Sheikh's Fake Fiancee

  Sheikh’s Fake Fiancée

  By: Jessica Brooke and Ella Brooke

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright 2015-2016 Jessica Brooke

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  ANOTHER STORY YOU MAY ENJOY

  Sheikh’s Revenge

  Chapter One

  “The Z-Box Five is the most comprehensive gaming system on the market, and I sound just like the instruction pamphlet,” Jennifer Wilde said, tossing her pen back to her desk. Reaching up, she pulled her hair out of its ponytail and shook it loose, hoping that it would somehow free her thoughts up. “I might get more done if I just beat my head against my desk.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Rose said, even as her secretary set a Frappuccino on Jennifer’s desk. “Maybe a sugar and caffeine jolt will do the trick.”

  Jennifer snorted and, despite her better judgment, picked up the treat. “This is going to go straight to my thighs.” Of course, what hadn’t these days? The stress of working on the account for Zedmore Electronics was getting to her. She’d always been a bit curvier than she’d wished, but in the last three months, she’d jumped to a fourteen dress size. It wasn’t optimum for her at least, but she promised herself that she’d hit the gym in double time once she figured out how to sell the company’s newest video game console. Her first proposal had been submitted two weeks ago. She just hadn’t been sure what she presented really hit the mark. Even now, she was still reworking copy, trying to come up with the one slogan that would get guys all over the country to open up their wallets. It was just hard. She’d grown up with a single mother and a little sister, and none of them had been gamers, to say the least. Jennifer wished she had a guy’s view on some of this, and if she didn’t get the account just right, it wouldn’t be a problem for Stonewall Marketing. They would just replace her.

  So, yes, if she had a five-hundred-calorie coffee that was more sugar and whipped cream than actual java, at least she had her reasons.

  “Have you ever played a Z-Box?” Rose asked. “Maybe just digging into some games would help inspire you?”

  She looked back at the brunette and sighed. “I tried, but I kept dying during one of their alien invasion games. It’s not my talent, but I’ve sold toasters and foot fungus remover. I can sell anything. I just need to get the right angle to make the Z-Box more exciting. I’ll find it.”

  “And a java explosion should help,” Rose replied, winking back at her.

  “Or…” a cheery and familiar voice rang out. It only took a few more seconds for her sister, Sydney, to round the corner. Her baby sibling was dressed in a cute minidress with sparkly silver heels. Her short blond bob gathered back with a few, well-placed faux-diamond-crusted barrettes. “You could keep your promise to your favorite sister and actually go out with me.”

  Jennifer massaged her temples. When she finally checked her cell phone’s time, she groaned. It was close to 10 p.m. God, no wonder her loyal secretary had brought her caffeine. It was winter so the sun set by four forty-five here in New York. She knew she’d been here for hours, running things over in her brain, but Jennifer had been clueless about how late it truly had gotten. It was more than time for her to quit, and to fulfill her promise to her visiting baby sister.

  “You’re my only sister,” she said, standing and then rubbing at the tight muscles of her back. One thing she needed to give herself this Christmas was less fourteen-hour days. “But I did make a promise, and it would be crappy of me to invite you from Kentucky and trap you in my apartment.”

  “Well, there was the spare key. I saw Chinatown today, but I want to see that cool club you took me to last time. The Wild Orchid. It was awesome!” her sister finished, her blue eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

  “I don’t know if I can go in a business suit,” Jennifer said, biting her lower lip. “Oh, and Rose, do you want to come? I had no idea it had gotten so late!”

  “Nah, and you didn’t make me stay. I’m avoiding my apartment since Tony and I broke up. This gives me a place to be that doesn’t give me a million grating memories.”

  “Then maybe you can come too?” her sister said. “You have a cute enough black dress on, just take off the jacket and you’ll be Wild Orchid ready, you know?”

  “I could definitely use the booze,” Rose said, smiling at both of them.

  “And you did try to save me with that java infusion,” Jennifer said. “I think that means I owe you your first drink.”

  “Believe me, after this breakup week from hell, I could use it,” Rose said.

  “But,” Jennifer said, “that still means I have nothing to wear.”

  “I got you covered,” her sister said, gesturing to the duffle bag over her shoulder. “I brought a dress and some shoes. You can be glammed up in no time.”

  “Well, my brain is not going to come to any great revelations tonight, that’s for sure,” Jennifer said. “So let’s do this, but on one condition and you know it, Syd. Can you repeat it after me?”

  Her sister’s expression soured for just a moment, and when she spoke, that bouncy tone was more subdued. “I won’t drink. I promise. I happen to be an expert at getting club soda to be interesting. I think the big secret is adding in some maraschino cherries.”

  “Great, then nothing is stopping us from being some wild and crazy girls on a Friday night.”

