The Sheikh's Unexpected Wife (Zahkim Sheikhs Series Book 3) Read online

  Except for thinking about Nasim and his kiss. She touched a finger to her lips. They still felt a touched bruised from that kiss of his and him nipping at them. With a sigh, she glanced at Jasmine's ring. She almost wished this was really her wedding night, so she could call Nasim back and tangle tongues with him again. She kicked off her sandals, twisted the emerald ring from her finger, and slapped it onto a side table.

  She was trying hard to save herself for marriage. She'd been engaged but hadn't been able to bring herself to do more than fool around with her fiancé. Turned out, he'd been a tad more interested in the family fortune than he had been in her. He sure as anything hadn't been the one for her, and she figured out soon enough what she'd already known deep down. She'd been in love with being in love. However, she might really be married now. What would Daddy say when he heard about that? And what was she gonna do about it? Well, as Mama always said, don't borrow trouble.

  Peeling off her wedding gown and leaving it draped over the back of a chair in the bedroom, she headed for the bath, found a huge shower, a bigger tub; a soak was just what she needed. She'd worry about finding her clothes later—she'd left her suitcase in the car that had brought her and Jasmine to the palace, and it had to be someplace. She hoped.

  The soak took the knots out of her neck; the warm water lapped over her skin but didn't quite stop the tingle down below that Nasim had started. Lordy, but that man could kiss. She stroked a finger into herself, rubbed the sensitive nub and thought of him. What would he look like lost to himself? Would he be a demanding lover? She gave a shiver. Maybe he'd be just a touch kinky. Heat washed through her, and she let out a breath. Almost—just almost—she'd let him into her room. But that wasn't wise. She was here on business.

  Pulling herself out of the cooling water, she started the water draining and grabbed a thick, white towel to dry herself. She washed her underwear in the sink and left it to dry.

  Heading for her bed—also draped in blue and soft as a cloud—she slipped between the sheets naked as a jaybird. She had her phone with her and Wi-Fi good enough to manage a search. Just how did someone get themselves hitched in Zahkim? Finding out the facts was harder than sin—tiny as Zahkim was, she couldn't find much on its laws. She texted Jasmine instead.

  “What did you teach me to say at that wedding?”

  After that she texted her folks. They thought she was in Zahkim to attend Jasmine's wedding, so she only mentioned how the wedding had been lovely and she was staying to do some sightseeing.

  Five minutes later, she got back a smiley face from Jasmine with a file attached. Ginni opened it only to see an image of an ultrasound—Jasmine's unborn baby.

  Ginni put a hand over her mouth and just about melted. The baby looked tiny—and precious. And a little more along than a couple of months, since it was clear on the ultrasound image that Jasmine was having a baby boy. No wonder Jasmine had been desperate to get out of a marriage to Nasim. She was right to want to be with her baby's father.

  She sent back Jasmine an emoji of flowers and went back to searching on the Arabic Jasmine had made her memorize. She finally got it pieced together, word by word. Under the warmth of the comforter, her skin chilled.

  Jasmine had taught her to say, “I offer you myself in marriage in accordance with the instructions of the Holy Koran and the Holy Prophet, peace and blessing be upon Him.”

  Ginni threw her phone onto the bedspread. "Ain't that a kick in the pants, an' just like Jasmine to put herself first. Well, maybe I really am married, so tomorrow I'd better start looking up how a girl gets a divorce around here." She bit down on her lower lip. Or maybe she'd just wait a day or two and see what it was like being married to a sheikh.

  Nasim sat at the conference table, trying hard to focus on the meeting and not let his attention slip to thoughts of Ginni. He was working hard to take to heart Arif's advice about going slow, but he had started to think he ought to throw that into the bin along with these bloody awful numbers.

  Arif sat next to him, and two other state ministers opposite. Tarek ought to have been here, but he had been delayed on a trip with his wife, Tess Angel, to America. An unofficial visit, for it involved Tess visiting a specialist about her pregnancy. Tarek was taking no chances with either Tess or his baby. Nasim couldn't blame him. Tarek wanted a son to inherit the throne, and that was a bloody good thing. Neither he nor Arif sought the headaches that kept Tarek occupied in terms of trying to bring Zahkim into the modern world without the staid traditionalists staging a revolt.

