Challenging the Doctor Sheikh Read online

  In answer, he released her hand and his arm slid around her until his long fingers wrapped over her hip. Supple black leather caressed her body as he slid her to him.

  Her throat went instantly dry, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t even figure out whether or not she should kiss the man. This morning, even after the hospital, she’d would’ve been tempted, but she could’ve resisted. But something about his unexpected confession moved her. Something about the way he accepted this feeling she couldn’t name, didn’t comment when it overcame her...moved her.

  If she kissed him now, it would be all over. She’d be tearing the man’s clothes off the second they were through the door of the flat.

  Leaning back, she blinked up at him, eyes wide, shaking her head. “We can’t. I can’t...”

  “You want me to kiss you, Nira.”

  “I do,” she admitted, then followed quickly, “And I don’t. I don’t want you to kiss me. We can’t. I can’t.”

  “You can. No one will see us.” The hand on her hip firmed up, curling her in against him even as she tilted her head back.

  Oh, he smelled good. And after the cold marble floor at her back he felt even better. Warm. Firm. Strong.

  “I can’t because I want to. Because it can’t go any further and there’s something really horrible about this level of chemistry. It’s like a trap. And you’ve been...” Less confessing would be good. Playful. Playful flirting was easier to say no to than this intensity threatening to swallow all her good intentions and every shred of reason. “You’re seducing me with your sexy architecture!”

  There. That was...well, pretty stupid. Not exactly flirty.

  He leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched her cheek, and she could feel his breath fanning her skin. “I thought you said your feelings about architecture weren’t sexually deviant.”

  “It’s not...”

  “So you mean I’m just here to tempt you like some sexy architecture-owning beast?”

  “Yes,” she lied. Going along with his interpretation was pretty much all she had going for her right now.

  His lips brushed the sensitive strip where jaw blended to chin. Technically, not a kiss. Just some maddening feather-light caress as he spoke.

  “You are temptation personified.” That was the truth at least. She turned her head so they were nose to nose, before he actually kissed her neck or her ear in some dastardly sexy checkmate. That’d be worse than kissing her lips.

  “Because you want to be a good girl,” he said, his voice still low, a deep throaty timbre that summoned an ache low in her belly, his lips barely touching hers as he spoke. “You turned your mouth to mine. Does that mean you want me to kiss you now, ya amar?”

  Ya amar. Speaking Arabic to her when she could barely think in English.

  “No.” Yes.

  Her heart hammered in her chest, but she balled her hands into fists so they wouldn’t do anything impetuous, like reach for him.

  His words finally translated in the fog of her mind and she asked, “Like the moon?”

  “Beautiful.” He whispered the explanation, stroking her ego in one word, but calling her on her lie with his next words. “You want me to kiss you despite all your denials. Take the choice away.”

  And it was a strike against her willpower and her devotion to the rights of women that he was right.

  Her stay in Mamlakat Almas was supposed to be a guidepost to help her figure herself out, in order to explore what she might’ve been had she been raised here. Even counting out the track record Hathaway women had with Middle Eastern men, she shouldn’t sleep with him—embracing what she might’ve been meant wrestling with the idea of chastity. Even if it was a little late for that, technically. She couldn’t go abandoning her admittedly possibly temporary principles over pure lust.

  But in the back of her mind, if he kissed her, as the instigator, he absolved her from blame. Like that was even minutely acceptable!

  Whoops, went to a foreign country and the sexiest prince in existence ravished me in the back of a limo. Rascally Prince. What can you do?

  “That’s unfortunate,” he said, letting go of her abruptly as he drew back. “Because I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to kiss you until you’re begging for it.” The car rolled to a stop and she realized only when he opened the door and got out that they’d arrived. Her workspace waited for her.

  On quivering legs, she managed to crawl out behind him and stand, but Dakan blocked her in against the car, holding the door with one hand as the other went to her hip. Still with that low seductive purr, he whispered at her ear.

  “And you will beg me for it, habibi. Because you’re not going to be able to think of anything but the way my mouth would feel on yours, on your skin, at your breast. You want me as much as I want you. The sooner you come around to admitting it, the happier we’ll both be.”

  He squeezed her hip and let go of her, stepping back so that the door was clear.

  She searched for something to say—anything to say—but came up blank. A girl could fantasize her whole life about someone throwing down such a sexy gauntlet, and in every fantasy she’d have a saucy comeback.

  Nira had no saucy comeback.

  All she managed to do was nod, and mutter, “Okay.”

  Walking took almost as much concentration, and she was glad he got back into the car and it pulled away so he wouldn’t see her wobbling her way into the building.

  Him leaving was probably all that saved her from begging right then.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FOR THE NEXT WEEK, Nira didn’t see Dakan once. He phoned every couple of days to check she didn’t need anything, letting her work and stew in her own confusion.

