Sheikh's Fake Fiancee Read online

  “I’m a bit harder to seduce than that. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that good things come to those who wait?”

  “Something’s hard,” he said, pulling her against his erection.

  She twisted back away from him and then sidled around his body, letting her hands dip low over his hips and squeeze the luscious lobes of his muscular glutes. “But it’s about the chase, isn’t it, Bahan?”

  “Maybe, but maybe there’s more I want from you.”

  “Keep dancing with me, and we’ll see where it leads,” she said, draping her arms over his back and around his shoulders. “After all, it’s only eleven and we have till last call. Let’s see where things go from there. I’m fine with going that far if you are.”

  “You know that I am, Goldilocks,” he said, his voice so low and rumbly that it vibrated through his whole body. The quietness of it almost made her think of a threat more than a promise. Maybe she wanted it that way.

  “Then let’s dance.”

  Chapter Two

  “I still think this city is too bloody cold,” Bahan said, pulling his coat and scarf more tightly around his body. His brother, Fareed, studied him carefully but didn’t offer an opinion on the chill in the New York air. “Don’t you think so?”

  “When you’re used to one-hundred-and-twenty-five-degree days, then everything is cold, brother,” Fareed said, chuckling as they continued their stroll around Central Park. “I actually like the change of pace from the usual heat of Yemen. This has its advantages, assuredly so.”

  “Yes, but I’m not ever going to be a fan of snow. I keep expecting to see reindeer or polar bears plodding along here as well.”

  “The zoo here does have penguins. Would that help?” Fareed asked, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his merriment.

  “That’s not funny,” Bahan scowled. “I just want to get this new shopping complex up. Fifth Avenue has grown stale. If we can cut into Macy’s or Saks’s business, then I’m all for that. I just want to be back at the palace, enjoying life per usual.”

  “I know you have a myriad of ways to enjoy life,” his brother said drolly.

  Bahan stopped and glared down at his brother. While Fareed was still taller than average, he wasn’t quite as tall as Bahan was. It was a fact that Bahan used often to lord over his brother, especially when the younger man dug in about things that were none of his business.

  “Seriously, brother, what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you’re really just sore about this scouting trip because you’re away from your bevy of beauties.”

  “You make it sound like I have a harem.”

  “Well, the amount of heiresses you have in your Rolodex should almost count,” his brother countered.

  “Maybe the city that never sleeps doesn’t appeal to me like it does to you. I have little use for museum after museum and the art galleries.”

  “Some of us didn’t sleep through the cultural classes at Oxford.”

  “If it doesn’t help build our empire, then it’s not relevant,” Bahan said, waving his left hand dismissively as they both started to walk again. “I suppose I miss the delights that Yemen or even Europe can offer me.”

  “Then maybe you could at least remove that stick from your ass, brother, and try something more while you’re here. There’s a club called The Wild Orchid, and I’ve been there a few times while I’ve been prepping our emporium. I highly recommend it.”

  “Because the girls are actually worthy in comparison to minor European royalty?” he asked, yawning a bit. So far, he’d rarely found an American worth talking to. Their bluntness was not often something he found endearing, to say the least. “Or do you just have a certain taste for women on the bus from Queens?”

  “I’m serious. It’s a great club. Just give it a shot. I swear the women there can change your life.”

  ***

  There was a sofa on the second floor of the club. They’d been able to find it after an hour or more on the dance floor had left them both exhausted and sweaty. Bahan didn’t mind. He grinned down at his little Goldilocks before him and started stroking her shoulder, feeling the soft, creamy skin beneath his palm.

  “Well, Jennifer, you’re definitely one of the better dance partners I’ve had over the years.”

  The woman before him was ravishing. She was short and curvy, her hips and breasts filling out the fabric of her dress marvelously. Her golden hair was like an unruly mane that spilled over her shoulders and down her back while eyes as blue and clear as the Mediterranean blinked back at him through long, thick lashes. Everything about her was sensual, felt like a real woman. Fareed had often teased him for his preference for curves, but Bahan had never understood that rail-thin trend that was especially prevalent in the States. He always wanted to have something to hold on to in the night, something to make his grasp worthwhile. With Jennifer, he’d definitely found the soft curves he wanted to caress for the night and, perhaps, beyond.

