Desert Affair

“When I’m with you, I’m just a man—as you are a woman. I don’t think differently because I am the son of a sheikh. I don’t act differently. I am just like any other man. When I do this…”

He bent his proud head and took her lips in a long, deep kiss that made her senses reel.

“I am a man kissing a woman—my woman. The woman who has stolen my soul from me—my mind—leaving me incapable of thinking of anything beyond her.” This Amir was no longer the civilized, controlled man she had met just hours before, but a fierce, arrogant Bedouin warrior, with the heat of the desert in his veins, the burn of the sun in his eyes.

“Let me tempt you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear. “Let me persuade you to stay, and I promise you’ll never forget it. You can have anything you want. Everything you want…”

Desert Affair

Kate Walker

For Noelle, with love.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘EXCUSE me, but is this seat taken?’

Lydia didn’t even have to look up to know who had spoken. There was only one person in the whole of the airport lounge who could have a voice like that. The sort of voice that wrapped itself around her senses like a slither of warmed silk, its low, lyrically accented tones making her skin shiver in reaction to the sheer sensuality of their sound.

She had spotted him as soon as she had walked into the room. It had been impossible not to notice him. He was tall, dark and devastatingly imposing; it seemed as if he were the only person in the place. The sort of man who would draw any woman’s gaze with the automatic ease of a powerful magnet and then lazily hold onto it without any sort of effort on his part.

And he had made no effort at all. Though he could not have been unaware of her attention, the overwhelming interest she hadn’t even had the strength to hide, he had done nothing at all to sustain it or show that it mattered in the slightest to him. No trace of reaction had touched the carved male beauty of his tanned face, no flicker of a smile either of welcome or even disdain. But he had not been unaware of her.

‘I said…’

‘I know what you said!’

The faint rasp of an edge to the beautiful voice, the hint of angry reproof, had her lifting her head sharply, tossing back the soft brown curls that framed her heart-shaped face. Wide-set blue eyes fringed by long, curling lashes clashed abruptly with harder, glittering black, and for a second she felt as if her heart had actually stopped in stunned disbelief.

Dear God, but he was even more spectacular close up! The true beauty of that golden skin, the sculpted cheekbones and wide, hard, sensual slash of a mouth was like a blow in the pit of her stomach. His nose was long and straight, his hair unredeemed black, cut in an uncompromisingly severe crop that emphasised the total perfection of the superb, clean-cut lines of his features.

And if he had seemed tall from a distance then standing over her like this, with those amazing eyes fixed searchingly on her face, his impact was positively earth-shattering.

‘I know what you said…’

Hastily Lydia adjusted her tone a degree or two downwards, from the pitch to which shock and apprehension had pushed it, wishing she could erase the flaring wash of colour from her cheeks as easily.

‘But I would have thought that it was obvious that no one was sitting there.’

And that no one had occupied the chair beside her for all of the—what? Almost three quarters of an hour since she had taken up her position here. After all, he had been watching her for almost all of that time.

She had tried to bury her face in the copy of the magazine she had bought to while away the time waiting for her flight to be called, but she had felt the burn of his brazen gaze fixed on her. And she had met its cold scrutiny head-on if she’d so much as glanced upwards from the page.

‘I wondered if you might be waiting for someone.’

‘Well, no, I’m not! I’m here on my own!’

‘Then may I join you?’

‘Why?’

She knew she sounded suspicious, as stiff as a cat being threatened by the approach of a stranger into its territory, but she couldn’t help it. It was how she felt, wary and unsure of herself. If anything, she felt like the intruder into the luxurious, opulent surroundings of the VIP lounge. It was not the sort of place she normally frequented, not the sort of place she could ever have afforded to be in if it hadn’t been for her new job, the generosity of her employers.

He, on the other hand, looked totally, supremely at home here. His long, lean body might be clothed in the same casual jeans and a jumper that she had chosen for practicality during a long flight, but there could be no doubt that his clothing was very definitely not from the chain store where she had bought hers. No, the lines of his clothing murmured of designer labels and expensive tailoring, and she was sure that the smoky grey sweater that hugged the firm lines of his chest and skimmed the narrow waist and hips could only be of the finest, softest cashmere available. Everything about him said Money, with a capital M.

And in spite of the supremely civilised nature of his appearance, something about him seemed to whisper of a wilder spirit, an untamed, elemental part of his character that didn’t fit with the ultra-modern surroundings.

‘Why?’

He shrugged indolent shoulders, unconsciously drawing attention to their width and strength.

‘To while away a little time. To ease the boredom of waiting with some conversation.’

A tiny hint of a smile curled that devastating mouth up at one corner and the onyx eyes gleamed for a second with a hint of mocking amusement.

‘Is that such a terrible idea?’

