The Sheikh's Convenient Bride

“Of course,” Megan said primly. “Would T, B and M take on a client without knowing something more about him than you can read in the gossip columns?”

“Damn those columns.” Caz rolled onto his belly, bent over her and kissed her mouth. “Half what they print are lies and the other half are exaggerations.”

‘‘Ah.’’

“Ah, what?”

“Ah, no women beating down your doors?”

“No!” He chuckled. “Well, maybe a few.”

“No big-spending, easy life?”

“I sowed some wild oats,” he admitted.

“Because you could,” she teased.

“Because I grew up hearing how I’d some day be king, and the job description didn’t sound much like anything a man would want, given half a choice.”

The humor had gone out of Caz’s voice. He rolled on his back and folded his arms beneath his head.

“Hey,” Megan said softly, scooting closer, folding her arms and resting them on his chest. “I was only joking.”

“Yeah. I know.” He looked at her and smiled. “Would you be shocked if I said being emperor of the universe isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

That was what she’d called him. The memory made her blush, especially now that she’d seen him in action among his people.

“I’d never be shocked at anything you said,” she murmured, and brushed her lips against his.

Caz put his arms around her. “No?”

“No.”

He cupped the back of her head, brought his mouth to her ear and whispered to her. She caught her breath and drew back.

“See?” he said huskily. “I did shock you, after all.”

Megan smiled and gave a catlike stretch so that every inch of her body moved against his.

“On the contrary, my lord. You haven’t shocked me. You’ve fascinated me. I just wonder…can two peopl

e really do that?”

Caz felt his body quicken. “Why don’t we find out?” he whispered.

He rolled her beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. And by the time they’d answered the question, the room was tinted with the rosy glow of dawn.

They fell asleep, still close in each other’s arms, and were awakened by a knock on the door.

“My lord? It is I. Hakim.’’

Caz sat up and yawned. “What is it?” he called.

“You said you wished to awaken early. It is almost six.”

“Six?” Megan whispered in disbelief.

“Hakim’s a literalist,” Caz whispered back, leaning over and kissing her.