“Are you all right?” A deep voice, a hand on her bare shoulder made a shiver go up her spine. Somehow she knew before she turned around. It was him. “Of course, I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on her bare skin. Telling herself the goosebumps that had popped out on her arms were due to the cool air and not his warm touch.
“Look, it’s just a wedding. Nothing to cry about,” he said. “If anyone’s crying it should be Tarik. Losing his freedom. Yes, it’s enough to make every man in the place weep.” He gave her a good-natured grin and removed his hand from her shoulder.
Immediately she missed the warmth of his touch. Ridiculous. A strange man took his hand away and she felt a chill. She tried to shrug off his remarks, which were obviously those of a confirmed cynic. He was just a typical, macho male with a commitment phobia. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I wasn’t crying….”
“Not crying?” There was amused surprise in his tone. Surprised that she’d try to deny it. Surprised that she’d dared disagree with him. He leaned forward until his face was only inches from hers and studied her carefully. His eyes held her gaze for a long moment. She tried to look away but couldn’t. She was trapped in the depths of those deep-brown eyes. Could that be sympathy she saw there or curiosity or something else? All she knew was she felt he was looking deep into her soul and she didn’t want him to. After all, she didn’t even know him.
He brushed a thumb against her cheekbone to wipe away a tear. A surprisingly gentle touch from a sophisticated man who looked like he came straight out of GQ. She felt a quiver run up her spine. Her legs felt like jelly. What was wrong with her, anyway? It must be the wedding, the tears, the joy and the music that were having an effect on her. Not to mention those allergy pills. No man had ever made her feel like this. No man had ever brushed away her tears either.
“Those were tears there,” he continued, cocking his head to one side. “You’re not a very good liar, sweetheart. I know what I saw.”
Anne took a deep breath and looked around. She had to get away from this man. Just in case it wasn’t the music, the tears and the flowers, just in case her condition had something to do with this man, with the way he looked at her, the way his thumb left an imprint on her cheek and the way his hand felt on her shoulder. She had to escape, right now. Before this cousin of the groom jumped to the conclusion that his unwanted attention was affecting her one way or another. That it was because of him she felt cold on the outside and hot on the inside. Or that she was afraid to look into his eyes again, which she absolutely was not.
She didn’t know where to go. Looking around, it seemed everyone was with someone. The photographer was snapping candid pictures, people were throwing rice and laughing and talking. No one was looking at her except him. She wished he wouldn’t. She wished he’d go join one of those other groups. But he didn’t. He just stood there looking at her. As if she were some rare bird like the ones she tracked on their migratory routes.
Thank heavens no one heard him call her “sweetheart” or noticed him touching her. Thank heavens no one knew what an effect that touch had on her. She felt it even now, the brush of his thumb on her skin. What an innocent she was. Any other woman would have shrugged it off, because it didn’t mean anything after all. Not to him.
“All right,” she said, “you saw tears, but not because…not for the reason you thought.”
“Cheer up,” he said with a smile that showed a flash of white teeth against his bronzed skin. “Think of it this way, you’re not losing a friend, you’re gaining a sheik.”
“Is that a good thing?” she asked, trying to strike a lighthearted, bantering tone, as if she dealt with handsome sheiks every day of the week. If she did she’d know how to deal with this man who undoubtedly needed a dose of humility. Not that she was the one to teach him. She taught six-year-olds to count and spell and read. She’d never met a sheik until Carolyn introduced her to Tarik, her fiancé, a kind and charming man who was obviously totally different from his cousin.
“A very good thing,” he said, his dark eyes dancing with fun.
Flirting. That’s what he was doing, she realized with a start. He was flirting with her, but she didn’t know how to flirt back. So she just stood there staring at him, wondering why he bothered with her. Why not hit on one of the other bridesmaids who’d know what to do, know what to say to a good-looking bachelor on the prowl. Anyone else would know how to put him in his place with a lighthearted riposte.
She was saved from responding to this bit of braggadocio by a request from the photographer for a picture of the entire wedding party inside the church.
“I guess that means me,” she said, grateful for the distraction.
“It means us,” he said, offering his arm.
She smiled weakly. As much as she wanted to, she knew it would be rude to ignore him, to stalk on ahead as if he hadn’t spoken, as if he hadn’t held out his arm. So she gingerly took his arm, so gingerly that he paused.
“I won’t bite, you know,” he said, slanting a teasing glance in her direction. Again his eyes danced with fun. At her expense. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. And they walked back up the aisle of the church. Thank heavens she wasn’t a bride, because she stumbled on the red carpet halfway to the altar, which caused the sheik to tighten his grip on her arm. He finally had to let her go so she could take her place with the bridesmaids and so he could take his place next to the groom.
But before the flashbulbs starting popping, she was compelled to cast a glance in his direction and found him looking at her. When he caught her eye he winked flirtatiously at her, and she quickly looked away.
Luckily she had to help the bride with her train on the way back down the aisle, and she lost sight of the sheik. Otherwise who knew what would have happened? She might have ridden with him back to the reception. She might have been wedged into one of the limos next to him all the way through town. The thought of his thigh pressed against hers, his shoulder next to hers caused the heat to rise to her head. She paused to take another allergy pill while she gave herself a stern warning about handsome men on the prowl.
Instead of riding with the sheik, luckily she caught a ride to the reception with Carolyn’s mother and aunt, during which they oohed and ahhed about what a lovely wedding it was and how beautiful Carolyn looked. Anne agreed enthusiastically, but when they started talking about the twin brothers, Rafik and Rahman, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the leather seat. She didn’t want to hear about them and she didn’t want to talk about them. She had nothing to say. She didn’t even know which one was which. This second dose of allergy medicine made her feel increasingly tired and groggy. If she could just make an appearance at the reception, she’d sneak out early and take a taxi home.
But she couldn’t ignore the conversation floating around her in the car. She couldn’t help feeling as if she were listening to a dialog from a movie.
“Aren’t those twins the handsomest men you’ve ever seen? You know, they arrived for the wedding a few weeks ago, but I heard they like it so much in San Francisco, they’re opening a branch of the family business here,” Carolyn’s mother said. “They’re going to be quite an addition to the social scene. With their looks and their money and their status.”
“So handsome,” Carolyn’s aunt murmured.
“Absolutely adorable, if I were thirty years younger….”
The two women burst into girlish laughter and even Anne had to smile. What was it about weddings that brought out the frivolous in everyone? Everyone but her.
“Anne,