The Sheikh's Reunion Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs 4) (4 page)

Mia saw the corner of Rafiq's mouth crease with the flicker of a smile. Was he making fun of her now? She'd seen that same look on his face a long time ago.

"I look forward to seeing you, then," he said extending a hand to Mia.
 

She shook his hand, feeling suddenly awkward with their forced civility.
 

Then, Mia released his hand quickly and spun on her heels, heading for the revolving glass door as fast as she could. It was only when she had emerged out into the cool London air that she realized the warmth which had overtaken her inside the hotel. Rafiq had affected her. That was for sure, she told herself, as she paused at the foot of the steps. She dared not look back into the hotel, because she knew he would probably be watching her, and she didn't want to encourage him, give him any hint of the effect being in his presence had had on her.

With a shrug of her shoulders Mia stepped out into the rain, feeling suddenly grateful for the cooling solace of the water against her skin. She had to put as much distance between herself and Rafiq Al Kharif.
 

And fast.

CHAPTER THREE

Rafiq watched Mia race out of the hotel reception and smiled to himself. It had been so good to see her again after all these years. How could he have forgotten how beautiful she was? She'd changed. Grown up into a gorgeous, self-assured confident young woman.
 

He sighed appreciatively as he peered through the rain covered window of the hotel front. He saw her standing there, waiting a moment before making her way out into the rain. She'd defied him so many times during the last half hour. And, even now, she was determined to make her way back to her office on her own terms. He had to admit to himself that every little defiance had made him feel an excitement that had been in short supply since Naima had exited his life.

Rafiq recalled how Mia had resisted him during that crazy summer. They'd both been different people then; both on the verge of their own destinies. He could never have believed that she would grow up to be so incredibly attractive, so poised and elegant. And still she was defying him, trying to keep him at bay. He smiled.

Outside, in the rain, Mia ducked her head and ran out into the street, and away from the hotel.
 

Rafiq turned and went to the lift. He got in and pressed the button for the top floor. He felt the gentle movement of the lift and leaned back against the wood-panelled wall.
 

Mia.

It was good that she was coming back to him in a few hours. He already looked forward to seeing her again. Why was that? Then he realized that he was desperately trying to push away thoughts of Sayid and Naima. It had only been weeks since his friend had married the woman who had once been betrothed to Rafiq. He hadn't gone to the wedding, deeming it inappropriate, given that Naima had previously promised to wed Rafiq.

The truth was that Naima and Rafiq hadn't truly been close. Their potential marriage had been something agreed between families and, as such, there had been little true feeling between the couple.

 
No physical intimacy. Certainly not that.

But that hadn't stopped Rafiq feeling betrayed when Naima had managed to engineer the cancellation of the intended wedding. Recriminations had been intense and painful, and Rafiq was still sure that his parents and two brothers blamed him for the breakdown. Family honor was a powerful thing for the Al Kharif family. Their father, Emir, had taken the postponement of his eldest sons marriage far too personally, as far as Rafiq was concerned.
 

His father was a proud man, almost as proud as his own brother Kamal, Rafiq's uncle. Perhaps there had been some envy, as all three of Kamal's sons had recently married.
 

Rafiq recalled how he'd attended all three of the weddings. They'd been joyous affairs. His cousins Zayed, Raz and Tariq were all good men. They deserved the obvious happiness they had found with their three American wives.

So, why had things turned out so badly for Rafiq?

The lift halted and Rafiq stepped out into the corridor. He made his way to the door of his suite. Opening the door, he entered the sanctuary he already knew so well. He'd stayed here so many times in the past few years it had become like a second home to him.

Rafiq's suitcases had been placed in the center of the room, as usual. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the scented air of the luxurious suite. The decor was modern and he loved the view from the balcony. He could see across the rooftops of London, although right now, with the rain hammering against the windows, there wasn't much to see beyond the damp haze.

Rafiq threw off his jacket and fetched a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. He flopped down on the sofa and stretched his body, releasing the tension in his muscles.

