Page 13 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
“You’ll be glad to return to Paris then. I’m sure you don’t stint on champagne when you’re there.”
He sat back and smiled at her, satisfaction in his eyes. “You know I live in Paris. That’s interesting.”
She could have eaten her words. She’d let slip that she knew more about him than he’d told her. She cleared her throat.
“It’s common knowledge that you live in Paris—that you work there for Sifra.”
“Common knowledge? I don’t believe there’s anything common about you or your knowledge. No, I’m intrigued that, contrary to the impression you’re trying to give me, you’re interested enough to have investigated me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. This knowledge is recent. I had no idea who you were until last night, and then a few internet searches told me everything I needed to know.”
“Say what you like. I’m interested that you spent your spare time investigating me.”
“I assure you that there’s nothing for you to be interested in. I’m an academic. We deal with facts. I was merely researching you for my current project.” She leaned forward and helped herself to some of the hot dishes, which were making her mouth water. “My work is all that matters to me.”
Amare sipped his champagne. “All?” He placed his glass on the table and leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs, and looked up at her. “I don’t believe for one minute that work is all that matters to you. Would you like to know whatIthink matters to you?”
Her lungs tightened. “Not really,” she said, helping herself to a piece of meat which she didn’t think she could eat.
He smiled. “Ithink,” he said, ignoring her response, “there’s a lot going on that matters deeply to you and you use work to cover it up. And, for some reason, you refuse to talk about it. For all your obvious intelligence, I’m surprised you consider concealment to be a rational way to deal with your baggage.”
“Who says I have baggage?” She did. But there was no way in this world she was going to admit it to Amare.
“Ido,” he said calmly. “And concealment,habibti, is no way to deal with your demons.”
Janey focused on her food, using all her willpower to ignore what he was saying. It wasn’t as if it were something she’d never done before. She’d faced greater adversaries than him. Not least of all her father—a charismatic media mogul, and the worst father imaginable. But this was Amare.
“Demons,” she repeated faintly. She drew in a deep breath, determined to harness whatever strength she had could gather to deal with this man. She lifted her gaze steadily. She could do this. “You reallydohave a vivid imagination. Why can’t you understand I’m simply here to work? Anything else is a figment of your over-active imagination.”
His gaze grew colder and his eyes narrowed. She guessed he wasn’t used to criticism. She refused to lower her gaze, but had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop her lips from trembling. He knew there was more to it than that. Question was, what was he going to do about it? Because if he pressed her, she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t crumple under that laser-like gaze. It got to her, struck some inner place where he knew she was vulnerable.
Just when she thought she couldn’t keep things together any longer, he gave a brief nod and tight smile, as if indulging her, as if he’d reached some kind of decision. He indicated the beach below them.
“If you’ve finished eating, I suggest a walk along the beach.”
Janey deliberately took her time, wiping her mouth on the napkin before tossing it beside her empty plate. “I thought we were going to talk about work.”
“Wewilltalk about work, when Iwishto talk about work. And at the moment, I donotwish it.” He drained his glass and stood up. “Shall we?”
“I guess.” It didn’t look as if she had much choice.
She walked down the steps, acutely aware of him following her. As she stepped onto the sand, and felt the familiar dry squeak of the soft sand sinking around her foot, she sighed, overwhelmed by the feeling she’d come home. Instinctively, she pushed off her sandals and hooked them under her fingers. It had been too long since she’d been for a simple walk on the beach. Not, she thought, that she imagined anything would be simple with Amare.
“So,” she said, not wanting to waste any more time. “When can I gain access to the harem?”
He shot her a raised eyebrow. “If I’d known you wanted to go to the harem with me, I would have skipped breakfast.”
She looked determinedly forward, irritated less by his unwavering focus on her and on sex, and more by her reaction. Her body refused to behave itself.
“I don’t wish to go to the harem with you. I much prefer to go by myself.” She glared at him so he could not misunderstand her. “For research purposes.”
“Research, eh? I like the sound of that.”
She shot him a sideways look. “You like the sound of everything.”
He shrugged, and then picked up an iridescent shell from the white sand, examined it briefly and tossed it in the air before catching it deftly.
“Anything to do with you, yes. I can just picture us exploring all a harem has to offer.”
