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He hadn’t said another word about her finding him a wife in almost a week, but she was too smart to think he’d forgotten about it. That wasn’t Amir’s way. She’d worked with him for five years and couldn’t think of a single instance when he had ever given up something he wanted after only one argument. He was much too confident and strong-willed to be easily dissuaded from a path he’d chosen.
And he’d made it clear he wanted her on that path, choosing with him.
This wasn’t right. Or even remotely fair. She should be enjoying the game. Instead, her mind was whirling with ways to convince Amir she meant business and fears that she wouldn’t be able to hold the line against him.
It was hard saying no to the man you loved, even if he saw you as a piece of handy office furniture.
Amir looked sideways at her. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. I’m really happy to be here. Thank you.”
The smile he flashed her was both sincere and incredibly sexy. “I am glad. And you are welcome. You deserve much more.”
Okay, so not a piece of office furniture. Guilt suffused her. She sighed. She’d be willing to bet that if asked, Amir would not only describe her as a top-notch personal assistant, but he would also claim they were friends, too. And they were. The truth was, Sheikh Amir bin Faruq al Zorha was her best friend. She was pretty sure he considered her the same or close to it.
The problem for her was that she longed to be more than his friend and knew that could never happen. He was so far out of her league, she might as well be considered a player in peewees, while he was definitely a top player in the major leagues.
None of which was anything new to her, so why was she allowing the situation to ruin her current experience? The answer was, she wasn’t going to. This was a wonderful treat for an obsessive baseball fan like her and she wasn’t going to diminish it with depressing, but old and familiar thoughts.
Grace forced her attention back to the men on the field. And if her senses were more in tune with the man beside her, no one had to know.
Amir had been biding his time before approaching Grace again about the issue of finding him a wife. Whatever had caused her to be less than receptive the first time around would no doubt get better with time.
This strategy had worked before. He would put an idea to Grace and give her time to think about it. If her first reaction was negative, more often than not she would talk herself into it more effectively than he could. Usually. He was hoping this was one of those times. But if it wasn’t, he’d taken care to soften her up with a trip to Fenway Park and was in the process of buying her a team jersey after a rousing win by her favorite team.
She’d chosen one that was made for men and obviously at least a couple of sizes too big. When he’d pointed out one that would have been more formfitting, she’d shaken her head.
He couldn’t complain about her propensity to wear either shapeless or oversized clothing—or both—because it was one of her habits that helped him control the frustrating desire that plagued him around her. Though even that habit was rather endearing.
He had never known a woman so clueless regarding her feminine appeal, or how to showcase it.
For this small mercy, he could only be grateful.
He waited until they were in the limo before broaching the subject on his mind and in the end, she made it easy for him.
She settled back against the leather seat facing him. “Okay, what gives? As if I didn’t know.”
He poured her a glass of lime Perrier and himself a finger of vodka. Too bad she did not drink. Enhancing her malleability right now could only improve his cause. “If you already know, there’s no point in me saying it.”
She took the sparkling water. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head.
She took a sip, regarding him over the rim of her crystal tumbler.
“Thank you also for not denying that tonight has all been about buttering me up.”
Now that stung. “Do you really think so?”
She just shrugged, her hair for once not pulled up in a tight bun, but barely confined in a wild ponytail that made her look younger than her twenty-five years. She was dressed in a Red Sox T-shirt he’d bought her the year before and a pair of jeans that made her legs look a mile long. Thank goodness they were in her typical baggy style.
He gave her a chiding look. “You’re not being fair, Gracey. And that’s not like you.”
She pouted, her lip protruding adorably, and he had to slam down on the urge to kiss her.
“Oh, all right…it’s not all about buttering me up. Even if you didn’t have something you wanted, you probably would have arranged tickets for the game.” She rolled her eyes. “And bought me the jersey, which I’m sleeping in for the foreseeable future…so, thank you.”
The image of Grace in bed was not one he could afford, so he thrust it from his mind with ruthless precision.
“I might have gotten regular box seats.” Though he wasn’t stingy with her and she knew it.
Grace had few passions and baseball was one of them. He indulged her as much as possible. An excellent PA like her deserved a few perks.
“Maybe…but regardless, I know you aren’t above using my good mood and sense of gratitude toward you for your own ends right now.”
“If I were above it as you say, I wouldn’t be a very good negotiator, would I?”
“I suppose not.” She bit her bottom lip and looked out the window for several seconds of silence.
“What is holding your interest? It is simply the clogged traffic we encounter after every one of these events I’ve taken you to.”
She sighed and turned her attention back to him, her hazel eyes troubled. “You want me to find you a wife.”
“Yes.” He had her, he knew it. And no, he didn’t feel the least guilty for getting her in a moment of weakness.
She glared at him. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t.”
“I will.”
