Desert Rogues Part 2 (73 page)

“You wish to repay your parents for the wedding?” he asked.

“Of course. It was thousands of dollars for nothing. I'm the one who picked Eric. I'm the one who wanted to marry him. So this is my responsibility.”

Her parents had disagreed that it was her fault, but it wasn't as if they were rolling in money. Her dad would be retiring in a few years and her mother had only ever worked part-time.

“And while we're on the subject,” she said. “If we do this, I don't want work to be weird. We'd need to keep our personal life separate from work. People will probably find out but I'd rather we didn't flaunt things.”

“I agree.”

“And when it's over, you can't fire me.”

“I give you my word. Should working together be too uncomfortable, I would help you find another position that was to your liking. If you stay here, we will never mention the affair again.”

Fair enough, she thought. “It won't be uncomfortable for me,” she said. Being his mistress was about her wanting revenge, not finding a new boyfriend. Still, this was by far the most surreal experience of her life. “I'll be fine.”

“How flattering,” Rafiq murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing. In addition to our sexual relationship, I would expect you to accompany me to various social events.”

“That's the part I'm most looking forward to,” Kiley told him with a smile. “I want to be seen and have word get back to Eric.”

Rafiq's expression didn't change, but she had the feeling she'd said something wrong. She ran over her statement. Oh. Yeah. Maybe that wasn't the most flattering thing to say.

“Of course, I'm really excited about sleeping with you,” she added, feeling both embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“I can see that.”

She wanted to bang her head against the desk. “Have I blown it completely?”

“No. You offer something unique. An honest relationship in which we both get what we want. There is no pretense of more-tender feelings.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“Perfectly. I would think a time period of three months would satisfy both of our needs.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. In three months Eric was bound to find out about the affair. She could only hope that the news would devastate him as much as learning the truth about him had devastated her.

“Good.” He stood. “Then there is only one more detail to be worked out.”

“You mean you're seriously considering me?”

She couldn't believe it. Coming to Rafiq had taken all the courage she had and then some. Relief now combined with her sleepless nights and emotional pain and left her light-headed.

“Yes.” He walked around the desk and held out his hand to her.

She stared at it, then at him. He obviously wanted her to take his hand.

“Why me?” she asked, not yet ready for actual physical contact. “I'm not your usual type.”

His dark gaze settled on her face. “That is part of the appeal. You would present a unique perspective on the male-female relationship. I find you attractive. I believe you will be my mistress with the same efficiency that you use here at the office. Which means there is only one question left unanswered.”

She set her pad on his desk and placed her fingers against his palm. She had an impression of warm skin and strength as he gently pulled her to her feet.

He towered over her, and she had on pretty high heels. He smelled clean, just soap and man, and even though it felt strange to have him continue to hold her hand, it was more good-strange than bad-strange.

His dark eyes seemed to see down to the very depths of her being, as if he could read all her secrets. Not a good thing, she thought. She wasn't the secret type and anything he found down there would be pretty pitiful.

She drew in a deep breath. “What's the question?”

“This,” he said, and lowered his head.

She hadn't thought he would kiss her. Maybe she should have. After all, she was offering to be his mistress, which meant an impressive level of physical intimacy, and kissing was the first stop on that road. But here? At the office? In the afternoon?

As his mouth gently brushed against hers, he tugged on her hand and drew her closer. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. She'd been numb since discovering Eric with that woman, so she doubted she was going to be able to respond to Rafiq's kiss.

Only, she had to. This was the final test to see if she was mistress material. As she knew deep in her heart she wasn't; she was going to have to fake it. But how?

Frantic thoughts raced through her mind. She felt awkward standing there, not sure what to do with her arms, her hands. Should she embrace him? Should she go for a wildly enthusiastic tongue kiss? Should she grab his free hand and put it on her breast?

Rafiq raised his head. “You have very noisy thoughts,” he murmured.

“Can you hear them?”

“Not the specifics, but the general rumble. You are free to change your mind.”

Meaning she didn't have to be his mistress. She knew that. “I want to do this.”

He stepped back and sat on the edge of his desk. “Chemistry is important in circumstances such as these.”

“What with sex being the point,” she said, aware that so far they'd yet to create even a spark, let alone a passionate fire.

“Is that what you think?” he asked. “That the whole point is sex?”

“Isn't it?”

He studied her for several seconds. “Perhaps
you
would like to kiss me.”

Oh! Wow. Kiley drew in a deep breath. It hadn't actually been her first choice, but she could guess why he would suggest it. If she couldn't kiss him, she certainly couldn't do anything more interesting.

“I would like to,” she said as much as to convince herself as him.