‘N-no…’

This was even worse! Her tongue seemed to be tangling up on itself, refusing to get the words out in any coherent form, and she was stumbling over the simplest of answers. And it was not a sensation she was used to.

She didn’t normally have this sort of trouble in talking to strangers. She was trained to talk to them, after all! Trained to handle almost any sort of eventuality or problem. So why did this one man affect her like this?

‘I’m expecting my flight to be called at any minute.’

‘I doubt it.’

His glance towards the huge plate-glass windows was wry, his mouth taking on an expressive twist as he surveyed the scene outside.

‘The snow is definitely getting worse and the wind’s picking up. It’s blowing a blizzard out there. No pilot worth his salt is going to even think of taking off in conditions like this. You’ll be lucky if you’re only delayed by a couple of hours.’

‘Only delayed,’ Lydia echoed bleakly. ‘As opposed to what?’

‘To your flight being cancelled completely and the airport being shut down for today. I think you’d better consider that possibility…’ he added, seeing the way her face fell. ‘From what I can see, it can only get worse, not better.’

And what would she do then? Lydia was forced to wonder. If the airport closed, she had nowhere to go; nothing to go back to. Today was to have been the start of her new life, a whole new beginning.

‘Would having a drink with me be such a bad thing?’ The thread of irony was definitely darker now, making her shiver faintly just to hear it.

‘No…’

But still she couldn’t make herself say yes, please sit down, introduce herself. All the normal politeness and pleasantries seemed to have fled from her mind, leaving it shockingly blank as a wiped blackboard.

‘Just what is it that you’re afraid of?’

Silkily spoken though they were, she knew the words were meant to sting and they did. Sharply.

‘Do you really think that I’m about to pounce on you in front of all these other passengers—not to mention the airport staff? Perhaps you fear that, driven mad by your stunning beauty, I will ravish you without mercy.’

‘Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.’

She struggled to ignore the sudden twist of her heart, the judder in her pulse as the impact of that ‘stunning beauty’ hit home. His tone had been ironical but something deep in those spectacular eyes had told her that the words had been more seriously meant.

‘Please don’t be silly. It’s just that…that I really don’t see exactly why you should want to. What would you get from talking to a complete stranger who is due to head out of here on a plane at any minute? I mean…why me?’ she ended on an uncharacteristically plaintive note.

The wordless sound he made with his tongue was sharp, impatient, speaking eloquently of the irritation and temper he was struggling to rein back. It was also totally un-English making her wonder just what his nationality might be. That accent certainly wasn’t Italian or Spanish. It was far more exotic than that, in spite of impeccable pronunciation and a natural ease of grammar. There was an arrogance and pride in both his profile and his bearing that made her think fleetingly of long-ago kings or Bedouin warriors, but such fanciful thoughts flew from her head when he spoke again.

‘You are clearly not a fool,’ he declared with a sudden harshness that brought a gasp of shock to her lips. ‘So why do you behave as if you were? You know very well what is between us—what has been there from the moment I first laid eyes on you and you on me.’

‘No, I don’t!’

Sitting down kept her too far beneath him, making her position too vulnerable for her liking. In a rush she started to her feet, only to find that instead of making things easier she had in fact made them much, much worse.

Face to face like this, on the same level at last, she was supremely conscious of the difference in their builds. At five feet ten inches, she had always considered herself overly tall for a woman, but this man had the rare ability to make her feel small.

His head and shoulders topped hers by several inches, and she found that unless she looked upwards at an awkward angle she was forced to focus on the dangerous sensuality of his mouth. His beautiful mouth and the smooth olive skin that surrounded it, faintly shadowed by several hours’ growth of beard. Immediately her thoughts jumped to imagine just what it would feel like to have that mouth on hers, to press her own lips against the satin warmth of his face.

She was now so close to him that the clean, faintly musky scent of his body tantalised her senses. It was impossible not to inhale secretly, sparking a reaction like the internal prickle of pins and needles.

‘I don’t!’ she repeated, less certainly this time. ‘What do you mean what there is between us? I don’t know what you are talking about.’

Black eyes flashed as he turned a look of pure scorn on her flushed face.

‘You know only too well what I’m talking about,’ he tossed back at her in a low, dangerous voice. ‘We both know what is happening between us, even if you are too craven to admit to it and give it a name.’

Unexpectedly he leaned forwards, reaching out with one long, tanned hand. The tip of his finger touched her cheek very lightly and then moved slowly and caressingly downwards, etching a trail of fire along her skin.

‘And it is a very simple word,’ he murmured beguilingly. ‘Short, to the point, and so easy to say if you only have the courage to trust in yourself.’

