Her mind flitted over the procession of events, tracing the progress of her torment. The plane trip to the States hadn’t been too bad. Perhaps emotional and physical exhaustion had drawn a protective curtain around her. Tareq had been solicitous of her comfort, coaxing her to eat and drink at various intervals during the flight, but she’d managed to put him at a distance from her, sleeping a lot, watching videos, reading magazines. He’d let her be, not pushing his company on her.
After they’d landed at Fort Myers, she’d focused on external things, looking at where they were going, asking questions about what they were passing. They’d driven through a fabulous estate development comprising dozens of magnificent homes and luxurious condominiums set on perfectly landscaped and beautifully maintained lawns and lakes and gardens, three golf courses, neighbourhood pools and gyms and tennis courts, a private beach and marina facing onto the Gulf of Mexico. It had surprised her to learn it was one of Tareq’s property investments, another mind-boggling sample of the wealth at his disposal.
“Have you come to check on it?” Sarah had asked.
“Not particularly. I kept one of the houses facing the beach for myself. It’s a convenient base for this time of year. People come to spend the winter months here.”
Only very rich people, the kind who mixed in his league.
“And it’s not far from Ocala. Handy for looking at the horses on the ranches around there. I’ve been advised there’s a couple of yearlings that might interest me.”
“So we’re here on business.”
“A short vacation first.” Blue eyes smiling warm kindness. “You need it.”
Kindness with a purpose…always a purpose behind everything Tareq did.
The first day…arriving at this fantastic house with its impact of glorious space; huge airy rooms, tall ceilings, lots of glass, the decor in all shades of sea colours; pale blues and greens, white tiles on the floor, rugs patterned with sea-shells, wicker furniture…a beach house, but on such a luxurious scale it seemed a misnomer to Sarah. Being given her own suite and meeting the couple who took care of everything—Rita and Sam Bates—created a comfort zone. For the first day.
The second day had actually been fun, bicycling around the estate, trying out the pool and hot tub, discovering the wonderful taste of stone crabs, a special delicacy of the area served by Rita that night. Seeing Tareq stripped to a minimal swimming costume had been slightly unnerving but not overly disturbing. She could still concentrate on other things at that point.
The third day he’d taken her on an exhilarating air-boat ride over the Everglades, skimming the seemingly endless grassy marshes, seeing the fascinating bird life and alligators, amazingly a nest of baby ones. She had enjoyed it, though she’d become very conscious of Tareq watching her enjoyment, gleaning some private pleasure in it.
She had the sense he had forgotten what uncomplicated joy was like and was relearning it from her. It had made her feel good, useful, of some positive value, giving him something that had been lost from his life.
The next day there’d been a rapid escalation of good feelings. Too rapid. It reminded her of sugar candy being spun around a stick. One was so entranced with the fairy floss, the stick supporting it was lost in a cloud of pink.
Tareq had taken her to Smallwood’s Store and she’d wandered around the historic trading post, fascinated by all the relics of the past which had once been sold to the pioneers of the Everglades, coming in their boats which they tied to the piers of the old wooden structure at waterside. Furs and plumes were traded here for food and cloth and all manner of household goods from lamps to treadle sewing machines, medicine, books, every kind of working tool. The place was a treasure chest of past lives and Sarah revelled in the experience of stepping back in time.
Tareq had seen it all before but he wasn’t bored, wasn’t the least bit impatient with her journey of discovery. He shared the knowledge he’d picked up from reading local books, fed her interest, indulged her fascination, and watched her with a warmth that kept getting under Sarah’s skin.
There was something very intoxicating about approval. She’d had so little of it in her life. Yet she found herself wary of its bestowal from Tareq, not quite trusting it, looking for the purpose behind it. Was Tareq subtly plumbing her unfulfilled needs and wants to establish a deeper tie with him?
I don’t think any pretence will be necessary.
Better if the woman he used for confronting his uncle was very convincingly stuck on him.
The fifth day they’d spent on the beach. The sand was gritty with broken-up shells. They lay on loungers shaded by umbrellas, swam in the relatively warm waters of the gulf, picnicked from a hamper Rita had prepared for them. It should have been a blissfully relaxing day, if only Sarah had been able to keep her eyes off Tareq.
She couldn’t help it. In clothes the man was strikingly handsome. Virtually naked, for hours on end, lying beside her, walking in and out of the water, towelling himself, his physical beauty was almost mesmerisingly addictive, compelling her gaze to linger on his perfectly proportioned and powerfully muscled body. More disquietening was the desire to touch. His skin gleamed like rich, bronze satin and it was a continual strain to clamp down on the impulse to reach out and graze her fingers over it.
He caught her watching him slap oil around the calves of his long, strong legs. “Want some?” The blue eyes twinkled teasingly, knowingly, shaming her with the realisation he had to be aware of his effect on the opposite sex and she was proving no different from any other woman.
“No. I’m fine, thank you,” she’d answered stiffly.
He’d returned to his task, smiling to himself, and there was still a little curve on his lips when he lay back down on the lounger, his eyes closed to her. Was he amused that she couldn’t stop herself from being attracted to him? Satisfied it was beyond her control? Or was she being hopelessly neurotic, reading a connection to her into a smile which might simply be expressing gratification in a lazy, sensuous day.
Sarah’s gaze slid down over his taut stomach and fastened on the very male bulge at his crotch. She felt a point of sexual heat start burning between her own thighs and quickly turned away from him, squirming both physically and mentally from the wild desire to know what he was like as a lover, to feel that body intimately engaged with hers. She’d never actually lusted over a man before. It made her uncomfortably conscious of her own body, as well as his.
On the sixth day they’d gone fishing with Captain Bob, which had been another new and exciting experience until she’d had the misfortune to hook a very big fish on her line. She wasn’t strong enough or practised enough to reel it in. Tareq had stood behind her, his arms around her waist, one hand helping to hold the rod in its holster, the other closed over hers on the handle of the reel, showing her how to play the fish on the line.
It wasn’t a sexual embrace, merely a supportive one, yet it blew away all Sarah’s concentration on what she was supposed to be doing. It was Tareq who eventually landed the fish. All she remembered was his breath warming her ear as he gave instructions, the strength of his fingers pressing on hers, the electric excitement coursing through her body from the contact with his, the sudden scorching hunger to feel everything he could make her feel.
When he moved away, admiring the catch netted by Captain Bob, Sarah was left trembling violently, shocked by the snaking intensity of sexual need which was still writhing through her. She dropped shakily onto the closest bench seat and stared at the fish, caught no matter how much it struggled. Like her, she thought, only Tareq was still playing her on his line.
“Let it go,” she’d croaked, then fiercely challenged the quizzical look from Tareq. “I