Rafiq gazed around the room, feeling a calmness settle in him. He thought about Mia again, and the upcoming dinner date. Was it a date? As far as he was concerned it was very much a date. Maybe he'd get a second chance to convince Mia that he wasn't the ogre she so obviously thought he was. He glanced around the room and an idea flitted into his mind.

He went to the phone and heard the click at the other end.

"Yes, Mr Al Kharif. What can I do for you?" the receptionist said.

"I'd like you to arrange a meal in my room for eight o'clock," Rafiq said to the man.

"Is that just for yourself, sir?" the man asked.

Rafiq paused wondering whether what he was thinking about was even a good idea. Then he made his decision.

He spoke clearly into the phone. "No. Make that a dinner for two. To be delivered to my room. I'll be having a guest."

****

It was eight o'clock and she was right on time. Mia stood in the hotel lift, her high-heels sinking into the thick carpet. She grasped a thick folder in her right hand, a folder that was even thicker than the one she had taken to the earlier meeting with Rafiq.
 

Mia felt butterflies dancing inside her stomach. The sensations fought for attention with the slight irritation she was struggling to contain at learning that Rafiq had asked for her to be sent up to his room. She'd assumed he'd be waiting for her in the restaurant. After all, they were supposed to be having dinner. So, why did he want to see her in his private penthouse?

Well, it was going to be a brief visit to this lion's den, she told herself. Because that was what it felt like. She imagined Rafiq up there waiting for Mia to arrive. Maybe he'd try and ply her full of drink, persuade her to spend some time in his penthouse. Mia pursed her lips and scowled at the display that told her she had one more floor left before arriving at the top. Well, she'd show him just how much she had changed; demonstrate that she wasn't just another of his casual flings.

The lift halted and the doors opened. She started to walk out of the lift but came to an abrupt halt.

Rafiq was standing in the corridor. He was smiling at Mia. She gasped and saw him grin as if he'd already won an immediate victory. But, that wasn't the only reason she gasped involuntarily. There was another reason for Mia's sudden loss of composure.
 

Rafiq looked...well, so devastatingly handsome, Mia told herself, aware that her cheeks had flushed. His sheer size seemed to block her exit from the lift.

He had dressed down casual, in contrast to the elegant suit he'd worn at their earlier meeting. He wore a crisply pressed white shirt that was open at the collar. He wore dark pants, his long, powerfully muscled legs set apart in a defiant, proud posture.

Rafiq stepped to one side as the lift doors started to close. He thrust a hand against one of the doors preventing them from closing. Mia stepped quickly out and Rafiq released the door.
 

"I expected you'd meet me in the restaurant," Mia said.

Rafiq smiled. "I thought it would be nicer up here," he said gesturing along the corridor toward the open door to the penthouse suite. "More private. Please. Join me," he said starting down the corridor.

Mia followed alongside Rafiq. She tugged nervously at the collar of her jacket as she followed Rafiq into his penthouse. She'd never been inside a place as sumptuous and elegant as this, she told herself. The room was like something out of a lifestyle magazine for the rich and famous.
 

Rafiq paused, observing Mia taking in the sight of the room. He closed the door behind him, and Mia jumped upon hearing the sharp click of the lock.
 

Mia watched Rafiq as he strode over toward a table which had already been laid out for dinner. Two places had already been set and there were food covered silver platters in the center of the table. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble. Mia opened her mouth, eager to object. Had he arranged for them to have dinner in his suite?
 

"I hope you like champagne," Rafiq said lifting up two long-stemmed glasses and making his way back toward Mia.

She clutched the folder tight and gave Rafiq what she hoped was a stern look. "I think there's been a misunderstanding," she stated.

Rafiq grinned and glanced down at the folder. "Why don't you put that down. I'll take a look at it later," he said firmly.

Mia lifted the folder up. "I thought this was a meeting about what's in here," she said. "Wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to conduct our business down in the hotel restaurant?"

