Cinderella and the Sheikh (Hot Contemporary Romance) Page 2

Just as quickly, he let go of her hand. "Forgive me, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable."

  The imprint of his mouth burned her palm, as if he'd taken possession. "It's okay." She forced a smile to her lips. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay for dinner."

  She lifted the dome from his plate.

  "Please, let me do that. I always see you serving others, but no one serves you."

  "But I like making people's lives easier."

  The corners of his mouth turned down. "You enjoy being a servant?"

  "You've had servants all your life, but it isn't like that for most people," she said. "Women, especially. They have to make every meal they eat, wash all the clothes they wear, clean up every mess they make, and the messes of their families. Going to a restaurant is the only time someone serves them." And that was why she should not be putting this perfect job at risk. She got to work both the café and the haute cuisine restaurant upstairs; one let her serve the common folks who deserved a break, the other let her collect tips far more than most wait staff earned. She'd never find another job as good as this one.

  Libby caught the confusion in his eye and laughed. "I guess that doesn't seem very important to a man like you."

  "What is important to you is important to me." He lifted a stainless steel dome with a theatrical flare that made her smile up at him. But the raw passion that flashed across his face made her look away in an attempt to reinforce her melting defenses.

  It was just dinner, she reminded herself. No way would she give in to sleeping with him.

  Chapter Two

  "...The imam droned on like he would never stop. As he did, the lizard crawled farther up my cousin's trousers..."

  Libby put her napkin over her mouth to cover her smile.

  Rasyn's face darkened. "Don't do that. A man wants to see his beauty’s smile."

  The wine was definitely going to her head. Or maybe it was the close contact of a prince determined to convince her that he loved her. "Does a man want to see his beauty snort champagne through her nose?"

  "Every day." Rasyn laughed, a warm sound that filled the room. When he laughed like that, she forgot that he came from a long line of royalty, forgot that the price of the suit he wore would pay her rent for a year, and she forgot that only that morning, she had wanted to avoid him more than anyone on the planet. And she nearly forgot that she was putting her precious job at risk.

  Libby looked away, unable to stand the sincerity in his gaze. The food had been amazing, the wine better. Rasyn's stories of his home had painted an exotic portrait of a magical place.

  "Dance with me." Rasyn rose from the table.

  Not a good idea. Danger signals flashed in her head. They were nearly as loud as the desire throbbing in her pulse.

  "I shouldn't..." But it was too late for warnings. Her fingers were already settling into his open palm.

  Chills went through her as he caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "I will never ask anything more of you."

  "That's what you said about dinner."

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. "I lied. Come, dance with me."

  One dance meant nothing, she told herself. She'd dance with him, then go home and get ready for tomorrow's shift. No one would find out. She’d keep drawing her paycheck long after the prince had departed the hotel.

  She meant to keep a few inches between their bodies, but Rasyn had other ideas. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. The silken strains of a slow ballad about lost love wafted in the background, but she couldn't pay any attention. Rasyn set the rhythm. She couldn't do anything but follow.

  Every part of his body pressed against hers. A solid chest to lean her cheek on. A protective arm enfolding her. She felt her defenses crumbling.

  "This is not so bad, is it, Princess?"

  Libby stiffened. "Please, don't call me that."

  "Why not? You are as lovely as any princess."

  "Don't, please." She couldn't stand him using that pet name. It just highlighted the gulf between them. He was royalty and she was a waitress. But she wasn’t naïve enough to imagine he considered her his equal in any sense of the word. He was a man who expected to be obeyed, to have his wishes fulfilled.

  Warm, firm lips brushed her temple, feather-light. The intimate touch set her belly quivering. He traced her hairline with gentle fingers, tucking away the stray lock that always escaped her ponytail. Those same fingers traveled the curve of her ear and down her nape.

  By the time he tilted her chin up, all her resistance had vanished. His mouth met hers with melting tenderness. The light brush, over too quickly, left her lips tingling for more.

