ALEXANDRA SELLERS - Sheikh's Temptation

She sighed. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t matter now.”

“And just to set your mind at rest, Arash, in case you really are afraid it might happen again, it is just possible I might be reduced to buying a husband for myself—”

“I did not—”

“But never, in a thousand million years, would I ever consider making you an offer, Arash. So if you were thinking that was the reasoning behind my offer to help you rebuild your palace or your valley or anything like that, you can relax.”

“I have—”

“I didn’t want you to come on this trip, I was blackmailed into it, and I would have flown when I discovered you were going to be my escort, only Alinor as good as begged me not to. I have no desire ever to be alone with you, for any reason whatsoever!”

“I understood this before,” he said, not without humour. “You have been at such pains to make it clear that you regretted that night, Lana, that even a stone statue would have the message by now. So I know that you do not believe what you are indignantly pretending to believe, and that you know very well that what was in my mind was no more than that Lucinda Burke Taylor had asked you to open certain negotiations for her.”

Heat rushed up under her skin, and she was filled with angry shame. Oh God! What a fool she was! Of course he would never imagine…what the hell had possessed her to accuse him of thinking such a thing? It was the last thing he would think. They couldn’t stand each other! She must be going crazy. Mountain air did that to some people.

“I am sure that Lucinda Burke Taylor handles her own negotiations. She must be quite polished by now,” Lana muttered, bending her head to conceal her embarrassment from him.

Arash laughed, and from the corner of her eye she watched the smooth movement of his throat and smiled herself. However angry she got with him, it rarely lasted. They did have that.

There was a moment of silence while she abruptly took in the fact that they were not moving.

“Why are we stopped here? Why aren’t you driving?”

He leaned forward, resting his arms over the steering wheel, and gazed out at the weather.

“We have a choice to make,” he observed.

A huge gust of wind hit the side of the truck, seeming to suck the warmth out of the little cabin, and she shivered. Looking out the window, she could see lots of rock, but nothing that offered real protection.

“What choice? Is there someplace nearby where we can get under cover?”

He lifted a hand and pointed out the window beside her. “That way,” he said. “It’s a long trek.”

She turned and stared at the rocky landscape. “What—cross-country? But what about landmines?”

“There’s another mule train route here, leading to a valley. It has been cleared by your teams. It’s a long way down the road to the next such track. It may be best to make for the valley. I think it is going to be a severe storm, Lana. High winds and heavy snow. It will not be safe to remain in the truck. There may be avalanche.”

They both automatically glanced out at the snow-covered slopes, as far up as they could see. The clouds were low, dark and increasingly ominous.

“Do you mean it’s going to be a blizzard? But Arash, what if it starts while we’re walking?”

“That is only more reason to hurry.”

“But we might wander off the route! We could get blown to bits.”

“I know the landmarks. Whatever else happens, we will not stray from the path,” he said briefly, without emphasis. They were both silent as they considered the other fate that might befall them, caught without shelter on a mountain at night during a storm.

“We have a mountain survival kit in the truck.” He seemed to come to a decision. He lifted his hand to the key to shut off the engine. “We must hurry.” He opened his door and got out.

Another gust of wind smacked at them. Arash staggered under the blast.

“Arash…” she began, but he was already at the back of the truck, opening the doors and rooting around amongst their supplies.

“Dress warmly,” he ordered. “Put on everything you can. More than you think you need.”

Well, it might be preferable to stagger through the mountains than sit in the truck with Arash waiting for the storm to hit. But she hated listening to him give orders as if he were an army sergeant and she a recruit.

“Thank you for that advice,” she muttered, to the dashboard.

She stepped out of the truck and instantly began to shiver in the icy air. He was right—her jacket and jeans would get her nowhere. She would freeze to death if the temperature dropped much further.

Her short red curls were lifted and blown flat against her head; even her eyelashes were caught by the wind.

Her jacket billowing, she staggered to the back of the truck, where Arash dragged out the bag she pointed to and dropped it at her feet. Lana bent down and started pulling clothes out of it. She hadn’t packed for cold weather; she was heading to the desert, after all. She had few suitable things. But layers were the warmest way to dress anyway.

She quickly grabbed out sweatshirts and jerseys, a pair of sweatpants, socks. Then came a couple of pairs of leggings. She gazed at them in surprise, suddenly remembering having packed them, paused for a moment, then tucked them back into the case.

“Put them on,” Arash commanded her.

She glanced up. She had thought he was fully engaged, but apparently he had time to watch her.

“Put them on,” he repeated in a voice that brooked no argument. Another wind slammed into them, smashing one of the doors of the truck closed, rocking the vehicle violently. It was icy cold, with fingers that reached inside the cotton shirt she was wearing to count her ribs. She shivered.

“Are you crazy? I’d have to take off my jeans first! I’d freeze just putting them on!”

“You will quickly get warm again when we start to walk,” he said.

She really didn’t want to strip off in the middle of the road—in front of Arash—if she could help it.

“I’m sure I’ll be all right with—”

“The temperature is still dropping. We have a long walk on exposed mountain.”

She still hesitated, and his voice got flatter and more urgent.

“Lana, we are using valuable time. Do as I say! Take off your jeans!”

The explosion over, his words hung in the air. Their eyes met.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. She wished they could laugh. It should have amused them. But somehow, instead, she felt heat burn up in her cheeks. Lana turned away and pulled her jacket off, reaching for a jersey.

As she pulled on all her sweaters, Arash pulled on a thick tracksuit over his jeans and shirt, then a heavy sweater and down vest, and then his leather jacket. All right for him, he didn’t have to strip off his jeans, Lana thought bitterly, pulling down the zipper and shivering as she slipped the denim down over her hips.

Underneath she was wearing only a tiny pair of briefs in paper-thin yellow Lycra, and she saw Arash glance involuntarily at her bare hips and thighs before he firmly continued with his own business.

It was just male instinct, she told herself, trying to ignore her reaction to his glance. Trying not to remember the last time he had looked at her body.

Her jeans around her knees, she held down her boot heel with the other toe and tried to prise her foot free, but her feet must have swollen during the long drive—the boot was stuck.

“Damn!” she swore, wrestling with the boot for a moment before starting to hike her jeans back up.

“What is it?” Arash turned. He had dressed quickly and was packing the supplies. He held a coil of rope in his hand. “Lana, believe me, it is best if you put on everything you can.”