Rainwater Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (11 page)

When he finally released me, my
breaths came in ragged pants. His arms stayed strong around me, holding me so I
wouldn't fall to my knees in happy surrender. He kissed my shoulder, sending a
shiver down my spine. I turned slowly to find him breathing almost as hard as I
was.

The lights suddenly flickered as
thunder boomed, shaking the windows outside. Owen and I exchanged a quick
glance before promptly exiting the shower. I glanced at the mirror and started
laughing, Owen joining in as he followed my gaze.

The mirror was littered with
hand-prints. It was incredibly obvious exactly what we had been doing, the
perfect mirror smudged with our escapades. Owen let out a hearty chuckle,
pulling me into him for yet another mind-blowing kiss.

"Be right back," he
finally whispered, letting me go. I stood there for a moment, dizzy from his
kiss. Thunder boomed again, but the lights stayed bright. I had completely
forgotten about the balcony doors until I heard Owen closing them. I smiled as
I wrapped myself up in a towel, knowing he was making sure the room was warm
for me.

Owen opened the door, the steam
leaking out into the main room as he stepped inside wearing one of the hotel's
voluminous robes. He handed me a second, the material soft and luxurious. I
followed him out. The room dark. He hopped on the bed and motioned me to
follow.

Lightning illuminated the sky
through the windows. Owen had drawn the drapes back so we could watch the night
sky light up. I cuddled into the nook of his shoulder, a delightful warm drowsy
feeling washing over me. The sky lit up as thunder echoed through the city
buildings, shaking windows and rattling doors. I wasn't scared, though. With
Owen holding me, the world could end, and I would still be safe.

T
he plane touched down and woke me
from the blurry vestiges of a strange dream. As I opened my eyes sleepily, I
saw Owen's smiling face. It had been a rough flight. The first four hours, Owen
had managed to keep me relatively calm and distracted, but when we hit a patch
of turbulence, I had lost it. Luckily, Owen had convinced me to take some
medication to help me relax, and then had held me until I fell asleep. I was
safe in his arms, and I managed to sleep through the rest of the flight, albeit
with very strange dreams. Presently, the medication was still in my system, but
at least this time I was going to get off the airplane and not have a wicked
hangover.

"Good morning, gorgeous.
Welcome to Dubai." He kissed me gently and pushed open one of the window
shades. Bright white sunshine poured into the dimly lit cabin, making me blink.
I fumbled in my bag for a brush, ran it through my hair, then quickly gathered
my things to get off the plane.

As the door opened, I felt a blast
of heat, like I had just stepped into an oven. Nothing could have prepared me
for how hot it was. Not even when I had gone to the Caribbean had I ever been
this hot. There was no moisture in the air here, no clouds.
No wonder it was
a desert
, I thought. I was used to summers in Iowa, where the humidity and
the heat make the corn grow sweet, but this was a different kind of heat. Sand
and blue skies were all I could see, and everything seemed to be reflecting the
gleaming sunlight back upon itself.

The airport where we had landed was
small and obviously for wealthy clients with private jets. I felt like a movie
star as I walked down the stairs and onto a red carpeted walkway.

A private car was waiting to take
us to our hotel. I wondered what a city would look like in this part of the
world. As someone who never expected to travel, and never had the desire to
either, I hadn't paid much attention to the places I could go. Even when Owen
had told me where we were going, my knowledge was limited and scattered.

I had began to watch a brief
“Cultural Awareness“ video while we were on the airplane, but I hadn't lasted
long. All I knew about Dubai was that it was known for its oil and that the
world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, was located there.

I looked out the window as the city
came into view and gasped. It was quite possibly the most unique city I could
have imagined. The pictures online didn't do it justice. Skyscrapers soared
into the atmosphere, their shapes almost whimsical. I could see part of the
Burj Khalifa as we drove closer, its spire threading into the sky past where I
could follow it. The thought of going to the top made my stomach feel a little
queasy.

The car drove us through the city,
whose buildings were all beautiful and unique. I had expected it to look like
New York City, or maybe Chicago, but this was beyond anything I could have
imagined. I smiled as I gazed at the structure. I didn't know that it was
possible to make skyscrapers that looked like sailboats.

The car slowly worked it's way
toward the base of the
massive
tower of the Burj Khalifa. At 2,722 feet
and 162 floors: it dominated the skyline. My neck ached as I craned it backward
to see the top, but we were too close and the tower was too tall. The car
dropped us off, and Owen and I headed inside the main lobby.

