A Bed of Sand Read online

  She looked away.

  “What is this all about, Rita?”

  Rita felt completely deflated and just wanted to lie down in the grass and cry. Her flawless plan had just exploded in her face. And the man before her, this gorgeous man with native dress and a knee-buckling gaze, was the one who had lit the stick of dynamite. And he wasn’t about to back off. Sakir wasn’t a man for playtime in serious matters. Sure, he’d given her some leeway here, but he was starting to bristle, his full mouth thinning in unmasked irritation.

  She had little choice but to confess. “I needed to get my sister, Ava, and my niece back here to Paradise.”

  Sakir crossed his arms over his broad chest. “For what purpose?”

  “For…well, romantic purposes.”

  “Romance?”

  The word rolled over his tongue with smooth sensuality, and Rita’s skin tightened in response. “To rekindle an old flame—Ava’s first and only love. This…this wedding was the only way I could get her home, get her daughter to finally meet her father.” She shrugged. “Well, it seemed like the only way.”

  “I see,” he said.

  She gestured at him flippantly. “Then you had to show up.” Looking all tall, dark, handsome and impassive.

  He gave a bark of laughter. “Your fiancé should come to his wedding, should he not?”

  “Don’t look so smug, Sakir, okay? There wasn’t supposed to be any wedding or any fiancé. He was imaginary. I just had to pick a guy, any guy.”

  “But it was not any guy that you picked, was it Rita?”

  He took a step toward her, close enough for her to feel the heat off his body. “No.”

  “Did you stop to consider what the people of this town would think of me when I did not come? When I left a woman at altar?”

  Rita stilled, heard his query once again in her mind. Shame enveloped her. No, she hadn’t thought of what the townspeople would think. She hadn’t thought of anything or anyone but her sister and niece.

  She glanced over at the waiting crowd, several groups of them huddled together talking, their expressions perplexed. “No, I didn’t think of how the town would react.”

  “I thought not.”

  “I didn’t think of them and I didn’t think of you.” She faced him, totally sincere. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “I accept your apology.”

  She paused. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was quick.”

  “I do not believe in making one suffer for her transgressions.”

  That was big of him, Rita thought. But after all she had done, his manner was a little suspect. She asked, “You’re not going to fire me?”

  “No.”

  A wave of unease moved through her. “But that can’t be why you’re here, why you stood up there in front of all those people—just to get an apology out of me.”

  “No, I confess it is not.”

  “Was it revenge, then?” she asked through nervous laughter.

  “I have something to ask of you, Rita,” he said slowly.

  “Okay.” Unease suddenly morphed to apprehension.

  “I have a business proposition.”

  “Business?” She glanced over her shoulder at the waiting crowd. This was madness—standing here with her mock fiancé, discussing business. Lord, how could she have let things get so out of control? How would she explain herself to her friends and family? “Can this business venture of yours wait? I need to get back and try to explain this mess to my guests.”

  “No, it cannot wait,” Sakir said tightly.

  “All right, what is it?”

  He inhaled sharply, raised his chin. “First, I must ask if you are interested in a partnership. A temporary partnership in marriage for a permanent partnership in my business.”

  Rita’s mouth dropped open.

  “I offer you partnership in Al-Nayhal Corporation,” he continued, “for staying married to me for three weeks’ time.”

  “You’re nuts.” She gave a choked little laugh. Her voice hoarse, she cleared her throat, then began again. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Do I ever ‘kid,’ Rita?”

  She just stared at him. “No.”

  “I must go to my homeland for three weeks, and I need you there with me as my wife. Your…little plan here has given me the idea. Marriage shows stability, reliability, and this—though it is of no interest to me—is important for the businessmen in my country.”

  Rita listened, half expecting him to say, “I have made a joke. Yes, there is a first time for everything,” but he never did. He kept going, kept explaining…

  “I have been asked to come, to consult on the oil fields in Emand. I want this task to be done perfectly and I will go to any lengths to make sure that happens.”

  She watched his handsome face darken, his green eyes burn with determination. “I don’t get it. Why is it so important to you?”

  The passion dropped away, and possessiveness took its place. “That is my own affair.”

  “But you’re making it mine, Sakir.”

  “When we return from Emand, the marriage can be dissolved, no harm to anyone—and you will become my equal.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You understand my meaning.”

  She didn’t understand any of this. “This is crazy. Listen, if making a show of marriage is that important to you, I could go with you as your pretend wife. I certainly owe you that much after this fiasco. But it doesn’t have to be legal.”

  “For the people of my country, it must be.”

  He was completely and utterly serious. “How would they ever know?”

  His eyes were shuttered. “My brother will know.”

  “You have a brother?”

  He didn’t respond. “Do you accept this offer?”

  Did she accept this offer? She mentally rolled her eyes. She’d have to be mad to accept such an offer. Marriage for three weeks to a man she didn’t love for partnership in his company.

  …and she didn’t like the way that last part sounded.