He sat without moving, although he watched her. She had the sense of being stalked, which was crazy. Rafiq wasn't dangerous. Not exactly. He was powerful and good-looking. A great body. Eric was a little on the skinny side, but Rafiq had serious muscles.

Rafiq was a man who knew women—he'd had plenty and they'd all been reluctant for the affair to end. Some had called her to beg her to put in a good word for them. Some had talked about his prowess in bed. Some had accused her of being the other woman.

She'd wondered about him, of course. He was a fabulously wealthy, handsome prince who had been involved with some of the most beautiful women in the world. What, exactly, was he like in his personal life?

But that musing had been curiosity, not the interest Eric had accused her of. Funny how many times she'd defended herself against the very actions she was about to take.

She moved closer, slipping between his parted thighs and placing her hands on his upper arms. She felt the crisp coolness of his cotton shirt and the heat and strength of his body below. He stayed relaxed and didn't try to hurry her. A faint smile drew the corners of his mouth upward. Then, with her eyes fluttering closed, she leaned in and kissed him.

His lips yielded slightly but did not part. She kept the kiss brief and chaste before moving to the left and lightly kissing his cheek. It was early enough in the day that his skin was still smooth, but she felt the hint of stubble that would arrive later.

She rubbed his cheek with hers, then kissed his jaw and the small spot right below his ear. Some tension inside of her uncoiled a little. Breath flowed more easily. She returned to his mouth, and this time she tilted her head and pressed her lips against his with more enthusiasm.

He responded but didn't try to deepen the kiss. Instead he put one hand on the small of her back. The warm pressure gave her the courage to wrap her arms around his neck and lightly brush her tongue against his bottom lip.

He parted for her. She had the brief thought that she hadn't kissed another man in five years. Only Eric. Then curiosity and a wave of pleasure had her slipping her tongue inside to explore what he offered.

He tasted of coffee and something sweet. His heat surprised her, as did his restraint. He let
her
touch
him.
She was the one who discovered the smoothness of the inside of his lower lip. She sought out his tongue and brushed it with her own.

The hand on her back never moved. He neither urged her forward nor suggested retreat. Not sure what to do next, she broke the kiss, dropped her arms to her sides and straightened. He did the same.

Rafiq's dark expression hadn't changed. No one walking in at this moment would guess anything unusual had happened. Yet Kiley felt a deep shift in the rotation of the universe.

She'd liked kissing Rafiq. Okay, maybe she hadn't seen stars, but she was still dealing with a lot of stuff. The fact that she'd felt anything at all was pretty amazing.

“Do you think we will suit?” he asked.

She was more than a little shocked by the fact that she'd been the one kissing him. “Yes.”

“As do I. We will begin tonight. I will send my car for you at seven. You will spend the evening with me at my house. We will share dinner and work out the final details.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a conference call in fifteen minutes. If you will get me the file?”

Kiley nodded, grabbed her pad and walked out of his office. As she stood by her own much-smaller desk, she had the sudden urge to break into hysterical laughter. Be careful what you wish for, she thought, not sure if she should celebrate or run for the hills.

Now that she had won the handsome Prince Rafiq of Lucia-Serrat, however temporarily…whatever was she going to do with him?

K
iley wasn't sure what she should wear on her first night as mistress. Honestly, she couldn't even think the question without wanting to giggle like a teenager or throw up from sheer panic. Second thoughts didn't describe her roller coaster of emotion. Fear, excitement, worry and the pressing need to scream. A mistress? Her? She was the most normal woman on the planet. Her idea of wild living was to pay for a pedicure instead of doing it herself. How could she seriously consider being Rafiq's mistress?

And yet she had. She'd offered and he'd accepted and sometime very soon they were going to have sex.

She couldn't imagine it. Not with Rafiq. Not with any man, really. She'd thought about being intimate with Eric, but that was different. She hadn't worried about anything. She'd known he would be gentle and loving and exciting.

“Talk about wrong,” she said aloud as she studied the contents of her closet. Eric had turned out to be Toad Boy and was out of her life forever. Now she was the soon-to-be mistress of a fabulously wealthy sheik prince. A thought she couldn't seem to wrap her mind around.

Not that she wasn't grateful he'd agreed to help her out. She intended to enjoy every moment of her revenge. That goal probably made her a bad person, but she was willing to live with it. The condition of her soul was a little less worrying at this moment than what to wear.

She had plenty of work clothes and tons of casual stuff—jeans, shirts, khaki skirts. But no real mistress wear. Not that she could identify mistress wear. It wasn't as if there was a section on it in InStyle magazine. But she had a feeling jeans and a cotton blouse weren't going to cut it and she didn't want to wear an outfit Rafiq had seen at the office.

