The Sheikh's Unruly Lover (Almasi Sheikhs 2)

Marian had wife potential, even though it made no sense. They barely knew each other, were strictly work partners. But still, the core of him reverberated with this knowledge, and having anyone replace Anahita seemed a grave offense. It didn’t feel right to move on when his wife had been stripped of her life. It was his solidarity pact—one way to prolong the closeness.

Someone rapped on his door, and he jolted, moving to sit at his desk. But maybe he should lean against the windows, appear aloof and pensive. He walked in a circle before settling on the desk after all. He leaned against it. “Come in.”

Marian poked her head in, a bright smile at the ready. Just the sight of her made him relax.

“Good morning.” She bounced inside, clutching files to her chest. She wore simple black slacks and a tight-fitting top, one that simply demonstrated her curves instead of allowing him a glimpse of flesh. He had to pry his eyes off the deep swell of her hips.

“You look perky.” He fiddled with a pen, relishing the wash of energy that coursed between them. Was this what falling in love was like? It just happened, sideswiped you, without any warning or reason. He blinked. That was not a thought fit for the office. He should never think that thought again.

“Well, I am. I have a lot of perky things to show you.”

Like…maybe your breasts? He had to bite his tongue to keep that comment in. She would have liked it, had he allowed their conversation to flow to the sexual territory she’d craved the night before. Like any normal man with a penis. But no—he had to have the moral hang-up. Life would be easier if he weren’t bound to these rigid standards.

Marian set her files on his clear desktop, spreading papers out as she hummed. Her perfume reached him, something dusky and floral. His cock twitched in his pants.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you. You’re certainly concerned about my sleeping habits.” She clicked her tongue, rearranging a few papers. “Though I suppose that’s nice of you. Sleep deprivation is a very serious issue, and I would want to know if someone around me was suffering from it.”

He grinned. “Just trying to do my part.”

She glanced up at him, the vibrancy of her eyes ensnaring him. So much of him wanted to pin her to this desk and have his way with her. But Anahita…

“Well, I appreciate your concern. Have you been eating regularly? Urinating normally?” She eased into her seat, eyebrow cocked.

Omar blinked at her, the words settling into him, and then burst into laughter. Marian looked pleased with herself.

“We could keep a chart of these things, just to see how they progress over time,” she added.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” He gestured to an empty bulletin board by his desk. “We could put it there.”

“I think this is how work colleagues truly bond,” Marian said with a wink. “Monitoring bodily functions.”

Omar let the laughter coat him like a glaze. It felt like the first time he’d laughed—really laughed—in years. It was so hard to remember the last time he’d felt this way around a woman. A stranger, basically. Because it hadn’t even happened this way with Anahita. She’d been an arrangement, another wily plan of his father’s. They hadn’t fallen in love as much as grown in love.

Marian got to work explaining her new approach, pointing out some notes that she’d made and a new plan of attack. When she finished, Omar clapped his hands.

“Stunning. You really do know what you’re talking about.”

“I told you I could replace He Who Shall Not Be Named.” She puffed her chest out with pride. “No problem.”

The two worked until lunchtime, when Marian excused herself to meet Annabelle. Omar headed for a café down the road, spending his lunch reading the news and thinking about Marian. When they reconvened for work in the afternoon, Marian was breathless with excitement.

“I have some news.” Marian hurried toward him, resuming her spot in the chair. “I asked a friend of mine, Layla, to look into National Oil for me. She’s a researcher, and I trust her. I had some misgivings about the equipment, like I told you. Well, guess what?”

It was hard not to get caught up in her excitement. He practically shouted, “What?”

“They’re being manipulated.” She squealed. “She found out that Arab PetroChem has a stake in National Oil. Once they found out an American company was sniffing around for a deal, Arab PetroChem insisted on offering the cheapest equipment possible for the mining job. Because otherwise, we’d have to go out of the country to get it, which would be way more expensive for us. The imbalance in the deal would mean serious profits for National Oil and Arab PetroChem, and almost nothing for us.”

“Right. There’s no other local supplier for that equipment,” Omar mused.

“Exactly. But what they don’t know is that National Oil also works with one of our affiliates in the States,” Marian went on. “They get materials from a company that we can influence. So, I think if we bring this up and convince them that equal pressure does not a good deal make, we’ll get the best deal possible for everyone concerned.”

Omar’s mouth parted as he took it all in. “Wow.” He ran a hand through his hair, popping to his feet to look out the window. “And you have this information in some form that we can present to them?”

“It’s in my email right now. I can print it if you’d like. All we have to do is connect the dots.”

Omar nodded, hands on his hips as he looked at her. “Excellent. Absolutely stunning.” To say he was blown away was an understatement. It was all he could do to fight through the rest of their planning session, maintaining normalcy, when really he still wanted to press her against the wall and tear her clothes off. By four o’clock, he couldn’t resist it any longer. He had to give in, just a little bit. To ease the pressure.