  She crinkled her nose, an almost rabbit-like motion, and laughed. “That might be a more flattering bit of praise if I knew how many women you’d danced with. Is it as many as the women you’ve slept with?”

  “Duly noted,” he said, grinning despite himself at the ice in her tone. “I’ve had a busy and, shall we say, entertaining life. I make no secret of that. But I’ve rarely met a woman who could move like you on the dance floor,” he said, letting his hand dip lower, tracing patterns only he knew across her arm and then over her abdomen. The dress wasn’t made of silk or satin, but it still felt smooth and cool against his hand. Something else he loved about her tonight. “Were you ever a dancer?”

  “Not really. I did some ballet as a kid but broke ranks with my mom by the time I was eleven. I did love to club a lot in college. That always helped keep me sane. I’d be working on a huge project or stressed about midterms, but I could always come out on the floor at the local clubs, dance for hours, and let all of my fears just flit away. I think that was what made the difference. I could actually be free. I never let loose enough. My sister likes to joke that I’m just…”

  “Tense. I think our siblings would like each other,” he said, smiling back at her. “Or they might be the same person. But maybe that comes with being the older sibling. I just assume you are.”

  “I am. Are you psychic now too?” she asked, her blue eyes darkening.

  “No, but I know that for so many families, the younger siblings have the luxury to explore themselves or be the flighty or artsy ones. With us, we’re about responsibility. Someone has to protect the others, has to make sure the family business endures.”

  “And what is your family business?” she asked, arching an eyebrow up at him.

  “Malls, for lack of a better word,” he said. “At least that’s usually what you Americans reduce them to. They’re actually emporiums or spaces where the best designers can share their wares.”

  “Well that would make teenage me excited. There was nothing I loved more than wasting time at the food court.”

  He snorted, as if her comment had mortally wounded him. “Oh, we’re not some lowest-common-denominator attraction with a movie theater and a pretzel vendor.”

  “Shame,” she said, winking at him and running one, well-manicured finger down his chest. He felt the stiffness already growing in his groin as the excess blood flowed there. “You don’t know the magic of capitalism until you’ve had a double cinnamon treat from Auntie Anne’s.”

  “I suppose I don’t,” he replied, about to ask her if she’d like to come back to his hotel room. Instead, he was interrupted by a girl with a blond bob and sparkly barrettes in her hair, as well as a brunette in a little black dress coming up to both of them.

  Wait, not exactly just a stroll. Is the blonde too drunk? She’s leaning so heavily on the brunette.

  It was like a switch was flipped in Jennifer’s brain. She was up and standing ramrod straight, as if she were a general about to send troops into the fray. Rushin
g over to the blonde, she reached out and felt her forehead.

  “God, Sydney, what did you drink? You promised me you wouldn’t! Mom’s going to be so mad and I’m pretty pissed too.”

  Sydney, who he assumed was her younger sister, wobbled on her feet and shook her head. “I didn’t. I swear I’ve been drinking club soda all night, but I just feel so tired. I don’t know what it is and my back hurts a lot. I just…I hate to be that girl, but can we go home, sis?”

  The younger girl started to shiver and Bahan wished he hadn’t put his suit jacket and coat both in the check. She was shuddering so much it scared him. Thankful he’d worn an undershirt, he unbuttoned his Oxford shirt and handed it to Jennifer.

  “Please, if you need to help keep her warm till you get to the coat check, take this.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I couldn’t!”

  “I have a hundred more just like it,” he said, fishing into his pocket and pulling out a business card. “Call this and mention The Wild Orchid. I’ll let my secretary know to patch you directly through. I’d love to see you again. I had a great night, until now,” he said, eyeing her sister whose teeth were now chattering loudly. Something icy seized around his heart. None of that was normal, and something deep down in his bones told him that this wasn’t just the flu. “Please.”