Everything inside was sleek and
modern, made for a worldwide stage. Businessmen in western attire mingled with
men wearing the traditional long white
dishdasha
. A woman in a
hijab
stood next to a Russian woman in jeans and a tank-top, both of them waiting for
their husbands. I tried my best not to stare at the non-Western clothing, but
it was just something that I had never seen before. It was exotic and very, very
foreign.

Owen didn't stop to check in at the
desk, he just headed straight for the elevators. The shiny doors closed and
shot us up fast enough to make my ears pop. Owen led me confidently out of the
elevator and down a hallway, apparently very used to the layout of the place as
he spent so much time here for his business trips,. A man was waiting for us
outside of a dark wooden door. I smiled as I recognized who it was. At least
not everything was foreign here.

Dean grinned as soon as he saw us,
quickly sliding a keycard into the door and opening it. As I walked past, he
touched my shoulder and whispered, "I'm glad you made it." I couldn't
help but flash him a grin, glad to have another familiar face in a sea of new
ones.

"How did you get here? Aren't you
supposed to be watching Emma?" I asked him.

Dean shrugged. "She asked if I
could switch with Mr. Parker's usual bodyguard for the trip. Mr. Saunders was
all too happy to agree. Besides,“ he said with a quick grin. “I thought you
could use the friendly face."

"You know me too well," I
said softly as I stepped through the door. I sent Emma a silent thank you.
Knowing I had Dean looking out for me, someone I already trusted, made the idea
of being somewhere so foreign easier.

Owen sat down on a white, beautifully
upholstered sofa, kicking his shoes off and relaxing for a moment. He watched
me as I explored the room like a little kid, grinning at my shock at the size
and lavishness of it all. There was a study with a giant TV, a huge and
inviting bedroom with a massive bathroom, and a living room bigger than my
apartment. The bar and pantry were better stocked than my own, but I forgot it
all when I saw the view. From the windows, I could see the city, the desert,
and even a sliver of the Gulf glimmering in the distance. It was absolutely
breathtaking.

"What do you think?" Owen
asked with a grin as I found my way back to the living room. He lounged
comfortably on the couch as though he had always lived there. Unable to find
the words I needed, my mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"This room is nicer than my
parents' house. I can't wrap my head around how big this place is. I didn't
know this level of niceness even existed. I don't think this even qualifies as
a hotel anymore. I'm in awe."

Owen laughed and stood. He walked
over to me and kissed me affectionately on the nose.

"I'm glad you like it. Make
yourself comfortable.“ He began to throw on his suit jacket again. “I need to
get some work done in the office, but come in if you need anything. I'd suggest
something simple for dinner tonight, but we already have plans. I know you must
be jet-lagged, but I need you to be ready to go to the sheik's palace tonight
for dinner. I'm sorry."

I nodded, accepting the apology,
and Owen smiled at me. He turned and entered the study, closing the door gently
behind him. In my mind's eye, I could see him opening his laptop and setting up
his phone, placing everything he needed just so on the desk before getting to
work. It made me smile as I headed toward the bedroom to unpack and settle in.

***

R
achel and Emma had done well at
their job of picking out my clothes. Owen's eyes practically popped out of his
head when he saw me in the formal dinner dress they had chosen. It was a deep
hue of blue that reminded me of twilight, right as stars start to appear but
before the moon rises. The sweetheart cut would have been out of place for a
conservative dinner, but with a skin-tight long-sleeve lace overlay the length
of the dress, only discrete windows of my skin were exposed. I felt like
something out of a fashion magazine. As we walked into the sheik's mansion, I
knew that that was the point. I was here as Owen's arm candy tonight.

Sheik Mohammad al-Saffar greeted us
warmly as we entered a large open room in the center of what I could only call
a palace. Marble archways and lavish gardens made his home exactly what I had
imagined the castle from Aladdin to look like in real life.

The older gentleman wore the
traditional white
dishdasha
that I was already associating with the Middle
East. He looked exactly like what I thought a sheik would look like. "Mr.
Parker, what a pleasure," the sheik greeted Owen with perfect, though
slightly accented, English. I wasn't quite sure what I had been expecting, but
it wasn't that.

Owen had warned me that as a woman,
and not party to the negotiations going on through DS Oil and Gas, I would
largely be ignored. I chose not to be slighted as the sheik only nodded, but
never spoke to me. As the two men conversed, I followed them into a large
dining area. A table big enough to feed a small city dominated the center of
the room, and delicious smells were wafting off of covered plates waiting to be
devoured.

