This wasn’t what she’d expected but she’d cope. She was capable and experienced.
But not, yet, as a fully fledged matchmaker.
She pushed that thought aside.
Her head spun with a host of questions. About Dhalkuri sheikhs and the surprisingly romantic story she’d just heard. And about the man she was about to meet who worked late into the evening.
Unless his next appointment wasn’t work but pleasure.
If that were the case it suggested he separated pleasure and his upcoming marriage. Maybe the current sheikh wasn’t as much of a romantic as his ancestor.
Rosanna’s curiosity burgeoned as they turned into yet another corridor. That stupendous entrance should have warned her that the palace was on a lavish scale. They seemed to walk kilometres before the chamberlain paused before a tall door of gleaming wood. He turned and caught her eye as if checking she was ready, then rapped once.
‘Enter.’
The chamberlain pushed the door open and took a step inside before bowing. ‘Ms MacIain is here, Your Majesty.’
‘Thank you. That will be all.’
That deep voice pulled a thread of heat along Rosanna’s spine and right down into her core. She told herself it was from excitement, not nerves. And definitelynotfrom something familiar in the resonating timbre of that voice.
The chamberlain stepped back and gestured for her to enter, closing the door behind her.
Rosanna knew the barest amount about Dhalkuri etiquette but this shehadchecked. She stepped through the door with downcast eyes and sank into a curtsey, thankful for childhood ballet lessons that made the movement easy despite the fatigue that began to drag at her after her eventful day.
‘You may approach.’
Rosanna rose on legs that suddenly felt wobbly. Something about that voice...
No time to worry about it now. She lifted her head as she stepped forward then slammed to an immediate halt.
Her eyes rounded and she had to snap her jaw shut as her mouth sagged. Because there, on the other side of a massive desk, sat not the Sheikh of Dhalkur but a man she knew.
A man she’d last seen six months earlier at a party in Scotland.
A man who’d charmed and seduced her into the most passionate kiss of her life. A man she’d been about to give herself to in her first ever sexual encounter with a stranger.
Until he’d walked away and never returned.
‘You!’ she croaked. ‘What areyoudoing here?’
CHAPTER TWO
SALIMWATCHEDTHEwoman before him rise and felt the slam of recognition as a physical blow to his chest.
Heat ignited in his groin.
Those eyes. That mouth. The way she stood. Even the husky quality of her voice dragged him instantly back to that memorable night half a year ago.
So much had happened in six months yet he recognised her instantly. Despite her changed appearance.
Once more she wore trousers and a jacket, but there the similarity ended. There was no soft cloud of hair caressing her shoulders. No metallic silvery top catching the light like liquid mercury and drawing attention to the sweet curve of her breasts. No spike heels to complement her look of elegance melded with pure sexy siren.
She appeared all business in light grey trousers and jacket, unremarkable mid-heeled shoes and dark hair yanked back in a bun. The only hint of softness was the dark russet colour of her high-necked blouse, vivid against the dull grey.
And that moment of recognition when her mouth had softened and her eyes ate him up.
Salim’s body went rigid, every muscle tensing at the sight of her and the remarkable coincidence that brought her here.