The Paternity Proposition(28)

"Then get your butt down there and … " He broke off, his glance caught by the figure standing half in, half out of the patio doors. "Did you invite Jamison?"

"Our private investigator?" Alex's brow creased. "No. Hell, do you think Delilah invited him?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

Although …

The PI's rumpled brown suit and apparent reluctance to mingle with the other guests suggested he wasn't there to socialize, an impression he reinforced when he caught sight of Alex and Blake.

He tipped up his chin in an unmistakable signal and faded back inside the house. The brothers stood where they were, prey to sudden disquieting thoughts, before starting for the house. Their mother's imperious voice stopped them.

"Alex! You and Julie only have an hour until your flight. You'd better change out of that monkey suit and get to the airport."

The two brothers looked at each other, sharing the silent communication that had never yet failed them.

"I'll talk to him," Blake said quietly.





Alex trusted his twin implicitly. He knew without being told Blake would advise him if the PI had critical information to impart.

Apparently he didn't. Alex and Julie came back downstairs to a raucous chorus of shouts and well wishes. While Julie tossed her bouquet, Alex searched for his brother. Blake caught his eye over the heads of the crowd and gave a small shake of his head.

Alex nodded and turned to the woman who'd turned his world upside down. Hooking a hand under his bride's elbow, he escorted her to a limo and proceeded to put brother, mother and daughter out of his head.

Julie of the dark red hair and laughing eyes filled every corner of his heart.

* * * * *





The Sheik's Virgin

Susan Mallery





Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight





One

The island of Lucia-Serrat glittered like an emerald in a bed of sapphires. Phoebe Carson pressed her forehead against the window of the small commuter plane and stared at the lush landscape below. As they circled in preparation for landing, she saw a snow-white beach, a rain forest, a crescent of blue, blue ocean, then a small city perched on a cliff. Her heart pounded in her chest and her ears popped.                       
       
           



       

The flight attendant announced that it was time to return seat backs and tray tables to their upright positions. What had seemed so strange when her journey had begun was second nature to her now. Phoebe tightened her seat belt and checked her tray table. She'd been too busy staring out the window to bother putting her seat back. She'd wanted to see everything as they approached Lucia-Serrat.

"Just as you promised, Ayanna," she whispered to herself. "So beautiful. Thank you for allowing me to spend this time here."

Phoebe returned her attention to the view out the window. The ground seemed to rush up to meet them, then she felt the gentle bump of the airplane wheels on the runway. She could see lush trees and bushes, tropical flowers and brightly colored birds. Then the plane turned to taxi toward the terminal and her view of paradise was lost.

Thirty minutes later Phoebe had collected her small suitcase and passed through customs and immigration. The official-looking young man had greeted her, stamped her passport and had asked if she had anything to declare. When she said she did not, he waved her through.

As easy as that, Phoebe thought, tucking her crisp new passport into her handbag.

All around her families greeted each other, while young couples, obviously on their honeymoon, strolled slowly arm in arm. Phoebe felt a little alone, but she refused to be lonely. Not at the beginning of her adventure. She found the courtesy phone and called her hotel. The hotel clerk promised that the driver would arrive to pick her up within fifteen minutes.

Phoebe had started for the glass doors leading out of the airport when a small store window caught her eye. She didn't usually shop very much, but the display drew her. Bottles of French perfume sat in nests of satin. Designer handbags and shoes hung on barely visible wires from the ceiling of the display case. Everything looked beautiful and very expensive, yet she knew there was no harm in looking while she waited for her ride to the hotel.

Phoebe stepped into the coolness of the store and inhaled a cloud of perfume-scented air. Different fragrances blended together perfectly. Although she was intrigued by the bottles on display, the tall, chicly dressed woman behind the counter made her nervous, so she turned in the opposite direction, only to find herself in front of a case of jewelry.

Rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces appeared to have been casually tossed into the velvet-lined case. Yet Phoebe suspected it took a long time to make everything look so artless. She bent to get a closer look. One of the center diamonds in a cocktail ring was larger than the nail on her little finger. Phoebe figured she could probably live well for a couple of years on what that one piece cost. If this was an example of shopping in Lucia-Serrat, she would restrict hers to looking in windows.

"I think that is too large for you."

The unexpected comment caught her off guard. She straightened immediately, pressing her hand to her chest.

"I was just looking," she said breathlessly. "I didn't touch anything."

A man stood in front of her. While she was tall-nearly five-ten-he was several inches taller. Dark hair had been brushed back from his handsome face. There were tiny lines by the corners of his amazing brown-black eyes, and a hint of a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. She told herself to look away-that it was rude to stare-but something about his expression, or maybe it was the sculptured lines of his cheekbones and jaw, compelled her.

He looked like a male model in an expensive liquor ad, only a little older. Phoebe instantly felt out of place and foolish. Her dress had cost less than twenty dollars at a discount outlet, and that had been last year, while the man's suit looked really expensive. Not that she had a lot of experience with things like men's suits.

"The bracelet," he said.

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"I thought you were looking at the sapphire bracelet. While it's lovely and the color of the stones matches your eyes, it is too large for your delicate wrist. Several links would have to be removed."

She forced herself to tear her gaze from his face, and looked at the jewelry case. Right in the center was a sapphire bracelet. Oval blue stones surrounded by diamonds. It probably cost more than a beachfront hotel back home in Florida.

"It's very nice," she said politely.

"Ah, you do not like it."

"No. I mean yes, of course I like it. It's beautiful." But wishing after something like that was about as realistic as expecting to buy a 747.

"Perhaps there was something else you were shopping for?"

"No. Just looking."

She risked glancing at him again. There was something about his dark eyes, something almost … kind. Which made no sense. Handsome gentlemen didn't notice women like her. Actually no one noticed women like her. She was too tall, too thin and much too plain. Nor had anyone ever made her stomach flutter as it was doing right now.

"Is this your first visit to Lucia-Serrat?" he asked.

Phoebe thought of the blank pages in her new passport. "It's my first trip anywhere," she confessed. "I'd never been on a plane until this morning." She frowned as she thought about the time zones she'd crossed. "Or maybe it was yesterday. I flew from Miami to New York, then to Bahania, then to here."                       
       
           



       

He raised one eyebrow. "I see. Forgive me for saying this, but Lucia-Serrat seems an unusual place to begin one's travels. Many people are not familiar with the island. Although it is very beautiful."

"Very," she agreed. "I haven't seen very much. I mean, I just arrived, but I saw it from the plane window. I thought it looked like an emerald. So green and glittering in the middle of the ocean." She inhaled deeply. "It even smells different. Florida is sort of tropical, but nothing like this. Everyone seems so cosmopolitan and sure of themselves. I don't even know what-"

She pressed her lips together and ducked her head. "Sorry," she murmured, wondering if she could have sounded more like a schoolgirl. "I didn't mean to blurt all that out."

"Do not apologize. I am enjoying your enthusiasm."

There was something about the cadence of his speech, Phoebe thought dreamily. His English was perfect, but had a more formal quality. There was also a trace of an accent, not that she could place it.

He lightly touched her chin, as if requesting she raise her head. The contact was fleeting at best, and yet she felt the impact all the way down to her toes.

"What brings you to my island?" he asked gently.

"You live here?"

"All of my life." He hesitated, then shrugged. "My family has been in residence for over five hundred years. We came for the spices and stayed for the oil."