‘I’d love to.’ With her business head firmly in place, Casey told herself there was nothing to compare with firsthand experience.
There was a bath beneath the stars on a wooden platform, which the women filled with the warm, fragranced water before scattering its steaming surface with petals. They even arranged the greenery to make sure she would be completely private.
‘That’s the benefit of the oasis,’ the young therapist explained. ‘There’s no shortage of screening here, and every product we use is fresh.’
‘And wonderful,’ Casey agreed, stepping into the water whilst the other woman held a towel to preserve her modesty. ‘Oh, this is magic,’ she murmured, sinking low and inhaling deeply, closing her eyes as she breathed in the delightful aroma of the water. ‘What did you say it was? Only I’m tingling all over.’
‘The rich scent of black coffee.’
‘Raffa!’ Water bounced over the side of the bath as Casey shot out of it. Realising he only had a towel wrapped around his waist and she was completely naked, she splashed down again, sinking as low as she could go.
‘Combined with the earthy notes of native grass, temple incense and tree bark to lend a little warmth and woodiness,’ he continued. ‘Oh, and a touch of desert magic…’
‘Where has everyone gone?’ Casey demanded anxiously, looking around.
‘That desert magic I mentioned.’
‘Raffa—stop teasing me.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You’ve frightened the women away.’
‘They bowed and left when I arrived.’
As they would to their king, she realised, trying to get her head around everything that was happening. Raffa’s expression, however, was anything but regal. ‘Arrogant—’
‘Brute?’ he suggested, his lips tugging with amusement as he moved closer to the platform on which her bath was resting. ‘Well, what do you think of it?’ he said, gesturing around. ‘Do you think the intrepid explorers you hope to attract to A’Qaban will approve of a desert spa?’
‘How could they not?’ What did she think? What did she think? There wasn’t a thought in her head that wasn’t X-rated. Hard-muscled, toned and tanned, with just the right amount of chest hair, Raffa had a tattoo running from just below his neck to somewhere she wasn’t prepared to look. If she had thought him sexy before, the ruler of A’Qaban half naked, with a rampant lion clambering all over him, was sin made flesh.
‘You can come up now,’ Raffa suggested. ‘I’ve seen it all before—or had you forgotten?’
No, she hadn’t forgotten, Casey thought, feeling deflated. The magic of the desert didn’t seem to be working in her favour, somehow. ‘So is this the end of my spa treatment?’ She was feeling thoroughly fed up as Raffa picked up a towel.
‘Not unless you want it to be…’
As he held it out, she demanded hoarsely, ‘Raffa, is this fair?’ And when he didn’t respond, she insisted, ‘Raffa, say something.’
‘Adam al-jawab jawab…’
‘Say something I can understand.’
‘Stand up first, and then I’ll translate.’ He jutted his chin when she hesitated. ‘You don’t want to catch cold, do you?’
Catch cold? She had enough heat for both of them. ‘You promised to explain,’ she insisted, as Raffa wrapped her warmly in a towel.
‘No answer is an answer—or, as you might say, silence speaks volumes.’
‘Well, that’s no good if I can’t understand your brand of silence,’ Casey pointed out. Her first thought was to keep the conversation going, distracting Raffa from her extremely aroused nakedness beneath the towel, but then the penny dropped. ‘Are you saying your being naked is fair?’
‘You’re naked, aren’t you?’
‘I’m here for a spa treatment.’
‘So am I. And you’re going to give it to me.’
Had the pussy cat found her claws? For a moment, as Casey gasped and looked truly alarmed, he wondered if she was ready for this. But then she gazed at him, and both challenge and determination crept into her eyes, and he changed his mind. He preferred a match of equals, but women constantly disappointed him. Casey was proving to be the exception to that. Money and status, in particular, were the last things on her mind.
Casey was searching for reality, one she could deal with. He wanted her to know a reality that existed beyond the pages of her parents’ books. That was one of the reasons he had brought her here. It was his intention to prove that there was nothing to be ashamed of in the naked body, that in all its exciting variations it was beautiful; he intended to start this tutorial with his own.
‘Come,’ he said, holding out his hand to her. He walked unselfconsciously, aware that Casey was trying very hard not to look at him.
He walked with her from the open-air bathroom into the main part of the tent where, at his instruction, the women had left the creams and oils she would need to perform the treatment he had in mind.
‘I’ll just climb up on the bed,’ he said, dropping his towel.
‘The bed?’ she gasped.
‘We’ll call it the treatment couch, if you prefer.’
‘I do prefer,’ she assured him, staring fixedly away.
He hid his smile to save her blushes. That he should meet a woman so fresh and challenging had really opened his eyes. He could share his life with a woman like this—a woman who could fulfil public duties at his side with the same enthusiasm that she should for other, more caring issues, closer to his heart. But he was wedded to duty and to A’Qaban, he reminded himself sternly. There had never been any room in his life for the self-indulgence of a love affair.
‘Well? Get up on the couch,’ Casey rapped impatiently, bringing his honourable thoughts to an abrupt close.
She plunged her arms up to the elbows in a tub of cream. She could do this. She would do this. Timid virgin or not, she had confidence. She just needed to dig deep and prove it—to herself and to Raffa. To herself mostly, Casey admitted silently.
‘Don’t forget to warm your hands up first,’ Raffa told her dryly, moving his face to one side as he eased his position on the couch.
‘Don’t worry—I will.’ They were warm already—very warm—and so was she.
She hadn’t looked at Raffa properly yet. She needed a moment to prepare before doing that. She glanced at his towel on the floor, and checked her own towel was securely fastened.
Casey’s breath caught in her throat as she took her first look at Raffa’s naked form.
‘Steady,’ he warned as she slapped two handfuls of goo on his back. ‘Half of that landed on the floor.’
Possibly because she had her eyes tightly shut. ‘I read somewhere that a firm touch is needed,’ she defended, wondering if the spasms of delight she was experiencing would ever stop racing from her fingertips to her arms, from where they spread outwards to every part of her body.
‘Firm, but not slapdash,’ Raffa agreed huskily. ‘Would you like me to show you how?’
Rippling with muscle, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere—which was quite a bit different from her own well-upholstered form. ‘No, that’s all right—I’m