The Desert Kings. Оливия Гейтс
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She barely stirred and didn’t waken. He touched her shoulder again, shook her gently. “Rou.”
This time his voice registered and she sleepily lifted her head to look at him. “Hi.”
Hi. So American, so informal, so unlike who he thought Rou Tornell was.
His gaze skimmed her bare face, with the soft, full mouth and the long eyelashes that were surprisingly dark and thick. Without thinking he brushed the side of his hand across her cheek. Her skin was as warm and soft as it looked. “It’s after midnight. Time for you to go to bed.”
She sat up abruptly, remembering. “How’s your mom?”
“Brittle. Hysterical. Exhausting.” He shrugged. “But then she’s always been that way.”
She yawned and pushed a wave of pale hair from her face, her cheeks still flushed pink from sleep. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
“She’s not what I’d call nice.”
Rou now frowned. “You don’t have a good relationship with her?”
He sat down on a corner of the desk. “Tonight was the first time I’d seen her in years.”
“Why?”
“She’s controlling. Manipulative. I saw how she treated Sharif and his family. Vowed I’d never allow that in my life.”
“But you went to her tonight?”
He made a soft, rough sound. “She’s my mother.”
Rou’s lips twisted. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were a good man.”
He smiled crookedly. “Fortunately, you do.”
“Fortunately.”
Zayed felt a tug in his chest. The tug was strong and it almost hurt. “I am sorry about earlier—”
“Forgotten.”
One eyebrow lifted. “The kiss, or the e-mail?”
“Both.”
“That easily?”
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I compartmentalize.”
“Ah, you’re retreating behind the scientist mask.”
“It’s not a mask. It’s who I am. It’s what I do.”
“And the kiss? Means nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she answered firmly. “You’re stressed. I’m stressed. We made a mistake. It’s over, done, behind us.”
“But it was good.”
She colored vividly, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know,” she answered primly.
He laughed softly, despite the endless, exhausting day. She was so provoking and yet strangely entertaining. And before he could think better of it, he reached out to trace the plane of her face, the cheekbone and jawline, her small straight nose and the curve of her upper lip.
She pulled away. “I’m not one of your three candidates, Sheikh Fehr!”
If she’d hoped to freeze him with her frigid tone and cool lecture she’d failed. “Perhaps you should be,” he answered mildly.
Rou pushed up from the desk. “We’re in the middle of a crisis here—”
“And I should be taking it more seriously?” he finished for her, thinking he liked this Rou Tornell far more than the scientist mask she presented to the world.
Angry, she was fierce and alive, feminine and strong. Prickly, too, but it suited her. Made her volatile. Feisty. Passionate.
“Yes,” she agreed adamantly, her long, pale hair tumbling down her back, her breasts rising and falling beneath the tailored coat.
Make that feisty, passionate and hot, he mentally corrected, letting his gaze slide over her slim figure, down her hips to her bare legs, lingering on those legs. They were even more shapely without heels, and he found himself fantasizing about what he could do with legs like that.
A kiss to the knee. A kiss behind the knee. A kiss to the pulse behind that lovely knee when she trembled.
And she’d tremble. Women always did, but she, Rou Tornell, would most definitely tremble. He knew that now, knew that Rou Tornell was nothing like the image she projected.
“Having spent the past three hours listening to my mother wail, I’m very aware of the current crisis. However, I’m also a man, and you’re a woman—”
“No.”
“No?”
She blushed wildly. “I mean, yes, I am a woman, but not the right woman for you. I’m not your type. I’ll never be your type. It has to do with laws of attraction.”
He could still feel the warmth and softness of her mouth beneath his fingertip. “Laws of attraction?”
“It’s my field of study.” She pushed a long, silvery tendril of hair behind her ear. “The science and chemistry of romantic love. It’s an unconscious drive, something the brain controls through chemicals and hormones.”
“And you don’t think my brain could find you attractive?”
“No.”
The edge of his mouth lifted, quirking. “You know an awful lot about my brain.”
“I know men are prone to impulse, particularly the sexual impulse, but that doesn’t mean true attraction, or compatibility. And that, Sheikh Fehr, is what we’re interested in. Compatibility, synergy, marriage.”
He nodded when she finished, but he wasn’t actually listening anymore. She’d lost him about the time she mentioned sexual impulse because sex was on his mind, and to his way of thinking, she was a woman in desperate need of proper lovemaking. He couldn’t imagine the last time she’d been bedded, and yet that’s exactly what she needed. After a couple hours between the sheets, after a couple orgasms, she’d look entirely different. She’d carry herself differently. Her blue gaze would be softer. Her color would be high. And that mouth, that sweet, full mouth, would be swollen from kisses.
If he weren’t in such a bind, if he didn’t need a wife, he’d enjoy teaching Dr. Rou Tornell about the side of love she didn’t lecture on … and that was the physical. Love was more than textbook science. It was also skill, patience and desire.
“I’m here to find you a wife,” she added shortly. “That is it.”
“Right.” He cocked his head, considered her legs, her silken tumble of hair, the dark pink staining her cheeks and smiled wickedly.
“So we’re in perfect understanding? We will keep our relationship professional. We won’t indulge in any more touches, kisses, flirtations. This is business, and there’s a science to the business—”
“I was wrong about you, you know. You’re very interesting. And very appealing, especially when you’re in a righteous mood.” He smiled. “A man likes a proper challenge. And you, my buttoned-down, uptight, prudish Dr. Tornell, are a proper challenge.” With a last smile in her direction, he left.
Rou tumbled into the living room and down onto the white couch the moment Zayed disappeared and reached for a ruby pillow to squeeze against her chest. Buttoned-down. Uptight. Prudish?
How dare he? How crass. How arrogant. How perfectly Zayed Fehr!
There was no way she could find a good wife for him. No decent woman would take him. He was horrible. Arrogant. Sexual.
Sexual. And then she bit her lip and closed her eyes and tried to block out the way he’d kissed her and the way her body had responded and the way she imagined making love would be.