The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (3 page)

She gazed at him and then at the young man. "Of course," she replied hesitantly, extending a hand. She smiled at the man but could see his displeasure. Nevertheless, he handed Rachel the access card and a small folder containing papers.

The man walked off, and Rachel led Zarif to the elevator. They entered, and the doors slid closed. She leaned against the back wall of the lift, and Zarif settled against it by her side. He glanced down at her, and she was acutely aware of his sheer stature. Zarif seemed so much larger in the tight confines of the lift.

"I thought that went well," he said with a roguish grin.

"It's not the way they usually do things, I guess."

Zarif shrugged. "I'm not accustomed to following orders. Especially when it come to my affairs," he said.
 

In the tight space of the lift, his voice was deeper, more resonant. It seemed to vibrate against the walls, its feral quality impressing itself upon her body. She shifted slightly, putting more distance between then both. He seemed to notice her movement and leaned closer to make up the gap.

"What did you make of what I gave you to read?" she asked, suddenly desperate for a change of subject.

His dark eyes flickered slightly, his gaze hovering around her, and she felt as if he were examining her for the first time.

"What?" he asked idly.

"The papers," she said holding up the folder.

"Oh, those? I can see you're thorough."

She smiled politely. "I pride myself on my attention to detail. I like my work."

He nodded. "I can see that. I'm not surprised Abby hired you."

Rachel felt her cheeks flush.

Zarif frowned. "I've embarrassed you. I apologize."

"No, you haven't embarrassed me, at all," she insisted.

"I was too presumptuous. I can see you have worked very hard on this. And, since your efforts are for my benefit, it was impolite of me to be so familiar."

Rachel felt taken aback by this sudden show of propriety. "Not at all, Sheikh."

He smiled at her. "Please, Rachel. I insist you call me Zarif. It will be so much easier if you do. Sheikh makes me sound so...impersonal. Don't you think?" he added with a grin.

There was that easy charm again, Rachel observed. He had the ability to turn on a beguiling manner so very quickly. She was sure it was an ability that had been honed as a result of many encounters, many amorous episodes. She forced her attention up to the illuminated numbers that showed they had almost reached the top floor. Level twenty.

The lift slowed and, with a melodic sound, the doors opened onto a carpeted hallway. There was one passageway that served the two apartments on the top floor. One apartment faced the rear of the building, the other apartment faced out onto views that took in some of the most famous sights in this part of the city.

Rachel opened the door to that apartment and gestured for Zarif to enter. She closed the door behind her and followed him into the main sitting room of the ultra-modern apartment. She was familiar with the design, had viewed the place previously, but her breath was still taken away by the sheer opulence of the apartment. It was high-end, designed to impress, all hard edges, clean cut lines, luxurious in every detail. She thought it was amazing, and it should be, considering the asking price which was in the millions.
 

Rachel could only imagine what it would be like to live in such luxury. In fact, if she was really honest, she couldn't really begin to fathom what it would be like to live in such style.

She followed Zarif around the various rooms, answering his many questions, scrutinizing him for clues as to whether he approved of the place or not. He was such a difficult person to read in many respects, she told herself as she trailed around by his side. Every time she thought she saw a hint of approval, a suggestion that he liked the apartment, his features darkened and she was hit by another probing question.
 

Zarif was a man who knew exactly what he wanted. That much was crystal clear. She speculated what he would be like back in his native land. Would he behave differently from how he acted here, in London?
 

Of course he would, she chided herself. Being a creature of that harsh land must have bred in him a natural caution about all his affairs. She imagined, even with the protection of vast wealth, Qazhar must be a place that made men different from the ones she had been used to since leaving college.
 

Zarif was so much older than her, almost thirty, and she felt the difference in their ages in the way he was conducting himself here in this place. But then her experience couldn't match his. She laughed inwardly, feeling the absurdity of her observation. It wouldn't be hard, considering how limited was her experience with men.

Zarif turned to Rachel and peered at her, drawing her back to the present. "So?"

"What?" she replied, suddenly aware that she must have missed a question he'd asked.

He grinned. "Should I?" he asked.

Rachel frowned. "Should you what?"

Zarif quirked a brow. "Buy."

She was momentarily taken aback. Was he asking her is she thought he should spend so many millions of his own money? The idea seemed faintly ludicrous, but she could see by his expression that he wasn't teasing her, that he was asking her in deadly earnest.

"Are you joking?" she asked.

Zarif shook his head firmly. "Not at all. I can see you've done a better job than anyone I can think of when it comes to assessing this property." Zarif leaned closer to her, and she could see a hint of mischievousness in his gaze. But, there was also an earnestness in his eyes, a purposeful look that told her he was looking for an honest answer.

"After all, that's why I hired Abby's company. To give me honest advice."

Rachel frowned. "Are you saying that if I tell you to buy this place, you'll just buy it? On my advice alone?"

Zarif nodded. "I can see you're bright, after all" he joked.

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned away knowing full well that he was teasing her.

Rachel turned back and faced him directly, meeting his gaze. "I can't possibly take such a responsibility," she argued.

"I trust your judgment," he stated.

"But, it's your own money," she replied.

"I am aware of that," he said with a casual, dismissive grin.

"No. I can't do such a thing, Zarif," Rachel said. She saw the corner of his mouth curl into an appreciative hint of a smile. Had that been caused by her use of his first name?

"Let's agree that money isn't an issue," he said with a flippant tone of voice.

"But, you know the asking price of this place, don't you?" she asked.

He lifted the sheet of paper with the property details up to his eyes and squinted at the asking price written there.
 

"Okay. That's quite a bargain. Especially given the location," he said lifting his brows.
 

Now she knew he was teasing her. Even testing her, but to what end?