After flipping through every item on a hanger, she settled on a simple blue short-sleeved dress and high-heeled sandals. She'd fake-tanned the previous week for her wedding, and there was still enough color on her legs that she didn't have to worry about pantyhose. Earrings and a quick application of lip gloss completed the look.

She still had a few minutes until the car was due to arrive. Kiley walked into the living room of her apartment and spent the time packing up what few remaining wedding presents she had yet to return.

Touching items she and Eric had picked out and put on their gift registry made her sad. Where had things gone wrong? What clues had she missed? Okay, her friends telling her Eric had hit on them was a big one. Why hadn't she listened?

“I'll take responsibility for being stupid about that,” she murmured as she closed the box and picked up packing tape. “But not for what he did. He was the cheating, lying jerk in all this, not me.”

She heard a car pull up and glanced out the window. Sure enough, there was a large, black limo right there in front of her door. As it was unlikely to be for any of her neighbors, Kiley put down the packing tape and picked up her purse.

Five minutes later she'd met Arnold, the very nice driver, and had been escorted to the huge back seat of the vehicle. The only other time she'd been in a limo had been for her high school prom, and she and her date had been one of the three couples sharing it. This was very different.

There was a bar, a TV and enough floor space for a Pilates workout. “This is so not like my world,” she murmured as she buckled up.

A voice in her head asked if she knew what on earth she was doing. Kiley was ready to go with no on that one. She didn't. Not really. Being a mistress was an intellectual concept she didn't want to think about.
Actually
being one, in the flesh, so to speak, was a very scary reality she wasn't prepared to deal with. Although she would have to later that evening.

“I went to Rafiq,” she reminded herself. “I'm the one who wanted this. Wanted him.”

And she still did. Revenge was all she had left.

Traffic was surprisingly light for a workday evening, and less than forty minutes later the limo drove down a long, narrow driveway that opened up in front of a wood-and-glass single-story house.

Tropical plants lined the walkway and provided a shaded entry. High walls on both sides offered privacy. When Arnold opened the rear door of the car, Kiley could hear the sound of the ocean.

“Have a nice evening,” he said as she smiled at him. “I'll be waiting to take you home when you're finished.”

Finished with what, she wanted to ask but didn't. Better not to know for sure.

She walked along the flagstone path to the huge double doors. Before she could find the bell and press it, the door opened and Rafiq stood in front of her.

He might have spoken. She wasn't sure. His lips moved, so there was probably sound, but she didn't hear it. She couldn't think, could barely breathe as she stared at him.

He wasn't in a suit. She'd known Rafiq for more than two years, and she'd only ever seen him in a suit. Usually without the jacket. He took that off as soon as he arrived at work and rarely put it on except for certain clients. She'd seen him tired, cranky, mussed, with his sleeves rolled up and his tie pulled off, but she'd never seen him dressed casually.

Tonight he wore tailored slacks and a polo shirt. The latter told her that her first impression about his body had been correct—plenty of lean muscle sculpted into something darned close to male perfection.

She'd known she was out of her league, based on the women he was usually involved with. Now she realized she was out of her league because of the man he was. Talk about a bad idea.

He was rich, royal and dangerous. He was also gorgeous.

She bit back the need to apologize for taking up his time and scurry back to the limo to be taken home. She'd asked, he'd been interested, and the decision had been made. For reasons clear to no one, Rafiq had wanted her as his mistress. As soon as she stopped hyperventilating, she was going to accept that truth and deal with it.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She managed a smile. “Not even close, but I'll get better.”

“What will help?”

“The passage of time or a head injury.”

He smiled. “Perhaps some champagne.”

“A possible alternative,” she said as he led the way from the foyer into a step-down living room.

Seeing a casually dressed Rafiq had been one shock. Seeing the Pacific Ocean spread out before her like a fabulous painting was another. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire west wall of the living room. She could see a deck, then a bit of sand, then moving, swirling beautiful blue ocean.

“Love the view,” she said.

“I'm glad. It reminds me a little of Lucia-Serrat. My house on the island there overlooks the Indian Ocean.”

“Is there a difference?”

He crossed to a glass-topped sofa table where a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket and a tray of appetizers nestled by two white plates.

Rafiq picked up the bottle and opened it. “The smell,” he said at last. “The sound of the ocean is the same, but if I close my eyes and breathe deeply, I can always tell where I am. At home, the salt air is more tropical.”

“While here it smells like Hollywood,” she said, accepting the slender glass he offered.

“Is that the scent?”

