The Paternity Proposition(38)

She had been startled by Dabir's sudden appearance. Mazin had been, as well, but for different reasons. He had seen something as he'd watched her. Over the past six years he had become an expert at judging a woman's reaction to his children. Some pretended to like them because they wanted to be his wife. Some genuinely enjoyed the company of children. He put Phoebe in the latter category.

He liked her. Mazin couldn't remember the last time he had simply liked a woman. He also wanted her. The combination caused more than a little discomfort. Because he cared about her, he refused to push her into his bed, which was exactly where he wanted her to be. Holding back was not his style, yet this time it felt right.

She was different from anyone he'd ever known. He suspected she would say the same about him.

"Phoebe, you must know I'm a rich man," he said.

She bit her bottom lip. "I sort of figured that out."

"Does that bother you?"

"A little."

She glanced at him. Her long blond hair fell down her back. He wanted to capture it in his hands and feel the warm silk of the honeyed strands. He wanted many things.

"I don't understand why you spend time with me," she said in a rush. "I like being with you, but I worry that you're bored."

He smiled. "Never. Do you remember yesterday when we went to see the meerkats?"

"Yes?"

"You fed them their lunch of fruits and vegetables. You were patient, feeding each in its turn, never tired."

She sighed. "They were wonderful. So cute and funny. I could watch them for hours. I love how they stand guard, watching out for each other."

"You told me you'd seen a show about African meerkats and how one was burned in a fire."

She stopped walking. He moved to stand in front of her. As they had the previous day, her eyes filled up with tears.

"It tried to stand guard, but couldn't," she whispered. "They all huddled around it. Then a couple of days later, it left the group and went off to die."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Mazin touched it with his finger "Tears for a meerkat. What would you give to a child in need?"

"I don't understand the question."

"I know, but these tears are why I am not bored with you."

She sniffed. "You're making absolutely no sense."

He laughed. "You would find others to agree with you. So tell me, what do you want from your life?"

Her blue eyes widened slightly. "Me? Nothing special. I'd like children. Three or four, at least. And a house. But before any of that, I want to get my degree."

"In what?"

"Nursing. I like taking care of people."

He remembered her dying aunt. Yes, Phoebe would do well with the sick.

"I would like-" She shook her head. "Sorry. This can't be interesting. My dreams are very small and ordinary. Like I said, a small life. I'm not sure there's all that much quality there."

"On the contrary. You have much to recommend you."

Then, against his better judgment, he pulled her close.

She came willingly into his arms, as he had known she would. Her body pressed against him, her arms wrapped around him. She raised her head in a silent offering, and he did not have the strength of will to deny her.

He touched his mouth to hers. This time she responded eagerly, kissing him back. He kept the contact light, because if he took what he really wanted, they would make love here in the public rooms of the castle. So he nipped at her lower lip and trailed kisses along her jaw. He slid his hands up and down her back, careful to avoid the tempting curves of her rear.

Her breathing accelerated as he licked the hollow of her throat. She wore a dress with a slightly scooped neck. The thrust of her small brea**sts called to him. It would be so easy to move lower. He could see the outline of her tight nipp**les straining against the fabric of her clothing. Desire filled him with an intensity that made him ache.

Good sense won. He returned his attentions to her mouth. She parted in invitation. He might be able to resist her other temptations, but not that one. He had to taste her sweetness one more time.                       
       
           



       

He plunged into her. She accepted his conquest and began an assault of her own. Just once, he thought hazily, and slipped his hand onto the curve of her hip. She responded by drawing closer, pressing her brea**sts against his chest and breathing his name.

Mazin swore. Phoebe was very much an innocent, and she didn't know what she was offering.

He wanted her and he couldn't have her. Not only because she was a virgin, but because he hadn't told her the truth about everything. At first he'd withheld the information because it had amused him. Now he found he didn't want her to know.

He forced himself to pull back. They were both breathing heavily. Phoebe smiled at him.

"You've probably heard this a thousand times before," she said, "but you're a really good kisser."

He laughed. "As are you."

"If I am, it's because of you."

The blush of arousal stained her cheeks; her lips were swollen. Her beauty touched him deep in his soul. He wanted to see her in diamonds and satin.

He wanted to see her in nothing at all.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"That you are an unexpected delight in my life."

Her blue eyes darkened with emotion that he didn't want to read. Slowly, tentatively she touched his mouth with her fingertip. Her breath caught in her throat.

"What do you want from me, Mazin?"

He found himself compelled to speak the truth. "I don't know."





Six

Phoebe pulled a chair close to the balcony and stared out at the stars. The balmy night air brushed against her bare arms, making her tremble slightly, although she couldn't say why. It wasn't that she was cold or even fearful. She knew in her heart that nothing bad could happen while she was on the island.

Perhaps it was the memory of Mazin's kiss that made her unable to keep still. Something had happened that afternoon when he'd taken her in his arms. She'd seen something in his eyes, something that had made her think this might not just be a game to him. His inability to tell her what he wanted from her made her both happy and nervous. One of them had to know what was going on, and she didn't have a clue. Which left Mazin.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her long white cotton nightgown fluttered in the breeze.

There had been a difference in his kiss today. An intensity that had shaken her to her core. Did he want her that way? Did he want to make love with her? Did she want to make love with him?

He was not the man she had fantasized about. In her mind, Mazin had no life, save that time he spent with her. Now she knew that he had been a husband. He was a father, with four sons. He had a life that didn't include her, and when she was gone, he would return to it as if she'd never been here at all.

Were all his sons like Dabir? She smiled at the memory of the bright, loving little boy. Spending time with him would be a joy.

Several years of babysitting had taught her to assess a child very quickly. Dabir would no doubt get into plenty of trouble, but he had a generous heart and a sense of fun. She bit her lower lip. One child would be easy, but four? Worse, Mazin's oldest was only a few years younger than she was. The thought made her shiver. Not that Mazin's children were going to be an issue, she reminded herself.

Phoebe stared up at the stars, but the night skies didn't hint at how long until Mazin grew tired of her, nor did they whisper his intent. Instead of meeting her during the day tomorrow, Mazin had arranged for them to spend the evening together. Somehow the change of time made her both excited and nervous.

No matter what, she told herself, she would never have regrets. Just as Ayanna had made her promise.





Moonlight sparkled on the ever-shifting ocean. Phoebe breathed in the scent of sea spray and nearby flowers. Whatever else might happen in her life, she would remember this night forever.

Mazin sat across from her, handsome as always. Tonight he wore a suit, making her glad she'd spent more than she should have for a pretty blouse in the hotel boutique. Her slim black skirt had seen better days, but it was serviceable enough. After nearly an hour of fussing with her hair, she'd managed to pin it up into a French twist. She felt almost sophisticated. Something she would need to counteract the effect of Mazin's attraction by moonlight.

"I feel a little guilty," she said as the waiter poured from the wine bottle.

"Why?" Mazin asked when the waiter had left and they were alone. "Have you done something you should not have done?"

"No." She smiled. "But it's evening. You should be home with your family."

"Ah. You are thinking of my children."

Among other things, she thought, hoping he couldn't read her mind and know how many times she had relived their kisses.

"Dabir, especially," she murmured. "Wouldn't you rather be home, tucking him in bed?"

Mazin dismissed her with a shake of his head. "He is six. Far too old to be tucked in bed by his father."

"He's practically a baby, not a teenager."

Mazin frowned. "I had not thought he would still need that sort of attention. He has Nana to take care of him."