Her frown grew more fierce, but she didn’t deny it.
“If you really wanted my cooperation, you should have arranged for me to meet Big Papi.” Her eyes glowed with something that disturbed him on many levels.
“I have no desire to introduce you to your hero. Sports stars like him could benefit from having a good personal assistant, too. I will not lose you so easily.” He said the words as a joke, but felt them deeply.
“You think so? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“I am not amused.” The idea of her leaving him to work for the Red Sox’s lauded designated hitter filled him with annoyance, even though he knew it was in no way possible.
She laughed, but then sobered almost instantly.
“I’m not saying I’m going to do it, but if I did, what are you looking for in a wife?”
The question caught him unaware, though it shouldn’t have. He opened his mouth and closed it again immediately. Nothing came instantly to his normally agile brain.
She stared at him, the knowledge in her eyes growing. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”
“That’s why I asked you.”
“But Amir, this is your wife we’re talking about. I can’t just make a list of candidates and ask you to choose.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to tell me what you want first!” For some reason, her agitation made him feel better.
“You know what I want.” Probably better than he did.
“You were happy with your father’s choice.”
“All but the fact that it was his choice, that is true.” Was that pain that chased so quickly across her features? She had no reason to be hurt. It must be the subdued lighting in the limo playing tricks on him. “I prefer to pick out my own wife,” he said when she did not respond.
“Then why are you demanding I do it?”
“It’s different, and you know it. Now stop being difficult.”
“I’m not the difficult one. How can you possibly expect me to do what you ask without giving me some guidelines in which to work?”
“Fine. She needs to be physically attractive.”
“Is that all?” Grace asked with a sarcasm few could match.
“No. She has to be cultured and diplomatic.”
“I see.” Her formerly animated attitude had become subdued.
Was his lack of helpfulness bothering her that much? “I want to marry a woman who will complement me and my position, both in the business world and within the political realm when I am operating within my role as sheikh-slash-prince.”
“I got that.”
“Oh.”
She sighed.
“I’m not sure what you mean by attractive.”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” He would not put it past her. His PA could be very stubborn and going passive-aggressive was not outside of her repertoire.
“You think so? You once said you did not see what made Jade so special for Khalil. Obviously, you two have differing tastes. Most people do.”
“But you know the type of woman that attracts me. You’ve seen and spoken with—hell, you’ve shopped for—the women I’ve dated.”
“But one must assume these women lack something, or you would have married one of them by now.”
“I am ready to marry. Perhaps if I had been before, I would be married to one of my former companions.”
“But you never loved any of them.”
“I don’t plan to love my wife, either. This is a marriage of convenience.”
“So, then what difference does it make if your future wife is attractive, or not?”
“Now you are being naive. A beautiful wife can only benefit me.”
“You mean like a trophy wife.”
“I mean like a feminine companion that will add to my éclat, not detract from it.”
“That is so shallow.”
“It is realistic.”
“Whatever.”
He had disappointed her…again. She was very good at her job, but still very innocent to the ways of the world. He decided to explain in a way that might embarrass her, but would not offend her sense of fairness.
“I do not wish the need to remain faithful to become a purgatory for me, either.”
“So, you plan to be?”
“Faithful? Yes, of course. The men in my family are not philanderers.”
“Everything you have listed up to now is superficial…what about you and she having interests, likes and dislikes in common?”
“Not necessary. It’s not even preferred. As long as we are compatible in bed, we can lead totally separate lives.”
She looked at him as if she questioned his sanity, which was frankly a marginal improvement over her doubting his integrity.
“That’s not the best environment to raise children in, or didn’t you plan to be a father?”
“I do not have to be a besotted fool to be a good father.”
“Your parents love each other.”
“So?”
“Are you saying you don’t want that for yourself and your family? Not even a little?”
Thoughts of the only time he had ever known anything close bombarded his brain, leading to memories of Yasmine.
During the time right after Yasmine died, his mind shied away from those images, and the pain and weakness they represented. “Not everyone craves that kind of relationship. I definitely do not.”
Her frown was back full force. “With an attitude like that, it would serve you right if I did it.”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping.”
But she wasn’t listening, or at least she wasn’t looking at him. She was too busy glaring out the window again. What was her problem?
Was it possible his ultra-efficient secretary who dressed dowdily and never dated had a severely hidden but equally deep romantic streak? It would certainly explain her negative reaction to his proposed marriage of convenience…both the one his father had decreed and the one Amir himself was trying to facilitate with her help.
It would also explain why she never dated. Because no matter how dowdily she dressed, he knew other men had to have noticed the latent sensuality in his Grace. But apparently she was waiting for Mr. Right…the knight in shining armor to come along and sweep her off her feet. In a way, he was glad she had this hidden streak of romanticism. It kept her working by his side rather than off dating and/or married to another man.
