Page 16 of The Sheikh's Temporary Girlfriend

Amber cheered when she realized the women would be tonight’s entertainment. The dancers lifted their arms in unison, their strong midriffs rippling as they undulated to the music, music tinkling from their hands as they clacked their fingers together.

“They’re using zils—finger cymbals,” he informed her as he watched her watch the dancers. “I usually also have live musicians to accompany the dancers.”

“I wish you had,” she said, her body swaying to the seductive music along with the dancers. “I would have loved to have seen this in all its authentic glory.”

“Perhaps another night,” he murmured close behind her, his arms encircling her waist from behind as he pulled her against him.

She stiffened, her eyes darting around the room. This wouldn’t be considered appropriate behavior in this country, would it? But everyone was staring at the performance, not at them, and she relaxed against him, enjoying his strong front against her back.

Perhaps sheikhs were given more free rein than others? Or perhaps his country was more forward thinking than many others in that respect?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her eyes automatically lifted, finding the burning stare of Maram who watched them together. Amber managed a smile but the other woman looked away, then disappeared through the crowd and out of sight.

She sighed. It seemed she’d made an enemy here without even trying. Luckily she was getting paid well to fool everyone. Basam was just as unavailable as he always was and it had nothing to do with her, despite the ruse they acted out.

The dancers moved through the crowd then, their fingers clanging out sweet notes on their zils as they lifted their arms and swayed their hips suggestively. When one particularly lovely lady approached Basam and danced in front of him, Amber’s stomach clenched while acid burned its way through her body.

What’s wrong with me? He’s not my real boyfriend, he never will be! I’m nothing to him—just as he’s nothing to me!

Yet the burn remained long after the dancer left him alone. That he’d barely taken his eyes off Amber the whole time didn’t make her feel any better. He was acting the part for the audience watching, nothing more.

Only once the dancers finished their performance and left the room the same way they’d come to cheers and applause, did Basam lean close to her and murmur, “Ready to call it a night, sunshine?”

She nodded, the clench in her stomach moving down to her core.

She swallowed hard. Calling it a night didn’t automatically mean he wanted to seduce her…did it? She’d told him “no sex” and he seemed a man of his word. That her body and mind fought a battle over whether she wanted sex now was another matter entirely.

Her thoughts continued traveling a dangerous path as Basam stepped forward, his clear, strong voice encompassing the room. “Thank you, ladies and gentleman for coming here tonight and making my lovely girlfriend, Amber—or sunshine, as I like to call her—so very welcome.” A smattering of laughter sounded. “I feel very fortunate to have found a woman who’s become so precious to me in such a short time.”

More of the audience clapped and sighed, and Amber managed a smile even as a camera flashed and the photographer strode forward to take more shots.

Basam nodded and stepped back beside Amber. Bending close to her ear, he said softly, “Did I mention the official photos that would be taken tonight?”

“No, it seems to have slipped your mind,” she sniped under her breath.

He turned and caught her chin in one big hand, his eyes glinting then as he lowered his mouth to hers and stole a kiss that, though brief, made her knees knock together while passion sparked deep inside. He drew back, his lips twitching. “Looks like I’ve found a way to make your eyes less flashy and hostile and more passionate and dewy.”

She blinked up at him even as he caught her closer and smiled like the wolf that had cornered a doe while the cameraman took at least dozen more shots. Only once Basam was satisfied there were enough shots did he incline his head and escort Amber toward the exit, his guests watching them depart.

“Are you okay?” he asked as they traversed the wide corridors, where paintings and prints were interspersed with what appeared to be centuries-old needlework in huge, gold-leaf frames.

She nodded. “I think so.” She looked up at him, admiring his dark hair and high cheekbones, his full lips that had mastered hers so effectively. “Did I pass the test?”

He smiled and nodded. “We were very convincing.”

A delicate shiver went down her spine. “Maram certainly seemed to believe us.” She bit her bottom lip. “I think I understand now why you don’t want to marry her, she’s very—“

Hostile. Vindictive. Mean.

“Possessive?” he asked, filling in the blank.

“Something like that.”

“Unfortunately she’s as much in love with the idea of being sheikha as she’ll ever be in love with me.”

“So what doyouwant in a woman?” Amber asked. “It clearly isn’t someone who is beautiful and self-assured or you’d at least test the waters with Maram.”

“No, I’ve met plenty of other beautiful and self-assured women. Unfortunately, not all of them have other qualities I’m also attracted to.”

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