Laine’s eyelids fluttered. Spent, he leaned over her on the desk and brushed his nose over hers.
“You are coming with me,” Aziz said impishly.
“I am,” Laine vowed. She looked up into his hazel green eyes and let herself relax for a moment.
It would be too easy to get lost in them, and she couldn’t do it, not with a man like this, who could have his choice of practically any woman in the world. But oh, how fun it was, to want something like this adventure, which was no good for her and which she shouldn’t want. For the first time in a long time, Laine simply let herself want. It might be temporary, but she could take what Aziz was offering, for now.
Chapter Seven
Understanding that she would be going to what was essentially a palace and actually standing in the expansive foyer were two entirely different things. Even the outside of the palace, where Laine had marveled at the modern architectural touches blended with classic Middle Eastern style, had not prepared her to stare up at the ceiling and feel breathless from the sight. It hadn’t prepared her to see lush, flowering plants spilling out of pots all around them or mosaic designs climbing up every impossibly high surface. Laine knew she should follow Aziz, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the ornate windows letting the sun flood into the foyer.
Dizziness washed over Laine, and in a moment, she found herself staring straight up at the ceiling in Aziz’s arms.
“Are you well?” Aziz sat her up.
“I just…got lightheaded,” she murmured. “You have a lovely home.”
Aziz combed her hair out of her eyes. “The heat, I think. It takes some getting used to. We’re not in New York anymore.”
“I got that the moment we stepped off your jet.” Laine took a deep breath and leaned back against Aziz’s chest. She’d tried to dress appropriately. The research she’d been able to do before their trip told her that Bahrain’s culture wouldn’t demand that she, a foreigner, remain covered from head to toe. Still, she hadn’t anticipated what it would feel like to walk around in 104-degree weather.
Aziz helped Laine back to her feet and kept his hand on her back. “You may find that skirts will keep you cooler than slacks, though I know you prefer them. I have arranged for some clothes to be waiting for you in your room.”
“You bought me clothes?” Laine took a deep breath and looked at the old paintings hung around the hallways.
“I had someone I trust select some items. You can decide which ones you like. It shouldn’t be a problem for you to be a bit more comfortable behind our walls, particularly in your room and your office. Out in public, I trust you will exercise good judgment.”
“I don’t plan on spending that much time adventuring around Bahrain, although I’m sure it’s very nice,” Laine said.
“But you must see our country! What’s the point of being in a beautiful, foreign place if you don’t take the time to immerse yourself?”
“The point, as far as I understood it, was to decorate this beautiful, foreign palace.” Laine paused to take in a huge antique vase that could probably be displayed in the national museum. “This palace that doesn’t seem to need a decorator.”
“Oh, but it does. I’ve had the façade renovated to be more modern, but as you can see, the rest of the palace is practically a mausoleum!” Aziz threw a hand in the air.
Laine smiled. “It’s not that bad.”
“Bahrain has made a name for itself in the new millennium. We have a diverse population and a robust economy. We have two waterparks—in the desert! And we have many women in our parliament,” Aziz informed her. “It is proper that our economic leaders reflect the strengths of our people: Good, God, and progress.”
Laine watched Aziz’s expression grow intense and proud. It was a welcome change from the ostensibly carefree playboy. While she adored the playboy more than was good for her, seeing how much Aziz cared about his country made her heart flutter a little. It was also a nice change to see him out of his suits. He seemed a little more accessible in his patterned shirt, which had peach colored vines spreading out over a red background across his breast, and red over peach on his sleeves. When he was at work, something like this would be covered by a crisp suit.
Aziz led her to her room, which was easily the size of her entire apartment in New York, and vowed to her that from this day forth, he would not be present there unless he had her explicit invitation. That moment of chivalry seemed strange after they’d gotten sweaty together in a limo, her office, and a private jet, but it was in keeping with the tone of her time here so far.