schoolgirl behavior.
“Is there nothing they can do?” Her voice came out a whisper, but he heard it. He’d been staring at her hand, at her pale fingers clasped over his golden skin, and he raised his gaze again.
Once more, the blow of those eyes threatened to steal her breath away. Her sense. For a moment, she wished she were someone else. Someone beautiful and dynamic. Someone who could interest a man like this.
But no, that was silly. She wasn’t a sensual creature. She was sensible. There was no room in her life for the kind of heat and exhilaration that went along with a man like Kadir. She’d seen how women burned for him, and how they burned out too soon. That kind of heat wasn’t worth the price.
She’d almost been that sort of woman once, but she’d learned that it was far better to be sensible and staid. And if she ever doubted it, she had only to think of her mother’s tragic example of what could happen to a woman who followed her hedonistic tendencies too far.
“No, it’s too late now. They’ve done everything.”
He sounded almost detached and cool, but she knew it must affect him deeply. She squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
He put his hand over hers and lightning sizzled into her deepest core. In four years’ time, their hands had brushed on occasion. It would have been impossible if they hadn’t.
But this. This was too much, like walking out into full sunlight after having spent a year in a cave. The feelings swirling through her were too hot, too bright.
Too confusing.
Kadir was an attractive man, but she was not attracted to him. She liked lean blond men who weren’t quite so tall. Quiet men. Men who didn’t make her feel jumpy and achy just by touching her.
She had to force herself to meet his eyes, because to continue to stare at his hand over hers would certainly be odd. The pain was still there, but there was something else, too. Something that flared bright for a moment and was extinguished.
She’d always known that Kadir was a complicated man. But this felt as if someone had lifted the curtain to show her the gears and pulleys that ran the show.
She’d seen beneath the veneer. Beneath the walls. But only for a moment.
A moment she was not likely to forget any time soon.
“I am angry, Emily.”
“I believe that is normal.” She remembered being angry herself when they’d first learned that her father needed a new heart if he were going to survive. It had seemed impossible at the time—and she’d been so furious with fate—but then a heart had become available and he’d gotten his second chance.
But every moment had been agonizing. The feelings, the fear. Not everyone in her family had handled it well. Her father had survived—but the family had not.
Kadir’s gaze was searching. She had to remind herself, strongly, that he was still her boss, that this breach of their usual formal relationship was a temporary thing. If she handled this wrongly, if she did what she wanted to do—which was put her arms around him and pull his head down to her shoulder while she stroked the thick softness of his hair—she would be crossing a line that could never be redrawn.
“I need something from you, Emily.”
His voice was soft and mesmerizing and her stomach tied itself into a knot as she imagined what he might ask for. But then she told herself he was simply hurting and this change in their usual relationship was a temporary by-product of that. He needed someone to talk to and there was no reason why she couldn’t be that someone.
“Anything I can do, Your Highness.”
One corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a smile. She’d never spent a lot of time gazing at him—she was far too busy taking care of business—but she could certainly see why the women he dated seemed to melt so quickly beneath the power of his raw male beauty. His mouth begged a woman to press her own there. His hair needed a woman’s fingers in it. His shoulders needed someone’s arms around them. His waist needed to be surrounded by a woman’s legs—
Oh, my. Emily clamped down hard on her wayward thoughts and tried to look like her usual professional self.
Which would be far easier to accomplish if she were not standing here in her pajamas with her hair a dark tangle down her back.
He put a hand on her shoulder, his fingers touching bare flesh. She couldn’t quite contain the gasp that escaped her as an arrow of flame shot through her belly, down into her deepest core. Oh, she was so going to the doctor the instant they returned to Chicago. There had to be a pill that would fix her raging hormones. She was entirely too young for this kind of wild fluctuation.
Kadir’s brows drew down, his gaze searching hers. His eyes were dark, glittering slate, and she had to force herself not to shrink from the fire in them.
“First, you are going to need to call me Kadir.”
Her stomach flipped. “I—I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You’re my boss, and I prefer to keep that straight in my head. First names invite familiarity, and—”
His finger over her mouth silenced her. And burned into her. Confusion set up a drumbeat in her brain, her blood. She had no idea what was going on here, or where it would lead if she let it.
“Emily.”
He said her name simply, but it had the effect of sending a wave of calm over her. She drew in a breath and waited. Whatever he was going to say, she could handle it.
His next words shattered that illusion. “I need you to marry me.”
CHAPTER THREE
SHE WAS LOOKING at him as though he’d grown two extra heads. He didn’t blame her, really. What he was proposing was perfectly outrageous. But after that phone call with Rashid, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wasn’t going to be forced to take his brother’s birthright.
He wasn’t the next king of Kyr. Rashid was. And he wasn’t going to allow his father to use him as a bludgeon in his personal war with Rashid. Not any longer. When he was ten, he hadn’t understood. He understood now.
He was returning to Kyr because his father was dying and he believed it was important to be there. But Kadir wasn’t going to make it easy for the old man to do what Rashid believed he was going to do.
And for that, Kadir needed a very unsuitable bride. A woman who would horrify his father enough that he would believe Kadir’s judgment so poor he would not, under any circumstances, give the kingdom of Kyr into his keeping.
An American woman with no connections or pedigree would fit the bill nicely. If he could persuade her to act a little more like Lenore—spoiled, entitled and manipulative—it would work even better, though it was not strictly necessary. Her origins would be enough for his father and the staunchly traditional governing council.
King Zaid would turn to Rashid, regardless of their differences, and choose the son who was the only sensible choice. He would not risk his kingdom with a son who was blinded by the charms of a most unsuitable woman.
Kadir