“I'm only guessing,” she said, staring at the bottle of Dom Perignon. Sure, she'd had champagne before but never anything
this
expensive. “I know in my head that Lucia-Serrat is a beautiful tropical island, but whenever I think of your part of the world, I picture sand and oil.”

“There is that, as well,” he said, gesturing to the sofa. “You are imagining traditional desert images. You can find the reality of that in El Bahar or Bahania.”

She doubted visiting either country was going to be on her near-term to-do list. First she had to get her life back in order.

“You're related to the royal family of Bahania, aren't you?” she asked.

He waited until she'd settled on one end of the sofa and took the other for himself. “The king of Bahania and my father are cousins.”

“An interesting extended family.”

She tasted the champagne and was pleased by the light, bubbly flavor. “This is nice,” she said.

“I'm glad you're enjoying it. Would you like something to eat?”

“No, thanks.”

Food? Now?
So
not a good idea. She was already nervous. Eating would only upset her stomach, which could lead to an unfortunate throwing-up incident. Not a memory she wanted for her first visit to Rafiq's house.

Oh, God. She was in his house! She'd agreed to be his mistress! Soon there would be nudity and sex and possibly bad language. Her life had become an R-rated movie.

She set down the glass and tried to think of something to say. Funny how she and Rafiq had never run out of things to talk about at the office. Of course there they had business to discuss and now they didn't. Somehow it didn't seem right to bring up the latest oil reserves or mention the meeting he would attend in the morning. She needed a slightly more “mistressy” topic. But what?

And how were they going to do it? Did he just make a move on her and she let him? Was there a universal question or signal she was supposed to pick up, because if there was, she was unlikely to get it.

“I can hear you thinking again,” he said with a smile. “You are nervous.”

“Wouldn't you be?”

“Under the circumstances?” He considered the question, then said, “Yes.”

“Okay, then.”

“Perhaps if we discussed logistics you would feel more comfortable.”

She doubted anything would help but, hey, stranger things had happened. “Okay. Let's talk.”

“I have several upcoming social events I would like you to attend. I will get you a list of dates. In return, if there's anything you want me to do with you, I will.”

Her sister was about to give birth, and after the baby came, there would be a big family get-together. Somehow she couldn't imagine taking Rafiq to the party.

“I'll keep that in mind,” she said.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“Am I?” She shrugged. “Honestly, I can't see you fitting in with my family. Everyone is very normal. We're your basic hearty, peasant stock. Not a drop of royal blood anywhere.”

“Why would that matter?”

“I doubt it's what you're used to.”

“I adjust very well to different circumstances.”

She angled toward him. “I'm one of three girls. The youngest, in fact. My father is a firefighter. My mom works in a gift store. They've been married thirty-one years and have lived in the same house for nearly twenty of them. It's a four-bedroom ranch-style built in the seventies.”

“What is wrong with that?” he asked.

She laughed. “Nothing. My point is, you don't have a ‘bondy story' to go with mine. What are you going to say? That the smallest family castle only has eleven bedrooms?”

“I believe it has fifteen, but I've never counted.” Rafiq stared into Kiley's blue eyes and liked the amusement he saw there. “But I understand your point. We come from different worlds.”

“I'm thinking it's more like different planets.”

“Yours sounds very nice.”

“It is,” she said. “But yours has better jewelry.”

He chuckled. “That is true.”

She reached for her glass of champagne and took a sip. He watched her and knew the exact moment the humor faded and the nervousness returned. Her grip on the glass tightened and she refused to look at him.

“Kiley, we will not be making love tonight.”

Her relief was nearly as tangible as the building itself. Tension dropped from her body, as she sagged back against the sofa. “Really?”

“We need to get to know each other first.” He was amused by her reaction. Did she really think he intended to take her so quickly? Much of the pleasure lay in the anticipation, in watching her move and imagining her hands on his bare skin. In listening to her voice and knowing how it would sound when she begged him for more.

“Okay. Good point,” she said. “It's just I've never done anything like this before. Obviously. In addition to the whole never-been-a-mistress-before thing, there's the fact that I'm not all that good with men.” She wrinkled her nose, then took another sip of the champagne. “I didn't date much in high school. I was more the buddy type.”

The information didn't surprise him. While Kiley was very attractive, hers was a more-subtle beauty. Still, the flower one must discover was more special than the one simply thrust in one's path.

“You met Eric in college?” he asked.

“My senior year. We were friends for a while, then we started dating. There were a couple of guys before him but no one special.”

The women in his life were usually much more experienced. Not that Rafiq minded her relative innocence. “As I said, we will get to know each other,” he told her. “Progress leisurely.” He paused, then said, “I assume Eric was your only lover?”