A Sheikh for Christmas Read online

  Daveed had never been modest about his body, but most of the women he’d dated had been. Not Melody though. She stretched like a cat, all lithe and graceful. He felt the stirrings of life in his cock again. Another first. Seemed his desire for her knew no bounds.

  “So, what are we doing now?” she asked, giving him a coy look from beneath her lashes.

  He growled and grabbed her around the waist, tossing her over his shoulder caveman style and swatting her butt. Her surprised laughter filled the room as he carted her off toward the hall and his bed. “Now I’m going to make love to you again properly.”

  “Properly?” she said, with mock disappointment. “But I like it when you’re naughty.”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” He kissed her hip and grinned. “We’re both going to be very, very naughty tonight.”

  7

  Mel woke the next morning feeling more rested and peaceful than she had in months. There was something warm and hard pressed to her back and a heavy weight slung over her waist. As she snuggled in closer to the heat source, memories of the previous evening drifted back into her mind, stalling her actions.

  She’d slept with Daveed.

  Her eyes widened in the pre-dawn gloom. Oh. My. God.

  She’d made love with Daveed Rafik, her ex-fiancé’s best friend, and she’d liked it.

  Hell, she’d loved it.

  Unable to suppress a grin, she carefully raised her head to peek over her shoulder at him, still asleep behind her. It should be against the law for a man to be so rumpled and still look so damned sexy. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles around his head, the shadow of stubble on his jaw had grown significantly overnight, and he was snoring lightly. Yet even with all that, she couldn’t seem to stop staring at his full, soft lips. At the way his long dark lashes fanned out over his high, chiseled cheekbones. At the faint hint of his aftershave and shampoo still lingering in the air. The man was drop-dead, drop-your-panties gorgeous. No two ways about it. She shifted slightly beneath the arm he had slung protectively around her waist, until she was on her back. This close, she could see every muscle and sinew in his cut torso. Could see his brown nipples through the smattering of dark hair on his pecs. Nipples she knew to be exquisitely sensitive to her lips and her touch. He murmured something in his sleep and tugged her close to him and her heart gave a quiver of joy before melting into a puddle of goo. She’d come to the condo to find a place to stay. She’d never expected to find love as well.

  Her thoughts snagged on that last word.

  Whoa. Wait a minute. Melody frowned. She’d just gotten out of one relationship. The last thing she needed right now was another one. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to Daveed to jump into something with him on the rebound. No matter how tempting it might sound. She was confusing physical intimacy with something more. That was it. And yes, the sex had been amazing. But that didn’t mean she had to go and get her heart involved, did it? No. It did not. Keeping her emotional distance when she was so vulnerable was the smart thing to do, the wise thing to do.

  And since her vow to start over again, Mel was all about doing the smart, wise thing.

  Slowly, so as not to wake Daveed, she slid out from under his arm and climbed from the bed. After hitting the bathroom, she tugged on her clothes from the night before and cast one last, furtive glance back at him in the bed—he’d stretched out to cover basically the entire bed now, his long limbs covering the mattress from corner to corner, and the sheet dipping precariously low on his hips to reveal the upper curve of his muscled backside—then tiptoed out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

  She’d mastered that skill while staying with him, along with making toast and eggs. One more thing she could thank Daveed for when the time came to leave. Her chest gave an unexpected squeeze at the thought of walking away from all this domestic bliss they shared in the condo, even if it was only an illusion. This, right here, was all she’d ever wanted. A safe, stable, loving home, with a good man who cared for her as much as she cared for him. And maybe it was naïve and a bit silly, but then again, so was she.

  After scooping fragrant grounds into the filter and pouring water into the back of the machine, she hit the start button then walked out into the living room area to straighten up. The throw they’d used under the tree was still bunched on the floor and their clothes were scattered everywhere. Chuckling, she picked everything up and set it right, then took a seat on the sofa, staring out into the snowy New York dawn. Faint bands of lighter gray were just becoming visible between the tall skyscrapers in the distance and it wouldn’t be long before the new day began.

  How would Daveed react when he woke and remembered what they’d done last night? Would he care? Would anything change between them now? Would he want more from her? More time? More attention? More… commitment?

  More importantly, would she want those things from him?

  Whenever she used to think about her engagement to Heath, her insides felt tied in knots from tension. There’d been so much extra baggage tied into her relationship with him—her parents’ wants and needs and expectations; her own doubts about whether things would ever work out between them; Heath’s lack of attention and care toward her.

  Funny enough, though, when she considered the possibility of taking that next step with Daveed, she felt only peace. Peace and excitement. After all, Melody really liked Daveed for who he was as a person. His smokin’ hot body and the fact he was frigging royalty were just bonuses, for goodness sake. And yes, he’d said he never intended to ascend to his country’s throne, but the fact was, it was still an option for him. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine living life as a princess on some exotic Middle Eastern island, surrounded by servants and sand and untold luxury. It would make the Park Avenue mansion she’d grown up in look like trailer trash.

  Then his confession to her about having an arranged marriage himself clanged inside her head. He’d never really said how he’d gotten himself out of that. Was that why he’d left Al Dar Nasrani? To get away from his responsibilities? To flee the oppression his parents tried to foist on him?

