The Prince and the Working Woman (Desert Prince Book 1) (4 page)

"I never said I wasn't interested."

"I know what
you're
interested in. I’m not going to leave my friend’s wedding for a little quickie in the coat closet."

He laughed. "Do you have a filter? Or do you just say whatever comes to mind?"

For a man carrying on like a jealous boyfriend, he had a nerve. "Did I insult you Your Royal Highness?"

"You did by calling me that. And for the record
when
I have you it won't be in a coat closet."

He accused her of not having a filter? She would swear that he took pleasure in trying to make her blush. Words never would. But the way he looked at her sent heat throughout her body. It melted her brain cells because nothing else would explain her irrational attraction to this epitome of the male chauvinist.

The band stopped playing. Finally she could retire to her room and get away from the man who both aroused and enraged her. At least she thought she could. Until the band announced that the wedding party would remain behind for one final dance. One very slow couples dance. The bride wanted photographs. Mandy glanced around the now empty reception hall. Besides her and the prince of darkness the remaining members were all married to each other.

"How are you going to get out of this one?" she asked.

"Who says I'm going to?"

"I thought you didn't like dancing."

"I don't like jumping around the dance floor like a chimpanzee."

"Are you saying that's what I look like?"

He shrugged but didn’t deny it.

She pushed his hand away as he tried to take her in his arms. "I don’t want to dance with you."

"Can you say no to your best friend over there waiting for us to join them?"

He was right. She could not refuse the request but she wished she had worn her heels instead of flats. Stepping on his foot wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. With the photographer poised to take pictures, she stepped into his arms for a slow dance. Something she hadn’t done since her junior prom.

* * * *

Dim lighting and soft music made a perfect backdrop for the final dance. As a rule he didn't care for slow dancing any more than the kinetic energy of a disco. He learned because he had to attend state functions in embassies where it was expected. More often than not he'd had to listen to his flavor of the month babble on about inconsequential matters or bat her eyelashes and make whispered promises in his ear. He didn't fool himself into thinking he was that much of a catch. Everything came with a price tag.

The fact that his partner did not want to be dancing with him right now made him more determined to hold onto her even after the photographer had taken pictures. Several times she tried to pull out of his embrace but lacking the strength and apparently reluctant to make a scene she gave in and continued dancing. Resting her head on his shoulder, she swayed to the music. However when the band stopped she didn't.

He pressed his lips against her temple. She opened her eyes. A breath caught in her throat. "It's over?"

"It's only just begun."

"I meant that party." She stiffened her spine. Conflicting emotions crossed her beautiful face. What was going through her mind?

"Would you like to go out and see the beautiful capital?"

“At one in the morning?" She shook her head it as if he were crazy. Perhaps the twelve hour day had been too much. He was reluctant to part ways so soon. Once she went back to her room he would not see her again for a month.

“If you’d like.”

“Are you sure you’d want to be seen with a chimpanzee?”

He hadn’t planned on being seen by anyone except the driver when they got on the back seat. “For the record I was referring to my brothers, not you.” He took her hand. "I'll walk you back."

"Let me say goodbye first."

He wanted to say no. Once she joined the others, the women would offer to see her safely to her room. If he tried to give her an order she would likely refuse. He needn’t have worried. Although they did make the suggestion, surprisingly Mandy turned them down. Not that it would get him very far. Even if he was the arrogant bastard most people believed, he would not do anything in the house of his host.

Scarf draped around her neck and shoes in her hand, she walked down the hall next to him barefooted. She moved with a graceful stride and delicate sway of her hips. The other couples went in different directions. They continued down the corridor towards the guest suites.

Outside a carved wood door she paused. "This is me." She turned to face him. "Well I guess I'll see you in about a month."

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer. She didn’t resist. What was her game plan? "I am sure I will need to speak to you a few times before then."

She arched her eyebrow. "About what?"

"Well you never even asked how much you'd be making."

“And I'm not going to ask now."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to kiss me. Discussing money at this point would be inappropriate for either of us."

She expected him to try. Was he walking into a trap? "You're not going to give me a hard time?"

She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "I guess that depends on how you react whether it's hard or not."

He laughed. Damn. He forgot she had no filter. He wasn't used to women who spoke their mind. He'd become proficient at competing in the battle of the sexes, but honesty had never been one of the rules. "You are unbelievable."

“Actually all of it’s unbelievable. I know tomorrow morning I'm going to wake up and you will have turned into a toad. But today… is all a dream."

Despite the lack of alcohol, she appeared to be intoxicated. The result of sleep deprivation and exhaustion or his good luck? Never one to pass on an opportunity, he chose the latter. As he eased her inside the door, he noted the familiar scent that had haunted him the past few days. Damn. His preoccupation with her was completely out of character.  He shouldn’t be thinking about how he wanted to pin her to the wall and explore every sleek line, every contour of her body. How had this woman bewitched him with so little effort on her part?

“Hamid?”  His name rolled off her lips in a whisper.

He touched her hair, allowing the silky strands to slip through his fingers. “Yes?”

She shifted her weight between her feet. Her bottom lip quivered. “Are we going to get this over with or not?”

