Australia: In Bed with a Sheikh!. Emma DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.
wanted for a long, long time.
So what the hell was he to do?
The quandary was killing him.
He had to find some way around it.
THE CALM AFTER the storm, Sarah thought ironically, sitting through breakfast with Tareq. His usual gentlemanly manner had been resumed without the slightest suggestion of strain. Sarah worked hard at holding a natural approach to today’s activities, asking about the ranch they would be visiting, the horses that interested him, the people who owned them.
She fixed their names in her mind—Jack and Miriam Wellesly-Adams—suspecting the double-barrelled surname represented an amalgamation of two very wealthy families. She’d taken her cue from Tareq, dressing casually in jeans, a black pair which had a matching battle jacket she could wear if the afternoon turned cool. Her lime green polo-necked top went well with it. Since no critical comment was forthcoming from Tareq, Sarah concluded she was suitably attired, regardless of her hostess’s fashion standards.
Although dinner this evening was somewhat trickier. She and Tareq were to be overnight guests. “Classy casual,” he’d advised when she’d asked him what to pack for it. How classy and how casual were left undefined. Sarah hoped her new lemon pants-suit fitted the requisites.
Cluttering her mind with superficial details kept more fretful thoughts at bay. Sarah almost managed to pretend she felt no tension at all. Logic insisted that as long as she didn’t touch Tareq, he would respect whatever distance she chose to hold. Pouncing was not on his agenda. He was playing a waiting game. Though if she let herself think about that, her nerves would start screaming again.
She was glad when it was time to go. She wanted to put the confrontation in his study behind her, a long way behind her, physically as well as mentally. Once they were on the road she could immerse herself in the role of travelling companion and hopefully find lots of distractions.
Tareq surprised her.
A gleaming red Cadillac convertible was sitting outside the house and Sam Bates was loading their overnight cases in the trunk. Sarah stopped and stared. They’d been riding around in a silvery grey BMW all week. This car had certainly not been in evidence. Anyone would have to be blind not to see such a flamboyant vehicle.
“Where did that come from?” The question spilled from her lips.
“I hired it for this trip,” came the matter-of-fact reply.
Sarah shook her head. It made no sense to her. Tareq spared no expense on his comfort and convenience but she didn’t have him tabbed as a show-off sort of playboy. The red Cadillac convertible shouted Look at me! I’m king of the road! She tore her gaze from the glittering, extrovert attraction of the car and searched Tareq’s eyes for the purpose he had to have for it.
“Why?” she asked.
He grinned, totally disarming her and sending a flock of butterflies through her stomach. “For fun,” he answered and held out the keys to her. “I thought you’d enjoy driving it.”
“Me? But I can’t, Tareq. I’ve never driven on the wrong side of the road.”
He laughed. “Here it’s the right side. And you won’t find it a problem on the highway. You just drive along in a lane as you do at home.”
She was torn between caution and temptation. “What if I make a mistake?”
“I’ll be right beside you with advice and instructions.” Still she hesitated. “It will be much safer if you drive.”
“Safe, Sarah?” His eyes sparkled a teasing challenge. “How very boring! Haven’t you ever thought it might be fun to drive such a car with the sun on your face and the wind in your hair and the wheel in your hands?”
“Of course I have.”
“So be brave. Take a risk. Do it. At least once in a lifetime.”
She took the keys, took the risk and did it, embracing the exhilaration of zooming along the highway at the controls of a flashy convertible because it was fantasy-fun and such an extraordinary experience might never come her way again. For a while driving demanded all her concentration, but once she was accustomed to the car and the different use of the road, her mind started niggling at Tareq’s motives again.
Was this another test?
Had she grabbed too quickly at the once-in-a-lifetime thrill which he had the means to provide? Seduction could come in many guises and unlimited wealth was a powerful lure. Scorning the offer of driving this extravagant toy might have been a more principled stand than accepting it. She didn’t want him to think he could buy her.
On the other hand, he could be measuring her capacity to dare against the instinct for safety. He had made it seem wimpish to refuse. Perhaps he thought she’d wimped out this morning after kissing him and was seeing if she would take a risk on something she found sensually attractive.
On reflection, Sarah had to dismiss that idea. He would have arranged the hiring of this car beforehand, probably yesterday. All the same, there had to be some purpose behind getting it for her to drive. She certainly didn’t believe it was the whim of a moment.
“What made you think of doing this for me, Tareq?” she asked, darting a glance at him.
She saw the beginning twitch of a smile but had to return her gaze to the road. Since it was impossible to watch for any changes of expression and be a responsible driver at the same time, she tried to listen for telling nuances in his tone of voice.
“It’s one of life’s innocent pleasures. I wanted you to have it.”
“Why?” Was it completely innocent?
“Why not? I could do it. Therefore I did.”
Like the computer for Jessie. But there’d been a reason for that. Sarah felt uncomfortable being the focus of his spending power. “You said this morning you try to balance what you give and take…”
“And you wonder if I’m giving you an innocent pleasure so I can take a wicked one.” Dry amusement.
Her heart fluttered. “I’d rather know the price if there is one,” she rushed out, wanting the truth, needing to know how he thought of her.
“No price, Sarah.”
The flat, unequivocal statement left no ground for more questioning, yet she felt frustrated, wishing he would explain himself instead of letting her seethe in ignorance.
“Surely there can be prizes in being with me,” he said quietly.
It sounded like an appeal. Sarah darted a glance at him. He caught it, jolting her with the intensity of feeling in his eyes; a disturbing cocktail of desire and a dark, personal damnation. She wrenched her gaze back to the road, struggling with the sense of having hit unexpected turbulence.
“You don’t have to show me the prizes,” she said, thinking they were undoubtedly balanced by penalties.
“Knowing them is part of our journey together. Only in knowing everything does a choice become clear.”
“What choice do I have in our journey?” she tossed at him.
He laughed. “A multitude of them. All the time you are choosing how much to give me, how much to keep to yourself, how much you will take from me.”
She flushed at the accuracy of the perception.
“It is interesting, is it not?” he teased.
“I’m glad you find it so,” she grated, feeling she was being directed through hoops for his entertainment.
“Come now, Sarah. Wouldn’t you say it puts an exquisite edge to our involvement with each other? We are