  She knew she should break it off. Go home. Every sensible fiber in her body screamed that the prince’s beautifully spoken words couldn’t be sincere. But all the logic in the world couldn’t fight the tingling warmth in her veins. Instead, she pressed closer to him, straining to offer herself for another kiss. He didn’t hesitate.

  His kiss intoxicated her more than the champagne, sending bubbles of desire down her spine. He tasted like the chocolate they'd eaten earlier and smelled like pepper warmed by the sun.

  As he deepened the kiss, teasing open her teeth to let him inside, her knees weakened with pleasure. Her mindless instinct was to grab him and never let go. Her hands fisted in his shirt.

  As if he'd been waiting for that signal, Rasyn broke the kiss and lifted her from her feet. The solid ground beneath her disappeared and she could only cling to him for support.

  In a few steps, they were in the bedroom. The pit of Libby's stomach curled with desire; her mind pounded with the knowledge she was putting her job and her self-worth on the line for a man she hardly knew. No, it was time to be practical, she decided, as he set her on the bed's scarlet and gold silk coverlet.

  "My love." Standing at the edge of the bed, he whispered the words, a private thing for her ears only.

  The sensual promise in that one word chased all doubts from her. It was crazy, but she wanted this, wanted to feel desired and loved, even for only one night, and even though she knew that they could never be true partners, as her parents had been.

  She reached for him, running her hand up to his shoulder and pulling him down. He bent to unfasten the clip that held her hair as he put his lips to her throat. She shuddered with the pleasure of his mouth on the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.

  As she pushed his suit jacket from his shoulders, he began to whisper into her ear, soft words in a language she didn't understand. Libby had never felt anything as sensual as his hot breath. Never heard anything as erotic as the words that spilled out of him.

  She reached between them and undid his belt, desperate now to feel his naked body against her. Rasyn seemed to feel the same, making short work of her uniform, which soon lay crumpled on the floor. When nothing was between them, Rasyn paused, looking down at her. Libby's blood rushed to her cheeks with the need to cover her fleshy body.

  Rasyn's black eyes shone with open admiration and hunger as he cupped the curve of her breast. "You are beautiful."

  "I need to lose ten pounds," she blurted, thinking of the slim, haughty women whose eyes had tracked Rasyn through the hotel. "I'm size thirteen."

  Rasyn laughed. "You're my size. You will fit me perfectly. Shall I try you on?"

  He didn't wait for her answer, but rolled onto the bed with her, and dipped his head to take one peaked breast into his dark mouth. Hot pleasure lanced to her core, driving everything from her mind except the feel of his rough tongue flicking and sucking at her sensitive nipple.

  Lying next to him, Libby moaned at each new ripple of desire. She threaded her fingers through his silken black locks. The scent of their desire perfumed the air with hot musk.

  When she thought the pleasure couldn't increase, he slipped his fingers between her legs. It had been so long since she'd felt a man there that it was almost more than she could bear. She melted beneath his masterful touch as he rubbed and flic
ked the pearl of her body.

  "You are ready for me, love." He settled his thighs between hers.

  Though she was drowsy with pleasure, some small part of her hadn't lost all its logic. That part screamed in protest. Something was wrong. It took her a second to identify it.

  "Con-dom," she stuttered.

  He bent down for a long soul kiss, meant to steal her reason. It almost worked, but her logical side screamed louder. She reached between them to wrap her hand around his erection and prevent him from entering her.

  "Condom," she insisted.

  His face darkened for an instant, but only an instant. "Of course."

  After he had wrapped himself, she parted her knees. He didn’t need more encouragement and entered her in a smooth thrust. She gasped at the solid feel of him deep inside.

  He began to move, a slow rocking that caressed the most intimate parts of her body. She closed her eyes, letting the darkness intensify the sensations moving through her. Her hands wandered over Rasyn's backside, fondling taut skin stretched over hard muscle.

  His stroking became harder, more urgent, as the need built between them. Overwhelmed with the sound of his groans as he loved her, the peppery scent of his body, and the hardness of him in her, Libby tripped over the edge. She cried out as she let go and fell into the pleasure his body gave her.