Rafiq grinned and shook his head. He halted inches from Mia, holding the glasses of champagne expectantly up in front of Mia. He didn't say anything in reply to her defiant demand, merely raising a querying brow. For a moment neither said anything, merely fixing their gaze on each other.

Finally, Mia took the glass Rafiq held out to her. He reached across and took the folder from her and laid it down on the table by the door. He looked satisfied as he turned to Mia and clinked her glass with his own.
 

"Here's to resolving all of our problems," he said and took a sip of his champagne.

"Our problems?" Mia asked.
 

Rafiq shrugged. "Well. My problems. Of course, that's what I meant."

 
Mia squinted at Rafiq and raised the glass to her lips, feeling the tingle of the bubbles on her nose. She sipped the champagne and saw Rafiq watching her across the rim of his own glass. Was there a familiar look in those dark eyes? Mia had seen that look before, and the sight of it made something soft and insistent tug at her middle.
 

Rafiq gestured toward the sofa. "Please. Take a seat. You've been working all day. You must be tired."

Mia followed Rafiq and sat down on the sofa, careful to keep the hem of her skirt firmly at her knees. She glanced up at Rafiq standing there. He seemed to tower above her, taking in the sight of Mia on the sofa with an obvious pleasure. His gaze flickered to her knees and she pulled at the edge of her skirt to cover them. He sat down beside her and placed his glass on the table in front of them. Mia took one more sip and did the same.

"You must be hungry," Rafiq said glancing toward the table.

"Not really," Mia said curtly.

"I don't believe that," Rafiq retorted. "I'm sure you've had a long day at work. In any case, the chef has outdone himself on this occasion."

"I'm sure he has," Mia said. "Especially for the sheikh," she said acidly. She reached for her glass and watched for his reaction. She saw a crease of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Are you suggesting something?" Rafiq asked. He reached an arm across the back of the sofa. He edged a few inches closer toward Mia but she didn't move an inch, eager for him to see that she wasn't affected by his proximity as much as he would have expected.

Who was she kidding!

Mia sipped the champagne and turned away from Rafiq, keenly aware of his closeness. She was determined that her eyes not meet his penetrating gaze. When she turned back to face him she saw that he was watching her closely.
 

"I'm just saying the staff here know you so well, I'm sure I'm not the first woman you've wined and dined in this place," Mia said sharply.

Rafiq shrugged. "You're right. You aren't the first," he admitted in a matter of fact tone.

Was that a sinking sensation she'd just felt in her middle? Why had that admission made her feel something long forgotten, a sensation she'd thought had been buried forever?

"I forgot," she replied. "You're a regular visitor to London. You must love coming here."

She saw his eyes widen with sudden pleasure on hearing her words. Then his brows furrowed almost as quickly as he regained his composure. Had he taken her words to have a completely different meaning? Of course he had. She thrust down the glass onto the table, furious with herself.

"You can ask your brother," Rafiq replied. "He knows what I think of this fine country. Or it would be fine, if it wasn't for the inexplicable weather," he declared with a shake of his head.

Mia smiled eager to change the course of the conversation. "The British are a tough race," she said. "We're used to this climate."

Rafiq frowned at Mia. "But you and Brad are half American. Why do you not spend more time in the States?" he asked.

Mia shrugged. "We've always preferred to live here. It's been our main home for so many years."

Rafiq leaned closer but Mia refused to react by moving away from him. There would be nothing to be gained from encouraging Rafiq to think he had any kind of control over her, she told herself.

"So, are you British or American?" he asked.

"That's an odd question," Mia retorted.

"I'm curious," he insisted.

Mia furrowed her brows. "I suppose I'm both, in a way," she said.

Rafiq nodded sagely as if he'd expected her to say that. "That's an interesting position to be in," he said.

Mia squinted at Rafiq. "Why?"

Rafiq gestured casually. "Oh, nothing," he said.

Mia turned and faced Rafiq. "What do you mean nothing? You must have had a reason for saying that."