes you sure something has happened?’ She flung the question straight back at him.

‘A woman who prefers to always be the bridesmaid and not the bride is definitely hiding from something.’ He resisted the urge to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as it slipped from the confines of her bridal hairdo, but had to clench his fist tightly in order to do that.

‘This is my job, Mr Al-Shehri.’ She glared at him and once again the need to kiss away the angry tension in those lips lurched forwards. ‘Only a man like you could seriously contemplate buying a bride.’