  ***

  Okay, so maybe one thing would have normally stopped her if Rose hadn’t been so desperate for some time out and if her sister wasn’t her house guest and the duty of entertaining her fell squarely on Jennifer’s shoulders. But next time she wanted the option to pick her own attire. Her sister might have meant well, but this was the last time she needed a twenty-two-year-old postgrad, with tastes still like that of a teenager, diving through her closet. The tight red shift was something she’d had since college about seven years ago. Jennifer had been meaning to dump it at Goodwill. Considering she wasn’t a twelve anymore, it was a miracle it fit at all. Of course, maybe that was adding to the problem with how tight (and short) it was. It didn’t leave anything to the imagination and wasn’t her usual taste. But they didn’t have time to go back to her midtown apartment anyway, and she hated to disappoint her companions.

  It was a good thing no one ever looked twice at what went on in New York City. She almost felt that if she stayed too long on a street corner, she might be getting offers.

  On the other hand, there was something freeing in being so different (though she’d never cop to it even if Sydney asked). Usually, when she went to a bar or a club—a rare event after her promotion—she wore jeans and clingy tops. This was so different that she felt like a sultry siren even as they entered The Wild Orchid.

  The three of them sidled to the bar, and Rose ordered a huge cosmo. For herself, Jennifer ordered a Diet Coke and rum, and she eyed her sister carefully as Sydney dutifully ordered a water. God, she was glad her sister was complying with the advice of her doctors. Her mother would kill her for letting her sister go out and dance. If even the sugar from the alcohol went down Sydney’s gullet, then there’d be hell to pay.

  Some days, she wished she could wrap her sister up in that bubble packing people used while moving. She and her mother just wanted to kee
p Sydney close and safe. Then again, Jennifer wasn’t stupid. She knew the more they tried to coddle Sydney, the more her sister would rebel. So while her sister was in town for Christmas vacation, they both had to work together. She had to trust her with some freedoms, which was exactly why she forced a smile to her lips when her sister said she was off to dance.

  “Have fun,” she said, even if her heart was pounding. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Sydney winked back at her again. “Oh, you need to do all the things I would. Have some fun before you go back to the office tomorrow, since I know you will.”

  “I might have a social life,” she muttered.

  Rose shook her head as Sydney hurried off. “I help manage your schedule, so I know you don’t. She’s going to be fine. You don’t have to mother hen.”

  “Easy for you to say. You haven’t been in and out of the hospital with her,” Jennifer said. “I just am not used to relaxing.”

  “Well, then you are in luck,” Rose said, gesturing to the bartender and ordering a double shot of Jägermeister for her. “First, you start by downing that. No delicate sips.”

  “I know my sis is in town, but I’m not even close to being a college girl.”

  “But we all need a little fun,” Rose said, her tone teasing.

  Jennifer rolled her eyes but took the shot, letting the amber liquid burn down her throat. She had to admit that the warmth spreading from her mouth to the rest of her body did feel nice and helped take her mind off of the account she wasn’t sure how to deal with currently. In fact, it felt downright pleasant. Grinning back at her secretary, she asked the bartender for another double. Maybe she could think of it as drinking Sydney’s share, just this once.

  “Maybe this is a great idea.”

  Rose nodded as she made goo-goo eyes at a tall, Nordic-looking blond across the bar. “No, this is definitely what I needed. After all, I think with Mr. Tall, Dark and Chris Hemsworth over there, I’ll be seriously thinking ‘Tony who?’ by morning.” She gave Jennifer a concerned frown. “Is this okay?”

  “Sure, I want everyone to have a good time. I think me and Jim Beam will hang out here.”

  “I can stay,” Rose offered, shooting the blond guy an apologetic look.

  “No, you deserve a great time. Besides, I didn’t mean for you to be at the office so late. Knock yourself out. You never know. Once upon a time, I was able to get a guy or two to dance with me.”

  “Man, Jen, in that dress, you’ll get the whole club!” Rose said as she started across the bar.

  Jennifer shrugged and ordered water the next time around. She was really beginning to feel the light headedness that came with moving past tipsy to drunk. It was probably a good idea to slow down. Pulling out her smartphone, she looked over the e-mails from the day. The pressure was on, and she was fooling herself if she thought a few hours sitting pathetically at a bar alone was going to help her tap into some inner freedom. She was twenty-seven but hadn’t dated seriously since Dustin had dumped her in a spectacular fashion. Married to her job, that’s what her mom always said. So at least she was trying to mull over what was on her agenda for Monday.

  “Excuse me,” a man said next to her. “But I’ll have what the lady is having.”

  The bartender chortled a bit. “She’s having water.”

  “Then make it a double on the rocks,” the man said, and she noticed his voice. It was a deep rumble that made her heart skip a beat, but it was also lightly accented, almost British but with a trace of something else there that she couldn’t place—something exotic.

  Curious, she finally turned to see him and it made it harder to breathe. He was a tall man; she could tell that even with him hunching over the bar. His shoulders were broad, and the emerald silk shirt he wore clung tightly to his torso, highlighting the muscles of his arms and chest. His eyes were dark under the strobe lights of the club, and a well-trimmed goatee of dark hair covered his chin.

  She watched, an eyebrow arched in amusement, as he picked up his glass and drank it as suavely as James Bond, even though it was sparkling water. “Well, that’s a bold move tonight, uh…”

  “Bahan. Bahan Munir. And what is your name, lovely?” he asked, the sentence pouring from his tongue like silk through one’s hands.

