Christmas Bride For The Sheikh. Carol Marinelli

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       CHAPTER THREE

      HAZIN SHOWERED AND thought of the woman who now lay in his bed.

      He liked her being there.

      Flo made him laugh and that in itself was unusual for there had been little laughter of late.

      As a rule, Hazin offered no breakfast with bed that might encourage an overnight guest to stay longer, but he came out and dried himself with a towel and found he had not changed his mind—he wanted her here.

      ‘Do you want breakfast?’

      ‘That would be lovely,’ Flo said, and sat up as he picked up the bedside phone and ordered breakfast for two.

      She did not know how to tell Hazin that she knew who he was and wished that she had got it out of the way last night.

      Now she stood watching him dry off. There was a bruise on his chest that her mouth had made and another on his neck. He was muscled and toned and his length was rising from his thigh. He watched her watching it.

      ‘Did I miss a bit?’ he said, holding the towel out to her. She wanted to take it, to dry his glistening skin and then wet him again with her mouth. Their want and desire was so matched, and her body so willing, but she had to clear things up first.

      ‘Hazin,’ Flo said, declining the towel, and she swallowed nervously as he resumed his leisurely drying off. ‘Last night, I came—’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘I mean I came to Dion’s in the hope...’ Her words were coming out wrong, Flo knew that, but she just didn’t know how best to tell him. So she simply did. ‘I knew that you’d be here.’

      The towel stopped in mid-stroke of his thigh.

      ‘Meaning?’ he said, and then gave a derisive laugh. ‘You know who I am.’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘Did you get your photo of me?’

      ‘Hazin!’

      ‘Or are you off to sell your story now?’

      ‘Please listen—’

      ‘No, you listen.’ He pulled on his clothes with some difficulty for the angry words had fired him, and as he attempted to tuck himself in, words hissed out through his teeth. ‘Do what you want. I don’t care...’

      ‘I’m a friend of Maggie’s.’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘The woman you met on the yacht...’

      ‘You mean the one who bribed me?’

      ‘No.’ Flo knelt up on the bed, shaking her head, and then she pulled the sheet up to cover her for everything had vanished in a heartbeat—the intimacy, the carefree nakedness, the laughter, all that they had so recently found swept away by her careless words.

      ‘Hazin...’ She took a breath, and though her mouth was open she did not know what to say.

      Clearly Maggie had stayed away last night for a reason. Perhaps she had changed her mind about telling Ilyas that she was carrying his child?

      And now certainly wasn’t the time or place to tell Hazin!

      ‘Get out,’ he said, and his voice whipped the tense air.

      ‘Hazin, what happened last night had nothing to do with Maggie. I didn’t come to the bar intending to sleep with you.’

      He was too used to this, Hazin thought as he marched through to the lounge and retrieved her underwear and dress that they had so happily disposed of last night. He walked back to the bedroom and tossed them to her on the bed.

      ‘Get out!’ he said again.

      But then he changed his mind, for he could not wait however long it would take her to dress for Flo to be gone. ‘Actually, I’m going to go,’ he told her. ‘I want you out of here by the time I get back. If you’re not, I’ll ask Security to have you removed.’

      She knew how effective his security was.

      He grabbed his wallet and phone and pocketed his keys.

      ‘Stay for breakfast at least,’ he sneered. ‘You certainly earned it.’

      * * *

      Hazin kicked at the kerb as he walked down the street.

      It was grey, СКАЧАТЬ