for the completely researched, planned and executed-within-a-hair’s-breadth decisions he made that his view was sought on projects well outside his own corporate boundaries.
So what on earth was he doing, tucked in the penthouse of the Al-Jafar, having bailed out of a highly dodgy party with an utterly gorgeous redhead who had caused chaos since he’d first slapped eyes on her?
Just getting out of her car she had been impressive. She probably didn’t even know that one guy had kerbed his coupé in the parking bay at the entrance as he watched her swing into the hotel. And that another guy had been slapped out of his daydream by his wife as he’d stared open-mouthed at her walking through the lobby. Danny had truly never seen a woman walk with such an unconscious sense of her own sexual allure.
And Tommy in the lift … If it hadn’t been so crass it would have been funny. It was as if the guy had been in a trance. His eyes had roamed all over the lovely Georgia, standing right there, her perfect breasts outlined in easily the sexiest piece of clothing he had ever seen. Okay, it was up to her neck and down to her knees—Dubai-appropriate—but nothing short of a tent could cover a body like that.
Tommy hadn’t even known he’d touched her—or so he’d said when he’d given him ‘the talk’ back in the lift. This was not a town where you stepped out of line in public. You just couldn’t risk it. Even when the eye candy was as sweet as their little lift companion. Even he’d had to fight to keep his eyes respectfully at eye rather than chest level.
But now they had a situation to deal with. And one he’d never imagined when he’d accepted the invitation to come here. He’d thought his views on this kind of thing were well enough known for his business partners to leave out sweeteners like these. Still, this one had been set up by a new guy in town who probably assumed all red-blooded males liked to pay their way. Not him. No way. Never had and never would.
But how the lovely Georgia had ended up there was another thing. She’d looked shocked when they’d arrived. Standing in the middle of all that madness like Joan of Arc. A particularly sexy Joan of Arc, but definitely in a different class from the girls who were offering themselves for rent. She had an air about her … dignity. Now, even with cops prowling all over the place and the fallout that was highly likely, she looked poised as a princess sitting on that sofa.
But he would find out more about her later—he had to focus on damage limitation right now. He clicked off the phone. Sarwar would smooth things. As the General Commander of Police he usually could. He was a handy ally to have—that was for sure. His only other concern was the press—the Dubai snappers were getting a bit invasive and he really didn’t want any photos flying over satellites to his mother’s news feed. He’d spent ten solid years here, building up his reputation, making her proud of him again—the last thing he wanted was for her to have any doubts at all.
After all, he’d built half of this town. Had made getting on here a personal challenge. His engineering skills had got him so far. But his corporate head had netted him contract upon contract and ally upon ally. There weren’t a lot of Westerners who held as much sway as he did. He had some very close friends. Emirati friends. And he’d be damned if he was going to let anything shake his well-crafted reputation now.
He looked over to where Georgia was still sitting on the edge of the sofa, worry painted all over her beautiful face. She was right to be concerned about this. If she was as genuine as he thought she was then she could afford the reputational damage even less than he.
He walked back towards her and she stood up. Her fists were clenched in tight little twists.
‘I checked in with a friend. It’s going to be okay. We just need to sit it out for a while.’
‘Who’s your friend? How does he know what’s going on?’
‘Just a contact. But don’t worry—a contact with a lot of influence. So, as I say, his advice is to wait it out while they sweep the place. Seems they’re taking a bit of a firmer line with that type of party. Someone’s decided to stop turning a blind eye.’
‘Shame he didn’t tell you that before you came.’ It was sharply said.
‘It is, yes—but since I never normally attend these sorts of events he wouldn’t have known to warn me.’
Seemed he had already been judged and sentenced. Normally he wouldn’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion of him—other than his folks back home, of course—but for some reason he really wanted to underline the point with her that paying for sex was not his thing.
‘I like to treat my boys when they’ve worked hard—and I got an invite to this party from a business contact. I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known what was going on.’ She hesitated. Definitely still wary and more than a little bit cautious. Why did he feel the need to soothe her? But he did. Even with her snippy little tones he wanted to enfold her in his arms and smooth away her worries.
He took another step towards her. ‘I’m glad I did, though, because our paths might not have crossed otherwise.’
She swallowed. His eye fell to the length of her neck, the sheen of her pale skin, the rise of her chest as she breathed. She looked from him to the door, listening. But this was the ultra-luxury penthouse, his home from home, and they were far enough away from the main action that no sounds would penetrate. Sarwar had said all the girls were going to be taken in. But he doubted that they would all go quietly. Better to be well away from that particular action.
‘How long do you think we’ll need to wait?’
‘We can leave any time you like. I guarantee you’ll not get into any difficulties with the police. I just think it politic not to catch the eye of the media or flaunt the position and the influence I have—so, unless you’ve got something more pressing to do, why don’t we enjoy the view? Salvage what we can out of our Friday night?’
He trailed his gaze over her again. Heavy-lidded dark green eyes, clear and vital. Perfect smooth skin with a shimmer of freckles through the make-up. Wide, full mouth … slightly open. He loved her lips. Sensual lips. He couldn’t take his eyes off how plump they looked—wondered how rich and sweet they’d taste. And that thick, soft dark red hair that framed her perfect face … Not to mention the rest of her. She was a beauty. A sensual, beautiful woman.
‘How about a drink? What do you say, Georgia?’
He smiled at her—couldn’t help it. She wore her thoughts on her face, unfiltered. She liked him. But she was still too wary to relax. He’d give her a little time, a little encouragement. It would be worth it. It wasn’t every day that a girl like this fell into his path, albeit unwillingly. For once he might chase. It had been so, so long since he had.
He went over to the bar.
‘Wine? Cocktail? I can do you a mean martini.’
She sat rooted to the couch and only turned her head to watch him. Again that princess posture. ‘A glass of white wine would be fine. Thanks.’
He lifted two bottles from the chiller. Compared them. Chose a fruity dry Italian that had a light effervescence over a mellow Australian. It would be good to lift her spirits a little. Get rid of some of her tension.
He twisted, poured and extended a glass towards her. Finally she moved—pushing herself up off the low couch and meeting him in the middle of the giant glass wall. He tipped his glass against hers, tried to give her a reassuring smile. Her eyes roamed over his face. Landed on
