I Married a Sheik (12 page)

She'd done a good job thus far—until about three minutes ago when he'd sailed into the room, bringing his masculine intensity with him, causing her brains to scramble and her temperature to rise.

"What are you doing down here? Besides mooching my soda." She took her glass from him, took a sip, then realized he was right, it was disgustingly warm.

"Actually, I came to see if you'd deliberately been avoiding me, or if perhaps you'd been abducted by aliens."

Still trying to concentrate, she glanced away from the monitor and up at him with an annoyed frown. "What?"

"Aliens," he repeated, realizing she was somewhere else, thinking of something else. He admired that kind of intense concentration and dedication, but he did wish she wasn't quite so surly all the time.

It was the first time in his life a woman had actually, deliberately ignored or avoided him. It wasn't just a challenge he couldn't resist, but something more, something about Faith Martin had stirred him in a way other women had not.

In spite of his fears about his own reaction to her, he was also a man, with a healthy male ego. He found Faith not just a challenge, but an intriguing puzzle he wanted to solve.

"What about aliens?" she asked with a shake of her head, finally registering his words. "And why are you bothering me?" she demanded, not wanting to encourage him to stay.

She was hot, tired and incredibly irritable. She'd skipped breakfast and lunch, and now had a splitting headache. She really was not in the mood for jokes or flirtatious banter. "I'm busy."

Shaking his head, Ali laughed. All of his other employees nearly shook in their shoes when they saw him; she merely snarled at him.

"Yes, I can see that you're busy," he said, glancing over her shoulder to see what she was doing. He didn't have a clue. "And in a good mood again, I see."

Faith rubbed her throbbing temple, then blew out a breath. His presence was only adding to her irritability. She may have been deliberately avoiding him, but that hadn't meant she hadn't seen him.

In this morning's paper, in the middle of the society pages, there he was, arm around another long, leggy blonde.

From the dizzying array of pictures so far this week, Ali apparently hadn't been too bothered by her refusal.

In spite of Kadid's enlightenment, Ali's behavior served to confirm her worst suspicions about him and his character. His parents might be fixing him up, but he was the one playing musical chairs with all of these women. He didn't have to go out with a different one every night. Didn't he ever hear of staying home?

She wondered how many women's hearts Ali had broken with his careless disregard. She'd watched her own father use and discard women like burned-out matches. Scorch one, then move on to the next without further thought of their feelings. Or anyone else's but his own.

"So then what do you want?" she demanded, letting her annoyance slip into her voice.

"I told you, I came to see if you've deliberately been avoiding me," he said with careful patience.

"Don't be ridiculous," she lied.

"Faith?" He touched a tendril of hair again, a slight frown marring his brow. Instinctively, she jerked back at his touch, remembering what that touch could do to her, reduce her to.

"What?" She rubbed her forehead, wishing that he didn't irritate her so, but that irritation was merely her own frustration and annoyance at her own reactions to him.

She should be able to control her body, shouldn't have it doing traitorous things just because he was near. It felt like a betrayal on the most basic level and she wasn't sure how to deal with it.

She glanced up at him and saw the heat of emotion in his eyes. Unable to determine exactly what that emotion was, she sighed. He was still the boss, and she should at least make an attempt to be civil, if for no other reason than to keep things on a professional level. "Why on earth would you think I was avoid—"

"We had an appointment over an hour ago," Ali said quietly, patiently, lifting the cuff of his shirt to show her his watch. It was almost seven in the evening.

Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. "Good Lord, I completely forgot the time." Frustrated, she pushed her hair off her face. "I'm sorry." Shaking her head, she blew out another frustrated breath. "I wasn't avoiding you or trying to be rude. Honest." At least it was the truth—this time. She
had
forgotten their appointment. "I got so caught up in what I was doing, I completely lost all track of time."

There was a scattering of notes across the table, notes she'd prepared earlier this morning for their meeting so she could give him a status report on his system.

