Diamond in the Desert(20)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

'I AM GLAD you have been given everything you need,' Sharif said, glancing round the sumptuous pavilion.

'Everything except my clothes.' Britt was becoming increasingly aware  that the gown the women had dressed her in was almost sheer. 'I believe  my own clothes will soon be here.' She had no idea when they were  arriving, or even if they would ever arrive. She only knew that her body  burned beneath Sharif's stare as his lazy gaze roved over the  diaphanous gown-she had never longed for a business suit more.

Sharif's lips tugged a little at one corner as if he knew this.

Turning away, she ground her teeth with frustration at the position she  found herself in. Of course she was grateful to Sharif for saving her,  but being housed in the harem at the sheikh's pleasure was hardly her  recreation of choice-

She had to calm down and accept that a lot had happened in the past  twenty-four hours and she was emotionally overwrought. The temptation to  do exactly as Sharif suggested-relax and recline, as he was doing-was  overwhelming, but with his familiar, intoxicating scent washing over  her-amber, patchouli and sandalwood, combined with riding leather and  clean, warm man-she couldn't be answerable for her own actions if she  did that. Business was her safest option. 'If I'd seen a photograph of  you before you came to Skavanga, I wouldn't have mixed you up with Emir  and maybe we could have avoided this mess, and then you wouldn't have  been forced to risk your life riding through the storm to find me.'

'I don't make a habit of issuing photographs with business letters. And  as it happens, I did see a photograph of you, but it wasn't a true  representation.'

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'I mean the photograph showed one woman when you are clearly someone very different.'

'In what way?'

Sharif smiled faintly. 'You're far more complex than your photograph suggests.'

She pulled a face beneath the veil, remembering the posed shot. She had  been wearing a stiff suit and an even stiffer expression. She hated  having her photograph taken, but had been forced to endure that one for  the sake of the company journal.

'Well, I haven't seen a single photograph of you in the press,' she countered.

'Really?' Sharif pretended concern. 'I must remedy that situation immediately.'

'And now you're mocking me,' she protested.

He shrugged. 'I thought we agreed to call a truce. But if there's nothing more you need-'

'Nothing. Thank you,' she said stiffly as he turned to go. Her body, of  course, had other ideas. If she could just keep her attention fixed on  something apart from Sharif's massive shoulders beneath his flowing  black robe, or those strong tanned hands that had given her so much  pleasure-

'I'll leave you to rest,' he said, getting up.

'Thank you.'

And now she was disappointed?

He was leaving while her body was on fire for him.

Yes. And she should be glad, Britt told herself firmly. A heavy pulse  might be throbbing between her legs, but this man was not Emir-and Emir  had been dangerous enough-this man was a regal and unknowable stranger,  who could pluck her heart from her chest and trample it underfoot while  she was still in an erotic daze. She stood too and, lifting her chin,  she directed a firm stare into his eyes. Even that was a mistake. Lust  ripped through her, along with the desire to mean something to this man.  For a few heady seconds she could think of nothing but being held by  him, kissed by him, and then, thankfully, she pulled herself round.

'This is wonderful accommodation and I can't thank you enough for all  you've done for me. Your people are so very kind. They let me sleep,  they tended to my wounds, they-'                       
       
           



       

'They bathed you?' Sharif supplied.

The way his mouth kicked up at one corner sent such a vivid flash of  sensation ripping through her she almost forgot what she was going to  say. 'I...I had a bath,' she admitted in a shaking voice that was not  Britt Skavanga at all.

'They spoiled you with soothing emollients, and that's so bad?'

'They did,' she agreed, wishing he would look anywhere but into her  eyes with that dark, mocking stare. And every time she nodded her head,  tiny jewels tinkled in a most alluring way-she could do without that  too!

'The women have dressed you for their sheikh,' Sharif observed.

And now she couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Her chest was  heaving with pent-up passion thanks to her desire deep down to be  angry-to have a go. He can't talk to you like that! She wasn't a canapé  to whet his appetite-a canapé carefully prepared and presented to the  sheikh for him to sample, then either swallow or discard.

'They have prepared you well,' Sharif said, showing not the slightest  flicker of remorse for this outrageous statement. 'Would you rather they  had brought you something ugly to wear?' he demanded when her body  language gave away her indignation. 'Moral outrage doesn't suit you,  Britt,' he went on in the same mocking drawl. 'It's far too late for  that. But I must say the gown suits you. That shade of blue is very good  with your eyes...'

So why wasn't he looking into her eyes?

Straightening up, she wished her jeans and top were dry so she could bring an end to this nonsense.

And yet...

And yet she was secretly glad that Sharif's gaze was so appreciative.  Why else would she stand so straight? Why were her lips parted, and why  was she licking them with the tip of her tongue? And why, for all that  was logical, was she thrusting her breasts out when her nipples were so  painfully erect?

'It's a very pretty dress,' she agreed coolly.

'Our desert fashions suit you,' Sharif agreed.

She shivered involuntarily as he reached out to run the tip of his  forefinger down the very edge of her veil. There was still a good  distance between them, but no distance could be enough.

And now her thoughts were all erotic. Perhaps Sharif saving her life  had added a primitive edge to her feelings towards him. The desire to  thank him fully, and in the most obvious way, was growing like a madness  inside her. Thank goodness for the veil.

'I'll call back later-when you've had a rest,' he said.

She watched without saying anything as Sharif drew the gauzy curtains  around the sleeping area. She reminded herself firmly that she might be  dressed like the sugar plum fairy, but she had no intention of dancing  to his tune. She was here for business, and business alone. She had to  be wary of this man. Sharif had spoken to her sisters without telling  her. He had taken mineral samples from the mine, and yet he hadn't had  the courtesy to share the results of the tests with her. This might be a  seductive setting, she reasoned angrily as the curtains around the  sleeping area blew in the warm, early evening breeze, and Sharif was  certainly the most seductive of men, but, grateful or not, she still  wanted answers, and he had a lot of explaining to do.

He was back? She tried not to care-not to show she cared. She must have  failed miserably as breath shot out of her when he dragged her close.  This was not even the civilised businessman-this was the master of the  desert. There was no conversation between them, no debate. And there was  quite definitely no thought of business in Sharif's eyes. There was  just the determination to master her and share her pleasure.

'Well, Britt?' Sharif demanded, holding her in front of him. 'You had  enough to say for yourself in Skavanga. You must have something to say  to me now. Why did you really come to Kareshi when you could have wired  your test results and I could have done the same? When you could have  laid out your complaints against me in an email message without making  this trip?'

Why had she listened to Eva? Eva was hot-headed and impetuous, and was  always getting herself into some sort of trouble, while Britt was cool  and meticulous, and never allowed emotion to get in the way.

How had this happened?

'Why are you really here?' Sharif pressed mercilessly, smiling grimly down into her eyes. 'What do you need from me?'

He knew very well what she needed from him. She needed his hands on her  body, and his eyes staring deep into hers. She needed his scent and  heat to invade her senses, and his body to master hers-

* * *

His senses raged as Britt pressed her body against his. This was his  woman. This was the woman he remembered and desired. This was the  fierce, driven woman he had first met in Skavanga, the woman who took  what she wanted and rarely thought about it afterwards.                       
       
           



       

'Sharif?'

Could it be possible that he didn't want that part of her? he marvelled  as Britt spoke his name. Did that wildcat bring out the worst in him?  Loosening his grip on her arms, he let her go. When he had first entered  the pavilion he had seen the tender heart of a woman he had started to  know in Skavanga-the vulnerable woman inside the brittle shell-the woman  he had walked away from before he could cause her any hurt.