“Will you just think about it, Grace?” He played the card she’d never been able to ignore in the past. “Please.”
Her gaze slid to him, another expression he could not read settled in her hazel eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
Victory was his, if he just waited.
Something of his certainty must have shown on his face because she pursed her lips with affront. “Don’t look so smug. I may yet say no.”
It was so unlikely as to be an impossibility, but he was savvy enough to her ways not to say so.
CHAPTER TWO
GRACE CURLED UP on the sofa in the living area of the two-bedroom suite she and Amir shared, pretending to watch an old Hepburn-Tracy movie on low volume. But all she was really doing was thinking about Amir.
He’d once told her that if his family knew of their traveling arrangements, it would upset his mother. In the next breath, he had laughed as if the idea of anything inappropriate happening between them was too funny for words.
And wasn’t it?
She’d asked him what constituted attractive to him and he had pointed her to his former playmates after agreeing he had been perfectly happy with his father’s choice for his future wife. Every one of those women fell in the realm of near physical perfection. He dated models, but usually stuck to women within his social set, women who dressed like they should be on the cover of a fashion magazine even if they weren’t. And Princess Lina. She was a pocket Venus if there ever was one. Grace’s hands went to her own small breasts and she frowned.
If she had to be as tall as a lot of men, couldn’t she have gotten the voluptuous curves to go with her height? Instead she was stick-skinny with what could charitably be called understated curves. Hugging the throw pillow from the sofa, she frowned. Amir had said not one word about personality or compatibility, unless she wanted to count sex. Was he really that shallow?
She knew he wasn’t. So why was he willing to settle for a marriage of convenience with a woman who had little more to offer than her beauty and ability to be charming in social situations? He deserved so much more. His passionate soul needed more, even if he refused to see it.
This had to be the result of losing Yasmine at such a young age. He’d once told her the grief had led him places he never wanted to go back to. The men of the Zorhan royal family hated any semblance of weakness. Perhaps Amir even more than the others, because he was the youngest and felt he had something to prove.
It must have been difficult growing up an alpha male with two brothers of equally dominant natures. She often saw him chafing against that reality even now. But to resort to this? It wasn’t right.
The second to the last thing Grace ever wanted to see was Amir in love with another woman. The last was him married to a woman he could never love. As annoyed as his current attitude made her, she couldn’t help wanting him to be happy.
He wasn’t going to end up that way married to some empty-headed beauty, who shared nothing in common with him but her ability to traverse the two worlds he inhabited and her prowess in bed.
Grace hugged the pillow more tightly, feeling lonelier than she had since first meeting Amir. From the moment she’d walked into his office at the age of twenty to interview for the position of personal assistant, he had changed her world. He’d filled it with light, warmth and sound.
The social awkwardness that usually plagued her did not touch her when she was with him. It was as if, standing in his shadow in her role as PA, she was part of him. He had nothing to be shy and awkward about and therefore neither did she on his behalf. She had felt at home in his office from the very beginning.
She’d also loved him practically from the first, not that she’d realized it. Sure, it had started as a typical crush on the gorgeous, wealthy prince—and even when she’d had a crush on him, she’d been singularly naive to what that meant. But Amir had quickly shown her that he was more than a rich and pretty face.
He cared about his family. He cared about the people of Zorha. He cared about the people of his adopted home, giving more to charities than most businessmen ever dreamed of doing. He was also kind to children and old people. It was such a cliché, but true. Not to mention, he was patient and generous toward his nondescript PA. Not patient and generous enough to consider her for the position of his convenient wife though.
For a mad moment, right at first, she had let herself imagine it was possible.
After all, hadn’t he made a point of saying he didn’t expect or even want to love his future wife? Even the idea that his wife must be able to move in his different worlds had fit Grace. She might have spent her entire life until she came to work for him being socially backward and tongue-tied in any situation that included more than two people, but she’d found her niche with him and learned to function as his personal assistant no matter where they were or who they were with.
Couldn’t she have done the same as his wife?
Oh, sure, she mocked herself. Grace Brown, future princess. She could just see it. Not.
Ignoring the hot wetness tracking down her cheeks, she replayed the moment in the limo when she’d realized she could never put herself forward as a candidate for him to consider. Right up to that second, she’d still been harboring secret, crazy fantasies. Only when he had said he wanted to be attracted to his bride—so his vows of faithfulness did not create a purgatory for him to live in—had she known. One thing Grace was absolutely certain of, Amir did not want her sexually.
It was as that reality came home to her that her ill-conceived dreams shattered around her, leaving her already battered heart hemorrhaging.
Now, she sat, unable to sleep, considering what the future held for her. Pain. Yes. She saw no way around it. The man she loved with every fiber of her being was going to marry another woman. If she loved him enough and was strong enough, she was going to help him find that woman.
