The truth was that her brother always refused to discuss business with her and she certainly wasn’t in a position to answer in depth questions. She was only here to help her brother; he couldn’t make the trip and because she loved him—she was happy to represent him.
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ she admitted reluctantly, ‘but I do know that all he’s asking for is two months.’
Those pitch-black eyes lasered into hers. ‘And why should I give him two months?’
Emily looked at him in confusion. It hadn’t occurred to her that the prince would deny the request. True, Peter owed him money, but Zak al-Farisi was rich beyond fantasies so a two month extension on a tiny debt was hardly going to cause him a problem, was it?
She gave an uncertain smile. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re a nice guy—’
‘Then you are a poor judge of character, Miss Kingston, because I am not a nice guy,’ he delivered softly, his black eyes narrowing slightly as they raked her increasingly pale face. ‘I’m not a nice guy at all.’
The air thickened with tension and then with his free hand he reached out and removed the clip from her hair in a swift, purposeful gesture that she didn’t anticipate.
Her wayward blonde curls, so carefully tamed for this one meeting, tumbled down her back in glorious rebellion and shimmering black eyes fastened on her hair in blatant masculine appraisal.
‘Oh!’ She gave a gasp of dismay and clutched at her hair. ‘What did you do that for?’
A sardonic smile touched his hard mouth. ‘I told you that I don’t appreciate deception. Presenting yourself here dressed like a virgin in a dress buttoned to your neck and your hair pinned back doesn’t fool me in the slightest. Your brother sent you because of your feminine charms. The least you can do is to display them. That, at least, would be honest.’
Emily gaped at him.
He thought—
He was suggesting—
Aghast, she shook her head, one hand still on her tumbled curls that were now cascading freely over her shoulders. ‘You’ve got it all wrong—’
‘I don’t think so. In fact I am finding myself forced to admit that your brother is evidently not the fool I believed him to be.’ Having made that announcement, he dropped his hand and strolled around her, his gaze sweeping over her with embarrassing thoroughness. ‘You are very beautiful.’
Beautiful?
Momentarily distracted by his surprising declaration, Emily stared at him.
He thought she was beautiful? Not just beautiful, but very beautiful.
Indoctrinated from adolescence into thinking that she was too tall to be considered beautiful, she struggled to breathe, trapped by the novelty of being on the receiving end of raw male appreciation for the first time in her life.
And then she saw something flicker in his eyes and reminded herself that this man didn’t have a heart. He was refusing to give Peter more time and he seemed to think that she was offering herself as some sort of consolation prize.
From somewhere she found her voice, jerking away from him and smoothing her tumbled hair with shaking hands. ‘I don’t see how the way I dress has anything to do with this—’
‘Do you not?’ His hard mouth curved slightly. ‘And yet you agreed to come here, Miss Kingston.’
He was standing so close that she could feel the heat throb between them, feel the tension rise to such a pitch that she could hardly breathe.
‘I came to deliver my brother’s message.’
He smiled. ‘Consider it delivered. Now we can move on.’
Her cheeks flamed under his steady gaze. ‘I don’t know what you’re implying,’ she said frostily, ‘but—’
‘Miss Kingston—’ his tone was lethally soft and he took a step closer to her, his eyes locking on hers with magnetic force, his powerful body dominating hers even though they weren’t touching ‘—I ought to warn you that I never play games. Not in my business dealings or in my bedroom dealings.’
Emily flushed, wondering which category he thought she fell into. ‘I’m not playing games, but you’re tying me in knots and you’re being so inflexible about the money—’ She broke off, totally quelled by the contempt in those black eyes.
‘I am not known for my flexibility.’
Or for warmth or kindness, Emily reflected. She’d never met anyone so cold and unapproachable in her life. He was totally intimidating and he was standing so close that she could almost feel the heat of his body burning through the thin fabric of her dress.
‘My brother sends his apologies for not coming himself,’ she said formally, raking a mass of blonde curls away from her eyes and suddenly wishing that she’d dug a little deeper and found out exactly why her brother hadn’t been able to attend. Had he known the prince would be this angry? ‘He’s been working really hard and I agreed to come in his place, to explain.’
Night-black eyes settled on hers and Emily felt her heart beat faster. He might be heartless but he had truly amazing cheekbones. In fact he was gorgeous, she thought weakly, wondering how she was supposed to concentrate faced with all that rampant, pulsing masculinity.
Suddenly all she could think about was sex and she dragged her eyes away from his, just mortified by her own thoughts. What was the matter with her? She never thought about sex. She thought about love and marriage and babies, and of course sex was part of that, but she never thought about sex on its own.
Until now.
There was something about Zak al-Farisi that was so powerfully sexual that it took her breath away. She glanced around her again, half expecting to see desperate women pouring through every door of his palace and an unsettling thought occurred to her.
Did Arab princes still have harems?
She glanced at that cold, handsome face one more time and felt her knees weaken alarmingly.
If there was a vacancy in this man’s harem then she was definitely applying.
Or maybe not. She couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than being in this man’s bed.
Or more exciting—
‘So—’ his voice was soft and slightly accented ‘—I confess I am intrigued. I await your explanation with almost unbearable anticipation.’
Roused from her fantasies by the raw bite of his sarcasm, Emily decided that there was probably a waiting list for the harem. A very long one. And she wasn’t exactly qualified for the position. What she knew about sex could be written on a thong.
Realising that he was still waiting for an answer, she drew breath. ‘There’s nothing to justify,’ she said, puzzled and disconcerted by the flash of anger she saw in the prince’s eyes. ‘The investments aren’t doing well. He told me that much. But he anticipates that the markets will improve soon. In the meantime, he’s just asking you