As the three of us entered the airy
room, a young man stood and gracefully padded over to greet us. He wore a
western outfit of gray slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt with a collar. He
couldn't have been more than a year or two older than I was, with perfect olive
skin, dark eyes, and eyelashes that seemed to go on into infinity. He broke
into a bright smile as he held out his hand to greet us.

"This is my son, Rashid."
The sheik introduced the young man, a proud smile lighting his creased face. It
was easy to see that Rashid was his father's pride and joy. Owen shook the
younger man's hand, and then followed the father toward the dinner table.

"Please, call me Roger. It's
so much easier that way," the young man said without a trace of his
father's accent. He reached out his hand to shake mine. I took his hand,
surprised at the strength and heat in his fingers. He stared into my eyes,
making my cheeks flush when he didn't release my hand. The blush only seemed to
amuse him, and he gave me a crooked smirk, knowing that he had flustered me.

I withdrew my hand and hurried to
the table. I sat down next to Owen, and Roger took his place across the table
from me with his father. The two business men jumped into a conversation
regarding their oil dealings almost immediately, using the dinner as a sort of
informal business meeting. Roger and I sat quietly as they spoke, his eyes
catching mine as often as he could. I shifted in my seat. I was unable to put
my finger on it, but something about him made me anxious.

Roger grinned at me, making sure he
had my attention as he licked his lips suggestively. I felt the blush start
again, but I tried to ignore the flustered feeling rising in my stomach.

I was with Owen. I thought it was
fairly clear that I was taken, but Roger didn't seem to care, flirting openly
with me across the table, even with Owen right there. I didn't want to do
anything that could jeopardize Owen's business dealings, and making the sheik's
son unhappy would not indenture any good will, so I sat quietly and focused on
the food in front of me, avoiding his smiles.

It wasn't hard to concentrate on
the food, though as I had never experienced anything quite like this. There
were roasted scallops with black truffles, pan-fried sea bass in a zesty lemon
caper sauce, freshly sauteed dandelion root with onion salad, and for dessert
something called
la sfera.
It was a beautiful creation of vanilla cream,
violet crème brulee, and cassis sorbet that resembled an edible Faberge egg.

We ate until I was sure I couldn't
eat another bite. As a waiter quietly picked up the empty dessert trays, Sheik
al-Saffar leaned back in his chair, musing over something Owen had said. He and
Owen had spent the entire meal debating various points of the contract that
Owen was attempting to secure for Jack's company. This dinner was never meant
for me, so I didn't mind the two of them talking shop the entire time. From
what little I could understand of their oil jargon, it seemed to be going well.

I was slightly unnerved, however,
by Roger's constant attention. He hadn't said a word over dinner, but his eyes
had never left me. I felt like he wanted to have me for dinner instead of the
sea bass, and he was just waiting to find the opportune moment to catch me. I
shivered slightly, but not from cold.

The sheik and Owen stood as soon as
the last plates were cleared away, and they walked somewhat sedately toward an
attached room with a large TV screen. They wanted to look at one of the
advertising campaigns Owen had created for selling al-Saffar's oil to new
markets. I smiled for a moment as I knew that meant Owen's task was going well,
but then frowned as I realized it meant that Roger and I were left alone at the
table.

"Have you ever been to
Paris?" Roger asked, playing with a water glass. There was something to
the motion that made me uncomfortable. I pushed aside my feelings of discomfort,
determined to do my best to help Owen out. If I was going to be traveling with
him, I would have to get good at being a well-behaved guest.

"No. This is actually the
first time I've been out of the country. Well, other than to the Caribbean, but
that almost doesn't count." I gave him my most diplomatic smile and hoped
he wouldn't see right through it. I didn't really want to talk to him.

"Would you like to?" He
dipped his finger into the glass.

"Um, maybe someday. I've never
really had the opportunity to travel, so I've never really thought about
it." I gave myself a mental pat on the back for the smooth answer.

"I meant, would you like to go
there with me?" He raised his wet finger to his lips, sucking the moisture
from his fingertip. I swallowed hard.

"As long as Owen gets to come
too," I answered. I hoped that reminding him that I was here with Owen
would make him back off. I didn't like how this conversation was going.

"I was thinking just the two
of us. It is the city of love, after all." He smiled suggestively at me. I
opened my mouth, but no words came out. My brain was scrambling for a
diplomatic answer, one that wouldn't make the situation more awkward. Something
that would help Owen land this contract.