The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh (4 page)

“Sheikh Khaled…”

He put a hand on her arm. “Do you think, for today, you could drop the ‘sheikh’?”

She bit her lip. “Khaled. We’re supposed to be working together, remember.”

“We’re not working together yet. I haven’t decided whether to sign the contract.”

“Exactly! I can’t do anything that might prejudice your decision.”

“Trust me, Olivia, nothing I have in mind would prejudice my decision against your company.” Her name was soft and warm when it came from his lips. “See that, in the distance?”

She looked toward the rocks where he was pointing. “Seals?”

He nodded. “Basking in this sunshine, which begs the question: how is it that Scotland is freezing cold even on a sunny day?”

Olivia laughed. “I did tell you to wear an extra layer.”

Khaled moved a little closer and slid his arm around her waist. “I know another way to keep warm.”

Her mouth went dry. “Khaled…”

“Olivia?”

“We can’t.”

“No one can see.”

Her head turned to check on the bodyguards, following at a discreet distance.

“They know better than to see anything.”

“You’re a client.”

“But still a man. And you, Olivia McInnes, are a woman, despite all your attempts to prove otherwise.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your work clothes. The suit and tie.” He combed his fingers through her hair and she shivered at the intimacy of it. “The short hair. I like it, by the way.”

“You’re not supposed to be noticing my hair.”

He laughed. “I noticed everything about you from the very first time we met. I thought you were a new secretary. Totally off limits.”

“You assumed I was a secretary. How sexist.”

“Not at all. You were in the photocopying room. What else was I supposed to think?”

“That I was doing my photocopying?”

“Hm. In general, in the embassy, the secretaries do the photocopying. Whether they are male or female.”

She relented. “Very well. But I should like to point out that, even though I am not your secretary, I am still off limits.”

“Are you? This little dimple here.” He traced it with his finger. “I noticed that when you smiled at Saleema. She brought you a cup of tea. And the tiny scar in your eyebrow here, I was looking at that while you were examining the dugong. How did you get it?”

“I fell off my bike when I was five.”

“I’m sure you got straight back on it. Now we come to the kissable spot beneath your ear, just here.” The pad of his finger pressed lightly against her skin. “How far off your limits is that?” His eyes bored deep into hers, waiting for an answer.

She could still say no.

She couldn’t say no. That was the problem.

Her lips parted. “There,” she whispered. “Kiss me there.”

She felt his breath first, warm and soft, skittering across her sensitive skin, then the merest touch of his lips, just enough to send her pulse soaring. He pressed harder, branding her with the heat of his mouth. She clung to the rail and gulped at the salty air. His tongue swiped a trace across her skin, as if tasting her. He pulled away, just a little, and blew gently so that her wet skin was suddenly cold. She shivered.

“Do it again.”

“There?” he asked in a low voice. “Or here?” His finger trailed down her jaw and landed on the pulse point in her neck. Her blood pumped harder and faster in response.

She sighed raggedly. “Please. There.”

Khaled reached behind her to cut the engine. He cupped her jaw between his hands and lifted her chin. He tilted his head and studied her with an intensity that ought to have embarrassed her, but somehow only increased her desire. Olivia bit her lip to keep herself from begging him to hurry up. She arched toward him in mute invitation. His thumbs began to circle slowly, just under her jaw. She whimpered.

When she thought she might explode from wanting, he bent his head and licked. She shuddered with pleasure. He did it again. And again and again. With each stroke, desire built. When finally he pressed his mouth to her skin and sucked, Olivia let out a long breath. She detached her hand from the rail and clung to Khaled instead. He began to trail his kisses further up her neck, along her jawline, tracing her cheekbone, all the way finding sensitive spots Olivia had no idea she possessed. Wherever he touched her, with lips, or teeth or tongue, her nerve endings sparked into delicious sensation. Her body was more intensely alive than she had ever known possible, yet still it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

She wove her fingers into his hair and guided his head down until his lips met hers. It felt like this was the part of her that had always been missing. Like this was how kissing was always supposed to have been, and everything else had been practice.