  Her mind continued to analyze his reasons for leaving behind what sounded like a true paradise for a tough life in the military as the coffee maker beeped and she walked back into the kitchen. She’d just finished stirring cream and sugar into her mug when a soft knock sounded on the front door.

  Melody frowned and glanced at the digital clock above the stove. It was not even six o’clock yet. Who in the world would visit at this ungodly hour? Curious, she walked over to peer out the peephole in the door, thinking maybe it was the newspaper delivery person, or perhaps Heath or Murphy had forgotten their keys. But what she saw when she looked through the oculus was a stunning Arabic woman dressed in an expensive designer suit, her long, lustrous hair so dark that it shown midnight blue highlights beneath the overhead, recessed lighting.

  Frowning, Mel cracked the door open, leaving the security chain in place. “May I help you?”

  The woman looked a bit surprised, her dark almond-shaped eyes widening slightly. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I have the wrong address. I was looking for the residence of Mr. Daveed Rafik.”

  A strange sense of foreboding sank over Mel like a shroud as she slowly slid the security chain free and opened the door wider. “This is where he’s staying. Who are you?”

  “My name is Shayma bint Amr Kahlan.” She smoothed a shaky hand down the front of her impeccable black Chanel pant suit and gave Mel a small smile. “I’m Daveed’s fiancée.”

  Floored by that statement, Mel stood gaping at the woman for what seemed a small eternity. When she finally could find words, she didn’t really know what to say. Not wanting to have this conversation in the hall, however, where prying ears and cameras might capture it, Mel gestured for the woman to enter. “Please, come in.”

  “Thank you.” Shayma walked inside, rolling her Vuitton luggage behind her as she looked around the condo. All Mel could t
hink was thank goodness she’d picked up their underwear before Daveed’s intended arrived. Guess that answered the question of how he’d broken off his engagement too. He hadn’t.

  “And who are you?” Shayma asked, giving Mel a polite smile. She stood a good six inches taller than Melody and could’ve easily passed for a supermodel. Mel had never felt more self-conscious in her life, standing in her ex-fiancé’s kitchen in last night’s clothes, hair ratty and makeup smeared, looking totally fucked—both literally and figuratively. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, then held it out to their unexpected guest. “Melody Hascall-Ebons. I’m Daveed’s… friend.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Shayma gave her hand a firm shake. If she recognized Mel’s name or had heard any of the gossip about her, the woman had the grace not to show it, thank goodness. “Is Daveed here? I know it’s early, but my flight just arrived at JFK and I was hoping to see him as soon as possible to discuss our upcoming marriage.”

  Good thing Mel had set her coffee aside earlier and hadn’t been drinking it just then because she would’ve snorted it through her nose in shock. Marriage? Daveed? Upcoming? Pain and regret stabbed her square in the heart. This. This was exactly why she needed to keep her emotions firmly out of play where Daveed was concerned. He was clearly unavailable.

  “Um, he’s still sleeping, I think.” Mel pointed toward the stools at the bar. “I’ve just made some fresh coffee. Would you like some?”

  “Oh yes, please. Thank you.” Shayma moved like she was stalking down a runway and took a seat while Mel schlepped her way back into the kitchen to pour a second cup of coffee. “This home belongs to Daveed’s friend, Heath Goldwin, yes?”

  “Yes.” Mel carried the cup over to the counter for Shayma then picked up her own again, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm her suddenly icy fingers.

  “Do you know Heath as well?”

  “Yes.” Seemed Mel had been reduced to one word answers at this point. Still, this cultured woman didn’t need to know all the sordid details of Mel’s past. Besides, if she stuck around New York long enough, she’d find them out all on her own. “I can make you some toast and eggs, if you’re hungry.”

  Shayma looked up at Mel then, her dark gaze narrowed. “Are you Heath’s girlfriend?”

  “No.” Not a lie. Not anymore. Heat prickled her cheeks as realization dawned in the other woman’s eyes. Mel found herself fumbling to explain her presence to this woman she’d just met, this woman who would take Daveed away, back to his royal homeland and the life he was meant to have—a life without Mel. “I… I needed a place to stay and Daveed was kind enough to let me sleep in the guest room and…”

  “What are you doing out here, habibaty?” Daveed asked from the end of the hallway, his hair tousled and his voice rough with sleep. At least he’d pulled on a pair of old sweats to cover himself from the hips down, but there were love bites all over his chest and a distinct hickey on his neck from where Mel couldn’t seem to stop kissing him last night. “Who are you talking to?”

  He shuffled down the dark hall and into the dim light of the kitchen, illuminated only by the light over the stove. He rubbed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face, his smile sexy and inviting as he stared at Mel. Then his eyes slowly drifted over to where Shayma sat at the bar and his expression fell into a stony scowl. “Why are you here?”

  Seemingly unfazed, Shayma stood and walked over to him, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “Your parents sent me to find you and bring you back to Al Dar Nasrani. Our wedding is scheduled for next month. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

  Mel watched the two of them over the rim of her mug. Daveed’s stare had not left her since Shayma had joined him, but the look in his eyes wasn’t the warm heat she remembered from the night before. No. Now, it had been replaced by cold anger. At her? At Shayma? At his parents? Mel wasn’t sure. In fact, the only thing she was sure of at that moment was that Daveed wasn’t happy.

