Pursued by the Desert Prince(9)

"You are," he assured her. It was as captivating as the rest of her.

"No." She looked him right in the eye. "My sister is the brash one. Deep  down." Her irises reflected the candlelight between them, mesmerizing  as the glow of a fire in the blackest night in the desert. Tears  gathered to brim her lashes. "I pretend to be."

She blinked to clear the wetness and her eyes widened with forced lightness.

"I am her and she is me. At least, that's how it feels sometimes. Can we talk about something else?"

"I wasn't talking about her. I was talking you into my bed," he pointed  out, made cautious by that moment of acute vulnerability. Was it concern  for her sister? Or an indication of a deeper sensitivity in her  personality?

He recoiled inwardly from that. He had enough emotional drama in his  life. He needed her to come to this with as light a heart as he had.

"I want you," he stressed. "What will that take, Angelique? Reassurances  about your security? I see you've changed your necklace. Is that one  rigged?" He winced as he recalled her talk of suitors having to tolerate  being constantly under observation. "We're not being recorded, are we?"

"No. This one requires two hands to twist and set it off." She ran the  teardrop pearl back and forth on its chain. "So I rarely wear it. In  terms of physical safety, I have no concerns about being alone with you.  I'm not even worried you would write a tell-all afterward."

"The sting you mentioned? A man did that to you?"

"One did. You can find him living under a false name in whichever  Eastern European slum men use to hide when they've been financially  ruined by defamation litigation and threatened with castration."

"Your brothers went after him?"

"I went after him," she said crossly. "Give me credit."

"Is that a warning? I would never do such a thing," he promised her. "I  may be nonchalant about spending the night with a woman, but I don't  degrade myself or my partner. You can be assured of my discretion."         

     



 

Her shoulder hitched in acceptance, but she wore her Mona Lisa expression.

"You're resisting temptation. Why?"

He reached across to take her hand in his, cradling her knuckles in his  palm. He used his thumb to catch at hers, pressing her hand open so he  held the heel of her palm gently arched open to his touch. He smoothed  his thumb to the inside of her wrist, pleased to find her pulse unsteady  and fast.

"Is it because it's only one night?"

"No," she said softly. "That's actually a plus. Like I said, I don't fit others into my life very well."

"If you weren't reacting to me, I would finish our meal and send you  home, but I can see your struggle against your own feelings. What's  holding you back then? You clearly want to."

He caressed that sensitive area at the base of her hand, where a former  lover had once told him life and fate lines had their root. That's why  it's such a sensitive place on a woman's body, she'd said.

Angelique caught her breath.

He didn't believe in the supernatural, but he did believe in nature's  ability to create sexual compatibility. That sort of gift should be  relished when it was offered.

"My room is just down the hall. Anyone who sees us leave the restaurant will think we're going to the elevators."

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips into her life, into her fate, as he tasted and grew drunk with anticipation.



Oh, he was good.

Her pulse went mad under the brush of his lips and she had to concentrate to draw a breath.

"I told myself I was only coming out to prove to you I wasn't worth the trouble."

"To scare me off? I don't scare."

I do, she wanted to say. She wanted to go to his room so badly it  terrified her. And she didn't understand why this want sat like a hook  in the middle of her chest, pulling her toward him with a painful sting  behind her breastbone. She didn't know how to handle any of this because  she wasn't the bold, confident one.

What would Trella do?

It was a habitual thought, one that harked way back to her earliest  years when her sister had been the one to stride eagerly forward while  Angelique hung back.

She brushed aside thoughts of Trella. She shared almost everything with her twin, but not this. Not him.

That was what scared her. Who was she if not Trella's other half?

An internal tearing sensation made her touch her chest. She immediately  felt the beading on her dress and wondered why she had worn Trella's  creation. Armor, she supposed, but this wasn't about Trella. That was  what made this situation so starkly unique and put her at such a loss.

In this moment she was only Angelique. Except she didn't know what  Angelique would do in a situation like this. Her other lovers had wanted  one of The Sauveterre Twins and the fame or influence or bragging  rights that came with it. She had gone with them hoping for a feeling of  fulfillment, but had never found it.

Kasim wanted her. That's what made him so irresistible.

And she had a feeling this would be more than fulfilling. Profound. Maybe life-altering.

Which was terrifying in its own way, seeing as it was only for one  night, but if she refused him out of fear, she knew she would regret it  for the rest of her life.



The lights were set low in the opulent suite. Champagne chilled in a  bucket next to an intimately set table overlooking the Eiffel Tower. The  muted notes of a French jazz trio coated the air with a sexy moan of a  saxophone, subtle bass strings and a brush on a drum.

Angelique was walking into a setup and wasn't even sure how she had  arrived here. It felt like she had floated. There had been a  conversation with Maurice, who had escorted them down the hall. She had  instructed him to go back and finish his own meal and put theirs on  hold. Charles, her second guard, stood post at the door of the suite. He  had assured her as she entered that he had inspected and secured these  rooms prior to her arriving at the restaurant and had been at this door  ever since.

They were very mundane details that were decidedly unromantic, but they  had each been one of the many tiny steps that had carried her toward  this moment.

"I am fascinated with this dress," Kasim said, picking up her hand and  carrying it over her head, urging her to twirl very slowly before him.  "It is a work of art. I'm afraid to touch it." He lowered her hand, but  kept it in his, so they were facing one another. "But I want to touch  you."

His words made her heart stutter. She tugged free of his grip and walked to an end table where she set down her pocketbook.

"I'm not used to being touched."

"I'm not going to chase you through these rooms, Angelique. If you've changed your mind, say so."         

     



 

She turned to face him. "I haven't. I'm just nervous."

"Don't be. I won't rush you."

He didn't have to. She was rushing herself, not ignoring misgivings so  much as refusing to give in to the natural hesitation that had held her  back one way or another most of her life. If her sister hadn't pressed  her toward this fashion house idea, she never would have had the nerve.

So part of her was saying, Don't be impulsive. But the truth was, this moment had been brewing since their kiss this afternoon.

This was why she had come to dinner with him. She was a person of deep  feeling and what he made her feel was too strong to resist. She had  never felt so much like herself as she did with this man.

But she wanted to be herself. She wanted him to want Angelique.

She lowered the zip on the back of her dress, slowly drawing the  shoulders down her arms and very carefully stepping out of it without  letting the skirt brush the floor.

Kasim's inhale was audible over the quiet music, sounding as a long, sharp hiss.

"You, however..." he said in a rasp. "Seem in a big hurry."

"You said you were afraid to touch it." Avoiding looking at him, she  took great care with folding the dress in half lengthwise, then gently  set it on the arm of the wingback chair.

She was naked except for her high silver shoes and a pair of lavender  cheekies that cut a wide swath of lace across her hips and the top half  of her buttocks. She had done enough quick changes backstage alongside  half-naked models that she wasn't particularly self-conscious.

Nevertheless, it was intimidating to turn and face him. At the same  time, it was a rebirth of sorts, standing there naked and vulnerable.  Tears flew into her eyes at the significance of shedding the shield of  her sister and being only Angelique.

Would he like her?

"What's this?" Kasim murmured, coming forward to cup her face and make her meet his gaze with her wet one.

"I don't often let myself be." Life was far easier when she kept her  thoughts on the future or her sister or a piece of fabric. Allowing the  moment to coalesce around her, so she experienced the full spectrum of  emotions he provoked-impatience and sexual yearning, uncertainty and  deep attraction-it was huge and scary.