The Sheikh’s Secret Heir(26)

He slid his arm through hers, as if they were on a real date, and grinned. “You will see soon enough.”

Could the man be any more cryptic? “You could at least give me a hint as to where we’re going.”

“The resort.”

She couldn’t quell the disappointment over Tarek’s type-A personality. “You apparently can’t begin playtime before you do a little work first.”

“In a manner of speaking, we both have work to do.”

Wonderful. “If that’s the case, our attire is probably overkill.”

“Not necessarily. You will simply have to trust me.”

Oh, that she could. When she’d initially met him, she’d sensed he was a womanizer but aside from that, believed he was trustworthy, at least on a business level. Now she wasn’t at all certain due to his refusal to discuss any significant details about his past, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt until proven wrong.

Kira opted to forget her cares and take pleasure in the ride. As they made their way down the winding road leading to the resort, she relished the feel of the warm breeze blowing across her face and studied the darkening sky. She thoroughly enjoyed the scent of Tarek’s exotic cologne, which reminded her of sandalwood incense. She truly liked the fact they were so cozy in this Cinderella coach, and was concerned that she could get carried away when Tarek began stroking her bare arm.

She imagined a few other strokes in less-than-obvious places. She fantasized about throwing caution to the wind just to experience his mastery one more time. She began to wonder if she’d entirely lost her marbles, as her mother used to say.

Before she had time to ponder her sanity any further, the driver pulled up to the resort and brought the carriage to an abrupt stop by the front doors. Tarek climbed out first, took her by the waist, lifted her out and set her on her feet. Yes, she had definitely stepped into a fairy tale.

Kira waited while Tarek handed their escort a roll of bills before they headed toward the entry, his palm resting lightly on her exposed back. Even that innocent gesture had her ready and willing to climb all over him like a sheet of human shrink wrap. Boy, was she in big trouble, and the night had barely begun.

“Where to now?” she asked as they walked into the lobby.

“The ballroom.”

No surprise there. “I hope you’re not suggesting we have a repeat of our first night together.” Actually, she hoped he was.

He sent her a half smile. “The thought had crossed my mind, but we will not be alone tonight.”

Evidently he’d arranged some social soiree without her knowledge or assistance. “Who’s on the guest list?”

“You will soon see.”

She actually saw nothing but a table for two near the far wall of the massive room covered in—of course—a white marble floor. Her heels sounded like tap shoes as they crossed to the table, where Tarek pulled out her chair. As soon as she was seated, a somewhat rotund man dressed in a white suit and black tie strode into the room. “Madam, Monsieur, I am François and I will be serving you tonight.”

Tarek claimed the chair across from Kira’s and tented his hands together on the table. “Has John Paul found the kitchen satisfactory?”

François let go a boisterous laugh as he unfolded one white cloth napkin and laid it in Kira’s lap. “He is very honored to be the first to use it.” After he unfolded Tarek’s napkin and offered it to him, he added, “I will return briefly with the opening course.”

“The kitchen was completed?” Kira asked, dumbfounded, after François left.

“Not completely,” Tarek said. “The preparation table you requested will not arrive until tomorrow and there are still a few finishing touches that need to be made. Otherwise, it is quite adequate for meal preparation at this time.”

She bent one elbow on the table’s edge and supported her cheek with her palm. “It sounds as if you’ve already hired your head chef.”

Tarek took a drink of water from a crystal goblet then set it aside. “He is actually auditioning tonight, and so is François. They are both employed at a five-star hotel in Paris that is owned by one of my competitors. If you find the meal and service satisfactory, I will entice them both away.”

Kira leaned back in the chair and sighed. “You are clearly the greatest competitor of all if you’re stealing employees.”

“There is no true theft involved. If the price is right, most anyone can be bought.”

That didn’t hold true for her. “If you say so.”

François interrupted the discourse by delivering two trays brimming with appetizers that included steamed mussels and cold-boiled shrimp, along with a variety of cheeses and fruit. Kira’s tummy began to rumble despite the fact she’d had two snacks since lunch. At this rate, she would require maternity clothes, or tents, by her second trimester.