He would play a waiting game. For now.
‘I apologise for embarrassing you, Rosalie.’ Her eyes were huge in her face. ‘Forgive me.’
She swallowed down hard. He watched the convulsive movement of her throat and tried not to wonder how soft her skin would be there. How tender the spot under the corner of her jaw, and further up her neck, just below her ear.
‘That’s it?’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘I’d rather you took a different view. We would find much pleasure together.’ Pink bloomed in her cheeks, darkened and spread, as he held her gaze.
Her blushes delighted him. The illusion that she was virtually untouched, untutored in the realms of sexual passion, held a strange appeal. He wondered if the blush extended down across her breasts to her peaked nipples.
‘You asked what I wanted and I told you. But as you don’t want an affair, let us concentrate on our lunch.’
‘As simple as that?’ Disbelief echoed in her tone.
‘As simple as that.’ It was a good thing she didn’t know how badly he wanted her. How intense was his desire. How eagerly he anticipated her eventual capitulation.
‘But surely…’ Frowning, she shook her head again as if to clear it. ‘It would be better if I left.’
‘Not at all. I’m looking forward to your opinion on our local fare.’ He turned to reach for a plate.
‘Still, I should go.’ She made to rise and Arik fought the impulse to snare her hand.
‘And your painting? You wish to leave that too?’
That stopped her in mid-movement, her expression arrested. But only for a moment. ‘That’s all right. I wasn’t sure it would turn out well anyway.’
‘You’re a very bad liar, Rosalie. Has no one told you that before? Of course it’s good. It’s more than good.’ He knew enough to understand Rosalie Winters had real talent.
‘Nevertheless—’ the jut of her chin sharpened ‘—it’s only a painting. It’s not worth…’
‘You think I ask you to prostitute yourself for the sake of a painting?’ Okay, so he’d used her art to get close to her. But pride rebelled at her idea that he’d blackmail her into bed. The doubt in her eyes fuelled his anger, tightened the muscles across his neck and shoulders.
‘I am not quite as needy as that, Rosalie.’
‘I didn’t mean to insult you.’ Her voice was a muffled whisper, yet she met his eyes. ‘But I don’t know you.’
Curtly he nodded. Women needed to protect themselves.
‘Let me assure you, on my word as sheikh of my people, I would never force you into intimacy. If my own scruples aren’t enough, remember I’m a public figure. Any wrongdoing on my part would swiftly become widely known.’
He watched her troubled face and, for a moment, wished he hadn’t told her what was on his mind. It was too soon.
‘I have never taken what was not freely offered.’ He paused, letting her weigh his words.
Her eyes, shadowed and doubting, held his. He was losing her. The sudden appalling notion crowded his brain and he felt as if someone had punched him hard in the gut.
The intensity of his reaction didn’t make sense. For all her intoxicating allure she was just a woman. There would be plenty of those when he returned to his normal life. Women eager and impatient for his attention.
Why did his heart thud harder as he waited for her to say goodbye?
‘I would rather finish.’ Her gaze slid from his as she half turned to watch the waves shushing in on the beach. ‘But it wouldn’t feel right, knowing you want more.’
He shrugged as relief hummed through him. ‘Men often look and want. But we don’t always get what we desire.’
His experience was different; he made it his business always to get what he wanted. No need to tell her that.
Her head swung round and their eyes met. He felt the impact in his tightening lungs. He wanted to thread a hand through the shimmering silk of her hair and pull her close. He wanted to taste her, not her hand this time, but her lips: lush, ripe, inviting. He wanted to explore her body, discover the places that triggered delight and ecstasy.
Slowly he exhaled. Patience. It would take time to breach the barrier of her distrust. She was as flighty as a newborn colt. Easily scared.
He summoned a smile and held out a plate. ‘Let’s enjoy lunch before it spoils. I will bring my horse to the beach each morning while you paint. In the afternoons we will view the local sights. Simple. No strings attached.’
Simple, he’d said.
Rosalie stared out the window of the four-wheel drive and knew this was anything but simple. All afternoon as they’d toured the old town, she’d struggled against the force of his personality, his magnetic attractiveness. Against desire and a burgeoning curiosity that undermined her determination to keep her distance.
She was losing the fight.
She should have left him at the beach. No matter that she wanted to feel it again, that rush of excitement when he looked at her with such searing intensity.
Perversely, it was his anger that had made her stay. The fury in his jet-dark eyes. Arik Ben Hassan had been genuinely outraged at the suggestion he might force his attentions. Pride had made his head jerk up, his eyes narrow in flashing denial and his hands curl into fists.
Rosalie wondered if the idea was outside his code of ethics. Or was it the hint that he might need to coerce any female to succumb to him? No doubt he cut a swathe through women with his looks and air of lazy sensuality.
Either way, she’d known with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t use force. He might tempt and persuade, but he’d respect her wishes. She was safe: while she wanted to be.
The thought sent a skitter of feral excitement down her spine. Did he guess how she felt?
‘I like the way the new buildings in the city blend in with the old,’ she said abruptly, conscious that the silence had lengthened between them as he drove.
‘I’m glad you approve. Planning sympathetic redevelopment has been a major issue for us.’ His smooth voice drew her skin tight and tingling.
‘You’re involved in the planning?’ She cut him a curious sideways glance.
He shrugged broad shoulders as he manoeuvred round a tight curve. ‘I am the Sheikh. It is expected.’
She’d seen that amazing house, the obvious wealth he commanded, but hadn’t considered the responsibilities of his position. Silly, considering what she knew of her brother-in-law’s punishing workload.
‘I suppose your official duties keep you busy.’
‘Busy enough. But my work often takes me away.’
He had a job too? She’d imagined him living the good life, flitting from city to city, and woman to woman.
His dark eyes danced as he turned to her. His lips curled up in a smile that made her insides liquefy. How did he do that with just one slow, sexy grin?
‘You’re surprised I work?’ He turned back to the road.
‘I…suppose I assumed that you didn’t need to.’
He nodded. ‘But inactivity does not suit me. I couldn’t loll about growing fat and idle.’
He’d never be fat. He had too much vigour.