The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (22 page)

She supposed she, too, needed exercise, but just the thought of stirring from her chair made her tired. In the past week she’d done little more than eat, sleep, sunbathe and take long walks with Rafe. Except for a very discreet staff, they were alone on the island. She spoke daily with her father and had phoned Cleo a couple of times. Other than that, she had no contact with the outside world.

“You’re looking thoughtful about something,” Rafe said as he pulled himself out of the pool.

He wore boxer-style trunks and nothing else. The man had a fine body, she thought longingly, wishing he’d been as willing to sweep her away sexually as he had been to help her escape Bahania. Obviously, the sight of her skinny body in a one-piece tank suit did nothing to stir his manly desires.

“Just enjoying my life away from the fast lane.” She squinted up at him. “Although you must be getting bored.”

“Nope. This is my idea of a perfect vacation.”

He settled into the chair next to hers. Zara straightened and swung her legs over the side so that she sat facing him.

“Aren’t you ready to go back to work for Prince Kardal?”

He glanced at her. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “Are you concerned about Kardal getting annoyed?”

“No.” Actually she hadn’t thought that at all. “I just wondered if you usually take time off. You strike me as a man who enjoys keeping busy.”

He frowned slightly. “I don’t take many vacations, except when I’m between assignments or jobs. Then I take about a month and go somewhere like this.” He glanced around at their private balcony over the sea, then grinned. “Okay, so it’s not this nice.”

“I know what you mean.”

“When I move on, I’ll find some island somewhere and flake out for a while.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, when you move on? Why would you leave?”

“I always leave. I like change.”

She couldn’t imagine such a thing. Routine made her comfortable. “Are you looking for a job away from the City of Thieves?”

“I will eventually.” He picked up his iced tea and took a drink. “It’s been a few years. I should probably start thinking about trying something new.”

“But you like it there.”

“I’m not the one looking for roots.”

“Of any kind.” She rested her forearms on her thighs. “I don’t understand. Haven’t you ever wanted any of the normal things? A wife, kids, stability? Why didn’t you ever get married?”

He waited a long time before he answered. After setting down his drink, he smoothed his short hair back and reached for his sunglasses.

“I don’t believe in happy endings,” he said flatly.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You can’t grow up the way I did and think it’s going to work out.”

She remembered what he’d told about his past. Being orphaned young enough to have trouble recalling his parents yet old enough to be difficult to place. No family had ever taken him home and made him theirs. Had he felt love even once since his parents died?

Zara felt suddenly cold, and shivered. What would life be like if no one had loved her? Fiona had made her crazy at times and had been a somewhat absentminded parent, but Zara’d had no reason to doubt her love. Plus she had Cleo. She knew her sister would do anything for her. Growing up they’d always been moving around, but the love had been a permanent fixture.

Rafe hadn’t had that advantage. In his world love had died early and had never been replaced.

“Wasn’t there just one girl who made you want to stick around?” she asked, desperately needing to think there had been without being sure why.

“No. There have been women, but no one long-term.”

Her chest tightened. In her mind Rafe was a stable force in her life. Yet from all he said, he was just waiting until it was time to move on. Not exactly a formula for happiness.

Zara set her glasses on the table between them, rose and walked to the edge of the pool. She sat on the warm stones and put her bare feet in the water. She ached and couldn’t explain why. She knew her pain was about Rafe and the loneliness he’d known, but there was more. Sadness overwhelmed her as she realized he wasn’t just holding back because of his job. He was holding back because that’s how he lived his life. He didn’t want the one thing she’d dreamed of her entire life—roots. He didn’t want love. He didn’t want forever.

She realized that in the back of her mind, she’d been assuming it was all an act. That somehow he would maybe, possibly come to care about her. She’d been comforted by him, teased by him, made safe by him. For her his actions had been meaningful. But for him…She shook her head. She just didn’t know.

Rafe saw the slump in Zara’s shoulders and knew that he’d hurt her, although he couldn’t say why. Or maybe he could. She might be a successful professor and more intelligent than most, but in her heart, she was still an innocent. She didn’t want to hear about the ugliness of his world, or his decision to never get involved.

For a second he toyed with the idea of telling her she was the closest he’d come to breaking his own rules. Her genuineness, her kindness, her ability to make him laugh all drew him. But he knew what would happen if he gave in. Disaster—for both of them. Better not to start something he couldn’t finish.

Which solved one problem, but not another. Zara slipped into the pool, gasping at the contrast of the cool water and the hot afternoon sun.

“You didn’t tell me the pool was fed by iceberg runoff,” she accused.

“I didn’t know you were such a sissy.”

She tried to splash him but his chair was too far away and the spray fell harmlessly onto the stone patio.

His teasing had done what he’d wanted—she now smiled, and the worry was gone from her eyes. He allowed his gaze to drift over her body. The one-piece suit left nothing to the imagination. He could see every curve, every luscious line. Her small breasts strained against the fabric, making him want to peel down her suit and caress her there. He could see the outline of her nipples, and his lips ached to taste those tight points.

Living in such solitude for the past week had been pure hell. He wanted her and couldn’t have her. He ached. Sleep had become impossible because he knew she was close. The servants went home each evening, so there was no one around. No one to stop him. The only thing that kept him from going to her was the knowledge that she deserved someone able to give her what she wanted. All he could promise was a night of passion. For many that would be enough, but Zara deserved so much more.

Rafe knew better than to drink while on duty—or in this case, while in danger of giving in to temptation. But when Zara offered him wine with dinner, he found himself holding out his glass.