  Good. Because she wasn’t happy either.

  Daveed exhaled slow, as if summoning all of his patience, then took Shayma by the arm and escorted her back to the door. “You should go. This is not the place for you.”

  “I’ve been your intended since the age of six, Daveed. Where else would I belong?” Shayma dug in the heels of her designer pumps, refusing to budge. “And what is this American woman doing staying with you? She said she was not Heath’s girlfriend. Does that mean you are involved with her as well?”

  “No.” For the first time ever, Mel saw him blush. “I mean, yes.” He scrubbed a hand through his disheveled hair. “I don’t know. All that I know, Shayma, is that you shouldn’t have come here. I made it clear when I left my parents’ island that our engagement was over. I don’t know what they think to accomplish by sending you here now, but it won’t work. I have my own life, my own priorities, and a relationship and marriage is not one of them right now, understand?”

  His blunt words were like a sucker punch to Mel’s heart. Yes, she’d known it was too soon to have deep feelings for this guy, but having him so blatantly throw it in her face that last night meant nothing to him left her raw and bleeding inside.

  Trembling, she set her coffee aside and headed for the guest room down the hall, wanting only to be alone in her misery. Boy, she sure could pick ‘em, couldn’t she? First Heath, then Jefferson. Now Daveed. Tears stung the back of her eyes and threatened to spill over, no matter how hard she blinked them back. But the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of these people. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply they’d hurt her.

  Before she made it to her door, however, Daveed was by her side, his voice lower and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, habibaty. I didn’t know she was going to be here.”

  “Stop it.” She wrenched away from him, uncaring now that hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She was pissed and she would have her say. “Stop calling me your sweetheart, when I’m clearly not. You lied to me. You used me. You’re no better than my parents and Heath, treating me like some kind of pawn to be used and moved around at your whim. Well, I’m sick of it. I’m done letting men walk all over me and leave me with nothing at the end. Fuck you, Daveed Rafik. Fuck you and all your lies.”

  “I never lied to you!” he said, his voice edged with tension. “I never once made it seem like last night was anything more than two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies for the night.”

  She wanted to punch him, right smack in his taut abs. Really she did. But violence was never the answer. And given the way his muscles were all clenched right now he probably wouldn’t feel it anyway. Bastard. Instead she crossed her arms and tapped her bare toes on the cold hardwood floor. “Yep, you’re a real hero, aren’t you? Being all up front and everything before taking me to bed. Let me clue you in on a few things, buddy. Lies of omission are still lies. Just because you mentioned having an arranged marriage when you were a kid, but then failing to tell me that you never actually broke off said engagement doesn’t let you off the hook. Secondly, contrary to what you might think and what the tabloids report about me, I do not sleep with every man I meet. When I give my body to someone, it’s because I care about them. Now, whether or not you return those sentiments does not make them any less real or valid. And I don’t remember you ever uttering the words ‘this is only sex’ anyway.” On a roll now, she stepped closer to him, poking her index finger into his chest and knocking him back a step. “And finally, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have anywhere else to go right now. So, until I can find a new place to crash, just stay the hell away from me, all right?” She glanced down the hall to where Shayma was watching the show with clear interest. “Listen to me, Daveed Rafik. You better get your shit together and figure out what the hell it is that you really want in life. Me or her. Your throne or your life here in New York. Because you can’t have both and before long, you’re going to end up with neither if you keep screwing around the way you are.�
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  With that, she walked into the guest room and slammed the door in his stunned face. Then, leaning back against it, Mel slid to the floor and allowed her sobs to escape at last.

  * * *

  Daveed stood staring at the door for several seconds, unable to wrap his head around what just happened. He’d woken up, so happy and carefree and optimistic about the day. Then he’d walked out into a shitstorm of epic proportions.

  Last night with Melody had been incredible. The way she responded to his every touch, the way she held him and touched him and looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. The way she made him feel warm and cared for and cherished. All of that and more made him want to keep her close and protect her from anyone or anything that might ever take her away from him, but love?

  No. It was too soon for that. He wasn’t looking for that. Only trouble and heartbreak came with that.

  As if in confirmation of his thoughts, Shayma came charging down the hall toward him, heels clacking loud on the hardwood and her expression furious. “So, you are sleeping with this woman? What about your promise to me, huh? What about our arrangement? What about our marriage?”

  “There is no marriage, Shayma.” He side-stepped around her and headed for the kitchen. Jesus, he hadn’t even had any coffee yet and already the day had gone to hell. Jaw tight, he stood at the counter and fixed a mug of coffee while Shayma continued to berate him from behind. He tuned her out as best he could. The skills of concentration he’d learned on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan were quite useful sometimes in civilian life. “We’ve been over this.”

  “No. You’ve been over this. I’ve been kept hidden away on that island waiting for your return and you never, ever came.” She crossed her arms, her expression mulish despite her beauty. “I’m done waiting, Daveed. I want you to give me a date. A date and a location.”