Page 45 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
But, from Amare’s expression, it didn’t look as if he believed her answer.
“You’re not the kind of woman who cries at nothing. Please tell me. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Janey,” he said. “I understand more than you know.”
His words did nothing to stem the flow of emotion, because wasn’t it everyone’s desire to be understood? But how many truly were? She didn’t understand herself, so how could she hope Amare understood her?
She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. She had to tell him that after a couple of days, she’d be leaving. That she’d already booked her flight to London in three days’ time. But before she could speak, he leaned over and kissed her.
His lips were soft against hers, but she felt a rising sense of panic. She knew she had to tell him the truth, but the kiss distracted her. It was like being caught in a whirlwind—she couldn’t think straight and the words caught in her throat. Amare pulled back, a smile on his lips.
“I love you. And I know you love me too,” he said.
Janey’s heart sank at his words. Shedidlove him, but that didn’t mean that they could be together. She had to tell him the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
“Amare, I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.
His expression changed, his eyes narrowing slightly. Janey could see the tension in his body, and she knew he didn’t want to hear what she had to say.
He shook his head. “Later,habibti, later.”
He looked around as the steward offered them flutes of champagne and he took two, handing one to her.
“Let’s drink to the future.”
She nodded, unable to join him in a smile. “The future.”
Because the future would come no matter what. But she couldn’t help believing that his idea of the future was a million miles away from hers.
“Now,” he said, “tell me about your research.”
She smiled and shook her head. He knew it was the only thing which would divert her from an uncomfortable conversation. But she also knew that it was necessary to ensure the forthcoming meeting gave her what she needed to continue her research plans.
She’d give him what he wanted. The uncomfortable conversation could wait.
CHAPTER20
They drove through the rain-slicked streets of Paris, fat droplets splattered against the windshield, the streetlights throwing haloes of yellow light, breaking up the darkness of the upmarket district of the Marais. They drew up outside one of the traditional houses in the Place des Vosges. Janey had never been here before, although she’d heard about it. Who hadn’t? The massive square has none of the usual tourist trappings of the Latin Quarter. The square was empty, save for a few well-dressed men and women.
As the clouds parted, the last rays of the rich amber sunset reflected off the windows, creating a welcoming atmosphere.
“Home sweet home,” Amare said, jumping out to pay the taxi driver, who was piling up their bags on the pavement.
Janey looked up at the windows and was surprised to see they were already lit, and a TV was on, its moving shapes visible from the street. Did he have staff here, and were they watching TV in his living room? Before she had a chance to ask, the front door burst open, and light spilled out onto the dark rain-slicked street. A dog, barking madly, jumped up at Amare, and was swiftly followed by shrieks from children who jumped up and hung onto Amare’s legs, while a woman stepped forward and gave him a hug.
Instinctively, Janey stepped away, overwhelmed by a surge of claustrophobia. She’d have moved away further. God, she’d have turned on her heels, hailed the nearest taxi and high-tailed it back to the airport to somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t a domestic setting. But there was no way she could move. It seemed he’d expected her reaction, and he gripped her hand, introducing her immediately to the dark-haired woman who’d opened the door, and who was now smiling warmly at Janey.
“Welcome!” the woman said. And before Janey could stop her, she found herself folded in the woman’s arms in a big bearhug.
“Thank you,” Janey said unsteadily, wondering how this woman was related to Amare, and what she was doing in his home.
“I’m Claudine,” the woman said. “You must be Janey.” She stepped back and gestured toward the warmly lit hall. “Please, come on in, and make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” said Janey, completely confused as to whose home this was. Instinctively, she’d have preferred to retreat, but she had no choice but to enter the house, where she was introduced to Claudine’s husband, Pierre—which was a relief because, for a moment, Janey had wondered if Claudine and Amare were in a relationship. And whether the children… But, no, Janey thought, they bore no resemblance to Amare, which was a hell of a relief.
Luckily, the children were hyper—apparently the result of excitement of Amare’s arrival and too many chocolate eggs—and a prolonged conversation with Claudine was successfully avoided. Gratefully, Janey took a literal backseat while the children dominated Amare.
Janey was relieved when the children were gathered up and the family left the house for some appointment which Claudine repeatedly apologized for.
“If I’d known you were coming yesterday, I’d have postponed it.”