  Idly, Nasim listened to the reports, already bored with them and wishing he had had time to take breakfast to his new wife. Or even to see her. The other ministers seemed to delight in good news/bad news, but all of it boiled down to a higher well production meaning massive expenses to try to ship oil from the new refineries to shipping docks.

  "That is if Dijobuli will even allow us access. We may have to use the highway to the north, which adds five hundred miles," Arif said. He shot Nasim another sideways glance that as good as said this was all Nasim's fault.

  Closing the report he'd been glancing at, Nasim loosened his tie and leaned his elbows on the table. "We may have to make a deal with Leeland Enterprises to cover the increased oil production."

  "What?" The word burst out of Arif. The other two ministers started up protests as well. They said nothing Nasim didn't already know. Leeland Enterprises started off being invited into a country with a small deal, expanded with investment and loans, and ended taking most of the profits as they leveraged that into ownership of the oil wells. That story had been repeated in small countries around the world.

  Nasim let everyone run out of steam, and then tapped on the folder in front of him. "We must face facts. The pipeline across Dijobuli is lost to us. Ahmad doesn't have another daughter I could court—"

  "As if he would allow that now," Arif muttered.

  Ignoring him, Nasim tapped on the folder again. "And he has no son who might inherit the throne and be more reasonable in his dealings. We are left with a dozen cousins in Dijobuli and no clear successor and therefore no immediate solution."

  "And an angry father." Shaking his head, Arif leaned back in his chair. "How do we ensure a deal with Leeland does not end up with him stripping Zahkim of what oil we have?"

  Smiling, Nasim stood and smoothed his tie. "I think I can negotiate better terms. I may not have ended up with the right wife, but I will see that my new one does well by Zahkim. Now, please excuse me for a few days."

  He left the ministers and Arif staring after him.

  Heading up the stairs, Nasim stopped to give orders that clothing from the top designer in Zahkim should be brought to the palace for his wife. Wife. That word sat oddly on his tongue, but he rather liked the taste of it. He'd called the family lawyers last night for advice. While the marriage contract with Sheikh Ahmad had been invalidated due to Jasmine's elopement with someone else, the lawyers believed the ceremony with Virginia Leeland to be binding. She had agreed to the marriage, as had Nasim. He told them to look into the details and make certain. He hated surprises, and this marriage had started to spin out of control yesterday when Ginni had swept into his life. He grinned—she was rather like a desert wind, irresistible and unsettling. But certainly not boring.

  Heading up the stairs, he made his way to Virginia Leeland's room. He had left orders for a tray with coffee and tea to be taken up to her. He found it outside her room on a side table. More bloody surprises. Putting a hand on the silver coffee pot, he found it still warm. It hadn't been sitting here all that long. He picked up the tray and balanced it on one hand.

  Knocking softly on her door, he waited for her to answer.

  Nothing happened.

  Had the girl bolted? But how? The palace guards would have informed him if she'd sought to leave. Trying the door handle, he found it unlocked. He opened the door and stepped inside. The drapes had been drawn across the French windows, leaving the room in cool shadows. Already the day
was warming. Striding across the carpet, he peeked into the bedroom.

  Ginni sprawled on the bed, one bare foot sticking out from the covers, the duvet tangled around her waist, her back a smooth stretch of tempting, dark skin. She muttered something in her sleep and let out a long breath.

  He held still, but she did not wake.

  Setting the tray down on one corner of the bed, he came around the side. She looked utterly beautiful, her hair tumbled, her face bare of any makeup or veils. Something tightened in his chest, but he didn't care to study the emotion—he preferred to leave the woo-woo stuff to Arif. He'd rather simply act.

  So he did.

  Reaching out, he touched one finger to the spot just under the curling, dark hair on her head, ran his finger down her spine to the small of her back to a spot where two dimples appeared above the covered swell of her ass. The wide hips he had felt but not seen last night remained covered, as did her breasts, but he could see the curve of her waist. And that length of bare back left his mouth watering.

