A Sheikh for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 1)

Part of her wanted to stop and run back to him. But if she did so now, she’d either get trampled or run over by the traffic. Already car horns were honking and the light had turned yellow and when she looked across the street again, Daveed was gone.

Heart aching, she leaned against the nearest building to catch her breath. A candy store, she noted absently. Too bad sugar was the last thing on her mind right now. Deep down, she knew that no matter how badly she hurt now, it was just as well. They’d made a clean break. Now they both had a chance to start over again. An opportunity to…

“You are a hard woman to catch, habibaty.”

Stunned, Mel looked up to see Daveed standing in front of her beneath the store’s cheery red and green striped awning. In the window beside her brightly colored, animatronic lollipops twi

rled alongside dancing truffles with huge grins and swaying candy canes. “You didn’t have to—”

Daveed held up a hand, stepping closer to her to avoid getting jostled by the masses of shoppers entering and exiting the candy shop. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” He looked as dumfounded as she felt. “That first night, when you showed up on my doorstep looking like a drowned designer rat, I never would’ve imagined that beneath all those layers of makeup and hair and questionable fashion, there was a woman who would steal my heart away.”

Hope swelled inside her at his words, but before she could say anything, he held up a hand to stop her.

“You see, I figured something out. You were running away from Heath and Jefferson and all the demands your parents were putting on you, but I was running away too. Away from my past, my responsibilities.” He reached over and took her hand. The heat of him penetrated through her leather gloves to her chilled fingertips and straight to her core. He laced their fingers together and met her gaze. “I think it’s time we both stopped running, don’t you?”

She blinked up at him for several seconds, not wanting to sound too desperate by hurling herself into his arms and kissing him until they were both satisfied. So, instead, she narrowed her gaze. “You think my fashion is questionable?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You said my ‘questionable fashion’.” With her free hand, she made air quotes. “Is that some kind of personal dig? Because I’ll tell you right now, buddy. If we’re going to be together, I won’t stand for anything less than complete acceptance of who I am, warts and all. I’ve lived my life for too long trying to please everybody else while I—”

Her speech was cut off by his lips on hers. He let go of her hand to slip his arms around her waist and pull her closer into a deep, drugging, delightful kiss. By the time he finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

Unable to string more than two words together with all the desire swirling in her mind, she gazed up at him, wide-eyed. “Why?”

His smile, slow and sexy and oh so enticing, widened as he pointed above them in the window. Sure enough, there was a sprig of fresh mistletoe there. “It’s tradition, yes?”

“Yes.” Heat prickled her cheeks as a few tourists around them snapped their photo on their phone and a couple of kids giggled. Mel placed her hands on Daveed’s chest, feeling his heart pound along with hers.

“It’s tradition,” she said, unable to hold back her grin any longer. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“That I love you? That I want you to stay at the condo with me until we can find a place of our own? That I want to make our fake relationship that’s in all the tabloids a reality?” He pulled her closer again and rested his forehead against hers. “Yes. That’s exactly what it means.”

Mel’s mind was still stuck on his first words. “You love me?”

“Yes, I do. Crazy as that sounds.” He kissed her again fast, then took her hand and pulled her away from the congested store front and back out on the sidewalk, where they headed for home. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but we’ve got all the time in the world to remedy that. We can take our time, date, do all the things normal couples do, and when the time comes, maybe you’ll consider marrying me—your choice.”

She couldn’t help chuckling. “I should’ve expected a planner like you to have all the details set, but even I’m surprised. And in case it matters, I love you too.”

Daveed stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and hoisted her up in his arms, chest-to-chest, turning in a slow circle while the holiday crowds parted around them. “She loves me too. She really loves me.”

Several passersby shook their heads at the display, but most whooped or applauded or called for them to kiss again, which they did. This time, when Daveed finally let her feet touch the ground, Mel clung to him in case her shaking knees wouldn’t hold her. Finally, he took her hand and started off for the condo.

“When the time comes, I think we should have a wedding at the Plaza Hotel. I read that’s where your mother had originally planned things, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Mel kept pace beside him, thankful for him adjusting his longer stride to her shorter one. Just one more show of his chivalrous nature. “But you seem awfully sure that’s how all this will end up. Not to be a Debbie Downer, but I thought we weren’t rushing things.”

“Not rushing at all. Just throwing ideas out there.” He kissed her hand through her glove and smiled. “Sorry. It seems that once I popped the cork on my emotions and dreams, there’s no stopping the flow.”

“Nothing to be sorry about at all.” She grinned and patted his arm. “It’s adorable.”

“It is?” He waggled his brows.

“Oh, yeah. It is.” Fresh warmth blossomed inside her and she suddenly couldn’t wait to get him alone again in the condo. To distract herself, she asked more questions. “The Plaza’s not cheap, though, you know.”

He scoffed, leading her across another street. “If you think Heath’s family is rich, their wealth is nothing compared to the sheikhdom of Al Dar Nasrani. Besides, my parents will be over the moon at having such a lovely daughter-in-law brought into our fold.”

“Really?” She’d not even gotten far enough to think about meeting them. “You think they’ll like me?”