  Or maybe it was some other reason. Maybe he’d thought better of his sexy gauntlet. That would be a good reason to stay away. It’s not like there weren’t a billion women in the world who would love to pick up his sexy gauntlet. But she might very well be the only one within driving distance, unless he was looking for a wife, and something told her he wasn’t.

  The only part of her mind able to achieve any kind of clarity was the part that got absorbed in the work. And that had been sadly waning since she’d shipped the theater plans off to her firm to check a couple of days ago.

  Now, while waiting, she alternated between working on the wing addition and re-re-re-checking the changes she’d made. Remodels were always harder to work out than fresh builds and she didn’t want something to slip through.

  Equipment specs she’d been given all fit within the new footprint in a workable order, so was wheeled equipment that could be moved to the table.

  The new electrical grid gave extra room for demands that might arise in the future, and had been double-checked before she’d sent the plans in for approval.

  Dakan probably wouldn’t mind her knocking out a wall to make the theater include a small scrub bay that should’ve always been there. But who knew what Dakan was thinking? She’d had him pegged for a sexy charmer used to getting his way, but that confession... It didn’t seem like he got his way much here.

  These alternating opinions were going to make her seasick.

  Her email pinged with the plans being sent back to her. Nira opened to check for notes and, finding none, reached for her phone.

  Nira had not once called Dakan yet. She’d worked as much as possible because during the moments when her mind became quiet she had a hard time ignoring his prediction. If that’s why he’d stayed away, it was dastardly cunning.

  She’d never begged for a kiss in her life—let alone for sex—but the pendulum of her opinion swung between certainty all would be well if she did exactly what he said, and certainty she’d end up way over her head. The shadow of her birth and the ghost of her mother’s heartache had left
a mark on her.

  Mum hurt twenty-seven years later. The love she’d felt had twisted into something closer to hate, but that pain never went away.

  Nira couldn’t even predict how she might react in her mother’s shoes, only that if she fell for him it’d mean heartache. This was a culture of arranged marriages, and she was no one. She had no auspicious background or elite family history. She didn’t even really understand the culture beyond snapshots, generalizations, and probably the occasional accidental stereotype.

  This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She wasn’t looking for a husband right now anyway. She had yet to meet New Future Nira—whoever she’d be when she filled in the missing pieces—before she could even think about her future.

  Just call him, already. If it’s for work it doesn’t count.

  She dialed.

  A moment later, he answered, “Hal tashtaaqo lii?” Do you miss me?

  Yes, she bloody well did miss him. More than that, the sound of his voice sent a thrill through her that could only be fueled by the probability she was about to make a very stupid decision.

  “I have approved plans ready for the theater. Do you want me to print them out and make copies for your contractor?”

  “What about the royal wing addition?” He flowed with the way she steered the conversation, though a hint of amusement hung in his tone.

  “Not done yet, but it’s coming along. I expect to have new plans ready to send to home for review by the end of the week.”

  “So in three or four days?”

  “I hope to send it on Friday so it can be reviewed on Monday and Tuesday in the respective meetings,” she answered, then leaned back in her chair, chewing her lower lip. “So do you want the prints?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Why don’t you get them ready and I’ll come for dinner?”

  No. Say no. Fake a headache.

  No. He’d want to diagnose that.

  Tell him she was going to bed early.

  God, no, don’t bring up beds.

  But hadn’t she just been thinking about how he never got his way in things?

  Keeping her tone light, so it didn’t sound like a rejection, Nira said, “You may be the ruler-in-residence, but I think I’m still the one who is supposed to invite you over.”

  “You wish to invite me over? Very well! I graciously accept. I’ll even bring dinner if you don’t want to tax the housekeeper with a last-minute dinner.”

  Maybe he did get his way sometimes, probably by doing exactly this. Because it worked. He made it hard to say no to him. Not just his stubbornness, but he made her not want to say no to him. Made it hard not to want to play this ill-advised game.

  “Her name is Tahira, and she’s actually already cooking and always makes way more than I can eat. So, yes, you may come over.”

  * * *

  For once, Dakan knocked.

  Nira heard the rap on the door and it took her a moment to realize what it was. He never knocked. She called, so Tahira didn’t go scrambling for the door, “I’ll get it.”

  When she opened the door, he was smiling, “Oh, wearing trousers. Scandalous,” he said, winking as he slipped around her and waited for her to close the door. He’d ditched his usual suit for once and the flowing linen tunic and trousers looked even better on the man. So unfair. The clean whiteness made his usual scruff that much darker, and set off the polished bronze of his skin. The fact that he looked so happy probably also added to his aura of beauty.

  Obviously he hadn’t suffered a moment of doubt or confusion for the past week. He’d probably slept like a baby every night.

  “You’re in a very good mood.”

  “Of course I am. I’m here to get plans that will facilitate me returning to my life, and also? I believe I’m getting kissed.”

  Nira’s heart gave a little flip when he said “kissed.” “I didn’t say that.”

  He offered his elbow, and she stared at it a beat too long before slipping her hand through it.

  “We can talk about that later. For now, I have some news I thought you’d be interested in. Want the good news first, or the really good news?”