  “I’m Jennifer,” she said, unwilling to give her last name. You never knew the kind of crazies who were out in New York and looking to Facebook-stalk you or hunt for you on Twitter. She preferred to keep things more casual and removed in those few times she had been out to clubs recently.

  “That’s a lovely name.”

  “Yours isn’t too shabby,” she said. “But I have to admit that I adore your accent. Where are you from?”

  “I’m from a small country called Yemen. Have you heard of it?”

  She furrowed her brow and tried to recall the name. Some semblance of recognition trickled through her mind. “I think I’ve heard about it on the news back a few years ago. Middle East, right? I think we were allies with you in Iraq.”

  “Among other things, yes,” he said.

  “But your accent…” she started, stopping and feeling her cheeks flare when she realized how dumb it sounded to quibble over how he spoke. What? Was she supposed to say, that he didn’t sound like what she’d heard on news clips or in the movies? She’d never been there so it was presumptuous of her to make such guesses.

  His dark eyes twinkled with mirth. “I went to boarding school in England and then Oxford. I’m afraid my accent’s a bit muddled. But do you like it?”

  “Oh God yes,” she said. Then Jennifer shoved her face in her hands.

  Jesus, just kill me now. I know I’m rusty in the dating game, but this is so pathetic. He’s going to run any moment now.

  He laughed again, his voice as rich as velvet. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had many women…”

  “Oh have you?” she said, quirking her head back at him. “Now that’s quite a brag.”

  “No. I just mean you’d not be the first to like this accent, although I admit I’m no novice to many things,” he said, laying his hand over top of hers on the bar.

  His hand was warm, heavy, and lightly calloused, which confused her. She assumed someone that well dressed and with such a sterling education would never have had to do anything rough and tumble, wouldn’t have worked with his hands. She’d have to ask him about that later.

  Am I planning on a later?

  “I think I’m getting that impression too,” she said.

  “I’d love a dance. You look too enchanting to ignore. I think that scarlet is a ravishing color on you.”

  She stood and pushed her long blond locks over her shoulder. Jennifer wished she hadn’t forgotten her hair tie. It was stifling in the club, with its tight confines and hot, sweaty press of bodies. If she could only get her own heavy mane off of her neck…

  “Now you’re just piling it on thick,” she joked, trying to get the upper hand in the tête-à-tête they were engaging in.

  It was easy to speak to men during meetings or around the boardroom, but ever since her last breakup, she always felt like she stumbled through her dates, as if she were tongue tied all the time. It was hard knowing that Bahan was probably feeding her the same lines that he’d given so many girls. Jennifer hadn’t missed his slip about being a ladies’ man. In fact, it should be setting off alarm bells for her. One thing Jennifer had learned the hard way was that she didn’t want to be just another notch on someone’s bedpost. Yet she couldn’t turn away from his captivating voice, his broad shoulders, or even the spicy scent of him, so like turmeric and other exotic herbs.

  She wanted to see where things could go with him.

  Taking his hand, she let him lead her out to the dance floor. It amazed her what it was like being with him. Bahan commanded the room, and even the crowded dance floor at The Wild Orchid parted for him like the Red Sea before Moses. It was almost as if the whole world was stopping for them. Looking up into his eyes, watchin
g as they alternated from black to brown under the pulsing lights overhead, Jennifer extended her arms and wrapped them around his neck.

  “Show me what you’ve got, Bahan.”

  So he did.

  He started slowly, moving his body in a sensuous rhythm against her own. Already she was aware of the bulge of his erection under his pants, and that was a bit of a surprise. She didn’t think she’d have quite the effect on him, at least not so quickly. Then again, as she began to move around him, placing her hips up against his hardness, Jennifer was reminded of how short her dress actually was. It rode up high on her legs, and that seemed to entice Bahan even further. He reached down and clutched at her thigh, kneading her left leg with a skill that left her belly flaring with heat and made her legs feel like Jell-O.

  His hands didn’t stop there, they moved over her torso, over her ribs and abdomen, as if he were torn between touching her and enjoying the smoothness of the fabric draping her. She leaned against him and felt herself be more daring. Maybe it was her own fears about her sister’s health or her career, maybe it was the heat of the club, or maybe it was even the alcohol in her veins, but she felt driven to take this time---this dance---and use it as an escape. Normally, she’d never be so forward with a man, let alone one she barely knew. But this felt right, like they were being drawn together through passion and need, and as she ground against him, she wanted to let him know exactly how much she wanted him and was compelled to be with him.

  Turning around, she wrapped her arms again around his neck. To her surprise and enjoyment, Bahan let his own hands stray through her hair. She was glad now that it was down. It felt like heaven to have his fingers moving smoothly through her wild, blond mane.

  “You have such gorgeous hair, Goldilocks. There’s nothing I’d love more,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning toward her ear, “than to take you home tonight. I want to see all those golden curls splayed out on my hotel pillow.”

  Earlier, she’d been too nervous to run with his banter and his entendre, but now the Jim Beam seemed to be doing its job.