The Desert Princes. Jackie Braun

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СКАЧАТЬ rhythmically, stroking until she’d had enough. He’d ease her thighs wide apart and cup her buttocks to keep her in the most receptive position—and of course he’d pay close attention to her responses and stop the moment she wanted him to—

      ‘Not too hot, are you?’ Raffa said, turning as she sighed.

      ‘No, I’m fine,’ she fudged, pretending to ease cramped limbs, though goodness knew there was enough room in the limousine to stretch out.

      Her imagination would get her into trouble one day, Casey acknowledged, but while her fertile mind insisted on teasing her with erotic possibilities in A’Qaban, her sensible self knew there was no law that said she had to open those doors and walk through.

      Maybe not. But she did have to shift position discreetly now and then to ease the worrying signs of arousal those thoughts had provoked.

      By the time they turned into the flag-lined drive of what Raffa briefly explained was A’Qaban’s premier hotel, Casey realised the towering pink stone building, modelled on the lines of an ancient fort, was something else she would be expected to market. She paid close attention. If the inside of the building were only half as impressive as the outside the hotel would sell itself, and the truth was she ached to take on tougher projects. Surely it was the diversity of culture and landscape that would sell A’Qaban to the world? She had to win the right to visit the desert.

      As the chauffeur drew the limousine to a halt at the foot of a wide sweep of steps, and Casey saw doormen better dressed than she was, she knew what her first steps towards that goal must be.

      But Raffa spoke first. ‘Take some rest,’ he said abruptly.

      Maybe he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

      ‘You’ll be working flat out tomorrow. You’ll find a list of essential telephone numbers in your room.’

      So he had changed his mind about the shopping trip. ‘And my business suit?’

      ‘I’ll call an aide and have a selection sent up to your suite.’

      Casey frowned. So some man was going to assume he knew what she should be wearing? ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll make my own arrangements.’

      ‘That is the way we do things here.’

      ‘Well, it’s not my way to have someone choose my clothes.’ She had intended to couch her refusal in a way she hoped Raffa would not find offensive, but unfortunately it didn’t come out that way, and she found herself confronting his narrowed gaze. ‘I’m used to picking out and paying for my clothes myself, you see,’ she added, hoping to soften the effect of her first sally.

       Had she gone too far?

      Raffa’s stern expression exhibited surprise, and then faint amusement.

      Which left her with just one thing to sort out. ‘When will I see you again?’

      ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He turned away, effectively dismissing her.

      She had gone way too far.

      Plus, as he turned to leave her she got the distinct and very embarrassing impression that he had not thought she was talking about their next business meeting. ‘I mean when will our next business meeting be?’ she clarified.

      ‘What else?’ Leaning half in and half out of the car, Raffa spoke to her in a muted and discreet tone that allowed him to get his message across loud and clear: ‘If this doesn’t work out for you, Casey, there are plenty of other jobs in my organization.’

      Roger that. ‘But this is the job I want,’ she said stubbornly, holding his gaze for as long as she dared so there could be no mistake.

      Sweeping inky brows rose minutely. Shutting the car door, Raffa made some signal, and then both he and the limousine swept away.

      So she liked to live dangerously, he mused, turning to watch Casey walk up the steps of the hotel. It amused him to see that she had managed to wrestle her backpack from the horrified doorman already. She was quite determined to go it alone and she made him smile. She hadn’t given him so much as a chance to have the shopping mall closed for her to have a spending spree on him. Oh, no, that wasn’t Casey Michaels’s way.

      He eased back in his seat, but found it impossible to relax. He swung round in his seat to take one final look at her.

      In fact…

      ‘Turn around, please,’ he told the driver. ‘We’re going back.’

      Oh, wow! She really must stop running around the suite, picking things up and putting them down again, and try to get over the fact that she had been given accommodation that exceeded her wildest dreams by her wildest dreams.

      Racing into the bathroom, she turned on the drench shower, getting drenched in the process, before sprinting back into the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen.

      Who needed a gym when you had your own running track?

      And, no, her backpack wasn’t in here, it was still in the ballroom-sized lounge, Casey remembered, chasing back the way she’d come. She had the whole of the top floor to herself, for goodness’ sake. It was less a penthouse and more a country. Even her bulging pack looked like a doll’s accessory, lying where she had discarded it on the football-pitch-sized rug in the centre of the floor.

      Fighting with the buckles, she flung it open and delved inside. The best she could come up with was a white T-shirt, a pair of old jeans and some flip-flops, but at least they were clean and fresh, and they’d have to do. Flinging the chosen outfit onto a chair, she raced back to the bathroom, tugging off clothes as she ran. Stepping gratefully beneath the tepid water, she soaped herself down. This was a bathroom fit for a king—a bathroom the size of her family home—a bathroom lined in pink-veined cream marble with a matching floor. There were black granite surfaces and golden taps. It wasn’t to her taste, but there was no doubt it was the height of luxury, the height of decadence, the height of—well, the height. And there was even a store-sized selection of high end products for her to choose from.

      But no time to use them.

      She grabbed for towels in her excitement, plucking the first ones that came to hand from the heated rail. Wrapping her hair in one, she almost managed to wrap her body in the other before barging through the door, and—

      Paling with shock, she remained rooted to the spot, clutching her wholly inadequate towel over those bits most obviously reacting to the ruler of A’Qaban.

      Raffa was currently lounging on the sofa. Surprised, excited and embarrassed, she performed a virginal two-step, backing her way to the bathroom door, conscious all the while her towel was slipping. ‘Wh…who let you in?’

      ‘Your butler.’

      ‘My…?’ She didn’t even know she had a butler. How many more invisible men were sharing the penthouse with her?

      Unfolding his powerful frame, Raffa straightened up and did the last thing she expected. ‘What are you doing?’ She backed away nervously as he strolled towards her.

      ‘I thought you might need these…’

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