Flustered now, she began scooping them up, trying to put them in some semblance of order.

"Relax," he said quietly, getting to his feet. She was unaccountably rattled and he didn't understand why. It aroused a whole host of feelings in him.

At the moment, she didn't look strong and capable, but merely frazzled, fragile and oddly vulnerable. Something he had not imagined in the very capable Faith.

It brought out every protective male instinct in his body, causing something inside to soften.

"Calm down, Faith, it's not that big a deal. I was tied up in an investors' meeting across town and just got back a few moments ago myself." He laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

Her tense, tired body reacted instantly to his touch. She froze, and then the heat rushing through her seemed to melt everything inside, causing her words, her thoughts to scatter.

"I guess I just got so involved…I was so engrossed…I didn't realize how late it was."

"It's not a problem, no harm done," he all but crooned as the hand on her shoulder started to knead her tense muscles and Faith sighed in spite of herself.

She hated to admit it, but her muscles were screaming with strain and fatigue. And her stomach ached from hunger. His touch seemed to arouse every single sore nerve ending, making them squeal in alarm, but she was too tired to hear them.

"Turn around," he said quietly, and with a weary sigh, she did as she was told, turning her back to him.

His hands were large, warm, and yet incredibly gentle as he massaged her tight shoulders, gently kneading the pressure points until she felt relaxation slowly creep over her.

"You have been working too hard," he admonished, his breath, his words, like a soft, gentle caress against the exposed skin on her neck.

Vividly aware of his touch, of his body so close to hers, Faith felt as if a charge of electricity sparked between them, connecting them with the kind of heat that could scorch them both.

Scorches left scars, she reminded herself.

She tensed up, then tried to pull away, suddenly frightened, wondering how he could cause her to stop thinking simply by touching her.

"Faith, this will do no good if you continue to tense up. Please just let yourself go for a moment." His hands worked their magic against the tightness that gripped her whole body. "Just relax."

She could feel the tension slowly drain from her as he moved his hands over her skin and her light cotton T-shirt.

A shiver raced over her as her body reacted. Her breasts grew heavy, the nipples taut. She had to concentrate to get breath in and out of her lungs.

"Your body is protesting all the tension you've been carrying around. Such stress is not good for you." He inhaled deeply of her hair, the scent like a soothing balm to his frustrated body.

He continued to knead, to massage, letting the pads of his fingers work their magic.

Letting her eyes slide closed, Faith wanted to purr in ecstasy, certain nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

"And you have a headache as well," he commented, sliding his fingers up the back of her neck to massage the tightened muscles where the headache seemed to have clustered.

With each stroke, the throbbing seemed to ease, doing what several doses of aspirin had failed to do.

"You've obviously missed your calling," she murmured.

"My calling?" he asked in confusion.

She sighed in pleasure again, allowing herself,
ordering
herself to relax and enjoy this few moments of pleasure.

"Yes, you should have been a masseur. You have great hands."

"Thank you. I shall ask Kadid to put that on my resume."

Faith laughed, realizing he had a dry, wicked sense of humor, something she found incredibly appealing when she wasn't totally annoyed at the man. "Well, that ought to impress all your clients."

He chuckled, his fingers still moving upward to release her hair from its constraints. It fell free to her shoulders, and as his fingers combed through the beautiful, fiery strands, he remembered how she'd looked the other night, with her hair framing her face, emphasizing the delicacy of her features.

His fingers moved to her scalp, circling, rubbing, pressing until she wanted nothing more than to lean back against him and abandon her aching, tired body to his expert touch.

"Well, I'm pleased that something about me actually pleases you." Although he would like to please her in other ways, sensual ways. He was a normal, healthy man, and she was a normal, healthy, if a bit surly, woman. She was so surprisingly different and real, so genuine in a way he had almost stopped believing women could be.