She looked great, he thought, studying the way she’d piled her hair up on her head. Once they’d arrived on the island, she’d given up her contact lenses in favor of her glasses. He liked her both ways, so he found her just as attractive as she pushed her glasses into place with an absent gesture he found endearing.

A sleeveless sundress left her arms bare, and two undone buttons allowed him to see the shadow between her breasts. Her skin had tanned to the color of honey. Her feet were bare, her smile easy. She looked like a sensual goddess, risen from the ocean to tempt mankind. He knew he was tempted, nearly beyond reason.

He wanted to tell himself that it was just because he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. That his need was about circumstances and not the least bit specific. But he knew he was lying. He wanted Zara in his bed. Another warm body wouldn’t work. He needed to taste her and inhale the sweet scent of her body. He ached to hold her close and bury himself inside of her again and again.

Zara leaned back in her chair and smiled at him. “You look terribly intense. What are you thinking about?”

He thought about lying. The sunset was beautiful, as it had been every night. The food left in covered trays by the servants who had just departed for home smelled delicious. There were a thousand things he could say instead of the truth.

“That I’m an idiot.”

Zara laughed. “I have to tell you, I wasn’t expecting that one. Want to share the reason, or is this because you’re a guy.”

He shook his head. “It’s not, although the two are related.”

He took a drink of his wine. The chardonnay had a hint of butter blended with the oaky fruit. He could feel the danger all around him. It wasn’t just that he’d been entrusted with keeping her safe, it was that she was an innocent. He was hardly the right man to deal with that. And yet…

“Exactly how much of a virgin are you?”

Zara hadn’t been expecting that question. She instantly blushed, which made her feel stupid and immature, but at the same time delight tingled all through her body. “Are you asking for specifics?”

“Yeah. How far, how often, that sort of thing.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. She tried to read Rafe’s expression, but it wasn’t easy. Still, he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t interested, right? Maybe he was finally going to give in to all that heat they generated when they were together.

She cleared her throat. Her palms were suddenly damp, and she knew that if she tried to stand, her legs would promptly dump her on her butt.

“Well, there was that time in Billy’s car. I guess I was about nineteen. We’d been going out for a while and he’d had his hand up my blouse.” She took a quick drink of wine, hoping the alcohol would work fast and give her courage. “As we, ah, maneuvered into position, my foot kinda got caught in the steering wheel. The horn went off. It wouldn’t stop until Billy disconnected it from the battery.”

Rafe stared at her. “You’re kidding?”

“No. It was a real mood breaker, let me tell you.” She smiled at his look of disbelief. “I told you—I’ve had really bad luck in the man department. At least sexually.”

“Zara, your fiancé was gay. I would say your bad luck stretched to more than just sex.”

She ducked her head. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a lousy job.”

“Sorry.”

“No. You’re right.” She sighed, remembering that night with Billy. “We didn’t go out again. I guess he was really mad about his car and embarrassed, too. We’d gotten as far as him unzipping his pants and me, well—” she took another drink of wine “—I touched it for a second.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “It?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Steve. We dated for a while. He actually touched me, you know, there. I don’t know—he was really rough and it didn’t feel good. But I wanted to know so I figured we’d go ahead. This was a couple of years after Billy. Anyway, he lived in a really small apartment, but at least it was private. We were both pretty close to naked and I was just about to catch my first glimpse of, you know, when his parents walked in.”

She closed her eyes as the memory and the humiliation washed over her. “He’d given them a key and they were bringing back his laundry.” She opened her eyes and looked at Rafe. “Can you believe he actually took his dirty clothes back home and his parents delivered them to him when they were clean? Geez.”

She took another drink of wine and cleared her throat. “So, that sort of broke the mood. Then his mother called me and said he had recently broken up with his girlfriend of five years and did I know he was on the rebound.” She grimaced. “I didn’t see Steve after that. I figured that whether or not he was still getting over his ex-girlfriend, the bigger problem was his parents. They were way too involved with his life.”

Rafe looked at her. “I have to tell you, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“I know.” She sighed. “It’s really sad. There were a couple of other guys, with equally disastrous results. Then Jon. I’ve told you about him. After that I just had a series of short-term relationships that ended when the guys found out I was a virgin.”

She looked at him hopefully. “I don’t suppose you’re asking because you’ve changed your mind?”

Rafe hesitated, then he glared at her. “You have to know you’re a hell of a temptation,” he growled. “We’re stuck on this damned island with no chaperons. You spend your days practically naked, flaunting yourself in front of me.”

She gasped at the unfairness of the accusation, not to mention her excitement at the fire in his eyes. “I don’t flaunt anything. My one-piece bathing suit is incredibly conservative. It’s not like I’m this bigchested babe going topless.”

He stood up abruptly and crossed to the balcony. Like nearly every room in the house, this one opened onto a view of the sea. Rafe grabbed the metal railing and held on so tightly she could see his knuckles go white.

“I can’t even blame it on the wine,” he grumbled. “I haven’t finished my first glass.”

She was both confused and hopeful. “Blame what?”

He spun to face her. Involuntarily her gaze dipped to below his waist. He wore khakis and a short-sleeved shirt. Even with her inexperience, she was able to see all was not as it should be. He seemed to be very…large and very…aroused.

He wanted her. She knew it with a certainty she couldn’t explain. Contentment stole over her. Rafe. Always Rafe. He would make everything right, she thought happily. He would be gentle yet sexy and aggressive. He was experienced enough to make her first time good. She trusted him. More important, she wanted him.