  Bypassing the desk and seating, Dakan guided her to the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows. The early evening sky had started to change color; soon the sun would be going down, and all the windows in the city reflected a hazy shade of rose.

  “The good news, I guess.”

  “I just came from the hospital. The man we sent to Dubai? He’s home. He got back today and I went to see him and what they sent back. He’s doing very well.”

  That might explain the lightness in his step, attire, and demeanor. “That’s wonderful news. You sure that’s not the really good news?”

  “I don’t know. I lied, I couldn’t decide which was better so I prioritized the one that’ll make your life easiest and most interesting.”

  “Okay. Let me have it,” Nira said. “Unless it’s that you’ve found a more experienced hospital designer. Don’t think I want to hear that even if it’d make my life easier and more interesting.”

  “Your job’s safe. For now,” he said, dragging her in front of him so she stood sandwiched between his firm heat and inches from the hard, bright window.

  The instant she felt his chest against her back, the decision was made. She was going to kiss him, at the very least. Something else might happen but, smug or not of him to think so, he was right.

  His hands slipped onto her hips and then around her waist to link loosely at her belly. Yes. Definitely completely at ease with the situation.

  Would he have even a drop of hesitation about this? If she could get a peek at his pros and cons list about kissing her—or sleeping with her—would there even be anything in the cons column?

  “You were right about the hospital. It looks like the royal wing will be finished in time for the baby, and the operating theater remodeled. It’d be foolish of me to continue going down a different road from the one Zahir and my father agreed on if I still plan on handing it back later. And, look, I’ve come to the conclusion before you got back to working on those plans.”

  “That’s good news,” Nira murmured, but her thoughts or interest just weren’t on the hospital. Meeting his gaze in the reflection on the window, the need to know took over her mouth. “Do you have any reservations about this? About something happening with us? I don’t even know what’s going to happen and I’m very conflicted, but you just don’t seem to—”

  He stopped her by sliding his hands back to her hips and stepping back enough to turn her to face him.

  “Of course I have reservations,” he said, brows drawing together above those deep brown eyes. “Not about whether I’d enjoy it, not about whether you would either. But one reservation is the possibility we’ll get too involved in bed. I only get a few hours a week to come here as it is, and if we spent all those hours in bed, that’d be detrimental to the project.”

  It made her feel better to know he had doubts. Doubts fueled her nearly twenty-four hours a day, so absolute confidence worried her.

  “What else?”

  “That you’ll forget where I stand and get hurt like your mother was hurt. Not pregnant, but just hurt. You don’t have anyone but me in Mamlakat Almas.”

  “I don’t really know where you stand, so that’s a valid worry.” She stepped to the side, as facing him in that narrow space between him and the windows was too much. “Never mind, this is too weird. Let’s just have a nice dinner and not worry about that.”

  “No.”

  She’d stepped past him when he stopped her by catching her wrist, and once more sensation radiated from where he touched her. These kinds of reactions were the problem. Couldn’t they make some kind of pill to turn that off?

  “If you don’t know where I stand, th
at needs to be remedied. I’ll be clear. I like you. I think you’re funny and clever, I think you’re kind of strange in your devotion to living a lifestyle you have no idea how to live, but it makes you interesting. I also think you’re beautiful and sexy, and before long I’ll be gone from here, but you’ll still be here, working with my brother.”

  “So, where you stand is...you like hanging around with me while you’re here, but after you’re gone, that’s it.”

  For the first time since he’d arrived, Dakan frowned, but he didn’t deny it. He nodded even as his thumb once more began that maddening stroking over her skin, though it wasn’t an unconscious thing. She recognized it now as an attempt at comfort. He knew how it sounded, he knew it sat wrong with her, and wanted to make it all right.

  “I doubt your mother was afforded that level of clarity. The kind of heartbreak you spoke of—that could only come from being blindsided and feeling betrayed. I can’t betray you if you know at the start I’m going to be gone in a couple of months.”

  “Okay. I know where you stand now.”

  She already knew that, but maybe he already felt important to her because she was so isolated here. She needed to make some friends not obligated to be nice to her to protect their livelihood.

  His words came back to her then and she tilted her head to look up at him. “Is this why my life is going to be more interesting?”

  He let go of her hand, allowing her to put a little more space between them. Her arms felt shaky, so did her knees. She still wanted to kiss him. Okay, one more step back...

  “We’re going to visit a few healing facilities in the country. I’m hesitant to call them facilities or centers. That makes it sound more organized than it is. But there are places with healers and different sorts of healing baths and treatments. They are like a strange mix of a spa and a doctor’s office.”

  “We’re going to go together? I get to go?”

  “You get to go. I need you to see what they do so we can try and replicate some of it here.”

  She felt the smile blooming from her belly before it ever reached her face. Somewhere outside the city, somewhere she’d probably find a more authentic location to what she would’ve had had her parents not split up—something more everyday than penthouses and palaces studded with precious stones.