  Jennifer hesitated and bit her lower lip.

  It was the brunette who grabbed his card. “Oh please, Jen. You so need to be braver. You should be glad I’ll jump for you,” she said. “She’d love to. Now,” she said, turning her attention back to the youngest woman. “Come on, Syd, let’s get you home.”

  His Goldilocks frowned back at him. “I…have a good night, Bahan.”

  He leaned over and kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll see you soon, Jennifer.”

  ***

  Bahan understood that she’d had to run home. He knew by seeing Sydney that Jennifer’s sister had appeared like death warmed over. Sometimes, he’d had people just make transparent excuses or run off lamely. Not often, but in high school, one duchess had been extremely rude. This was different, and he fervently hoped that her little sister was going to recover soon. Still, he’d had his blood pounding and grown excited while dancing with his Goldilocks. He needed some release before bed, since circumstances had foiled the plans he’d been banking on.

  The shower blasted over his skin, as hot as he dared, making his skin turn red. He needed that, needed something around him to feel as heated as his blood did. It was as if lava had replaced the regular liquid in his veins. His manhood was already turgid, raised into a fearsome erection. All he needed was a good bit of release before bed.

  Closing his eyes, he imagined Jennifer as she’d been tonight, saw the way the tight red dress had ridden up on her delectable thighs and dipped low over her bountiful cleavage. He remembered the smell of her, that scent of roses that seemed to cling to her, as well as the heat of her body. He remembered the smooth, silky feel of her dress against his palms and the thick, wavy heft of her golden hair.

  Everything about her turned him on, made that lava flow even more fiercely through his veins. Keeping his eyes closed even tighter, he began to stroke his hardness to build up the friction that might final bring him some contentment and peace. At least for tonight. Bahan knew that he’d never truly feel satisfied until he felt her soft, sweet body under him. Felt the heat of her around his length.

  His rhythm intensified. He used his other hand to tightly grip the bar in the shower. It was unwise, but at least it was something to help keep him upright. His knees were going weak beneath him as he imagined what it would feel like to have Jennifer, to have her delicate hands lathered up with bodywash and stroking his member. This was a weak imitation, but it was all he had. He knew her fingers would be skillful, and that her very touch would set him on the edge of release. The shower would be filled with the aromatic hint of roses, something that would tickle his nose even as she tickled other things.

  His blood felt hotter than lava, felt like it had gone supernova, as if a star’s heat were trapped in his veins. Bahan felt it then, that pressure building, and then the blissful release as he shattered apart and his seed spilled from him, splashing against the tile of the shower and washing down the drain shortly after. It took a while for him to trust himself to walk out of the shower without falling to the floor, but at least his erection was gone for now.

  He didn’t trust himself not to need another session later in the night.

  His Goldilocks had invaded his mind and his thoughts so thoroughly, had enchanted him as surely as any sorceress in an ancient fairy tale.

  “Oh Jennifer,” he said, as he grabbed his towel and cleaned himself off. “You will be mine, Goldilocks. Oh yes, you will be mine.”

  Chapter Three

  “You need to eat more,” she said, shoving the plate of poached eggs and oatmeal back over the table and towards her sister.

  Sydney glared back at her and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need the full-mom press. I’m fine. If I wanted to be hassled, I could get on the train back to Kentucky.”

  “You won’t now, and you know it. Mom’s way stricter. She’d have you bundled up in bed under about eight comforters and eating nothing but chicken soup to chase this cold away,” Jennifer finished. Although she didn’t believe it was just a cold. Her sister wasn’t doing well with her diabetes. Though she’d been able to manage it well even through high school, her blood sugar had been rising lately. She’d been having fainting spells. Jennifer wildly hoped this wasn’t another sign of something more. “You’re lucky to have me, but you do need to at least have more than two spoons of oatmeal.”