  Leaning down, he feathered a kiss between her shoulder blades. She let out a small breath and smiled in her sleep. Straightening again, he eased his trousers to allow more room for the erection now trying to tent the bespoke fit. Staring down at all that smooth, brown skin, he realized he had not presented his wife with so much as a ring. The emerald ring had been for Jasmine and now seemed abandoned on a side table. Ginni needed something else.

  Pulling out his phone, he sent off a couple of texts to the palace staff, and then he sat down in an overstuffed armchair and put his mobile onto a blaring ringer.

  Ginni gave a groan and rolled over in bed, fumbling with one hand for an alarm clock. He got a flash of breast, and she dragged open her eyes. She sat up, clutching the duvet to her breasts. Nasim gave up trying to behave—he'd never been good at it.

  He stood and crossed to the bed, leaning in for a good morning kiss on those pouting lips. He brushed a finger down one bare arm and gestured to the tray.

  "Your coffee is getting cold. Do you want me to ring down to the staff for a fresh pot?"

  Chapter Five

  Ginni blinked. "I could get used to this." She bit down on her lower lip. She hadn't meant those words to come out. But finding Nasim sitting in a chair, watching her, looking sexy as all get out was something she could do with every morning.

  Now he was standing next to her bed, looking about ready to crawl in with her, those tawny eyes of his shooting off sparks that had her warm all over. The aroma of coffee—bitter and strong—had her lifting her nose and glancing around. She could also do with something to wake her up. Nasim seemed to realize that, for he stepped around the bottom of the bed, poured her a cup and brought it to her.

  She wet her lips, still tasting him on them. He stood there, china cup held out to her, his lips curved in the fragment of a smile and eyes giving away nothing of what he was thinking or feeling.

  Taking the cup, she asked, "Didn't your mama teach you to knock?"

  "I did knock. You did not answer. And you might say my mum taught me more about how not to behave. She took herself off to Paris years ago, after my father died of cancer."

  "Oh…oh, I'm…sorry."

  "Nothing you should apologize for. I find it far easier to get along with what remains of my immediate family from a great distance. As to the rest, well, I am a sheikh of Zahkim in the Zahkim palace."

  She eyed him over the rim of her coffee. "Meaning you do as you please?"

  His smile widened. "Not quite, but close enough."

  Sipping her coffee—and it had cooled to barely warm—she wondered if anything really ever got under his skin. He sounded calm and in control. She wasn't. Her heart had skipped when he'd touched his lips to hers—just a brush that had warmed her insides and had her thinking about grabbing his tie to drag him down in the sheets with her. The worry rose that this sheikh had already slipped too far under her skin in just a day.

  Well, she'd wanted face time with Sheikh Nasim Said, and she'd sure gotten her wish. Now she had to figure out how to work a deal with him.

  Still clutching the comforter with one hand, she held out the coffee cup. "It's gone cold."

  He took the cup from her and set it back on the tray. "Come have something hot then. I've ordered breakfast for us downstairs. I only had tea this morning." He turned and started to walk out.

  She called out to him, "Wait. What about my clothes? I left my suitcase in Jasmine's car."

  Glancing over his shoulder, that infuriating, Cheshire Cat smile still in place, he said, "I've taken care of everything. See you as soon as you're dressed."

  She heard the door open and close. Throwing off the covers, she fled to the bathroom. At least she had her underwear and some towels there, and she'd drag on that rumpled wedding getup and those little-bit-too-small sandals if she had to.

  Turned out she had no need of the dress or Jasmine's sandals. She came out of the shower damp, underwear on, her hair frizzing, to find two guys and a gal in the sitting room, all of them slim and fashionable in skinny jeans and loose shirts and standing next to a rack full of clothes. Seemed no one knocked on any doors around here. They also didn't seem like they minded her in her skimpies, even if the heat rushed through her.

