“That’s very kind, but I have a coat somewhere.”
“This is here. Isn’t it easier?”
Nothing about this was easy. Her eyes latched to the breadth of his torso, revealed by the removal of his jacket, and her first thought was one of utter awe. He struck her not as a man, but as some kind of mythical creature, an invention of legend and story, pure muscle and strength. Her throat was as dry as the desert.
“Are you sure?” Her voice quivered a little. From the cold, or desire?
“I never offer what I’m not willing to share. Take it, alsaghir.”
The foreign word tripped off his tongue and she trembled a little, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders then closing her eyes as his scent engulfed her. Masculine, exotic, spiced. Her knees trembled.
“I won’t be long.” She turned and fled, her fingers shaking as she pushed open the door of the gallery and stepped into the side alley.
Cora inhaled deeply, closing her eyes a moment, calming the flurry of sensations that were besieging her, but a moment later, a noise sounded. The whisper of fabric. She turned and blinked, the handsome stranger behind her, arms crossed, eyes hooded yet watchful.
She stared back at him for several beats, then lifted a single brow. “Can I help you?”
“It occurs to me you shouldn’t be out here alone.”
The other brow lifted. “Why not?”
He gestured up and down. “Your safety?”
She couldn’t help the soft laugh that tickled her throat. “I don’t think my safety is your concern.”
“But how could I live with the guilt if something happened to you?”
“I’m sure you’d survive.”
His own lips twisted then in a cynical half-smile. “Perhaps, but not without some discomfort.”
“I see. Well, we don’t want that. Mr…?”
His lips flashed downwards a moment and then he moved forwards, eyes scanning her face. “Samir. And you are?”
She felt an unmistakable thrill at having not been recognised, but it was quickly usurped by recognition. “Samir. As in, His Royal Highness Samir Al Qadi?”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Oh, yes,” she murmured, wondering why she hadn’t connected the dots straight away. Her cousins and brother had mentioned this man often enough that in some ways, she felt like she knew him.
“Then you have the advantage.”
“You mean you don’t know who I am?”
His eyes narrowed, and it was clear that he didn’t like being at a conversational disadvantage. “Should I?”
“Probably.”
“Then why don’t you enlighten me as to our connection?”
“Oh, it’s far more fun to keep you guessing,” she said with a dazzling smile. But it didn’t stick to her face; not when she saw the blatant appraisal in his and felt the heat that sparked between them. Belatedly, she remembered that it was snowing, and that she was wearing his jacket. “You must be freezing,” she said, pressing her fingertips to the jacket’s lapels, intending to return it.
He reached out, surprising her, as he pressed his hands to the jacket, holding it where it was. “Keep it.”
Every single sensible thought fell out of her mind as desire ratcheted up a thousand-fold, searing her with its intensity.
“Your face is familiar,” he said after a beat.