  But then again… Then again, there was a part of her that wanted so desperately to travel, to experience a different kind of life, perhaps to lie in Sakir’s bed and have him see her as a real woman for once. That part of her was shrieking the word yes inside her muddled brain.

  “There’s no marriage license—” she began.

  “I have procured one.”

  “What? How—” She sniffed, shook her head. “Forget it, I know how.” Money and power could make anything happen.

  “Make no mistake regarding my intentions, Rita.” He studied her face. “This is strictly business. I swear to you. No touch—” his jaw tightened “—no intimacies—”

  “Right.” It was strictly business on his part. She released a weighty breath. Well, of course it was. He had a job to do and as usual he’d called on his faithful assistant to help. Plain and simple.

  “So, you agree, then?” he asked.

  Why the hell not, she thought. She wanted to make partner. She wanted to travel. She wanted to get out of Paradise, and this was just three weeks of work—as usual. “All right.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  She didn’t wait to shake hands on the deal. She turned away and started up the easy hill toward the guests and waiting preacher. But suddenly, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “I must warn you, as my husband and all, when I’m out of the office and not your assistant, I can be a little hard to handle.”

  A hint of amusement gleamed in his green eyes. “I know this. But like you, I have never shied away from a challenge.”

  Three

  He was no proponent of marriage.

  To Sakir, the thought of being held, captured or owned made him see red. But the idea of losing the biggest contract of his career, a contract that stemmed from his home country no less, had him seeing nothing but the victory and retribution he’d desired for far too many ye
ars.

  He nodded to the preacher and said, “I will,” then without being instructed to, leaned in and gave his beautiful assistant a quick kiss on the mouth.

  It had to be quick, he knew. The woman tempted him far too much to give in to slow and deep and wet. And after all, he had given her his word to remain impassive.

  With a calm smile, he took Rita’s hand and led her back up the aisle as the crowd cheered and threw rose petals. Sakir chuckled. Just ten minutes ago, these people had been wearing expressions of unease, perhaps even pity, for they had thought the bride ready to call off her wedding.

  She had not.

  She had indeed married him.

  As they walked toward the Lodge, Sakir took Rita’s hand. He found it cold and shaky. What she had done was just dawning on her. Now she had to face her friends and family, lie about why she had taken her fiancé down to the water’s edge and pretend that she was deeply in love. It was no easy feat.

  Within seconds of them stepping inside the colorfully decorated Lodge, Rita was whisked away by several women. From the back of the Lodge, Sakir watched as she was urged into throwing her bouquet, grinned as she toyed with the excited females, laughing uproariously, until she finally turned around and hurled the flowers over her shoulder and into the waiting crowd.

  “Fine day, isn’t it, son?”

  Son. Sakir bristled, turned and saw Rita’s father walking toward him. He would not tell the man that not even his own father called him something so familiar, for he suspected that Ben Thompson was just looking for some sense of familiarity with a proud groom he had never met before.

  Sakir inclined his head. “After a somewhat stilted beginning, the day is looking very fine indeed.”

  Ben grinned knowingly, then stuck out his hand. “For a minute there I thought all was lost.”

  Sakir shook the man’s hand. “As did I.”

  “Well, it’s good to finally meet you. When you didn’t show up to my prenuptial lunch this week, I wanted to tan your hide—even with you being royalty and all. Then today when I didn’t see you standing beside the preacher—well, you can imagine what was going through my mind.”

  “Yes.”

  “But all’s well that ends well, eh? What’d she say to you down by the water? She can be pretty stubborn when she wants to be. Did she ask you to give up your throne or—”

  “Dad.” A beautiful blonde came up beside them, the shape of her eyes and mouth so similar to that of his bride.

  “What is it, daughter?” Ben asked.

  “The minister is waiting to speak to you. You have to get ready to make the toast.”

  “Right. Right.” Ben shrugged, shook Sakir’s hand again. “Well, congratulations, son—that’s all I’m saying. You’re a lucky man.”

  Sakir nodded. “I believe so.”

  When they were alone, the woman turned to Sakir and smiled. “I’m Ava, Rita’s sister.”

  “Ah, yes, it is good to meet you.”

  “You, too.” She hesitated for a moment, something on her mind, no doubt. Then, she said, “Look, my sister and I are really close. We love each other very much.”

  “It is good to care for one’s siblings.” He knew he must acknowledge as much, but the words were bitter on his tongue.

  “I think so.” She lowered her voice, leaned in just a little. “I know what she did for me, and I know what she’s doing for you.”

  Surprise sliced through Sakir’s easy manner “She has told—”

  “Don’t worry,” Ava said quickly. “She just told me. Everyone thinks you’re a happily married couple who had a few things to work out before they got hitched.”

  “Well, the last part is true, certainly.”

  “I just want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  She shrugged, her eyes sparkled. “Being a gentleman about Rita’s little ruse. You could’ve really embarrassed her if you wanted to.”

  “As you said, she is doing me a favor as well.”

  Again, Ava shrugged, and softly said, “I hope you both get what you want out of this.”

  “No more than I.”

  She bit her lip. “Just do me a favor, okay?”

