she closed her eyes and flung her arm across them.
Well, she’d got her wish.
Before they’d parted at the lifts in the foyer Sam had said what a lovely time he’d had, and he would really like to spend tomorrow with her before conducting his business and flying out of the country.
She should’ve said no.
She should’ve mumbled some excuse about preparing her speech for Sunday.
She should’ve turned frigid like she had when any guy had come near her since Ellis.
Instead, she’d smiled and blushed and nodded and made a complete fool of herself.
What was she thinking?
‘You weren’t,’ she mumbled, wondering if she could plead a headache tomorrow morning, knowing that would be the wimp’s way out.
Since when had she ever done wimpy?
Determined to ignore the niggle of misgiving that she’d just made an impulsive decision with her heart rather than her head, she logged on to her emails, eager to bury herself in business and forget her fascination with Sam and their impending date.
Scanning through the usual requests for quotes, her gaze focussed on one bearing the heading ‘Welcome to Adhara’. Her best friend Eloise had been whisked away to live in the tiny desert country since her marriage to royalty, and had been begging her to visit ever since.
However, this email wasn’t another of Lou’s badgering missives. Instead, it had come from Ned Wilson, her biggest client in Australia—the media mogul who had a thing for Middle Eastern architecture, and who’d been hounding her every step to turn his Sydney-harbour mansion into a replica of something out of Arabian Nights.
Her finger slipped off the laptop’s mouse as she read the email. Ned wanted his mansion to be authentic, had discovered the only mosaics he’d consider having in his home, and had booked her a trip to Adhara.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she reread the email. It wasn’t a request, it was an order, and considering Ned Wilson could make or break careers—and had done so quite publicly in the past—it looked like she had little choice.
She hated any guy thinking he could control her, yet, with the promise of Ned’s renovated mansion sending her reputation through the glass ceiling, she’d swallow her pride for once and do what he wanted. Architecture was predominantly male-oriented and she battled for recognition with every job.
Taking a few calming breaths before she fired off a response, Bria checked out the information Ned had attached to the email. Though she hated his high-handedness in organising this trip without asking, she couldn’t help but be fascinated by the sweeping desert sands, the white-washed buildings and the quaint market places.
She’d always been fascinated by exotic places and their architecture, and it looked like she was about to get an up-close-and-personal view of Adhara whether she wanted it or not.
Sighing, she fired off a second email, to Lou this time, informing her of the upcoming visit. Her friend would be ecstatic, though considering the business nature of the trip she seriously doubted they’d have much time for doing what they loved best: lounging around, sharing gossip and packets of chocolate Tim-Tams.
All in all, this trip wouldn’t be too bad. Ned could’ve sent her to the outer reaches of the Sahara on a whim, rather than a country where she knew someone, and once she completed his house her reputation as an architect would soar.
Nothing like positive publicity to build a career, she thought, and, feeling more upbeat than she had a few minutes ago, Bria logged off and padded into the bathroom, her mind filled with images of endless stretches of desert—quickly replaced by a man with mesmerising dark eyes.
CHAPTER THREE
‘HOW gorgeous.’
Bria’s first glimpse of the Victorian rose garden took her breath away.
At least, that was her excuse and she was sticking to it.
No way could the slight breathless feeling tightening her chest have anything to do with the guy by her side, no matter how perfect he seemed.
‘I agree. Gorgeous,’ Sam said, his dark-eyed gaze fixed firmly on her, and not wavering towards the beautiful blooms for a second.
Heat crept into her cheeks, and Bria silently chastised herself for reacting like a blushing schoolgirl to a compliment from a suave man.
So, Sam had charm. She’d figured that out pretty quick-smart over dinner last night, and for guys like him paying compliments didn’t mean a thing. It came as naturally to them as breathing.
‘Shall we keep walking?’
She barely waited for his nod, eager to escape the enigmatic smile playing about his mouth as she headed into the garden. Losing herself among the stunning blooms would be infinitely better than losing herself in the seductive power of his smile.
‘There is so much colour, so much beauty,’ he said, his reverent tone stopping her in her tracks, and she turned, surprised to see him stooping low and inhaling the fragrance of a magnificent red rose the size of a fist.
She’d never expected an international businessman to take time out to smell the roses, literally, and seeing Sam softly caress the petals of the perfect blood-red bloom brought an unexpected lump to her throat.
Oh, no… No, no, no!
She didn’t do emotion when it came to guys, never had, and, considering she’d barely known Sam twenty-four hours, letting him breach the iron-clad barriers around her heart would be beyond foolish.
Men were great in the boardroom, so-so in the bedroom, and had no clues when it came to her needs. Which was why she’d eventually tired of Ellis, no matter how convenient it had been to share some of her life with him in London.
Considering his true colours, she’d been lucky she hadn’t let him into her heart despite the occasional yearning for something more, something beyond the rather cool relationship they’d had.
As for Sam, falling for a guy she barely knew would be the ultimate insanity, especially considering he lived on the opposite side of the planet and was a walking, talking advertisement for everything she mistrusted in a guy.
Clearing her throat, she grabbed at a nice, safe topic to clear her befuddled head.
‘I’m off on a really interesting trip once this conference is finished,’ she said, unable to stop her gaze drifting to his butt as he bent over the rose, knowing it wasn’t the tailored fit of his casual khaki trousers that held it but the perfection outlined beneath the cotton.
‘Where are you going?’
He straightened and she shifted her gaze in record time, the heat in her cheeks intensifying as he locked gazes with her, and she had the uncanny feeling he could read her mind.
‘You probably haven’t heard of it. It’s a tiny country called Adhara. One of my clients is mad for Middle Eastern architecture and wants his house to be perfect, so has basically