  Rasyn's thrusts quickened. The veins of his neck popped beneath his skin as he bellowed his own orgasm and collapsed next to her.

  ***

  When the flush of climax faded, Libby plucked the snoring sheikh's arm off her stomach and slid from the bed.

  Unbelievable. She'd actually fallen for his expensive seduction.

  For a moment, she gazed down at his sleeping form and handsome features, wondering if he’d truly meant even one of the sweet words he’d whispered. Did it matter? The deed was done. This was no time to criticize herself for taking risks. Plenty of time for that after she'd gotten home.

  She tiptoed over to her pile of her clothes and plucked them from the floor on her way out of the bedroom. Back in the suite lounge, she exhaled a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She dressed as quickly as she could in the darkness.

  One problem. One of her black flats had gone missing. Libby allowed herself a swear word under her breath and got on her knees to check beneath the couch for the shoe.

  She couldn't see the cursed shoe anywhere. At least I still have my dignity. Then, realizing that she was on her hands and knees searching for a missing shoe in a hotel room at midnight, risking rug burn, she flushed with humiliation.

  Libby picked herself up, dusted off her knees, held her head high, and left the sheikh's hotel suite, letting the door's lock click behind her.

  Chapter Three

  The sound of a quiet click woke Rasyn. He opened an eye to see the bright lime green light of the digital clock blinking 2:02 AM. Inwardly, he smiled, congratulating himself on a brilliant, and enjoyable, job with the girl.

  Convincing her to join him in Abbas would be simpler now that she'd danced to the music their bodies made together. With his uncle worsening by the day, he would have to use all his charm to do so. He had little time.

  Unfortunately, her insistence on the condom had interfered with a chance to impregnate her, which would have sealed his success. Still. There would be more opportunities.

  Why not start now? Rasyn reached for her... And only felt warm hotel sheets where she'd lain.

  He jerked, instantly alert, sitting up in the bed and turning on the light. Panic stiffened his spine as he saw the crumpled, but empty, linens beside him.

  The sound that had woken him. It must have been the door closing as she'd left.

  If he lost one moment, he'd lose her, and his best chance to do the right thing for Abbas. He vaulted from the bed to scramble for his clothes. He threw on his pants and jacket, deciding the shirt would take too long.

  Only one more thing. He pulled a palm-sized blue box from the nightstand and shoved it into his pocket before dashing through the door.

  ***

  Libby held her chin up as she walked through the too-quiet lobby, fighting the desire to sprint past the front desk. Maybe, she hoped, no one would see her crumpled clothes or missing shoe. She'd picked the front door instead of the service entrance to avoid the gossip-hungry hotel staff taking their breaks. She had to get out before any of her coworkers noticed her. And her missing shoe. She had no clue how she was going to explain that one.

  Six feet away, the front door offered freedom. She held down a giggle of relief.

  "Libby." A male voice, richly tinged with an exotic accent, shouted her name so that it reached the ceiling.

  Her relief fell through the bottom of her stomach. About an hour earlier, that voice had been saying her name in an entirely different way. The elegant couple checking in at the front desk turned to look, and so did Joey, the clerk who had been helping them—the biggest gossip on staff. Busted. It didn't take a psychic to predict public humiliation in her future.

  She turned to face the sheikh, her fists clenching at her sides. "Sheikh al Jabar." She forced a smile and held back a scream. "How may I help you tonight?"

  His dark hair, which normally didn’t have a lock out of place, was a sexy mess. The impeccable cut of his tailored jacket contrasted with the wildness of his bare chest underneath. It must be obvious to the world that he'd just come from bed.

  "Libby." Regret tinged his tone. "Why did you leave me?"

  Libby hovered between embarrassment and fantasy. Her mother's stories of her father flashed through Libby's mind. She tried to imagine herself sharing a life with this magnificent, educated, rich man... and failed.

  In her peripheral vision, Libby saw Joey's fingers inch toward the phone, as if he was dying to spread the news.

