The Sheikh's Unexpected Wife (Zahkim Sheikhs 3)

"That would be due to my having spent the last six weeks trying to negotiate a deal with Dijobuli—the deal you just destroyed." He took two steps closer and loomed over her.

At five-ten—six-two in designer heels—she wasn't used to looking up at anyone. She cursed the flat sandals and put on a smile. Her daddy had always said she could charm birds out of the sky, if she put her mind to it. But he'd also said she'd never shown she was responsible enough to take over the business.

"I've got a better proposition for you," she said. One of those flat, dark eyebrows lifted. He slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her to him. She flattened her hands on his chest—and—oh my, did that man have muscles on him. Her heart skittered up to pound in her throat, and she had to swallow before she could get the words out. "Not that kind of proposition."

"You've cost me not just a deal, but a bride I was promised. That would include a wedding night and a honeymoon."

"Well, I—" She didn't get any more words out than that. His mouth took the rest of them. He stole her breath, and then she lost track of what else he was doing, other than flicking that tongue of his across hers. She put a hand around his neck to keep him busy doing what he was doing, which seemed to be setting her lower parts into a tingle. She couldn't get enough of him. He smelled of leather and male arousal and tasted of mint. His beard and mustache—short and trim—rasped over her skin. He pulled back at last, and she let him. But she hung onto his neck, her breath coming in short gasps. She didn't trust her dizzy head right now.

Looking up at him, she managed to untangle herself from his arms. She got a hand under her robes, pulled her cellphone out from her bra where she'd tucked it, and dragged her mind back to business. That was hard, because what she really wanted to do was slip that tie off him and get her hands on some skin.

But…first things first.

Pulling up the spreadsheets on her Android, she showed him the numbers she'd worked out. "Leeland Enterprises could be a good deal for Zahkim oil transport. Over ten years, you'd spend half of what a pipeline would cost, and we're able to expand to handle imports. Plus you're not locked into oil. You can diversify. Get into solar and wind to make sure you're not dependent on oil prices that like to drop all of a sudden."

He glanced at the spreadsheets, looked away, and glanced back again, the thick, dark eyebrows flattening. His eyes warmed with what she hoped might be a touch of interest, but he looked back at her with his mouth pulling down, and that wasn't good.

"This might have been of interest two months ago. But you overlook the current political ramifications. This is not just a deal. This was to be an alliance between Zahkim and Dijobuli. This mess you’ve bloody well landed me in might well upset regional stability. There was a marriage contract involved."

Ginni propped a fist on her hip—trimmed into shape with Aikido classes. "You're thinking I haven't been thinking, but I have. This deal's gotta work for everyone, and so I'm including Leeland picking up the cost for expanded infrastructure with improved roads for Dijobuli instead of a pipeline that could lead to spills. Just give me a chance to walk through a presentation with you and Sheikh Ahmad. As to the marriage, well, guess you'll have to talk to Jasmine—she's the one who tossed that in the trash."

Nasim cursed under his breath in something other than English. She liked his accent—something not quite proper Englishman mixed with a touch of exotic. She also liked how he scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving the shaggy curls tumbled. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch that dark hair, see how soft it felt.

He looked at her, his stare unsettling and direct. "Sheikh Ahmad…how do I explain you to him?"

Ginni stepped up and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Lead the way, cher. I've been daddy's girl since I was ten and Mama let me put up my hair and taught me how to swing my hips. It'll take some doin', but that ol' buzzard's got to see Jasmine's happiness matters more than any ol' deal. Just give me a chance to prove myself here."

Giving her a sideways look, he asked, "You honestly want to tackle a reception to go with your deception, and the Sheikh of Dijobuli?"

When he put it like that, a quiver tumbled Ginni's stomach. Her skin chilled. But the sheikh was looking at her through dark lashes, giving her an assessing stare as if measuring her. She gave him a firm nod. "I got you into this, I'll figure us a way out."

And I'm gonna need to figure, too, if this marriage deal is for real.

Chapter Three

Nasim led Virginia—"Ginni to friends”—Leeland back into the gardens, which now stood empty, other than the babbling fountain and the lush flower beds. Arif, and perhaps his new wife Christine, must have moved the wedding guests into the peacock throne room, where the reception was due to take place. Tarek had no use for any of the three throne rooms, but the one with the peacock throne, named for the dazzling colors of the gems embedded into a very uncomfortable carved chair, served to host informal gatherings and banquets. Nasim could hear traditional music floating across the gardens—the beat of drums and the high pitch of a ney flute. He'd always preferred classic rock.

Next to him, Ginni seemed to have put steel into her spine. She walked stiff and tall. He shook his head. This was not going to go well, not when the Sheikh of Dijobuli expected to see his daughter on Nasim's arm.

Striding across the gardens with his bride, Nasim braced to face the wedding guests and Sheikh Ahmad. They stepped into the cool shadows of the peacock throne room.

For a moment, guests continued to talk, plates and silverware clattered, and the music carried on in a merry beat, echoing from the hard marble floors and colorful tiled walls. Across the room, Nasim saw Arif turn toward the French windows that opened onto the garden. Arif looked away and turned back again, eyes going wide, no doubt due to the woman who stood at Nasim's side who was not Jasmine Hadad. Christine, Arif's wife, glanced their way as well, and her mouth fell open. Then silence spread almost like an illness over the room, until it was as if everyone was holding their breath.

Nasim almost turned and left, but Sheikh Ahmad broke the stillness with a shouted curse. "Ya ka-lib!" He strode across the room, robes flapping. "'Ayn abnataya?"

Chest tight, Nasim dropped Ginni's arm and stepped slightly in front of her. "English, please. For our guests. I will remind you, as well, that you are a guest of Zahkim, and I have no idea where your daughter might be found."

"Paris, I think." Ginni wrinkled her nose. "She was catching the first flight to Europe. Or it might have been Munich."

Sheikh Ahmad's mouth opened and closed, but no words came from him. Stepping back, Nasim gestured to the garden. "Shall we discuss this in private?"

Slicing the air wi

th his hand, Ahmad said, "There is nothing to say. You will hear from my lawyers for this insult…this trickery!"

Palms up as if to pacify everyone, Ginni stepped forward. "Now, now. Only trick here is one Jasmine pulled ’cause she's over the moon for another fella. There's still good that can come out of this, if we all just calm down and sit down. Maybe have some tea?"

"Tea will not return a daughter to me. Tea will not mend my honor, which has been dragged into the dirt." With another shout calling Nasim a dog, Sheikh Ahmad turned and strode out of the room. The other guests from Dijobuli slowly put down their plates and followed, trailing out with hushed whispers and a few nervous laughs.