  One guy tutted at her, the other rolled his eyes, but the girl cocked her head to one side and started pulling clothes off the rack. Ginni found clean underwear—something lacy and black—thrust at her and clothes held up for her selection. They didn't speak English, and she didn't know Arabic, but she got the message loud and clear—"you look a mess, sweetie, so we're gonna fix that.”

  She changed her underwear—and lordy, were these lacy wonders just a little touch of heaven. The guy who'd tutted managed to get her hair under control. The guy who'd rolled his eyes nixed the black dress the girl had pulled out and got Ginni into a flowing top and wide-legged pants in a vibrant orange. She'd never worn the color before, but she liked it. Slim flats matched the clothes. Her new crew left a dozen more outfits in the closet, all bright blues and greens and a couple things in white, with an array of shoes, scarves, and everything else a girl could love. She'd have traded one for some makeup but made do with lotion from the bathroom on her face and hands.

  Waving good-bye to her new friends—heck, anyone who'd seen her in undies had to at least be called that—she headed out. She had to ask twice where she'd find Nasim, but she tracked him down to a cozy—by palace standards, she was thinking—room set with a glass-topped dining table and food.

  "The aroma of coffee helped guide me," she admitted. When she walked in, Nasim stood and pulled out a chair for her. She grinned at him. "Ain't you just sweet as can be and better than a butler."

  He gave her a sideways look, but she winked to let him know she was joking. Shaking his head, he sat and snapped his fingers.

  A couple of the staff—she could tell them by white pants, some kind of long, white tunic, and the lack of dishtowels on their heads—appeared carrying black velvet cases.

  "It's customary to give a bride jewels," Nasim said.

  The staff opened the cases, and Ginni caught a sharp breath. She'd never had much interest in fancy sparklers. Her mama had a set of pearls and some diamond earrings Daddy had given her, but Ginni had been more interested in asking for her first pony and European ski trips. But these…oh, lordy.

  One case held a ruby and diamond necklace. The rubies hung like drops of blood from a circlet of flashing diamonds, which looked like stars pulled out of the night sky. The other held a gold ring with an oval ruby surrounded by smaller diamonds, and a matching brooch. "All that's missin' is a tiara."

  "That's still in the treasury," Nasim said. He stood, came around the breakfast table and took up the necklace. He fastened it around her neck, his fingers warm on her skin, leaving her even hotter than she had been. He pressed his mouth to her skin, just under her jaw, right where her pulse thudded hard. She almost melted.

  Taking her hand, he slipped on the
ring. It was a touch loose, and he frowned at that. "I'll have it adjusted," he said, sliding the ring off her finger again.

  She touched the necklace, cool and hard on her skin. Her mouth dried, and her mind emptied. What do you say to a guy who gives you rubies before breakfast?

  Nasim settled back in his chair, waved away the servants, and took up his coffee cup. "There's flatbread, goat cheese, fresh fruit, yogurt, and jam. I generally prefer kippers, eggs, and crumpets, myself, so those are available if you'd rather."

  She glanced at the food, hardly seeing it and not really tempted by much other than the man sitting next to her. "Coffee's fine." She poured out a cup, found it strong and bitter—dark and handsome as you could wish. She almost groaned and was glad she hadn't said that.

  Leaning toward her, his scent teasing her with a hint of musk and spice, he asked, "Shall we talk business?"

  Chapter Six

  Nasim watched Ginni fiddle with her coffee cup, turning it until the handle had made one circuit around. He had no difficulty reading her. She shifted in her chair, tugged at a curl near her cheek, and he knew she must be starting to realize she had ruined his wedding—she owed him. Which did not put her in a strong place for any negotiations. Now, he had gifted her with jewels, leaving her even more in his debt. He smiled and waited to see what she'd do. Personally, he would have ignored the disadvantages and pressed his case anyway. Ginni seemed to have other ideas.

  Propping her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, she asked, "Any chance we can get out of the palace for the day? I'm stallin', I know, but I told my folks I was staying to see some sights and I hate to make myself out a liar." She gulped down her coffee. "And, truth is, I need a better lay of the land."