  Sydney narrowed her eyes back at her. “I don’t need to be babied. I felt faint. I’m still woozy but my back doesn’t hurt at all. I guess I just pushed it too hard dancing. It’s not a big deal. I’m really not feeling oatmeal this morning.”

  “You say that now, but it is the kind with apples.”

  “You meant to say the kind with like freeze-dried apple pellets that replump because of the billion preservatives in it!”

  “Well I didn’t have the slow-cook kind and this was dietetic. It has the apples but no sugars added.”

  “It’s all still not my thing, sis.”

  “You just have to take care of yourself better.”

  Sydney shook her head and took back the plate. So far, as she talked, her sister only managed to stir the oatmeal around, but she did at least have it in front of her again as an option. “Maybe I could say that about you too.”

  “Huh?”

  “Rose left the card from that hottie you were dancing with last night. I mean, what a nice guy. The shirt he let me have really did help with the shivering and the goose bumps. And he was freaking handsome. If Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious wanted a second date with me, I’d have called by now. I’d have left a voice mail at like six in the morning!”

  “That’s not…I have to focus on the Z-Box account. This is hardly what I need right now,” she objected.

  “Well, he’s a guy.”

  “Oh, I noticed.”

  “Then,” her sister said, beaming as if she’d just come up with some Einstein-level formula, “maybe he’s what you need. You go out, and maybe you start dating. You get that handle on the guy’s perspective for marketing, and done, you know?”

  “Or you just want to move me around like a chess piece or your own personal Barbie so that I can see a guy I barely know again,” she said, hoping her sister hadn’t seen her out on the dance floor. To be fair, she knew some very personal things about Bahan, like how amazing it felt to have his erection rub against her thigh or how the masculine scent of him made heat flare in her belly. “Besides, what kind of a hostess would I be if I went out tonight or tomorrow and left you here? You already have to do so much on your own because of my job’s crazy hours.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Sydney chirped. “You are not using me as an excuse to avoid a guy who might actually be good fo
r you.”

  “I think I resent that remark. I do date.”

  “Not since the breakup, not really,” Sydney pointed out. “I’m sick a lot. It’s part of my life. But I’m feeling better, really. Besides, Rose already offered to watch me if you did go out. She told me so.”

  “I bet Rose did,” Jennifer said, mulling everything over. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her secretary. It was more that she didn’t trust the combined enthusiasm of Rose and Sydney together to not burn her apartment down. “I…”

  Her sister shocked her by shoving Jennifer’s cell phone at her. “Just call.”

  “Did you rifle through my purse?”

  Sydney snorted. “Oh please, like that’s the first time I’ve ever done that. Just call.”

  ***

  “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy,” she said under her breath as she waited outside of Luigi’s off Sixth.

  She wasn’t even dressed the same way as last night. She’d picked out a plain black shift, something functional and actually long enough. Jennifer also had adorned herself with her favorite necklace. It was a diamond lavalier (albeit a small chip), something she’d gotten for herself as a treat for her first real promotion at her company. Still, the outfit was more serious, reflected who she really was. It wasn’t the siren-in-red look that she’d sported last night. It was unlikely that Bahan would even recognize her. Besides, maybe he had been feeding her lines last night. He wouldn’t be the first guy at a club to tell her about his great wealth or something ridiculous like that. Maybe his “emporiums” were, at best, strip malls in Jersey.

  It was just so insane. She knew better than anyone else, after her dad and then her breakup, how easy it was for guys to mislead.

  Then a limo pulled up and Bahan stepped out.

  He’d been attractive under the strobe lights at the club, but under the streetlamps, she could see more and really appreciate how the silk of his shirt clung to the massive muscles of his biceps as well as his chiseled chest. Then there was the sheen to his dark hair, and the fact that in the right light his eyes seemed to shine like amber, the color so rich and gorgeous. Bahan was every bit the prince charming that her sister was pushing him to be. At least, he had the looks, the money, and even the limo.