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‘Maybe I prefer to—’

‘And maybe, as I suggested, you should take a rest.’

Now was not the time to argue, so she compromised, sitting primly on the very edge of one of the deep, silk-satin cushion. ‘I apologise for putting you to so much trouble,’ she said, gesturing around. ‘I had no idea a storm was coming, or that it would close in so quickly. I did do my research—’

‘But you couldn’t wait to come and see me a moment longer?’ he suggested dryly.

‘It wasn’t like that.’ It was like that, Britt admitted silently.

She watched warily as Sharif prowled around the sleeping area, his prayer beads clicking at his waist in a constant reminder that she was well out of her comfort zone here. She stiffened when he came to sit with her—on the opposite side of the cushions, true, but close enough to set her heart racing. And while she was dressed in this flimsy gown, a style that was so alien to her in every way, she couldn’t help feeling vulnerable.

‘The women gave me this gown to wear while they were washing my clothes,’ she felt bound to explain.

‘Very nice,’ he said.

Very nice was an understatement. The gown was gloriously feminine and designed to seduce—which she could have done without right now. Her sisters would laugh if they could see her. Britt Skavanga backed into a corner, and now lost for words.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘I AM GLAD you have been given everything you need,’ Sharif said, glancing round the sumptuous pavilion.

‘Everything except my clothes.’ Britt was becoming increasingly aware that the gown the women had dressed her in was almost sheer. ‘I believe my own clothes will soon be here.’ She had no idea when they were arriving, or even if they would ever arrive. She only knew that her body burned beneath Sharif’s stare as his lazy gaze roved over the diaphanous gown—she had never longed for a business suit more.

Sharif’s lips tugged a little at one corner as if he knew this.

Turning away, she ground her teeth with frustration at the position she found herself in. Of course she was grateful to Sharif for saving her, but being housed in the harem at the sheikh’s pleasure was hardly her recreation of choice—

She had to calm down and accept that a lot had happened in the past twenty-four hours and she was emotionally overwrought. The temptation to do exactly as Sharif suggested—relax and recline, as he was doing—was overwhelming, but with his familiar, intoxicating scent washing over her—amber, patchouli and sandalwood, combined with riding leather and clean, warm man—she couldn’t be answerable for her own actions if she did that. Business was her safest option. ‘If I’d seen a photograph of you before you came to Skavanga, I wouldn’t have mixed you up with Emir and maybe we could have avoided this mess, and then you wouldn’t have been forced to risk your life riding through the storm to find me.’

‘I don’t make a habit of issuing photographs with business letters. And as it happens, I did see a photograph of you, but it wasn’t a true representation.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘I mean the photograph showed one woman when you are clearly someone very different.’

‘In what way?’

Sharif smiled faintly. ‘You’re far more complex than your photograph suggests.’

She pulled a face beneath the veil, remembering the posed shot. She had been wearing a stiff suit and an even stiffer expression. She hated having her photograph taken, but had been forced to endure that one for the sake of the company journal.

‘Well, I haven’t seen a single photograph of you in the press,’ she countered.

‘Really?’ Sharif pretended concern. ‘I must remedy that situation immediately.’

‘And now you’re mocking me,’ she protested.

He shrugged. ‘I thought we agreed to call a truce. But if there’s nothing more you need—’

‘Nothing. Thank you,’ she said stiffly as he turned to go. Her body, of course, had other ideas. If she could just keep her attention fixed on something apart from Sharif’s massive shoulders beneath his flowing black robe, or those strong tanned hands that had given her so much pleasure—

‘I’ll leave you to rest,’ he said, getting up.

‘Thank you.’

And now she was disappointed?

He was leaving while her body was on fire for him.


Tags: Susan Stephens Billionaire Romance