Desert Hearts. Sandra Marton

walking on coals to amuse me? she’d have smiled prettily and said, Just let me get a match.

      He scowled, pushed aside the papers he’d been pretending to read, and folded his arms.

      He knew how Rachel would react if he said something like that to her.

      Angry as he was—at his brother, at her, at the situation the two of them had left for him to deal with—he wanted to laugh.

      She’d begin with You can go to hell and work up exponentially from there.

      He knew, too, what his response would be.

      He’d pull her into his arms, whisper what she could do to please him, and that look of indignation would be replaced by one of hot desire.

      She’d rise on her toes and bring her mouth to his and he would ease her down on his bed, undress her, bare her to his mouth, his hands …

      Dammit!

      He was hard as a rock.

      An intelligent man didn’t mix business with pleasure, and this was strictly business.

      Yes, she was attractive.

      All right.

      She was beautiful.

      And she surely would know how to pleasure a man.

      That was a given.

      For one thing, Rami had never been interested in innocence. And then a man had only to see her in that costume to know that, whatever her work might be, she was a sexual sophisticate.

      Still, when you came down to it, she was just a woman. Not that he held women in low esteem or anything, but she wasn’t special—not to a man who’d always had his pick of them.

      His mother’s genes, his father’s royal lineage, his own success … Add all that together and he’d always had his share of desirable lovers.

      More than his share, to be brutally honest.

      Then why all this schoolboy nonsense?

      Karim frowned.

      Because he’d been living like a monk, that was why. He’d been so busy cleaning up after Rami instead of living his own life that he had not been with a woman in weeks.

      Well, he’d remedy that soon enough.

      Karim glanced at his watch.

      They’d be in New York in a couple of hours. His driver would meet them at the airport. It would be early evening by the time they reached his penthouse; he’d given orders to ready one of the guest suites for the woman and the child.

      A hot shower. A night’s sleep. Then, in the morning, a meeting with his attorney, a stop at the lab his doctor had recommended, a bit of serious negotiating with the woman, and custody would be his.

      With any luck at all, this would be settled in a couple of days, after which he’d take out his BlackBerry, choose a name and number, and put an end to these weeks of celibacy.

      Talk about tying up loose ends, Karim thought with a tight smile.

      That would surely do it.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      “MISS?”

      Rachel’s eyes flew open. The flight attendant smiled at her.

      “We’ll be landing within the hour. I thought you might have changed your mind about eating something, or that you’d like some coffee or juice while we still have time.”

      “Coffee would be—” Rachel cleared her throat. “Coffee would be fine, thank you.”

      “I’ll bring it right away.”

      Rachel nodded. Her throat wasn’t the only thing needed clearing. Her brain did, too. She was groggier than before she’d fallen asleep …

      Where was Ethan?

      Her heart thudded.

      He’d been in his carrier, right next to her.

      “Moira?”

      “Yes, miss?”

      “Where’s my baby?”

      “Oh, I brought him up front with me. He woke up and he seemed hungry—”

      Rachel sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

      “No problem, miss. He’s a very sweet little boy.”

      Rachel smiled. “He’s teething, you know, and—”

      “I figured as much. I remember my own children at that age. I chilled one of the teething rings you had in the diaper bag and gave it to him. It seemed to make him happy. He’s sound asleep now, though. Why don’t I keep him with me? That way, we won’t risk waking him and he might sleep through the landing. Descents, the change in pressure, can make some babies uncomfortable.”

      “Yes. That’s fine. Thanks again.”

      “My pleasure, miss. I’ll get that coffee now.”

      “Black, please.”

      “Black it is.”

      Rachel brought her seat upright and looked out the window. Were they as high over the earth as they’d been before? It was hard to tell. The long flight, the change in time zones … all of it was disorienting—though not as disorienting as being plucked out of your own life at the command of a prince.

      Was he still seated in the middle of the plane? She wanted to turn around and look but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

      What was he doing? Was he asleep? Was he working on those papers he’d taken from his attaché case? Was he staring out the window the way she was while he planned his next move?

      She could find out.

      She didn’t have to make a point of looking at him. All she had to do was rise from her seat and walk to the lavatory in the rear of the plane.

      She needed to do that, anyway, sheikh or no sheikh.

      Quickly, before she could change her mind, Rachel rose to her feet.

      He was still seated where he’d been all along. His seat was halfway reclined; he looked completely relaxed, long legs stretched out, big shoulders pressed against the leather seat-back, hands folded loosely in his lap.

      And his face …

      Her breath caught.

      It was an incredible face.

      His eyes were shut; his lashes, so thick and dark a woman would kill for them, lay arced against his chiseled cheekbones. Stubble smudged his jaw.

      He was—there was no other word for it—beautiful.

      Dark. Sleek. A magnificent predatory animal.

      A panther.

      His eyes flew open and met hers. His pupils contracted; she saw his mouth thin.

      Heat flared in her belly.

      She stared at his mouth, remembered the silken feel of it against hers …

       Stop it!

      She wanted to run, but you didn’t try to escape from a panther. You stood your ground.

      Head up, eyes straight ahead, she walked briskly past him to the lavatory, shut the door—

      And fell back against it, heart at full gallop.

      This had to stop.

      He was the enemy. He was a very dangerous enemy. There was no reason for her to be attracted to him. She’d never been drawn to bad boys at the age some girls were, and she’d certainly never been drawn to the grown-up version.

      Bad boys were Suki territory, not hers.

      Okay.