Susan Stephens - Sheikh Boss, Hot Desert Nights

‘Shopping?’ he suggested dryly.

‘In retail marketing,’ she corrected him solemnly.

He liked that. No one pulled him up—ever. He liked it almost more than when she blushed and looked away. He liked it too much, he decided, standing up.

‘Shall we go?’ He held her chair for her, discreetly waving away the bodyguards who would have done that for him. ‘And now I’m taking you straight back to the hotel,’ he insisted, his gaze drawn to the dark circles beneath her eyes. ‘You look tired.’

‘It’s only temporary. I’ll be up bright and early in the morning,’ she assured him.

She’d sleep comfortably through to noon, he guessed as their gazes briefly met and held. He wanted to give her the morning off, but how would that be fair to the other candidates? And now, before the image of Casey curled up and warm in bed could take hold of him, he made a move. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he insisted, eager to break the spell she had woven.

‘Thank you for the smoothie,’ she said, shifting awkwardly in front of him. ‘And for…’

‘For what?’ he prompted when she hesitated.

‘For giving me this chance.’

‘You earned this chance,’ he told her steadily.

‘I know you have some weeding out to do—’

‘Stop fishing,’ he warned. ‘You’ll get my verdict like everyone else—before you leave.’

Distress flared in her eyes and was just as quickly gone. He’d make no allowances for Casey forming some emotional attachment to A’Qaban. What he’d told her was how it had to be. He wanted the best candidate for the job, and she’d be treated exactly the same as all the other candidates.

‘Is a suit all right for tomorrow morning?’ she asked in a much more businesslike fashion when he dropped her at the hotel.

Nude would have been his choice, if the circumstances had been different. ‘A suit is good,’ he agreed, passing her bags to the doorman. ‘Or smart casual would be fine too.’

They shook hands formally. He resisted the temptation to convey anything at all in his eyes, but when he stared back at her through the rearview mirror of the Lamborghini his foot stamped down on the throttle as if he couldn’t quite believe the effect she’d had on him.

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