KRISTI GOLD - Her Ardent Sheikh

And he was in bed with her. Jamie Morris, who didn’t even kiss on the first date.

“Well?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy.

“Well what?”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” She had found her voice, but where was her brain? This was no time for pleasantries. “No! I mean…why are you in bed with me?”

He rolled onto his back and stacked his hands behind his head, giving her an intimate view of the tuft of hair under his arm. Jamie looked away and contacted his bare chest. Her gaze followed the path of dark hair that began as a silken mat between his pecs then thinned to a stream over his abdomen before disappearing into the waistband of a pair of striped pajamas. And just below that…

Oh, my.

Like someone viewing a horror film, Jamie didn’t exactly want to look, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the hypnotic sight, even if her life depended on it.

Suddenly realizing he was speaking, she pulled her gaze back to his face. His grin deepened, causing her cheeks to fire up like Manny’s grill at the Royal Diner.

“You were having bad dreams. I worried you might hurt yourself if you thrashed about too much.”

She didn’t remember a single bad dream. A very good dream, yes. “Oh.”

“So I took the liberty of holding you until you calmed. I apologize if my presence in your bed has alarmed you.”

“I wasn’t alarmed exactly. Just a bit unnerved.” Jamie was still unnerved, but she wasn’t suffering from fear, as he’d assumed. She was more afraid that her dreams had been real, and he wasn’t telling the absolute truth.

She chewed her lip for a moment, trying to decide how to broach the subject. Asking point-blank seemed like the sensible solution. “Did we…” How could she ask him that?

He impaled her with his night-sky eyes. “Did we what?”

Do the wild thing. Make whoopee. Shuffle the sheets.

She couldn’t force herself to say any of those things.

He had the nerve to smile again. “I am waiting.”

Jamie got the distinct feeling he enjoyed watching her squirm like a night crawler on the end of a hook. “You know…you and me…together. In the bed.”

His smile disappeared, replaced by a dark, sensual expression even more disarming. “Did we make love?”

“Yeah. Did we do that?”

“Why would you assume this?”

She didn’t mind mentioning the dream, but she refused to reveal that he was the prime subject. “Well, because I was out of my head. And you are in bed with me. And then I had these images of hands…and things.” Lots of things.

“Someone hurting you?”

“No. Just the opposite.”

He rolled to his side and faced her again with his elbow bent, one palm bracing his cheek, his eyes darkened by something Jamie couldn’t quite name. “Do you mean hands touching you? Perhaps a mouth on you, kissing every inch of your body until you writhed with pleasure? Someone making love to you until you could not breathe, yet you wanted more, until you found yourself begging for the very thing you feared, giving everything over to sensation until you were lost, body and soul?”

He spoke in a low steady tone that made Jamie shiver and sweat, all at the same time.

She somehow managed to speak, with effort. “Yes, something like that.”

His smile crept in once again, slowly, and only halfway. “No, Miss Morris. That did not happen between us. If it had, you would know. And you would not so easily forget.”

Without further comment, he pushed himself up and left the bed with graceful movements, like a panther progressively stalking its prey. And Jamie sat with her mouth gaping like a sprung screen door, feeling as boneless as putty, her body immersed in heat and her head reeling from his words.

As he walked to the chair across the room, Jamie couldn’t help but notice the way his pajamas tightened with each stride, revealing a bottom that would best be described as a true work of art. He picked up a heavy blue robe and slipped it on, covering his artful bottom, much to Jamie’s disappointment.

He faced her again, this time his expression all-business, unreadable. “You must be hungry. I will have my housekeeper bring you a tray so that you may regain your strength.”

She would need all the strength she could get to fight his control over her. Her desire to know him. All of him.

Shaking off the covers and the stupid thoughts, Jamie scooted to the end of the bed and touched her toes to the luxuriously carpeted floor. She needed to get out of here. Away from him. The danger she might face outside was nothing compared to the danger this man posed to her sanity and her sudden urges. “Yes, I’m starved. But I can eat after you take me back to my apartment.”

“I am afraid that is not possible.”

“Why not?”

“You must remain with me until we find the man who is attempting to do you harm.”

Jamie stiffened her frame and tried to stand. She felt weak as a newborn, every inch of her crying out in protest. One giant total body ache. Bracing her hand on the bedpost, she steadied herself to keep from falling in front of the man. She refused to let him believe that she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Look, Prince Ben, I’ll be fine. If anything happens, I’ll call the police.” Her spongy knees didn’t want to support her.

He stepped toward the bed and caught her elbow when she leaned a bit. “You cannot do that. We cannot involve the police at this time.”

This guy had too many rules, none of which she understood. He also radiated a sensuality that wasn’t easy to ignore.

She stared up at him, only then realizing he was tall. Very tall. Intimidating-to-the-max tall. “Care to explain why I can’t call the cops?”

“Trust me, Miss Morris, this is for your sake. The less you know, the better that will be.”

Jamie decided he was sorely mistaken, and his determination to keep her in the dark grated on her already raw nerves.

Oh, well. She’d play along for now. She was too tired to argue. “Since I can’t go home just yet, mind if I use your facilities?”

His dark brows drew down with confusion. “Facilities?”

“Bathroom? I’d like to freshen up.”

“Of course. I thought you might want to bathe, so I had my housekeeper set out some things for you. This way.”

He held on to her arm as he guided her to the room across the hall. Once they reached the door, she expected him to leave. He didn’t.

With her hand on the knob, she gave him her best sugar-sweet smile. “Am I allowed to have some privacy?”

“I thought you might wish me to draw your bath.”

“So you can watch?” Jamie cringed. She sounded like she wanted him to watch.

He smiled and Jamie felt it down to her size-five feet. “However tempting that might be, I will allow you your privacy after I help you prepare.”

“I’ll manage. I’m feeling much stronger.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“As you wish. If you find you do need help, there is an intercom near the tub—”

“I can handle this. I promise.”

She backed into the room and slammed the door in his face. Slammed the door on those mysterious eyes and all that out-there sexuality. Turning, she leaned back against the wooden surface for support. But it wasn’t the lump on her head making her feel like an overcooked noodle. He made her weak knees weaker and her shaky body shakier.

Determined to drive him out of her mind, Jamie concentrated on the huge room. A room big enough to house Sadie, her trusty blue sedan. An opulent bath straight out of her fantasies of what a bath should be.

Several black marble steps led to a mammoth whirlpool tub, a huge arched window its backdrop. The matching marble vanity top was graced with gold fixtures and two basins complimented by jeweled soap dispensers and toothbrush holders. And laid out near one sink—for her benefit, she presumed—was a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste and two velvety black towels with a matching washcloth. On a freestanding gold rack near the toilet hung a lush red velvet robe and underwear. Her underwear.