His eyes held her, keeping her transfixed, unable to move, unable to blink. And what she read in that steady, ebony gaze, the fierce flames that burned in the darkness of his pupils, gave her the answer she both wanted and dreaded.

Sex.

The word flared in Lydia’s mind, etched in letters of white-hot flame, so that she was sure that this disturbing stranger must be able to look deep into her eyes and read it clearly there.

Sex.

Pure and undiluted. Primal. Powerful. Totally primitive. The sort of instinctive, unthinking response that couldn’t be understood or explained. Human interaction at its most basic. It couldn’t be denied and it couldn’t be resisted.

That was what blazed between them. What had sparked in her senses in the first moment she had set eyes on this man when she had walked into the room.

And it was clear that he too had felt that same shock of carnal recognition, the body-blow to the soul that said, I want this person. I want them so much that I feel I will die if I never have them. It dried her throat and made her heart pound. Her clenched hands were damp with sweat, her lips parched, but she didn’t dare do anything to ease either physical sensation. To do so would be to reveal to those watchful, hunting hawk’s eyes that she was light years away from being as calm as she wanted to pretend.

‘I…’

She opened her mouth to deny the accusation of cowardice, but the knowledge of the truth dried the protest on her tongue and turned it into a raw, embarrassing croak.

‘You…?’ he encouraged softly, the single, husky word a seduction in itself. And the spot where his fingertip still rested on her cheek was a burning focus, a concentration of all the sensations he aroused in her.

It seemed obscene to be at the mercy of such primitive feelings in such public, impersonal surroundings. All around her was the hushed murmur of voices in desultory conversation. Other passengers lounged in the comfortable chairs, turning the pages of newspapers and magazines, or frowned into laptop computers, occasionally leaning forward to touch a key. No one even spared them as much as a curious glance.

And yet Lydia had the feeling that the awareness that pulsed between her and this man—a man whose name she didn’t even know—must have enclosed them in a glowing, burning haze that swirled in the air and coiled round them like smoke. Her heart was beating a frantic tattoo, and she was sure that the hard, strong finger must feel the race of the blood in her veins and know what had caused it.

‘You…?’ he prompted again, but her tongue seemed too thick, too frozen to speak, and she could only shake her head in numb confusion.

His reaction was brusque and startling, making her flinch in a moment of shocked panic. The long forefinger was snatched away with a swiftly muttered imprecation in some language she didn’t know, the words too harsh and swift to catch. Then his hand came down in a violent, slashing movement between their two bodies as if he were cutting off all communication between them.

‘Enough!’ he declared in a voice that rang with cold anger. ‘I do not have time for this…’

And before she could register exactly what he had in mind he had spun on his heel and was clearly about to march away from her, dismissing her totally from his mind.

‘I…’

Lydia struggled with the tangle of feelings that had knotted high up in her throat, choking off speech.

‘I…’ she tried again, her voice croaking rawly. ‘I… Oh, please! Wait!’

In her mind, the last word was a wild, desperate cry, one that would have brought confused, irritated, and just plain curious looks her way from every other waiting passenger. But what actually came out was a weak, uncertain whisper, one that broke in the middle.

And one that she was sure he couldn’t have heard. It seemed that way at first because for the space of several jolting heartbeats he didn’t seem to react. He certainly didn’t pause, and the impetus of his anger was such that the force of his movement took him well away from her, almost into the middle of the room, before he came to an abrupt halt and slowly, very, very slowly, turned back to face her again.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said…’

Lydia swallowed hard because she wanted this to sound so very different from that first, frantic call.

‘I said, please wait. Please don’t go.’

One jet-black brow lifted in sardonic interrogation and his handsome head inclined slightly to one side in apparent thoughtful consideration of the situation.

‘You’ve changed your mind?’

‘I—changed my mind.’

Better to let him think that. Better to let him believe that she had had second thoughts than to let him know what she had known all along. That there was no way she could have let him just walk out of her life as suddenly as he had walked into it.

But it had been only when he had actually moved away from her and her heart had cried out in distress at being abandoned like this that she had realised how much she had wanted him to stay.

‘You changed your mind—and you want—what?’

‘I’d like you to stay. And talk…’

Still he didn’t move.

‘And perhaps have that drink you suggested. After all…’

She tried for an airy tone, waved a hand in the direction of the windows against which the snow now swirled in wild, blustering eddies, the view of the runways, the waiting planes totally obliterated from sight.

‘Clearly neither of us is going anywhere soon. We might as well spend the time here together as apart. The hours always drag so much when you’re waiting.’

Her voice faltered, going up and down embarrassingly as she stared into his stony, set face and met no response.

Was the man waiting for her to beg? She wouldn’t! She had more pride! And yet if he turned away again…

‘Please won’t you join me?’

