C.J. Miller - Under the Sheik's Protection

* * *

Saafir cursed inwardly. Sarah Parker. Her name was Sarah Parker and she was the event coordinator for his trip while he was working with the Americans on the trade agreement.

It had been Adham who had encouraged him to take the night off and enjoy some time in an American bar. As one of his last weekends as an unattached man, Saafir would forget his responsibilities for an evening. Adham had implied it would do Saafir good to have a fling with a woman. Flings were more complicated than the word implied and Saafir had learned to be careful both with a woman’s heart and with jumping into bed with her. Saafir hadn’t been sold on the idea until he’d seen Sarah, spoken to her and listened to the warmth in her voice. Her dress fit close to her body, showing off her curves, the right amount of softness and strength. They’d had a sense of connection, that rightness that came when two people clicked on a level beyond first impressions. Something primal had stirred in him and he’d known he’d needed to have Sarah in his bed.

Having a drink and a meal in the bar had been a last-minute decision, like many of his social plans. Last-minute didn’t allow for security preparation, but it also limited anyone knowing where he was scheduled to be and using that information to plot an assassination. Though he didn’t like it, he had to think in those terms to protect his life.

Though Saafir had told Adham not to, Adham had dug around and found out more about the woman who had approached him in the bar. Saafir would have connected who she was when she’d shown up at their meeting Monday morning.

Did she not know who he was? The Americans wouldn’t try to manipulate him in such an obvious way. No one could have predicted the chemistry he had with Sarah. No one could have known he would desire her as strongly as he did. Even holding her in his arms a few minutes after sleeping with her turned him on.

Her long brown hair hung over his arm and her skin was soft against his. She was different from the women in his country, no less sophisticated or beautiful, but more free and uninhibited. She hadn’t waited for him to take the lead on their meeting or remained passive when they were alone in this hotel room. Fire and passion simmered inside her and Saafir wanted to be close enough to share her heat.

If it was a setup, he would have expected an Arabic woman or someone who spoke his native language. Still, he’d never had this combustible attraction with a woman before and he wondered if any part of their relationship had been architected. She hadn’t been the first woman to approach him in the bar, but she was the first woman who he’d been interested in talking with.

“You never said what you did for a living,” he said. A test. Would she lie?

“I’m an event coordinator,” she said, sleep heavy in her voice.

Was she evading his question? He didn’t detect anything in her voice. He didn’t want their connection to have been a fraud. He wanted her to like him for him. The thought was desperate, perhaps a remnant of the relationship he had wanted before becoming the emir. “Do you focus on certain types of events?”

Sarah yawned and rolled over to face him. She opened her eyes and he was caught by the shades of brown in her irises, flecks the color of sand and of cedar.

“Do you really want to hear about this? Most people find what I do boring. Unless it’s a bride and it’s her wedding. Those conversations last well over an hour.”

He found nothing about her boring. But if she was here to pry information from him, he wanted to know it now. “Tell me about it. I bet I won’t find it boring.”

She tilted her head up to look at him and brushed some of her long brown hair away from her face. “I started my business about four years ago. It’s still small, but we’re growing every year. I take any contracts I think I can do well. I’ve done dog birthday parties, a Pi Day event and a divorce party where the client wanted every menu item to include strawberries, which her ex had been allergic to.”

Saafir laughed.

Sarah drummed her fingers on his chest. “I’ve done some charity events to raise money for a local substance abuse support group.” She brought her hand to her mouth in thought. “I’ve turned away a few elaborate weddings, but I did take an important contract recently. If it goes well, it will be great to have on my resume for other jobs. It’s already been a wild experience.”

She must be referring to the trade summit contract. “What was the contracted event?” he pressed. He could have dropped his line of questioning, but he wanted to know if this was a happy coincidence that they’d met and not that she was a spy. He expected a spy to lie, flat out and without so much as a blink.

Sarah shifted, appearing uncomfortable. “I’ve been asked to keep the details private. It’s an important client.”

Unless she was a world-class liar who could lie even while naked, she didn’t know he was the important client.

Saafir couldn’t stand the thought of her showing up with breakfast Monday morning and realizing he was the emir of Qamsar. Being fastidious about security, Adham had booked this hotel under Saafir’s mother’s maiden name, Barr, the name Saafir used when he wasn’t representing himself as the emir, two days earlier than he was expected to arrive in the United States.

“Is your client someone famous?” he asked, wondering how trustworthy she was. He hated testing her. If she admitted something, it was akin to entrapment.

“I can’t discuss that,” she said, her tone serious. She slid her leg off him and he grabbed her thigh.

He didn’t want to lose the closeness and his questions were making her uncomfortable.

He gave her credit for integrity and discretion in not revealing his name. Another woman might have bragged about the connection or caved under the pressure and given away more about the event.

“This is Washington, D.C. You have me thinking it’s someone infamous,” Saafir said.

Sarah laughed. “Isn’t everyone in D.C. infamous?”

Saafir smiled, pleased she hadn’t given away any details of the contract. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He would tell her in the morning who he was and hope she forgave him.

* * *

Sarah was walking on air as she entered her apartment building and tiptoed up the stairs. She didn’t want to risk the neighbors complaining about the early morning disturbance. The sun had begun to rise and though she’d had little sleep, she wasn’t tired.

For the first time in months, she’d had fun. She was awake and alive and she’d had a wonderful time with a man. A handsome man who had treated her like a queen. His sexual appetite had been insatiable and she’d been as surprised about her response to him. She’d wanted him as much and as often as he’d wanted her. It had been the best birthday she’d had in years. Maybe this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

When she told Krista and Molly about the night, she felt confident she had done everything right. She hadn’t lingered too long or created an awkward morning situation. A quick kiss on his forehead and she’d dressed and bolted.

She pulled her keys out of her handbag and froze when she found the door ajar. Had she forgotten to pull it closed behind her? Another more distressing thought raced through her mind. Alec had bailed on rehab and had broken into her home. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Sarah pushed open the door and turned on the light, expecting to find her ex-husband passed out on the floor.

If Alec had been here, he had been in a rage. Her home was destroyed. The stuffing from her couch was bursting from the cushions, papers were strewn across the floor and dishes and glasses were smashed on the ground. Her granite countertops were scratched and chipped. Red spray paint covered her furniture and the carpet. A nasty word was scrawled across the wall in blinding orange.