No need for guilt. She knew exactly what she was doing. As a rule, he didn’t allow himself to be manipulated. Of course, he wasn’t often confronted by a sexy opponent and the stakes had never been more pleasurable. It was a no-lose situation.

He slid his hands around her back and covered her firm bottom. A mischievous smile brightened her entire face. She made a half-hearted attempt at resistance as he pulled her against him.

Warm breath caressed his cheek. Their lips met, barely grazing. His pulse skyrocketed. She pressed her palms against his shoulders, but as he started to withdraw, she grasped the wool of his jacket and caught his bottom lip between her teeth.

He smiled, before covering her mouth in a deep kiss that forced her lips apart. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth, indulging his senses. Everything about her evoked erotic sensations. The taste of her. The smell of her. The velvety warmth of her skin. The inclination to lose himself in the moment and damn the consequences, was almost more than he could fight. It was time to turn the tables on her.

* * * *

Mandy snuggled closer, feeling Hamid’s rock-solid muscles enfolding her in a steely embrace. The heat from his body scorched her. That’s what she got for playing with fire. Her purpose for the kiss, to get it out of her system before they began working together, backfired.

She lost all sense of time or place. A wave of pleasure ran through her, cresting in her lower abdomen, where his erection pressed against her. The barrier of clothing didn’t hinder him. He cupped his hand over her breast, finding the puckered nipple, through the silk dress. She let out a long sigh as his thumb continued to graze the sensitive area.

Inhaling deeply, she drank in the masculine scent of him. Excitement pulsed though her veins, heightening the awareness of every nerve ending. His kiss was exhilarating, her pleasure exquisite. As his hands-on exploration of her body continued, she found herself drowning in the heady power of his touch. On moment she was floating and the next she was hovering right at the edge. Conflicting emotions warred with the sensations that threatened to overtake her. She broke away to catch a breath, to regain her senses.

No man, hell not even her vibrator had given her such pleasure. More than physical.  It was metaphysical. Something she could neither explain nor rationalize away.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way… what’s next?” His voice came out on a husky whisper against her ear and sent a shiver along her spine.

She tried to form a coherent thought. Whoa!  That was a whole lot more than she’d expected. If he could bring her that close to climaxing while they were both fully dressed, she could only imagine what he’d be like laying naked next to her.

She gazed at Hamid. He was in complete control, despite her total lack of it. She gulped in air, trying to restore her equilibrium. It was obvious, he had gotten to her. But how? He wasn’t the gentle, liberal, sensitive type she wanted.

Face it, Amanda. That was never your type.

“Mandy?”

She shook her head to clear her stupor. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a night tour of the city? I doubt you will be able to sleep anytime soon.”

All right!  So maybe he had the right to be a bit cocky, but he didn’t have to gloat. She refused to feed his ego by admitting he had given her an adrenalin rush that would keep her up for hours. She feigned a yawn. “It would take more than that.”

“How much more?” he asked.

He knew all the right moves, the right buttons to push to arouse her. A bit more persistence on his part and she would probably be making love up against the wall right now instead of using it to hold herself up. “Good night, Hamid.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know.”  She raised a casual smile, hoping she pulled off an unaffected manner. “When you don’t have to ask, you’ll have your answer.”

Chapter Four

The week after the wedding Mandy spent her days at the Community Service Center, dubbed CSA, from open to close. She studied, measured, and questioned everything. The mission, to help families adjust and acclimate to life in the country, only scratched the surface. The compound had become a social hub of the expatriates. Inside the walls, members found a slice of home.

An on-site café offered the same bagels, donuts and scones as the coffee shops they missed. The small high-end consignment shop sold designer fashions for a steal. She even found a few business suits for herself. Thursdays in the courtyard, members prepared take away meals traditional to their homelands. They called it Cooks Day Off. Volunteers made a nice side income and visitors got a chance to taste international cuisine.

Mandy bought a small container of ratatouille and went to the garden to have lunch. After Boston, the heat of the desert took some getting used to. She sat at a table with a large Cinzano umbrella. The beautiful floral scents of the jasmine and azaleas surrounded her; surprisingly without aggravating her allergies. Her doctor told her a change of climate would alleviate her symptoms. She hadn't believed him but now she had to admit he might've been right. She hadn't breathed this well in years. If she was honest she hadn't been this excited about her life in years.

She glanced through the CSA magazine. Every time she got an idea for her project she dictated it into her cell phone. Since she could not get a signal abroad her smart phone became a glorified micro recorder.

"Oasis Center. Community Oasis. Welcome Center." She tried several names but then wondered if the Touzarian government might have their own idea about the name. She closed the phone when she saw a long shadow coming up behind her.

"How about Western Pick Up Center?"

The voice of cynicism
. She turned to see Hamid, smirk on face, towering above her. Why invest time and money in the project if that was his belief?

"I thought you went home."

"I did. And now I'm back for a few days."

Her stomach fluttered. Even her traitorous body was happy to see him. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I asked at the Palace." He lowered himself into the rattan chair next to her. She had seen him in the traditional caftan and in formal suits but this was the first time she had seen him dressed casually. Armani casual but approachable. Except for the bodyguard sitting two tables over, she’d never guess he had a title if she hadn’t known.

"Any particular reason?"

"We need to talk. I don't have your number."

"My phone doesn't work here."