skill to locate an oil basin. As far as he was concerned, that said a lot for someone who was the only female head geologist in the group. When she had given her presentation, a lot of eyes had been on her. Some, he'd noticed, for reasons other than the information she was providing. Her physical beauty had entranced them. And he had to grudgingly admit, he hadn't liked it one bit. At first he had convinced himself that he hadn't cared that other men were looking at her with male interest. But later he'd been man enough to admit he'd lied to himself.
He had cared. More than he had wanted to.
He was reaching for another glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter when the room suddenly became quiet. He turned to see what had caused the silence and felt his stomach tighten. Corinthians stood in the doorway and she looked absolutely gorgeous. Trevor took a quick glance around the room. Some of the men were openly drooling. His anger heightened. You would think they had never seen a beautiful American woman before. Even Armond Thetas appeared spellbound.
Trevor's gaze hardened as he looked at Corinthians again. A sudden knot formed in his throat. He himself had seen numerous beautiful American women, but never like this. She had really outdone herself tonight. He blinked once, then twice, to make sure he was seeing straight. She was dressed in—of all things—a virginal white, flowing evening gown. The gown's color was a stark contrast against the dark hue of her skin. But the combination of coloring made her look absolutely stunning, breathtaking.
Trevor glanced back around the room. A number of the men, although married, had not bothered to bring their wives with them on this trip. They were the main ones slobbering at the sight of Corinthians. The sight was totally disgusting.
His gaze moved back to the doorway. He could gather from Corinthians's expression she had also noted the fact that she was on display. She stood transfixed in place, scanning the group as if to make up her mind whether or not she really wanted to enter a den filled with salivating wolves.
Trevor noticed she kept glancing around the room as if looking for someone. He suddenly realized she was searching for him. He was surprised, given the on-going feud between them. He quickly reached the conclusion that to her way of thinking, he was just one more brazen, salivating wolf among many, but he was the one Corinthians assumed she could handle.
What the heck, he would let her assume whatever she liked, he thought, moving toward her. And he would let the people here tonight assume whatever they wanted to think, he thought further, picking up his pace. A few seconds later he was standing directly in front of Corinthians. He immediately saw the look of both relief and gratitude in her eyes.
For the space of several timeless moments, he didn't move. Then he leaned slightly and brushed his lips against hers in way of an affectionate greeting, effectively telling everyone present that Corinthians Avery was already taken.
Corinthians had seen the kiss coming, but hadn't had time to prepare herself for it. Although Trevor had barely brushed his lips against hers, her body had begun tingling all over. When he straightened his tall form, her gaze covered him from head to toe. If she thought Trevor had looked handsome in his dark suit at today's meeting, he looked doubly so in his white dinner jacket and dark slacks.
“For some reason, Trevor, I think you enjoy rescuing me,” she whispered.
He smiled as he reached out and took her hand in his. “I do.” He looked down at her. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
The room was no longer silent. People were once again engaged in conversations. However, Trevor knew those same slavering wolves were discreetly watching them. “I may have disappointed a lot of men here tonight,” he whispered to Corinthians.
Corinthians looked up at him. “How so?”
“When you entered the room dressed in all white, because of the customs, traditions and beliefs in their countries regarding women wearing white, they saw you as a maiden virgin. I may have destroyed that image with my kiss, especially since it was in front of everyone at a professional gathering. Rumors will probably begin circulating that we're lovers.” He angled his head, studying her intently. “What do you have to say about that?”
She smiled up at him. “Nothing, since you and I know better. Tonight, we're merely playacting.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Before she could answer, he led her over to the table where dinner would be served.
Rasheed stood in front of the window in his Washington, D.C., apartment watching the rain. In Mowaiti, the rain was always welcomed. His people needed it for the growth of their crops. For the past few years, occasional drought had ravished the lands, making it harder for the people to earn a living, and making it harder still for them to feed their families. These things seemed to worry him more than they did his father, whose only concern was with gaining allies to keep the country safe. He had closed his eyes to the bleak circumstances surrounding his people. If it continued, Mowaiti would no longer exist as a country.
The soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A few minutes later, Swalar, his valet, announced the arrival of Yasir Bedouins, a man who had been his father's adviser and close confidant for a number of years. Rasheed had once loved this man like a father because when his own parents hadn't had the time to listen to his youthful woes, Yasir had. But because of Yasir's close relationship with Sheikh Amin Valdemon, and his strong sense of dedication and loyalty to him, their once-close relationship was no more, especially now since he was no longer a child, but a man with his own views and a mind to express them. Rasheed regretted that, like his father, Yasir's ambition in life was not in making Mowaiti a stronger and powerful nation, but in keeping it safe and preserving its present state of existence.
“Yasir, to what do I owe this visit? Is something wrong with Father?” he asked with genuine concern in his voice when the older man entered his office. Even with their differences, he loved his father deeply.
“No, your father is fine. A little tired tonight more than usual, but he's fine.”
At that moment, efficient as ever, Swalar brought in coffee. And as Swalar went about pouring the brew in each of their cups, Rasheed studied Yasir, trying to decipher his mood and most importantly the reason for his visit. However, no words were spoken until after Swalar had finished his task and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“How long has he been serving you?” Yasir asked before taking a sip of the coffee.
Rasheed frowned. “Who? Swalar?”
At Yasir's nod, he answered, “Since I was thirteen years old. Why?”
“I think he's getting too old for the task. You need a younger, more able-bodied man to—”
“I don't want anyone else,” Rasheed interrupted. “I like Swalar just fine, and he still serves my needs extremely well.” He took a sip of his own coffee before adding, “He and I understand each other.”
Yasir lifted a brow. “In other words, he's still very efficient in keeping your secrets.”
Rasheed knew better than to play cat-and-mouse games with Yasir. The man was too sharp-witted for that. But tonight, just to humor him, he would make an exception. “I suppose he's as efficient at keeping my secrets as you are in keeping my father's. Should I try and guess why he's so tired tonight?”
Yasir met his gaze directly and unswervingly. “Your father has special needs.”
Rasheed