Still he waited one more nicely calculated minute. Just long enough to stretch out her screaming nerves even more, to twist them into hard, painful knots of tension. Then as suddenly as he had turned away he swung back, covering the short distance between them in a few swift, confident strides.

It was like seeing a sleek black panther coming towards her, Lydia thought, struggling to push away uneasy visions of herself as the prey and this man very definitely in the role of predator.

But then he turned on her a smile of such supercharged charm that it would have melted an iceberg. One that left her feeling as if the weak, ineffectual barriers she had been trying to build up against him had shattered into splinters, falling hopelessly at her feet.

‘I’m glad you changed your mind,’ he said, the unexpected warmth of his tone so unlike the icy harshness of moments before that it rocked her sense of reality, making her wonder for a second if she was even talking to the same man. ‘I hate waiting. I have no patience at all.’

‘Me too,’ Lydia admitted. ‘I was bored out of my head already. And it looks as if we’re in for a long delay. Do you think any of those planes are going anywhere today?’

The glance he turned in the direction she indicated was brief to the point of indifference and her heart jumped on a thrill of delighted confusion as his ebony gaze came back to her face and fastened on it fixedly.

‘I doubt it.’

His shrug dismissed the matter from his thoughts, his obvious lack of concern intensely gratifying to her uncertain self-esteem. After long, lonely months of feeling unwanted and rejected, the glow of appreciation that burned like fiery coals deep in the darkness of his eyes was a balm to her wounded pride.

‘But it is no matter. We won’t care how long we have to wait. We won’t notice the time.’

‘No…’

It was all she could manage because it was happening again. The warm sensuality of his tone had dried her throat, leaving her lips parched so that she had to slide her tongue over them to ease the discomfort. And as she saw that intent, black gaze drop to follow the small betraying movement she felt its force as if it were an actual touch on her skin, and shivered secretly in response.

The need for that touch to be a reality sent a wave of hunger through her that drained the strength from her legs so that she had to sink down suddenly onto the nearest chair. It was either that or give herself away completely by falling in a ridiculously weak heap right at his beautifully shod feet.

‘Won’t you sit down too?’ she managed.

And it was as he came down beside her that a new feeling hit. A disturbing, scary sensation that made her feel as if something wet and icy had slowly slithered down the sensitive length of her spine.

She was suddenly totally and inexplicably convinced that her life would never be the same again. That the whole of her future was bound up with this man and there was no way she could break free at all.

CHAPTER TWO

‘SO, WHAT shall we talk about?’

Lydia had to force herself to drag her thoughts back from the disturbing paths they were determined to follow. She had already let this man rattle her far too easily. It was time she got back in control of the situation! Seeing him as the ruler of her fate, indeed! He was just a new acquaintance. A stunning, fascinating, lethally good-looking one, admittedly, but just a man for all that.

But then her eyes met the dark, deep set ones of the man beside her and the description ‘just a man’ once more became totally inadequate.

‘Where should we begin?’

‘Names would be a good place to start.’

She aimed for crisp matter-of-factness and was pleased to note that she actually managed to come close.

‘We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I’m Lydia Ashton.’

She held out her hand as she spoke, feeling better now that things were back on a more regular footing.

‘And you are?’

A worrying glint of something that looked like amusement gleamed in his eyes but he followed her lead impeccably.

‘Amir Zaman,’ he said in that beautiful voice, the slight accent deepening on the words.

‘Amir…’

This was the normal path of things—meetings, introductions, getting to know someone… Then, and only then, did you start to harbour the sort of unexpurgated, X-rated thoughts that had been running wild in her head from the moment she had first set eyes on this man.

But then he took her hand in his and immediately she lost her grip on herself, all her careful control shattering in the space of a second.

His hand was warm and firm, his grip strong, controlled, she suspected, to ensure that the full force of it didn’t crush her slighter fingers. But it was the feel of his flesh against hers, the sensual caress of skin against skin that sent a sensation like a fierce electrical charge shooting through her body. She had the crazy feeling that this was the one touch she had been waiting for all her life, and her head swam with the impact of its effect on her.

‘Amir…’ she tried again, struggling to conceal from him the way she was feeling. ‘Unusual—and very definitely not English.’

‘It’s Arabic.’ There was a surprising edge to his voice. ‘It means Prince.’

It suited him too. Suited the proud carriage, the beautifully carved features, the way that dark head was held so arrogantly high. She could just imagine him in the wild, flowing robes of the Bedouin warriors. He would look stunning, exotic and magnificent.

‘At least it means something. I once looked up Lydia in a dictionary of names. All it means, apparently, is “a woman from Lydia” which is somewhere in Greece.’

He was still holding her hand, she realised, not having released it after that first greeting. For the life of her she couldn’t think of a way of freeing herself without communicating the wrong message with her actions.