Page 7 of The Sheikh's Temporary Girlfriend

“Good,” he popped the cork, “because without your trust our arrangement won’t work.” He poured them each a glass of champagne, then handed one to her. His stare held hers as he lifted his glass in a toast. “To our fake partnership.”

She lifted her glass to clink it against his, her hand surprisingly shaky as the full extent of her commitment suddenly hit her.

What had she done?

Chapter Three

Amber and Basam devoured the fruit and cheese platter while they sipped on champagne and talked of inconsequential things that nevertheless showcased Basam’s intelligence. He was highly educated, his life experiences making him even more cultivated.

She probably looked like something between a country hick and a beach bum in comparison.

She swallowed the last of her champagne. Though she’d had too much to drink, she needed whatever courage she could find knowing what was ahead of her. His people would be judging her, and no doubt the dignitaries would be even worse as they looked down their long noses at her.

“Would you like to take a shower and freshen up before we land?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll wait until we get to the palace.”

He didn’t need to know she had nothing else suitable to wear.

He left then to make use of the shower himself in the adjoining bathroom. It had to be the alcohol that made her so tempted to follow him. Even worse were the erotic visuals that played through her head at the thought of the rivulets of hot water running over his sculptured, naked body. His clothes didn’t hide the hard planes of his body, no matter how much she tried not to notice.

Her hands trembled a little when she applied some fresh pink gloss to her lips and redid her hair before tying it up securely. If this was how strongly her emotions were at the start of this pretense with Basam, what would they be like by day seven?

Sucking in a steadying breath, she left the bedroom and returned to the window seat, clipping on her belt as the jet quickly descended toward the private runway. She looked out the tinted windows to the barren desert landscape below. Though the sun was just cracking the horizon, it was still dark enough outside to see the myriad of lights in the distance. No doubt it was the city where Basam resided.

He returned dressed in a white thobe and keffiyeh headwear. She stared at him. If he was gorgeous in western clothes, his traditional outfit sent shivers down her spine. He looked taller and even more formidable, a true king of the desert.

“Keep staring at me like that and I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

She lifted her chin. “And what actions would that be?”

His eyes all but glowed, not unlike a tiger stalking its prey. “I think you know exactly what I mean, sunshine.”

“And I think you must remember what I said.”

He nodded. “Yes.No sex.Those words are printed indelibly into my brain.”

“Good.” She turned away before he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Because suddenly she wasn’t so sure about her self-imposed rule, she was convinced more than ever that she wanted to be with a man like Basam. She was just as convinced that the boys she’d dated in the past wouldn’t compare.

They finally touched-down, the pilot landing the jet as smooth as butter. It wasn’t until he’d taxied it down the runway and toward a building she assumed was a hangar that she noticed the small crowd waiting for their arrival. As the jet got closer she realized by the cameras and microphones those same people were reporters.

She turned to Basam. “Were you aware of the press waiting for us?”

He frowned, then leaned closer to her to take a look out the window. He swore emphatically. “Someone must have leaked the news.”

She gulped, trying not to notice his bulk so close to hers. But it was impossible to ignore his magnetism and power. He radiated both. “Who could possibly know?”

“You’d be surprised.” He nodded at her choker and earrings. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone hid in the bushes and zoomed their camera on me or anyone close to me—anything they could use as news. In our case it would be my gift to you. The gutter-press are piranhas who’d gladly draw blood to make a story.”

She touched her choker. “Then I guess the jewelry did its job.”

He sighed heavily. “Yes, though I was hoping you’d be shielded for a few more days yet from a mob of news-hungry reporters.”

A pair of guards in matching thobes with firearms at their sides materialized from where they’d been sitting at the front of the jet plane. Fear for a moment held her spellbound before logic reasserted itself. They were here to protect their sheikh, which meant by association, they’d protect her too. That she hadn’t seen them for the entire trip meant they had to be good at their jobs to stay so invisible and unobtrusive.

“Are you ready for this?” Basam asked.

No!She nodded. “Yes.”

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