Modern Romance Collection: June 2018 Books 5 - 8. Jane Porter

      ‘I’d rather take a commercial flight, thank you.’ She had no intention of putting herself in the Sheikh’s debt. ‘And if you can let me off at a closer port, that would be even better.’

      ‘Your virtue is quite safe with me,’ he said.

      Was he mocking her? She couldn’t really see his eyes. His face was turned away from her.

      ‘You can have the guest suite, and the golden sheets,’ he added.

      Huzzah, thought Millie, grimacing.

      He turned in time to see her expression. ‘My friend Tadj has been detained on shore by your friend Lucy.’

      This was getting worse and worse. Now she had to worry about Lucy.

      Lucy could look after herself, Millie reminded herself. She was facing a more immediate problem. ‘I don’t even have a change of clothes.’

      ‘You’re wrong,’ the Sheikh told her. ‘Your closet is full.’

      ‘You planned this?’ she exclaimed with outrage.

      Throwing up his hands in mock alarm, he gave a lazy shrug. ‘Designers from across the world have rushed to accommodate you.’

      ‘And you expect me to be grateful?’ she said. ‘I feel as if I’ve been manipulated all along.’

      ‘Touché, Ms Dillinger. Not much escapes you.’

      ‘You admit it?’ Millie exclaimed with incredulity.

      The Sheikh didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘What use is massive wealth if it can’t be enjoyed? London is a rich source of luxury goods, and only a short hop by helicopter from King’s Dock.’

      ‘I’m going to my room.’

      ‘Please do,’ he invited with a gracious gesture towards the door. ‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with what you find there. Just don’t forget to come back and tell me what you think. And then we’ll talk,’ he promised with velvet charm.

      Infuriating man! Just as he’d said, the fitted dressing room leading off the gilded stateroom was packed full of Milan’s finest clothes, Spain’s softest leather shoes, and the best of New York’s cutting-edge accessories...

      And if that didn’t prove to be enough to persuade Millie Dillinger to relax and unwind, Khalid thought as he waited to hear Millie’s verdict, he would just have to think of something else. He was no saint, and had never pretended to be. Protecting Millie, versus seducing her, had long since passed its tipping point. She was no longer a child, but a hot-blooded woman, and there was a long ocean voyage ahead of them.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      WHEN THE FOOD was cleared away and Millie had returned—acting cool, but still with the glow of pleasing discoveries reflected in her eyes—he persuaded her to walk out on the deck, where a sophisticated heating system ensured she wouldn’t be cold this far north, and subdued lighting permitted views of the night sky, as well as a wide swathe of restless sea.

      ‘I’d be happy in the staff quarters,’ she assured him as she leaned over the rail...still looking, still searching for the truth, he thought. ‘Save the guest suite for someone who appreciates golden sheets,’ she said, pulling back as a steward drew out a chair.

      ‘Relax. Enjoy yourself. Sit down,’ he encouraged. ‘There’s nowhere else to go.’

      She angled her chin to stare up at him. ‘It isn’t easy to relax,’ she admitted.

      ‘I know,’ he said quietly.

      * * *

      She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. She had to stop. But how, when she only had to press her lips together to find they were still swollen from his kisses?

      ‘Don’t you want to experience something more exciting than a bunk bed dressed with white cotton for the duration of this trip?’ he asked, distracting her.

      ‘If that’s your opening gambit, I’m disappointed.’ Liar, Millie thought as her pulse careered out of control.

      ‘And I took you for an ambitious woman, Millie Dillinger.’

      ‘I am,’ she confirmed, ‘but I’ll get ahead on my own merit, thank you.’

      The Sheikh smiled faintly. ‘So no golden sheets?’

      He shrugged, and pressed his lips down in a way she found hard to resist.

      ‘I realise I must pay you something for passage on your ship.’

      Her prim tone made him laugh. ‘I’m sure we’ll come to some sort of accommodation.’

      ‘I’m talking about a purely commercial transaction,’ she assured him.

      ‘And so am I. What else could I possibly mean?’

      Millie firmed her jaw and said nothing.

      ‘And you should know I don’t offer credit.’

      ‘This is no joking matter, Your Majesty.’

      ‘I think we’ve reached a stage where you can safely call me Khalid.’

      ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ Millie said pointedly. There was nothing safe about any of this. ‘If it pleases you—’

      ‘It does please me. Call me Khalid,’ he repeated with a slight edge to his voice.

      Here was someone who wasn’t used to being disobeyed, Millie thought. ‘Thank you, Sheikh Khalid. I realise the great honour you’re doing me, so I will use the polite prefix Sheikh in future.’

      This made him groan. ‘I’m a man like any other.’

      ‘That’s just the point,’ she insisted. ‘You’re not. I’m here because I’m waiting for you to tell me the truth about my mother, and—’

      ‘I’m here because?’ he prompted.

      ‘It’s a long, cold swim home?’ she suggested.

      He laughed. It was a wonderful sound. However aloof she tried to be, it seemed Khalid could always cut through her reserve. But what was he thinking now? she wondered as she stared into his brooding face. She could never tell—

      She yelped as he cleared the table with a comprehensive sweep of his arm. Everything went flying as he dragged her close and pressed her down onto the cool, hard surface.

      ‘Now what are you going to do?’ he asked.

      She’d have been angry if it hadn’t been for the teasing light in his eyes, because that excited her more than he frightened her. ‘Let me go,’ she said quietly.

      ‘What if I say no? What are you going to do then?’

      ‘Raise a knee and do you an injury.’

      He laughed again. ‘And you say that so nicely.’

      She held her breath as his wicked mouth tugged into a smile. ‘You really are a very bad man,’ she observed on a dry throat.

      ‘I really am,’ he confirmed, unconcerned.

      What a time for her gaze to drop to his mouth!

      ‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ he asked.

      She drew in a long, shuddering breath. ‘It would be nice,’ she confessed.

       ‘Nice?’

      Now he was frowning.

      ‘Very nice?’ she suggested.

      * * *

      The tip of Millie’s tongue had just crept out to moisten her kiss-bruised lips in a way he found unbearably seductive.