Why?
Because it was the one chance she had to ensure as much of Amir’s future personal happiness as she could. If she continued to refuse to help him, he would end up marrying some beautiful icicle and think that was exactly what he wanted because it did not put his heart at risk.
Grace was not a fool, at least not a complete one. She knew he was avoiding any chance of being weak like he had been when he was eighteen. He did not want to hurt and she understood that. What he didn’t understand was that loneliness within his marriage would chip away at his warm heart until it was as cold as he thought he wanted it to be.
She could not stand the prospect of such a thing happening to him. The only way she could help him avoid it was to find him a convenient wife that had the potential to be so much more.
If her own heart lost the final fight in the process, she would survive…somehow.
Amir sat down to the breakfast Grace had ordered them. Dark circles painted the skin below her eyes and her skin was even more pale than normal.
He frowned, concern making his voice edgy. “You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well last night? Are you coming down with something?”
“I’m not sick, but I didn’t sleep much, either.” She smiled, a muted facsimile of her usual expression.
“Because of what I asked you to do?”
“Yes.”
“If it causes you such concern, I withdraw my request.” He did not want her losing sleep over this project. She worked too hard as it was. She had no more of a life outside his business than he did.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“I decided to take on the assignment.”
“But if it makes you like this…” His words trailed off, but he swept his hand toward her, leaving no doubt what he was talking about. “You look terrible.”
She grimaced. “Thank you so much, Amir.”
“This is no time for false modesty. Are you sure you are not ill?”
“I am positive. I am also certain that I am willing to help you find a wife.”
Something inside him jolted, but he ignored it. “That is a relief.”
She smiled, this one more genuine. “I’m glad.”
“Thank you, but I do not want you making yourself sick. Tell me if it is too much.”
She laughed. “Right. Like you won’t be demanding the list in twenty-four hours.”
“I am not that impatient.”
“Yes, you are.” But humor, not irritation, laced her voice.
Gratitude for her surged through him and he found himself standing up and walking around the table to pull her into a rare hug.
At first, she stood in rigid shock in his embrace, but then she relaxed, clinging to him. Her warm feminine body pressed tightly to his and inescapable arousal surged through him.
He did not let go.
She did not step away.
His head tipped down of its own volition as he instinctively sought to take in more of her scent. “You smell like cinnamon,” he said against her yet-to-be-put-up mass of red curls. “And jasmine.” The fragrance reminded him of home.
“Your mother sends me handmade soaps and hair products from her herbalist.” Grace’s face was buried in his neck and her voice came out a husky whisper.
He lifted his head and then tilted her chin up with his finger until their eyes met. “My mother sends you things?”
“Yes. Since after our first trip to Zorha when I remarked that I loved the soaps and shampoos I found in the palace baths.”
“She likes you.” He wondered why he had never noticed that before. Perhaps because he assumed others would like her. There was nothing unlikable about Grace. She could be shy and stubborn even, but she was not annoying.
“I like her, too.”
“It pleases me that you do.” She worked too close with him for it to be comfortable for anyone involved if she did not. Why hadn’t he let Grace go yet? This hug was becoming something more, something he could not afford for it to become. He willed himself to step back, but his arms remained stubbornly around her. Now that she was looking up at him, her lips were an enticing few inches from his. They parted, her delicious-looking pink tongue just barely visible.
Her breathing increased and if he looked down and drew her suit jacket away, he knew he would see hardened nipples. Her response to his presence was one reason it had become so difficult to fight his own desires. He didn’t do it. He had that much sanity left.
She was strangely silent, very unlike his Grace.
Even in her sensible inch-and-a-half heels, she was taller than most of the women he dated. Tall enough to be just the right height for him to tilt his head slightly and be kissing her. The temptation was growing by the second and her hazel eyes going dark and unfocused with desire were not helping.
She wanted him, but it was the desire of the innocent. She did not know how it would end. She was not one of his women. Grace was a far more permanent fixture in his life and he intended to keep it that way.
But right now, the temptation to taste that innocence was overwhelming.
His PDA’s alarm went off, reminding him of an upcoming meeting at the same time that Grace’s started beeping from the other room.
The interruption of the discordant beeping was what he needed to find the wherewithal to let her go and step back. “Potential candidates should probably be taller than the princess. You fit well in my arms.”
He couldn’t believe he’d said anything so easily misconstrued, but Grace didn’t look triumphant.
Rather, her expression became carefully neutral as she turned away. “I’ll make a note of it.”
As she left to retrieve her electronic diary and briefcase, Amir castigated himself for coming so close to disaster. What was he thinking? Why had he hugged her when he was on such a sexual edge? Others might look at his no-nonsense assistant and think she was anything but seductive. Amir knew better. He knew just how dangerous the sweet innocent was.