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IT WAS getting late. Almost too late to bother going anywhere now.
Yet Evie stood staring out at London’s twinkling night skyline without
any outward signs of irritation. After all, there was nothing particularly
unusual in her lover keeping her waiting like this; he did it all the time
-duty being the altar at which he worshipped, usually at the expense of
everything else in his life.
And that included his woman. Beautiful though she might be, special
though he might insist she was to him, Evie knew she would always
have to take second place to what was really important in his life.
So, like some priceless piece of life-size porcelain draped in sensual
blood-red silk, she stood there in front of the drawing-room window in
his very luxurious penthouse apartment-and waited. She waited for her
man as she had been waiting for the last forty-five minutes now, calmly,
patiently.
Or so it might seem, for it wasn’t in her nature to show what she was
really feeling-a habit drummed into her by a very strict upbringing.
But only fools took that calmness at its serene-faced value.
Sheikh Raschid Al Kadah was nobody’s fool, but he wasn’t here to note
the tell-tale signs to Evie’s real mood. And the one person who was
attempting to keep her company rarely lifted his eyes high enough to
read those signs.
He stood by the white marble fireplace with his hands quietly folded
across his robed front and his tongue wisely silent, all attempts at polite
conversation abandoned long ago, when apologetically late had become
unforgivably late.
He caught her taking a quick glance at her slender gold wristwatch,
though. ‘I am certain he cannot be many more minutes, Miss Delahaye,’
Asim assured her with that quietly soothing diplomatic voice of his.
‘Some things are, I am afraid, unavoidable, and a telephone call from his
revered father is most definitely one of those things.’
Or a call from New York, Paris or Rome, Evie silently tagged on. The
Al Kadah business interests were far-flung and varied. The fact that
Raschid, as his father’s only son, now shouldered the burden for most of
those interests since the old man’s minor heart attack last year meant
that Evie was seeing less and less of Raschid-her position in the
pecking order being as low as it was.
A sigh whispered from her. The kind of sigh she would normally only
allow herself when she was sure she was alone. But tonight was
different. Tonight she was fretting over a very worrying problem of her
own, and she could have done without the added aggravation of a long
wait like this when she had, in truth, had to force herself into coming
here at all tonight.
Because she knew that Raschid was not going to like what she had to
tell him. In fact, she could positively say that he was going to hate it.
Oh, hell, Evie thought heavily, and was just in the process of lifting a
decidedly shaky hand to cover the throbbing ache that was taking place
behind her eyes when a door at the far end of the room suddenly
opened.
The raised hand paused then snapped downwards to form a small fist
at her side, her body tensing fractionally as she felt the full stinging
impact of Raschid’s sharp golden gaze lancing into her slender spine.
A taut silence prevailed as Sheikh Raschid Al Kadah paused in the
doorway to his own sumptuous cream and gold living room while sharp
shrewd eyes quickly assessed the mood of the room’s two occupants. The
arrow-straight set of Evie’s spine was, to him, eloquent, his servant’s
clear relief at his arrival profound.
Grimacing slightly in acknowledgement of both, Raschid dismissed the
other man with a silent gesture of his head. But the look in Asim’s dark
eyes spoke volumes as he walked towards him. ‘You are in deep trouble,
Sheikh,’ those wise old eyes told him. ‘The lady is not happy.’ Asim left
them alone with a rather sardonic bow of respect.
Which left only Evie, who was taking her time in turning to face him
-a message in itself that he completely misread because he was
expecting to see anger, so anger was what he saw in the slow, stiff
movement of her body.
Yet, despite her expected irritation and his own weary mood after
having just had to endure one of the worst telephone conversations of
his entire life with his father, despite the lateness of the hour, and
everything else that seemed to be conspiring against him in an effort to
turn his complicated life into absolute turmoil-despite all of that, when
their eyes actually met down the length of the beautiful white and gold
room there was a single sweet moment when everything came to a
delicious standstill for both of them. Evie because she was being assailed
by that hot, tight burst of sexual awakening that was always her first
response to this man.