  “Of course. If I can.”

  “Take care of her. She’s wonderful and funny and loyal. She is a treasure to me and I don’t want to see her get—”

  Sakir put his hand over hers. “She is all of these things, and I will care for her.”

  Ava smiled. “That’s all I wanted to hear.” She walked away and called over her shoulder, “Have a great honeymoon, brother.”

  Again, with the familiarity. Sakir sighed. “We are not going on—” he began, then stopped short, the people around him staring.

  “We’re not going on what?” Rita came up beside him, a piece of wedding cake in her hands.

  Sakir didn’t say anything, just let his gaze roam over her foolishly and covetously. If he were ever to truly marry, if he were to ever believe in such a state, he would wish for his bride to be like Rita. In looks and in manner and in intelligence. She was all the things her sister had said and more.

  Yet, to him, Rita would always have to remain untouchable.

  She grinned at him, accepted his lack of reply and held up the plate of cake. “Before we have our first dance, we both need to eat some of this.”

  “Why?” White cake with thick white icing was not his idea of a sweet celebration.

  “It’s good luck,” she said, then proceeded to take a small bite.

  “I do not believe in luck.”

  “Well, I do. And we need as much as we can get with what we’re about to do—so eat up.” And with that, she took a piece of the cake and thrust it into his mouth.

  Four

  With wide, eager eyes, Rita gazed out of the tiny window into the dark night. “Well, this is some ride you got here, Sakir.”

  Now casually dressed in black pants and a black cashmere sweater, Sakir glanced up from his goat cheese salad and rack of lamb and gave her a nod. “Thank you. I find it very comfortable.”

  A silly laugh erupted from Rita’s throat. Comfortable. That didn’t really seem the appropriate term for a million-dollar Learjet with tan leather seating, matching carpets, mahogany cabinetry, a marble bathroom and a luxurious bedroom suite.

  No, insanely awesome was far more appropriate.

  “And to think,” Rita said with a mock sigh of melancholy, “I could’ve been flying around to meet clients in this instead of tooling all over town in my Chevy Suburban.”

  “Your work keeps you in the office on most occasions.”

  She smiled widely. “Well, not anymore.”

  Sakir inclined his head. “No, not anymore.”

  Contemplatively, Rita returned to her meal. Here she was married to Sakir, sipping champagne and eating this fancy dinner aboard a private plane, when just hours ago she’d been back at the Paradise Lake Lodge bidding fond farewells to her sister, father and all the guests.

  Totally surreal.

  Yet absolutely the most exciting adventure of her life.

  She took a sip of champagne and grinned as the bubbles tickled her nose. For three weeks, she was Sakir’s wife. This gorgeous man whom she had fantasized about for years—used as her ideal in a marriage that was never intended to come off—was her lawfully wedded husband. Her smile faded a touch as she looked down at the plain gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand and recalled the “fine print” of this marriage. It was only a business arrangement, a way to gain clients. If she knew what was best for her, she’d do well to remember that.

  She turned to Sakir and proceeded to look him over. So dark, so dangerous and so delicious in his black pants, black sweater and black mood. Resisting the urge to fling herself at him was going to be near impossible.

  Boy, was she in trouble.

  She pushed all thoughts of intimacy into the back of her mind and forced on a light façade. “I can’t believe I was bargained into this marriage.”

/>   Sakir sniffed. “And I cannot believe I had to resort to such foolishness for an oil contract.”

  “Why did you, then?”

  He returned to his meal and said nothing.

  “Is impressing the folks back home worth all this?” she asked.

  He looked up. Annoyance hovered in his eyes. “I am not looking to impress.”

  “No? Then what?”

  “This is the ‘hard to handle’ you were speaking of, yes?” he asked drily.

  She grinned. “Pretty much.”

  His expression was inscrutable, but a glimmer of heat swam in the depths of his eyes. “I was hoping it would surface in a much more pleasurable way.”

  A shudder of awareness moved through Rita. Maybe it was the craziness of the day or the fact that he was traveling to his homeland, but never in all the time she’d known Sakir had he said anything remotely like that. Teasing and just a little bit sexual. She had no idea what to say.

  But in seconds, the look was gone and so was the casual manner. Control ruled Sakir’s gaze again. “It is late,” he said. “We have a long flight. I think it is best for you to rest now.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “I will remain here. I have much work to finish. Please—” he gestured at the door behind her “—take the suite.”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. His suite? His bed? “I don’t think so.”

  “It is very comfortable.”

  “I’m sure it is.” And terrific torture for a woman with a massive crush.

  Sakir looked very stiff and formal sitting in his leather captain’s chair. “We have an agreement, Rita, and I would not break this agreement, no matter how…fatigued I become.”

  Rita’s shoulders drooped and she suddenly felt weary. Of course he wouldn’t. No matter how into him she was, Sakir just wasn’t attracted to her. And never would be. His teasing manner had meant nothing, and she would do well to remember that in the future.

  “All right.” She stood up and moved to the door.

  “One moment, Rita.”