Page 63 of The Sheikh's Bride of Convenience

And what did that mean for Grace?

It meant one thing. She didn't have to doubt Qazim, anymore. Not like she'd done before.

And, more important, she didn't have to fear being smothered by his demands. She didn't have to worry about losing herself in someone else's life. Those were the thoughts that had sent her running out of his apartment a year ago.

A long time ago.

She hadn't lost herself by staying with Qazim. On the contrary, she'd found something precious. Something she couldn't possibly throw away.

Grace reached the door to Qazim's suite, and paused, straightening her dress, tugging at the her collar. She took a deep breath and knocked the door.

After a moment, she heard footsteps from inside and then the door swung open.

Qazim stood there, holding the door handle. He was dressed in a white, open-necked shirt, dark pants and casual black shoes. His skin looked clear and freshly washed.

On seeing Grace, his eyes brightened and he smiled right at her. "Grace," he exclaimed. "Welcome."

Grace nodded and stepped inside his suite. As she walked past him, she glanced up at him. "Qazim," she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

She inhaled his mixture of cologne and his own manly scent as he leaned closer and gave her a brief kiss on the side of her cheek. It was a polite gesture, but one that immediately triggered a delicious tingle through her body.

Up close, she felt a sudden awkwardness. His sheer physical presence was intense, here, in the confines of the narrow hallway. In the low light of the hallway, his features, normally harsh and hard-edged, seemed calm and softer.

The layout of his suite was different from hers. Where they stood was a long corridor, at the end of which she could see a closed door. One door to the side was open, and she blushed slightly as she saw that one.

His bedroom.

She could see his bed from where she stood. Wide and very large.

Inviting.

Thinking that word almost made her blush.

She wondered if he'd left that door open deliberately. She glanced at him and noted that he'd obviously seen the way she'd looked into his bedroom.

He led her through another open double door and into his sitting room. She'd been in here briefly on some occasions, with Zarif and Anya.

But, never alone. And not for over a week or so.

That had been part of their agreement. The one part she'd been determined to keep.

It was a luxurious room, elegantly furnished. Soft edges and muted colors predominated. On the walls there were prints, or possibly original paintings, showing desert scenes. The air in the room was cooled by two large overhead fans.

Momentarily, she was surprised. She looked at Qazim. "Did you change something in here?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded. "I made some changes to the furnishings. Got rid of some of that awful modern stuff you kept complaining about."

She walked into the middle of the room. The sofas, chairs and cabinets all had a traditional look about them. Gone were the austere, minimalist pieces of furniture he'd had here before. Now, the place had almost an old-fashioned feel to it.

Traditional, was the word which came to Grace's mind. Had he made this change to somehow get in touch with his ancestral past? Maybe Qazim had been talking with Riaz. Perhaps even taking some advice.

She nodded approvingly. "Nice," she said. She smiled at him. "It's an improvement, Qazim."

He lifted a brow. "I'm glad you approve," he said. "Speaking of approving, can I say you look absolutely beautiful in that dress," he added.

He ran his gaze down the length of her body. The way he looked at her made something shift in her middle. If she wasn't mistaken, he'd just mentally undressed her. She felt her face flush with color and she tugged self-consciously at her long, blonde hair.

"Thanks," she breathed awkwardly.

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