When Sharif returned to the apartment late the following night, he was uncomfortably aware that for the first time in his life he’d felt a sense of resentment at being kept at the office by work, when usually the thought of coming back to an empty apartment was unappealing. But he’d been watching the clock since late afternoon. Texting his security team to see what Liyah was doing.
She’d gone to the New York Public Library and spent hours inside.
And now, as he walked into the living area and was confronted with the sight of Liyah sitting cross-legged on a chair, in sweat pants and a soft, clingy cashmere top, with her hair piled on her head, reading a book, he knew that something wasn’t adding up.
But he didn’t feel inclined to worry about it right then.
He leant against the doorframe. ‘I didn’t know you wore glasses.’
She looked up, startled. And as he watched, her cheeks flushed darker. It had an immediate effect on his blood, bringing it to the boil after simmering all day. It was getting harder to keep his sexual frustration under control.
The glasses suited her. They made her look serious. Seriously sexy. But, as if hearing his thoughts, she took them off.
She closed the book. ‘I wasn’t sure what time you’d be back...if you’d have had dinner. I’m not sure how this works.’
Sharif straightened up and walked into the room. Its soft lighting gave everything a golden glow, including her. She watched him approach and desire coiled tight in his body. He undid his tie, and the buttons on his waistcoat, aware of her eyes following his movements as if she couldn’t help herself.
He sat down on a chair near hers and picked up her book from where she’d put it down. A weighty tome on the history of New York.
She said, a little defensively, ‘I wanted to read up about the city.’
Sharif put the book down. ‘Perfectly commendable.’ Although annoyingly inconsistent with the kind of person he thought she was. Right now she looked about as far removed from a partying socialite as it was possible to get.
Sharif made a mental note to get his team to make a more thorough investigation into what she’d been doing in Europe, suddenly suspicious as to why she was behaving so differently.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Paul, the chef, made me a delicious beef stew. There’s loads left over if you’re hungry.’
A pang caught Sharif unexpectedly in the chest. No one had ever worried about saving him food before.
He shook his head. ‘I had take-out in the office.’
Liyah made a face. ‘That’s not very healthy.’
Sharif smiled mockingly. ‘Concerned for my welfare, Liyah? I told you—I don’t need a wife, except on paper.’
Those mesmerising green eyes sparked and narrowed. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t concern myself with your wellbeing again.’
Sharif cursed himself for goading her. Before he did something he’d regret, he stood up and put his hands in his pockets. ‘You should go to bed, Liyah, it’s late. And we’re going to be taking a flight to Paris tomorrow night.’
Liyah was still trying to control her heart, which had been racing since she’d seen Sharif in the doorway, looking sexily dishevelled. Jaw stubbled. He loomed over her now, and she scrambled up from the chair and moved to the window, putting some distance between them.
Whenever he was around it felt hard to breathe.
She felt prickly—because she’d been unprepared to see him again, even after a day apart. Not prickly because she’d felt a little abandoned. She didn’t like the sensation that she was in control of so little. Not helped by Sharif’s effect on her.
‘I have no objection to going to Paris, but a bit of forewarning would be nice.’
A muscle in Sharif’s jaw pulsed. But he said equably, ‘I’ll arrange for my assistant to forward you my schedule, so you know what’s coming up.’
‘Thank you.’ Now she felt as if she was overreacting.
Sharif shrugged minutely. ‘No problem. I should have thought of it before now.’
‘What’s happening in Paris?’
‘Some meetings with my brother and our team there, and there’s an event to attend.’