But that wasn’t true, either.
Of course she needed people. She needed good people, loving people, people who wouldn’t abandon her the moment things got difficult.
A knock sounded on her door and it opened to reveal Mikael, dressed in casual khaki trousers and a white linen shirt, with a scrap of hot orange fabric in his hands.
“For you,” he said, carrying the sheer tunic to her where she lay in bed.
She blinked at him, this new him, still finding it difficult to reconcile the intimidating sheikh with this very sexy man who looked as if he’d be incredibly comfortable without anything on.
Her hands shook as she unfolded the tunic. The neckline was again jeweled and bundled in the center was a tiny blood-orange bikini.
“We’re swimming?” she asked, lifting the bikini top, and noting that the silky cups looked very small.
“Only if you feel like it. We’re having breakfast outside in the center courtyard, next to the pool. It’s already hot today. You might want to swim.” He gazed down at her. “You don’t have to wear the suit, either. I wasn’t sure how comfortable you’d feel swimming naked.”
Heat rushed to her face. She grabbed the tiny bikini. “I’ll wear the suit, thank you.”
* * *
It was a very lazy, self-indulgent day. Jemma felt as if she were on holiday at a luxurious resort. She’d been in and out of the pool a couple times to cool off, but now she stretched out on a plush lounge chair, sunbathing, while Mikael lay on a lounge chair next to her, reading.
She couldn’t help sneaking glances at him every now and then, astonished to see him in swim trunks. Astonished by his abs, and his long muscular legs, and the thick biceps. He was nothing like the sheikh she’d met three days ago. He seemed nothing like a sheikh at all.
She looked past him to the pool that sparkled in the sun. She could see one of the staff walking toward them with a tray of fresh chilled towels and more lemon flavored ice water, along with little cups of something.
The little cups contained sorbet, a delicious pineapple sorbet that Jemma ate with a tiny spoon. Mikael didn’t eat his. But he sat up to watch her lick the melting sorbet from her spoon.
“You make me hungry,” he said, his dark gaze hooded, his deep voice husky.
She blushed and pretended she didn’t understand, but it was impossible not to understand what he meant when he stared at her mouth as if it were edible.
“You have a sorbet here,” she said. “It’s melting quickly, though.”
“Perhaps I’ll just pour it on you and lick it off.”
A wave of heat hit her. She suddenly felt scorching hot. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
She sucked the tiny bit of fresh pineapple from the tip of the spoon, assessing. “Where would you pour it?”
“You play with fire, laeela.”
She squinted up at the sun. “It is hot out.”
“Very hot,” he agreed, his deep voice now a rumble.