was waiting for courage and self-belief. She was wondering how to handle all the personal insecurities she felt as a woman, with this man who had no insecurities at all, and how to handle feelings for him that had no connection with the job.
Raffa took her to what had to be the most fashionable club in the city, judging by the fabulous array of gleaming vehicles parked outside. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be noticed here, she thought, but Raffa didn’t seem to care. He made no attempt to claim special status as the manager of the club hurried to greet them.
‘Are you ready?’ he said, offering her his arm.
She’d bet the glamorous women entering the club in front of them with their handsome escorts hadn’t picked out their clothes from the bargain rail. It seemed incredible that she was about to take the arm of the ruling Sheikh. But as she did she realised his bodyguards were just an invisible step away. ‘Do they have to come with us?’ she asked. She found them so intrusive and forbidding.
‘They don’t have to do anything you don’t want them to…’
She felt his strength then, and just for a moment experienced what it would be like to have a man like Raffa in her life. She felt cherished and protected when she was with him.
But she wasn’t with Raffa, Casey reminded herself before her imagination ran away with her. He was her boss and he was taking her to lunch. And the touch of his hand on her arm…and his body brushing against hers…
‘Why are you shivering? Are you cold?’ he said as the maître d’ led them inside.
Cold? Did frigid translate into A’Qabani?
Raffa gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘Courage,’ he murmured, his warm breath brushing her ear. ‘Many of your potential buyers at the auction will be here. You do want to give them the right impression, don’t you?’
Of course she did. And those few words tipped the balance of the internal see-saw inside her back to business.
As she glanced around the exclusive club Casey realised that some of the younger women present appeared to be glued to every word their companions had to say. They laughed on cue, stared in awe on cue, and rarely spoke unless they were asked a direct question. How long was she going to last here?
It would be useful research, her business head reminded her.
‘Could we sit somewhere where I can people-watch?’
‘If you’d find it helpful…’ he replied. ‘Champagne?’ Raffa suggested once they were settled at a table.
‘I’d prefer juice?’
‘Juice it is.’
This was new for him—this woman who could be one thing in the boardroom and a shy fawn-like creature in her private life. He supposed it was his reward for mixing business with pleasure; something he’d never done before.
But this interview process must never become something more. Casey’s innocence prevented it. She was so tender and vulnerable outside her job, and that should never be exploited. And besides, with so much appetite on his side and so much untapped passion on hers, if their relationship ever did overstep the mark they would take off into sexual space and never come back to earth again.
As he watched her moist lips embrace the straw plunged deep into fresh papaya juice, he could only be thankful she hadn’t agreed to champagne. He needed a clear head and all his sternest resolve if this apparently innocent meeting in a club was going to remain the safe side of sin.
‘TELL me something about your family, Casey…’
‘My family?’ Casey’s throat constricted as Raffa leaned towards her. Was her family being considered for the job now? She made herself calm down by reasoning that this was a perfectly acceptable question for an employer to ask. It was by no means unique, and it allowed Raffa to paint a clearer picture of who she was. But still…
‘We’re nothing special.’
‘Nothing special?’ Raffa frowned, his dark eyes glinting in the discreet lighting. ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’
‘I’m sure you’d find us terribly boring.’
‘And I’m equally sure I won’t…’ As he spoke Raffa straightened up and put his hands flat on the table, where the delicious entrées they had ordered lay largely untouched.
They had a lot to say to each other, Casey reflected, except when it came to their private lives; then both of them clammed up. But she didn’t have the option of holding out on him if she wanted this job. ‘You’ve read my file—’
‘So I know a lot about you on paper,’ he countered. ‘But I want you to tell me. My intention in bringing you here to A’Qaban is to go way beyond the printed page, Casey. I need to know you.’
‘I understand…’
‘And I understand that your parents’ job is a little unusual,’ he said in a reassuring voice. ‘So don’t feel embarrassed.’
‘I’m not…’ His hard mouth had softened fractionally, she noticed, and there was genuine warmth in his eyes.
‘Why don’t you tell me about them?’
‘I’m okay with their work,’ she admitted, hearing in her voice that she had made it sound like a lie.
‘Expand a little,’ Raffa encouraged, pouring a glass of water for her.
How much did he want to know? She had never discussed her parents’ work with anyone outside the family before. How could she, when she could never take a man home to ‘meet the family’, knowing that any boyfriend would only end up as a lab rat to be quizzed and evaluated by her sex therapist parents before being added to their latest batch of trial statistics.
‘Do you know my parents’ work?’
‘I know their work well,’ he said, as casually as if her parents ran a market garden. ‘They’re world-renowned academics; it would be hard not to.’
He wasn’t mocking her, as so many others had. He was genuinely interested, she realised.
‘I never forget we are all products of our background, to some extent, and so it’s only natural for me to be curious about your formative influences.’
‘And about whether I can talk of them without embarrassment?’ she said bluntly. ‘I’m proud of my parents’ achievements.’ She was. They had helped so many people. Except for her, of course. But it went without saying that that had never been on the cards.
‘So you’ve grown up in a loving family?’
‘Absolutely. My parents may seem unconventional to some people, but they always put me first and were very good role models.’
Raffa eased back, appearing to consider this. She was overheating. It was
