Page 6 of Queen of Barrakesch
After the dishes were cleared away, Wasim poured them both a cup of tea. “Dinner was excellent, as always,” he said.
“I’d be lost without my chef. You, however, have an entire team in your kitchen and yet, here you are, eating my food. It can’t possibly taste better.”
“On the contrary.”
Imani arched an eyebrow.
“It’s the company, you see,” he explained.
“Oh yes. Because you’re in the company of your favorite ambassador.”
“Exactly,” he said.
Imani shook her head as if disgusted, but he knew she enjoyed the compliment, even if she thought he was spewing out empty words. She was adorable and sexy and shared a similar sense of humor to him—an acerbic wit that sometimes had him chuckling to himself long after they’d parted ways because of something she’d said.
But the years since he’d known her had been challenging, to say the least. During this time he’d watched, being a friend, but craving her in a way he hadn’t any other woman. No one knew the restraint he’d exhibited in the face of such temptation.
Lioness Abameha—the honorific bestowed on her by her uncle, the king of Zamibia—Imani Karunzika had come into his life six years ago when she attended the University of Barrakesch to earn a graduate degree in international business. Vivacious and funny, she had a certain determination that intrigued him. And she was a stunning woman with glowing bronze skin, sultry dark eyes fringed by thick lashes, and sexy curves that drew the eye and tempted him to touch. His first sight of her had sent his heart thumping.
But he’d known better than to give in to temptation. His good friend Kofi—her cousin and Crown Prince of Zamibia—had asked him to look out for her, even though she came with a set of bodyguards. They’d seen each other only a handful of times during that two-year period, until she was appointed ambassador to Barrakesch immediately upon graduation—one of the perks of being a member of the royal family. But she was good at her job and worked hard. Sometimes he thought too hard, as if something other than personal goals influenced her work ethic.
They saw each other more frequently once she became an ambassador. They attended many of the same official functions, and so their friendship blossomed and his attraction to her increased. No doubt in his mind that she knew her power over men. Her very bearing suggested that she did, and she wielded her beauty as one of the tools in her vast arsenal of weapons.
Outside of Barrakesch, she was brazen in the way she touched him, and he, too, initiated contact—torturing himself in ways that could only be deemed masochistic. Even he, with his ironclad will, could only handle her in small doses, so he pitied the fools who had crossed her path and been left scarred and broken by her personality and sensual allure.
“So, whose heart did you break while you were overseas?” Imani stirred honey into her tea.
“Me, a heartbreaker? I should be asking you that. I’ve lost track of your many boyfriends.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I’ve only been on a few dates in the past few months, and…”
“And…?” he prompted.
“Let’s just say I’ve had to kiss a lot of toads in the quest to find a prince.” She pressed her lips together.
“Well, if it’s a prince you’re looking for…” Wasim raised an eyebrow.
“You were never in contention,” Imani said. She dislodged a strand of hair from her eyelash. Her hair was cut in a bob that made her thick, silky hair appear even thicker.
Wasim laughed softly and pressed his right hand against his heart. “I am crushed. Why? Because you refuse to take orders?”
“I may not be a princess, but I’m a member of the royal family of Zamibia, and not very good at taking orders,” she said haughtily.
“I know. That’s why I mentioned it. So tell me, what have you been up to while I was gone? Skip the part where you tell me how much you missed me. I already know that.”
“You are so conceited. No wonder you can’t find a woman to marry you.”
“And what’s your excuse for remaining unmarried?”
“Ouch. For your information, it’s rough out here for us women.” She carefully sipped the tea, narrowing her dark eyes against the steam that wafted up from the colorful glass cup.
“From what I heard, it’s rough for the men,” Wasim said dryly.
“What have you heard?” she asked sharply.
“Aren’t you the woman who punched your last suitor in the nose?”
Her eyes widened. “Who told you that?”