She had no idea how long they were locked in their embrace, but eventually Khaled pulled free and the world shifted back into focus. He hooked his arm tightly around her waist and turned the ignition key with his free hand.

“Khaled,” she murmured.

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going to Straer Island. We’ll anchor offshore and have lunch.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I know. You worry too much. We’re just having fun.” He dropped a kiss on her temple and squeezed his hand at her waist.

“Being foolish, you mean.”

She didn’t pull away from his hold, but in her mind, Olivia went over the hundreds of reasons why she shouldn’t be kissing Khaled Saqat. By the time he dropped anchor and they sat down for lunch, she had almost persuaded herself that it wouldn’t happen again. But his fingers brushed hers as he passed her a glass of wine, and shivers ran down her spine. She leaned toward him, and he took that as invitation to kiss her. Soft, sweet, and so delicious she forgot all about lunch.

Damn. She was going to have to do a lot better than that.

He didn’t make it easy for her. The boat was small and they were seated close together on the bench. Khaled ate the simple picnic food with obvious pleasure. He tore the fresh bread and handed her half to spread with butter and cheese. He selected a shiny red apple and bit into it, careless of the trickle of juice running down his chin. Without thinking, Olivia caught a drop with her finger. Khaled moved the apple away, daring her with dark, tempting eyes. She traced the path of the juice, bringing the pad of her finger to his lips. He caught her wrist and held it in place. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue licked the morsel of juice from her skin. And then he let her go with a grin.

“More wine?”

“No. Thank you.” She was lightheaded enough, thanks to that wicked tongue of his.

“A grape?” He plucked one from the bunch and lifted it to her lips, teasing. Tantalizing.

“I can feed myself.”

Khaled leaned closer. “I’m sure you can, but where’s the fun in that?”

“We’re supposed to be working.”

“Everyone’s entitled to a lunch break. Even you.”

She shook her head. “I normally have a sandwich at my desk.”

He popped the grape into his own mouth and leaned back against the rails, leisurely eyeing her up. “Why do you work so hard?”

“I like work.”

His lips tightened as though he was repressing a smile. “Really? Do you like the work, or do you just like being in charge?”

It was a good question. She thought about it as she peeled a tangerine. “I like both.”

“Of course you do, but what gets you out of bed in the morning? The drive for money? Power? Success?”

Olivia knew she was lucky enough to have plenty of money in the bank and a job that brought a certain amount of influence and prestige. But they weren’t the things she cared about. The real motivation for the long hours she spent at her desk was a much deeper fear than that.

“Could it be fear?” He sat up and looked at her curiously. “And if so, fear of what?”

It couldn’t be a good idea to tell him all her insecurities, but as long as they were talking, they weren’t kissing, and surely that was better.

“Fear of failure, I suppose.” Fear of disappointment in her father’s eyes. Fear that he might block her out again, as he had after her mother died. Fear that she’d never be good enough to make CEO after him.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe you’ve ever failed at anything, Olivia.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Everyone fails at something. But if you prefer, you can call it fear of the unknown.”

“I would prefer that you had nothing to be afraid of.”

She shrugged. “When they make you God, you can arrange that for me. For now, I’ll just keep doing my job and making a success of it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“It would be better if you and I didn’t…” She waved her hand between them to indicate what she meant.

“Didn’t what?” he asked innocently.

“You know what I mean. Kiss. Or anything.”

“Or anything. Hmm. Sounds interesting.” He winked. Her stomach swooped with desire. Damn.

“I can’t take the risk. If anyone at work finds out… if my father finds out…”

He put his hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “No one’s going to find out. I don’t want that either.”

Oh, he was good at this. He knew how to look at her with heat in his eyes to warm her cheeks and set her pulse racing. If he made love the way he kissed…

“I don’t know, Khaled.”

