Promised To A Sheikh. Carla Cassidy
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and nodded. “I’m ready to go,” she replied.
The little man smiled in delight. “Ah, a rare woman—one who is ready on time.” He escorted her to the waiting limo. When she was safely ensconced in the back, he shut the door, then took a position in the passenger seat next to the driver.
She wished Rashad had joined her in the back of the limo. Perhaps he might have chatted with her and she wouldn’t be thinking about what a huge mistake all this was.
As the limo pulled out of the Carson property and headed toward town, Cara told herself again that everything would be all right. She was certain the sheik wouldn’t remain in town long, that he would need to return to his country fairly quickly.
In the meantime she could enjoy a couple of dates with him, then turn down his marriage proposal. He would entertain fond memories of Fiona, and Cara would have wonderful memories of being dated by a handsome sheik who had shown in his letters his gentle, kind nature.
Dating had always been difficult for her. Although Mission Creek had more than its share of handsome, eligible bachelors, most of them at one time or another had dated Fiona. And Cara had made it a personal decision never to date a man who had dated her twin sister.
Cara never wanted to worry about being a second choice, a pale imitation of what the man wanted but couldn’t have. She never wanted to wonder if the man was dating her because she was a replica of her sister.
However, Fiona’s fickle dating style made it difficult for Cara to find men her sister hadn’t dated.
Omar hadn’t dated Fiona. He knew Fiona only through her letters. Letters Cara had written. Granted, he’d spent several hours with Fiona at a cotillion six years before, but it hadn’t been a date.
That night Fiona had played the role of belle of the ball, flitting from man to man in true Scarlet O’Hara fashion. Cara had, as usual, blended into the woodwork, watching the festivities rather than participating in them.
She had been introduced to Omar that night, but knew he probably didn’t remember her at all. Her gown had been a pale pink and she hadn’t tried to compete with her sister for male attention.
She’d watched him that night—watched him watching Fiona—and she’d thought him one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.
Her heart beat faster as the limo entered the small town of Mission Creek. Ahead she could see the Brighton Hotel, and knew the eight-story luxury building was where they were going. Not only was it exorbitantly expensive with a five-star rating, but also it was the only hotel in the small town of Mission Creek aside from the accommodations at the Lone Star Country Club.
As the limo pulled to a halt before the gold-trimmed glass front doors, a uniformed valet stepped forward. Rashad jumped out of the car and waved the valet away.
He opened the door for her, his smile exposing perfect white teeth. “I will escort you to where Sheik Al Abdar awaits.”
He led her through the front doors and into the posh lobby. The furnishings were in burgundy and gold, with lush green plants providing the accenting green.
Cara had spent little time in the hotel before, and looked around with interest. When her family planned dinners or gatherings, they always took place at the Lone Star Country Club.
When they reached the back end of the lobby, Rashad led her through a doorway that entered into the Gold Room Restaurant.
There were several people seated at the tables, but Omar wasn’t one of the diners in the dimly lit room.
It wasn’t until they reached another door at the back of the restaurant that Cara realized Omar must have reserved a private dining room.
Two men stood on either side of the door. Judging by the thickness of their necks and their stern demeanor, Cara guessed they were bodyguards to the sheik.
Rashad gestured toward the door and smiled once again. “Sheik Al Abdar awaits you,” he said.
She’d thought dining with the sheik would be relatively safe. After all, it would be difficult to have too private a conversation with other diners talking, with the clink of silver and glassware all around them.
As she eyed the door before her, trepidation swept through her. A private dining room meant…well, privacy. She would have to be on her toes to make him believe she was the same woman he’d seen the night of the cotillion.
Drawing a deep breath, she knocked.
Omar opened the door, his handsome face lit with a smile that instantly warmed her. “Elizabeth,” he said as he took her hand in his and pulled her across the threshold. “You look positively stunning.” He closed the door behind them.
“Thank you,” she murmured, then exclaimed in surprise as she looked around the small room. Fresh-cut flowers were everywhere, bouquets of them that filled the room with their sweet fragrance.
She stepped over to an arrangement of multicolored roses on top of a marble stand, and drew a deep breath. “Oh, Omar, they are all so lovely.”
He smiled. “I remembered you love flowers. I hope they please you.”
“Please me? How could I not be pleased?” She was touched beyond belief. First because he remembered she’d mentioned in one of her letters how much she liked flowers, and second because he had gone out of his way to fill the room with them for her.
“Please have a seat.” He gestured toward the small table in the middle of the room. In the center of the table two candles were lit, their warm glow flickering on the crystal glasses and gold tableware.
Cara sat in one of the chairs, then gasped in surprise as he turned off the overhead light, plunging the windowless room into candlelight intimacy.
She became conscious of soft music playing in the background and realized the scene was set for romance. Her heart pounded as her nervousness increased.
As Omar took the seat opposite her, a waiter appeared through a doorway she hadn’t noticed in the back of the room. He held a bottle of wine and wore a deferential smile.
“I took the liberty of ordering the wine,” Omar said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she assured him, as the waiter filled their glasses. When the waiter was finished, he disappeared once again.
Omar picked up his wineglass and held it out toward her. “To the future. May it bring us much happiness.”
It was a toast Cara could make without a twinge of conscience. After all, he hadn’t said “to us,” which would have been difficult for her to toast to since she knew there wouldn’t be an “us.”
Omar took a sip of his wine, then leaned back in his chair, a look of intense satisfaction on his face as his gaze lingered on her. “You are as beautiful as I remember,” he said, his voice a deep verbal caress. “Actually, the past six years have only made you more beautiful.”
Cara felt color sweep up into her cheeks. “And you are as handsome as I remember,” she replied.
Today he was once again dressed in western wear. His black suit fit him to perfection, and the white shirt was monogrammed at the sleeves with his initials. But it wasn’t his clothes that threatened to steal her breath away.
Beneath the suit jacket, his shoulders looked broad and strong. The slacks displayed the long length of his legs, and the white shirt emphasized the attractive olive coloring of his skin.
Beneath his dark, thick eyebrows, his ebony eyes caressed her as he smiled at her compliment, flashing his beautiful white teeth. “We will make a very attractive married couple.”
He seemed to recognize she was about to protest and held up his hand to still her. “But we will talk of other things first.”
Cara relaxed slightly. She didn’t want to think about the marriage proposal he’d offered the day before. She just wanted