was the last time he’d come across one of that rare breed?
‘I simply want to make sure you don’t get hypothermia. I’m not interested in your body.’
The blush intensified to a deep rose hue and her gaze slanted swiftly away from his. Her teeth sank into her pale bottom lip. She was embarrassed.
‘I can look after myself. I don’t need your help,’ she mumbled.
Didn’t she? His curiosity was roused, and his concern. And, damn it, his time was his own, for tonight at least.
Khalid had always believed in two things. Following his instinct and his duty. Years ago, in the darkest days of grief after Shahina’s death, only duty had kept him going. Embracing his responsibility to his people had given him purpose and strength when he’d wanted to shun the world and mourn his wife, the only woman he’d ever love.
Now both instinct and duty dictated he remain.
And something else. Something about Maggie Lewis that reached out to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The realisation fascinated and appalled him.
‘So I should have left you out in the storm?’
‘I didn’t mean that. I appreciate the lift.’ Her widening gaze roved the massive bathroom as if she’d never seen marble tiles before. ‘It would have been easier to take me home.’
Her words were still slurred. But her eyes were clear and bright, the pupils normal. He guessed it was hypothermia, not drugs or drink, affecting her speech.
He released his hold slowly, looking to ensure she could stand alone. Then he shrugged out of his dinner jacket and draped it over the edge of the spa bath.
Maggie watched his swift, economical movements as he turned and took off his jacket. The frame of his spectacular shoulders, the impressive V of his torso, the classic male form of powerful chest and narrow waist. The wet shirt clung lovingly to every inch of his skin, and her mouth dried, absorbing all that physical perfection.
Fiery heat burned her face as embarrassment sizzled under her skin. Of course he wasn’t interested in seeing her naked! She’d always been gawky and unattractive. A wave of anger and humiliation broke over her, threatening to tug her down into a tide of self-pity.
Rapidly she blinked. She’d known for years she wasn’t the sort of girl men desired. Tonight had only just confirmed…no, she refused to go there. The memory was too raw, too mortifying.
There was a whoosh of water and she dragged her focus back to the present. He’d leaned in to turn on the shower. His black trousers were sodden, shaping long, powerful legs and a tightly curved backside.
Maggie’s eyes widened. Even Marcus, with his laughing blue eyes and his tall chunky build, couldn’t hold a candle to this man for sheer physical perfection.
‘Let me help you with your coat.’ He didn’t wait for an answer. Clearly he was used to being obeyed.
Wordlessly she stood while he deftly slipped it from her shoulders. It dropped in a puddle at her feet.
Maggie fixed her gaze on his black silk bow tie rather than on that vast expanse of wet male torso. But, perversely, the longer she stared, the greater her desire to reach out and tug the tie undone, to part the collar and see whether the flesh over his collarbone was the same burnished gold as his face.
Horrified at the wayward thought, she shut her eyes against temptation. She’d never felt quite so…abandoned. Had tonight short-circuited something in her brain?
She was shocked to realise she hadn’t felt anything like this for Marcus. She’d cared for him, respected him and believed intimacy was the next logical step in their relationship. But she’d never felt this charged awareness of him as a man.
Now she felt edgy, as if her skin had grown too tight.
Was this desire?
Her experience was so limited. She’d spent her life on the farm, isolated by her domineering father and long work hours. That was why her fledgling relationship with Marcus had seemed so precious.
‘Next your dress, then we’ll see if you can manage alone.’ Khalid’s voice was matter-of-fact. Yet he could have been reciting entries in the telephone directory and she’d have listened, enthralled, to his sexy smooth voice.
No! This had to stop. The sooner he left, the better. Then she’d become herself again: ordinary, pragmatic Maggie Lewis. No more flights of fantasy, no more…melting at the mere sound of a voice. This responsiveness to a complete stranger was due to shock and tiredness.
Maggie bit her lip on an instinctive protest as he reached round to the back of her dress. Her hands were so unsteady she knew she’d never manage the zip herself. So she complied, holding herself still as he tugged the zip.
Its downward slide took for ever. Blood pounded in her ears, blocking the sound of the shower. The sensation of the fastening lowering, centimetre by slow centimetre, drew her skin tight in goose flesh. He didn’t touch her but he stood close, arms encircling her, his heat enfolding her.
She swayed then, horrified, caught herself and stood straighter, her spine ramrod stiff.
‘There. Almost done.’ His voice was expressionless, his eyes on the dress as he peeled it gently down.
He might have been undressing a store dummy for all the interest he showed. And that, for some reason, was worse than anything that had gone before.
A shimmer of furious tears blurred Maggie’s vision.
Here she stood, naked but for her brand-new ultra-feminine underwear, and he didn’t even spare her a glance. It was as if she weren’t a flesh-and-blood woman. Not a real one, capable of snaring a man’s interest.
Who did she think she was kidding with her new clothes? Her body was too long, with too few curves. She had none of the sensuality other women took for granted.
The only time men noticed her was at work, for she was good at her job. In the stables she was one of the guys. Didn’t that say it all? Something deep inside shrivelled up. An ache cramped her belly and she hunched over.
‘Maggie? Are you in pain?’ Eyes of fathomless black met hers. His hard, callused hands bit into her shoulders.
‘No.’ It emerged as a desperate gasp. ‘But I need to be alone. Go. Please.’
His gaze raked hers. His mouth firmed into a grim line. Then slowly his fingers loosed their grip and his arms swung to his sides.
‘As you wish.’ Abruptly he was gone, leaving her in solitary possession of the magnificent bathroom.
For a bereft moment she wanted to call him back, ask him to hold her, to protect her from the hurt that welled up inside and the marrow-deep cold that gripped her body.
Then pride reasserted itself. He’d been only too thankful to escape. Besides, she was used to managing alone. That was the way it had always been.
She turned towards the shower, her steps as slow as an old woman’s. She didn’t bother to lock the door to ensure her privacy. There was no need.