"I think it would be best if you talk to Abby," Rachel stated firmly.
 

Zarif shook his head and took a step closer to her. "I don't want Abby's opinion. I am asking for your honest opinion. Because, it seems to me that I can trust you."
 

His expression had changed suddenly. There was an eager, urgent look in his eyes. His determination touched her, and she felt something shift in her middle. That look must have touched many women. It was the look of a man who demanded, a man who was accustomed to compliance, to submission.

"Are you saying you can't trust my boss?" Rachel asked.

His gaze flickered and he seemed to have realized the importance of the inadvertent suggestion in his previous statement.

He regained his former composure and smiled. He glanced at his watch. "I have a lunch date with her. Let's just leave any decision until after that, shall we?"

Rachel gazed at him. The moment had passed, and now he had reclaimed his previous air of indifference.

"Well?" he asked.

Rachel squinted at him, feeling puzzlement once again.
 

"Would you do me the honor of accepting an invitation to dinner this evening?" he asked.

"I beg your pardon?" she replied.

"May I have the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening? That will give you a chance to consider your advice."

Rachel felt her mouth open, and she was sure she looked shocked by his sudden invitation. She felt her pulse quicken. Dinner with the sheikh?
 

"I'm not sure if Abby would approve of that," Rachel said.

Rachel heard him draw a breath. She saw his shoulders rise. She was sure she saw his nostrils flare, a primal sign, a signal of displeasure. "I'm sure Abby needn't know," he stated.

"You're asking me to have a private meeting with a client and not tell my boss?"

Zarif took a step toward Rachel. "I'm not suggesting merely a private meeting, Rachel." He filled her entire view, and she felt suddenly alone in the apartment with him, as if she were the only thing he was interested in right now. "I'm asking you to dinner."

"A date?"

Zarif quirked a brow and shrugged one shoulder. "A date."

Rachel's throat tightened, and she became aware of just how close Zarif was to her. It was almost as if she could feel the heat of his body. He was inches from her, and if he'd wanted, he could have reached out a hand and touched her, taken her elbow, wrapped a gentle hand around her arm, laid his fingertips on her shoulder or the side of her face.

Rachel cleared her throat.

Zarif raised his brows but said nothing. She was aware of the silence in the room. Then she heard her own voice, and she could hardly believe
 
what she was saying. When she spoke, her voice cracked slightly, but she knew that there really only was one answer to such a request. It wasn't every day that a sheikh asked you out to dinner.

"I would be delighted to accept your invitation to dinner, Zarif," she heard herself say.
 

The flickering doubts of past demons tried in vain to rise up and force her to change her mind. To try to get her to respond to this invitation in the same way she had always responded to invitations.

But she resisted the old impulses. This was different. The man standing before her was unique, not like the one who had driven her to put up her barriers; nothing like the one who had forced her to turn her back on love.

And, as she accompanied Zarif out of the apartment, she wondered just how she was going to resist the charms of the most handsome man she had ever seen.
 

CHAPTER THREE

Later that afternoon, Zarif closed the door to his apartment behind him with a resounding thud.

It was over. Finally, he had said his polite goodbyes to Abby, and he'd made his way back to the relative calm of his apartment. He faced a long wait for the one thing to which he was really looking forward.

A dinner date with Rachel.

It was only mid-afternoon, and he wondered how he was going to stand the wait. He stripped off and dived beneath the soothing needles of the cool shower. It felt as if he was cleansing himself of the events of the last two hours.
 

As he soaped his naked body, rinsing his skin with the sharpness of the powerful shower, his mind ran over the so-called lunch meeting. It had been crystal clear from the start of the lunch that Abby had been intent on trying to impress Zarif. She had fawned over him, trying to be as nice as humanly possible, sending out all the signals he so clearly recognized.

Abby was a woman determined to do whatever it took to capture the attentions of the sheikh, he told himself.

Zarif groaned aloud, his voice echoing in the confines of the shower stall. He leaned a hand against the smooth tiles and thrust his head beneath the welcoming torrent of water. He turned the temperature control until the water had been transformed into an icy barrage.

He closed his eyes and forced his attention onto something much more welcome. Someone more innocent; someone less self-serving.

Rachel.

Zarif felt a warmth inside him even as he stood beneath the freezing water.

Rachel would be sitting across from him in a matter of hours. It would be a welcome relief to be in the presence of someone so different, someone so very special. Even while he had been enduring Abby's ridiculous earlier performance at the restaurant, Zarif had been barely able to keep his mind off Rachel.
 

The way she had resisted him at the viewing of the apartment that morning had impressed him. She had shown a plain, defiant determination in refusing to take the bait he'd laid for her. He'd needed to test her, see if her apparent innocence had been an act, or whether it had been for real. There was something about her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Rachel had an elusive quality about her. It was something he had never come across before.
 

She had done everything possible to demonstrate that his wealth and power did not impress her in the slightest. At least, that was how it had seemed to him at the time. But, reflecting further on the events of the morning, he'd come to the conclusion that something lay hidden beneath the mask that Rachel worked so hard at maintaining. Because, Rachel was putting up a barrier to Zarif, and he couldn't help wondering why she was doing that.

He closed his eyes once again and savored the image that filled his mind; the beautiful delicacy of her face; the full, tempting shape of her body; the way she moved; the sharpness of her gaze; the brightness of her icy blue eyes. Zarif breathed out hard and felt something harden, noticed the tightness of his body. It took him momentarily by surprise. He ran a hand down to himself feeling the reality of the effect Rachel had on him. He wondered how that could be; why someone he'd only just met could have such an effect on him.

There was more he would have to find out about Rachel.

He stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry, noting in the mirror the obvious effect merely thinking about the sweet young English woman had had on his body.