  "Is there something I can help you with, sir?" She fought to keep her tone civil. "Hotel Scheherazade will be happy to provide anything you need."

  The corners of the sheikh's black eyes turned down as if a woman he liked was rejecting him instead of a woman he seduced trying to escape him. "You are all I need." He lifted a hand toward her face, as if to caress her cheek.

  Instinctively, Libby shoved his hand aside, just as the elevator door opened to reveal a small group of elegantly dressed people, including a tuxedoed man who had a professional-looking camera strapped around his neck. Libby caught sight of one person in particular, and everything she'd dreaded for the last week walked up to slap her across the face.

  Zahra St. Martin's clingy silver silk dress showcased model-perfect curves to maximum effect. Twin blonde curls framed the line of her neck. Her amber gaze solidified Libby in place, poised in pushing the sheikh away.

  Within seconds, Ms. St. Martin had left her group and stood at the sheikh's shoulder. "Sheikh al Jabar." Her tone was smooth and confident. "Is there a problem?"

  "No." The sheikh never took his gaze from Libby.

  "Has a member of my staff offended you?"

  The sheikh narrowed his dark eyes.

  "Sir." Libby only had one thing on her mind, keeping her job. "I apologize. I lost my head. I should have known better."

  Even as she said it, Libby knew it was far too late. The best job she'd ever had was obliterated with a single stupid act.

  The sheikh's jaw clenched.

  Ms. St. Martin affected a reassuring smile. "I will see she is treated accordingly."

  The sheikh lifted his aristocratic nose and rounded on Ms. St. Martin. "Do not threaten her. She has done nothing wrong. I will decide how she is to be treated."

  Libby's throat felt as rough as Manhattan pavement. The sheikh captured her hands and held them to his chest. Shocked by the public display, Libby froze on the spot.

  "Love, I told you I'm a man of strong passions. I follow my heart. Today, it leads me to you."

  Libby gaped in disbelief as the sheikh sunk to one knee in front of her, pulling a light blue jewelry box from his pocket. With a click, he flicked it open.<
br />
  A ring with a ruby the size of a dime shone out at her.

  "Will you marry me?" the sheikh asked.

  A flash of white light temporarily blinded Libby. When she blinked away the dark caterpillars behind her eyelids, she saw the tuxedoed photographer from Ms. St. Martin's group. He snapped about a dozen shots of the sheikh down on one knee.

  Panic surged through her paralysis. She had to end this. The sooner, the better. If she knew the sheikh at all, saying no wasn't the way.

  Trying to radiate serenity, Libby pasted a smile on her face. It seemed like all the eyes in the crowded lobby were on her, which was probably the truth.

  "Of course I'll marry you," she said.

  ***

  It was done. As he opened the door of the hotel suite for her, Rasyn's heart burned with the triumph of it. She was his. The future of Abbas would be secure once uncle decided she was unsuitable to be the future Queen. Their marriage would pave his cousin's way to the throne and result in political stability in Abbas for decades to come. Imaran had proven without a doubt that he was the better candidate for ruler. Only his uncle's willful blindness and grudge against Imaran's parents kept him from the throne.

  Rasyn followed Libby into the room, watching the sway of her backside in her shapeless slacks. Soon, she'd have the richest wardrobe money could buy instead of clothes that smelled of salty oil.

  For now, he looked forward to peeling her uniform off her.

  He slipped his arms around her waist from behind. Her softness warmed him. All he wanted was to bury his face in that silken auburn hair. Well, that wasn't all he wanted to do, but it was all he could do until he got rid of her uniform. He slipped his hand up her belly, searching for the buttons of her shirt.

  "Love," he whispered into the pink curl of her ear. "We fly to Abbas in the morning. I assume you have a passport?"

  She broke away, keeping her back to him. "No."

  "I'll have the embassy make some calls. This will speed things up."

  He moved to face her. Her lovely eyes, usually green, shone nearly turquoise with the tears she fought. She lifted her chin in noble defiance.