Anne swallowed hard. She’d forgotten how handsome he was. So handsome in his dark suit and bronzed skin against his striped shirt that she almost fainted. Of course, that feeling could also come from hunger or shame. She wrapped her arms across her waist.
“Oh,” he said, standing and stuffing his hands in his pockets. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. Neither did he show pleasure or dismay at her appearance. Of course, sheiks were probably trained to handle situations like this. Smoothly, suavely, with savoir faire. “It’s good to see you again…Anne.”
He remembered her name. That was a good start.
“What happened last night?” she blurted.
“Happened? As in between you and me?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well, you passed out,” he said matter-of-factly. “A little too much champagne. It can happen to anyone. It’s happened to me. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about? I was in your car. You were taking me home. Why didn’t you?”
“I tried, believe me, I tried. But I didn’t know where you lived, and you were in no condition to tell me.”
“So you took me to your hotel,” she said.
“Right,” he said. “I had no choice. Then you fell asleep in my bed. End of story.”
“That’s it? That’s all?” How desperately she wanted to believe that. “Wait a minute. How did I get my dress off and your shirt on?”
He raised his right hand. “Guilty as charged. Only because you looked so uncomfortable. I thought you’d sleep better in my shirt.” He walked around his desk and gave her a long, lingering look, trying but not succeeding to conceal the smile on his face. “Yes, you looked much more…how shall I say, comfortable, in my shirt. You’ll be glad to know I averted my eyes at all the appropriate moments. As any gentleman would.”
“Any gentleman would have woken me up.”
He shook his head. “I tried, darling, believe me, I tried. You were out cold. Don’t tell me it’s never happened to you before?”
“No, it hasn’t. But I imagine it’s happened to you. Taking a woman back to your hotel and then…and then…”
“Yes, it has. A time or two. But last night was different.”
“Really.” What did that mean?
He smiled. “Definitely.”
“Maybe you think this is funny,” she fumed, running out of patience. “To be stuck in a hotel without your shoes or your purse.” Not to know if you’d made love to a total stranger. “But I don’t.”
“No, of course not,” he said. “Here’s what happened. I took your shoes off in my car. And I saw your bare feet. You can’t object too strongly since everyone else you’ve run into today probably enjoyed the same pleasure.”
“I’m not worried about people seeing my feet. It’s my…it’s the rest of my…you know.”
“I can assure you no one saw but me. No one knows but me. No one will know for sure what really happened. Some may have doubts, like my father and my brother who are both suspicious types. But I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”
“How can I tell when I don’t know?”
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
Trust him? Trust a Middle Eastern sheik whom she didn’t even know? Not likely.
“I need my shoes and my purse,” she said.
“They must be in my car. I forgot completely. I’ll send someone to get them right away.” He picked up the phone and gave the order. Then he turned back to her. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable? It will only take a few minutes. In the meantime, take my jacket. You look…” he shot her a swift appraising look “…cold.” He went to a closet and removed a soft, cashmere suit jacket and put it around her shoulders. His fingertips grazed her bare shoulders. It all came back to her. The wedding, her tears, his touch. Her face grew hot. She thrust her arms stiffly into the sleeves of the jacket.
“I’ll stand,” she said. Though she didn’t know how long her legs would hold her up, she had her pride. He shrugged. There was a long silence. He leaned against his desk and his gaze locked with hers. Those eyes, those deep, dark eyes a woman could get lost in. A woman could forget why she was there, forget the questions she’d come to ask. Especially a woman with no experience in matters like this.
In a few minutes someone would appear with her shoes and her keys and she’d leave, never to see him again. If she didn’t ask now, she’d never know.
She took a deep breath and gathered her wits about her. “What really did happen in your hotel room?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment. She could almost sense the indecision that hovered in his mind. Something flickered in his dark eyes. Then he spoke. “You and I had the most incredible night of our lives. At least I did. I can’t speak for you.”
Before her knees collapsed under her, Anne sank into the leather chair next to his desk, the one she’d spurned a few minutes ago, and buried her head in her hands. “I don’t believe it,” she said in a muffled tone.
“Why not? Am I that unattractive? Do I repulse you?” he asked.
She peeked at him between her fingers. No, he didn’t repulse her. In fact, he was the most attractive man she’d ever met. The thought of him making love to her raised the temperature of her whole body about ten degrees. Surely he knew how handsome he was. He was teasing her.
“Of course not,” she said. “If it was the most incredible night of my life, I wish I could remember it.”
“All I can say is we’ll have to do it again,” he said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “When you’re in better shape.”
“Wait a minute. You think I was drunk, don’t you? I wasn’t. I’d taken a strong antihistamine for my allergies and that combined with two glasses of champagne did me in. Not that it matters. I just didn’t want you to think I was the kind of person who drinks too much and passes out in some stranger’s bed.”
“You’re not?” he asked, a spark of laughter in his eyes. “That’s too bad.”
Anne opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out. She had no practice in bantering with sexy men. He was an expert in lighthearted repartee. She wasn’t. He wasn’t serious. But what if he was? What if she’d made love to a perfect stranger? She knew for sure they’d shared a bed. Anything could have happened. But did it? Would she ever get a straight answer from him?
Fortunately, Rafik’s phone rang and he began another conversation, as if she weren’t there at all, sparing her the effort of trying to pin him down and him the effort of continuing to evade her questions. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She squirmed and wiggled. It was a comfortable chair but she was far from comfortable. It was that awful dress. At one time she’d thought it beautiful. She’d helped Carolyn pick