“I’m not talking about anything serious, Olivia. Just warming my bed in your freezing cold house. A little bit of fun. It couldn’t be any more than that even if we wanted it to. I’ll have to go back to Saqat soon, and be the dutiful heir courting his suitable bride.”

“Suitable?”

He looked away from her. “Saqati. Arab. Muslim. From the right sort of family with the right sort of views.”

“Not much like me, then.”

“Not much, no.”

Well, at least she knew where she stood. A little bit of fun with no hope of ever becoming more than that. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Are you going to show me this island?”

He took them in the small, inflatable dinghy. It was fun clambering over the rocks and poking into the small pools of water left by the tide. Khaled showed her the puffin nests.

“The males build the nests for their partners,” he told her.

“How conservative and reactionary.”

“They share child care between them.”

She laughed. “Okay, I’m impressed with that.”

“They’re enlightened birds,” he said with a perfectly straight face, but a giveaway twinkle in his eye.

“Tell me about Saqat,” she said. “How enlightened are the people there?”

He spoke with obvious affection and pride in his country. They might not have the wealth of other Arab nations—not
yet
, Olivia pointed out—but they were a strong people, hardworking and happy. Saqat had come through the recent sweep of revolution fever in the Middle East relatively unscathed. His father was a good ruler, and he had established a form of government that allowed the people to be involved in the future of their own nation. He listened to the ministers he had gathered around him, and they listened to the people they represented. Saqat might not have the glittering resorts or the ostentatious displays of wealth, but his people had access to hospitals and schools.

“Even the women?” Olivia asked.

Khaled raised an eyebrow. “Especially the women.”

“Sorry.” She felt foolish. She had pictured women in veils and full-length burkas, not permitted to speak to anyone and confined to their homes, and she could tell Khaled knew it.

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was friendly. “We are not stupid, Olivia. We know that we cannot continue to live in the ways that worked a hundred years ago. Our people have access to the rest of the world through the Internet. They communicate and they know how life can be. We want everyone—men, women, and children—to have what is best.”

“But Saqat is a Muslim nation?” She’d done some research, after all, before MCI Oil drew up their contract.

He nodded. “The majority of our people are Muslim, yes, but we are not governed by Islamic law. We have always practiced religious freedom in Saqat.”

“I’m impressed.”

Khaled turned away, staring out to the ocean. “My father is a very impressive man.”

“He certainly has an impressive son.”

He laughed briefly without looking at her. “He did once,” he said, so softly that Olivia had to lean forward to catch his words.

“Khaled?” She laid her hand on his arm. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged. “I was never meant to be the heir. My brother Djalil was three years older than me—he was bigger, stronger, smarter. He was groomed to follow in our father’s footsteps from the nursery, and he would have done it. He wouldn’t have hesitated to develop the oil wells. He would have seized the opportunity to give the people of Saqat everything they deserve.”

Olivia moved closer. “What happened?” she whispered.

Khaled slipped his arm around her waist and laid his cheek against her hair. “The Gulf War happened. He was twenty and desperate to fight. Saqat hardly had an army worth sending, but Djalil had trained at Sandhurst and he joined the British forces.”

“I’m so sorry.” Such inadequate words, but the only ones she had.

His arms tightened around Olivia, and she could feel the erratic beating of his heart against her cheek.

When he spoke again, it was as if the words were twisted from him like water from a wrung cloth. “The worst of it was that it was ‘friendly fire.’ He was shot down by our own damned allies.”

Olivia burrowed tighter, instinctively offering the most basic human comfort for the grief that he still felt for a brother cruelly taken too young.

After a pause, Khaled continued in a calmer voice. “I was in England when it happened. At school. That summer I went home for the holidays and my father told me what I already knew. One day I must be the emir.”

Olivia pulled away slightly so that she could look up at Khaled. She met his eyes. “You will be a good ruler, Khaled, I know it. You care so much for Saqat. For your people.”

He shrugged again. “I made a deal with my father. He would allow me to continue with my studies. I wanted to go to university, take my doctorate, do something really worthwhile.”