She responded to his touch with abandon, not bothering to hide her pleasure just as she had the other night when she was in his arms.

It was rare for a woman to relish the simplest of touches. It made him curious how she would respond to other, more intimate touches.

He knew, he realized, knew instinctively. All he had to do was remember the heat, the passion, the fire that she'd given to him from just one kiss.

The thought brought an instant stirring to his blood. He wanted her in his arms again, wanted to taste her, to touch her, to know her intimately in the way a man could only really know a woman.

Knowing he could not sustain such thoughts without embarrassing himself, he ordered his hands to move to her temples, massaging in a gentle circular motion.

"Good Lord, this is wonderful." With a moan, Faith gave in and closed her eyes. "Almost decadent."

The feel of her under his hands and her unbridled response was bringing incredible pleasure. Before he was overwhelmed, he deliberately shifted his thoughts.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked quietly.

"Two candy bars and a bag of chips." Her voice sounded more like a purr.

"You may be very good at what you do, Faith Martin," he said quietly, "but I'm afraid you're not so good at taking care of yourself."

His sweet breath warmed her neck, causing goose bumps to rise and her heart to thud so loudly she feared he might hear it. She had to swallow hard before she spoke because her mouth had gone dry.

"I consider candy and chips two of the basic food groups."

"And then of course there is your favorite cola." He glanced down at the soggy cup that held the now-warm liquid.

"That's merely fuel to keep me going." Almost totally relaxed now, Faith rolled her shoulders, bringing her body close enough to bump against the firm hardness of his. His fingers unconsciously tightened on her shoulders, causing her to freeze.

From shoulder to hip they were touching, pressed against each other, her back against his chest, heat flowing from one to the other.

Ali heard her breath catch, and felt the responding blood pool in his gut, then shift painfully lower. He almost groaned.

Stunned anew, Faith froze, vividly aware that she was pressed against the long, hard length of him, much the same way she'd been the other night.

She'd tried to forget what had happened that night, tried to pretend it didn't happen.

But she couldn't forget the way his touch made her feel, couldn't forget the feel of his lips on hers. Or the way her body had responded.

Ordering herself to think, she tried to take a step forward, to put some space between them, to break the connection between them, but his hands held her gently, but firmly.

"You are getting all tense again," he admonished. "I promise I won't bite." He could not bear to release her yet, yet he felt unable to explain this unaccountable need to touch her.

He turned her slowly to face him, smiling at the soft look on her face. Her eyes were a bit dreamy, sparkling like fine emeralds.

Her hair, that fiery tangle of red and gold that fell just to her shoulders, framed her face like a halo, emphasizing her fragile ivory complexion. Her cheeks now held a hint of color, but it only added to her appeal.

Looking at him as if in a trance, Faith realized he might not bite but he had enough experience with women to know the effect he was having on her. She was not immune to men; she simply chose to keep them at bay out of necessity. The necessity of self-protection.

Wanting to get things back on a more professional level, she stepped away from him.

"Thanks for the massage," she said lightly, gathering her hair in her hands to pull it back up. She felt far too defenseless with her hair down. "My headache's almost gone." He laid a hand on hers, stopping her from pulling her hair up.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Your hair is beautiful. Magnificent." With her hair down, she looked soft, beautiful and incredibly bewitching. How could any man resist?

"Did you know in my country that a woman's hair is her glory?" His gaze went over her hair, pleased. "It is a sign of beauty. You should wear your hair down more often. It's beautiful."

"Well then, I guess it's a good thing I don't live in your country," she murmured, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Because I can't wear my hair down when I work. It might get caught in something." She grabbed a rubber band from the desk and caught her hair up in it. Her hands were trembling so much she had to do it twice.

He was still too close, far too close. She needed to put some distance between them so she could regain her composure.

"Pity," he said with a soft smile.

She began gathering up her notes. "Look, if it's not too late, we can still have our meeting. Just give me a few minutes to get my stuff together."