Page 24 of The Sheik's Kiss

Unfortunately, her brain continued to buzz, trying to decipher the unspoken messages from Zahir earlier. What was he not telling her? Mandy went over their conversation again and again, trying to understand.

Frustrated, she flipped the covers off and got out of bed. Shoving her feet into the soft slippers that she always traveled with, she walked over to the open suitcase and pulled out a pair of leggings and a tee-shirt, pulling them on. She didn’t bother with a bra tonight, assuming that the camisole with the elastic band would suffice for a nighttime walk.

Mandy slipped out of the suite and looked both ways down the hallway. There were guards at each end and she was fairly certain that there were cameras along every hallway.

For a brief moment, she considered heading back to her suite and finding a book online. However, from past experience, Mandy knew that walking and getting things out of her head were the best way to get some sleep. Reading was a close second, but just going for a walk almost always helped. The silence of the night allowed her brain to process, to work through problems that she didn’t have the bandwidth to figure out during the daylight hours when so many other issues took priority.

So, she walked. Her slippers helped keep her progress silent against the ornately decorated tiles of the hallway. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was going, but a specific destination wasn’t her goal. Her mission right now was to think, to clear her mind so that she was tired enough to get some sleep. The dim lighting in the normally brightly lit up hallways helped sooth her as well.

A sudden clang caught her attention. She froze in the middle of the hallway, listening hard, trying to determine where the sounds were coming from. The kitchen? She didn’t know the palace well enough yet to know the various areas, so it could be the kitchen or a billiards room, for all she knew.

Slowly, Mandy followed the sound, listening to determine the direction from which it was coming. Finally, she stopped in front of the double doors with a circular window, peeking through to find the kitchens.

It was the middle of the night, so the kitchen staff wouldn’t be here. So, who was in the kitchen? Surely, the guards wouldn’t have let a stranger into the palace, right?

Mandy pushed through the doors and saw Zahir standing at a metal prep table, his arms and hands covered in flour.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her words shattering the relative silence of the night.

His head snapped up and jerked to the doorway, those laser eyes of his staring at her with an intensity that caused her to step back.

“Go back to bed, Mandy,” he snapped, then started kneading the dough on the table. He splashed more flour onto the table and pressed the heel of his hand into the dough, turned it, and repeated the process.

“What are you doing?” she repeated. Instead of returning to her suite, she inched closer, fascinated. He was the ruler of one of the most powerful and influential countries in the world, and he was making bread by hand in the middle of the night?

Zahir focused on kneading the dough, watching for signs that the gluten chains were developing. He didn’t look up at Mandy but he couldn’t help but be aware of her presence. He could smell her. Hell, he could feel her energy!

She wanted to know what HE was doing? He was trying to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her senseless! He was doing his darndest to not walk right over to her and make love to her on the counter behind her. He was losing his damn mind!

He’d spent the past several hours thinking about the story she’d told him earlier. He wanted to go to his security team and have them start an investigation. He wanted to call his pilot and fly back to Pennsylvania, to walk into the police station and demand that the detectives do their job with the information that Mandy provided.

Then the woman walks into his space?

Damn it!

He looked at her and blinked, suddenly realizing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her soft, delectable breasts were completely unencumbered and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“You look tired,” he observed, suddenly noting the dark circles under her eyes. “What’s wrong, eazizi?” he demanded.

Her big, blue eyes blinked up at him and she shifted on her feet. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her voice a soft whisper now.

“Why? What’s wrong?” He grabbed the bowl and dumped the dough into it, covering it with a towel. Then he wiped his hands on another towel and came toward her. “What’s going through that brilliant mind of yours?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, thrusting those breasts higher. Did she know what she was doing? Did Mandy have any clue as to what was going through his mind?

Obviously not, he mentally grumbled.

He stepped closer, pinning her against the counter. “What are you doing here, Mandy?” he demanded, his voice raspy.

“I…uh…was just…I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He reached around her, pinning her in place by setting his hands on the metal counter behind her.

“I was…um…thinking about what you said earlier.”

He looked into her eyes, then shook his head. “You’re lying. What’s really on your mind?”

She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out.

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