She gave a low hum. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, I want to hear more about you." Propping herself up on one elbow, she brushed the hair on his chest. "You said you and your mama don't get along. I'd like to know why." He pushed out a long breath, and she told him, "Don't be sayin' it's complicated."
Pulling her close, so she nestled against him, he stroked a hand down her back. Oddly, it didn't seem strange to speak to her of his past. They had shared more than their bodies just now.
"My father was a consummate diplomat—the consummate diplomat. My cousin—Tarek—his father ruled Zahkim at the time, and he depended on my father. I suppose we all did. But it was my mother who was the real heart—she was the one who spoke for the people. Or she did until my father died and she left the country. She could not even come to tell me, just left a note."
"Ouch. But…well, I gotta say, I can understand. There are some things too painful—and some reminders unbearable."
He gave a snort. "Ah, to be the unbearable son—yes, a good goal in life."
She sat up again, fixed her dark eyes on him, and he knew she was about to dig deeper. He sat up, kissed her to stop her words, and started to search for his clothes, saying, "We should head back to the palace."
Shaking her head, Ginni slipped from his arms and splashed into the oasis water. "Not before I've had a swim to clean up and cool down."
Chapter Eight
Ginni tried to lure Nasim into the water with her. He shook his head and dressed, but he kept that hot, amber stare of his on her. She liked knowing she could keep his gaze like that. But was their playing around like this going to make it harder or easier to do a deal with him? She dunked her head under the blessedly cool water and decided she'd worry about that later.
Somehow, Nasim had a towel for her—pulled from the back of his battered, old vehicle—when she climbed out, dripping wet, her feet sandy. Was there anything this man couldn't handle? She dried off, dressed, all the time chattering to cover her worry that she was falling way too fast for this guy. She wanted Nasim to know how great this had been—better than she imagined it would be. She talked about what Leeland could do for Zahkim with tanker trucks in terms of helping to build new roads. And of course, her babbling about one thing led to another with her mouth in overdrive, and on the bumpy ride back, she brought up Hank.
"Daddy never liked him, which was one of the reasons I got engaged to him. Bad impulse, that one, and it probably helped—along with the other things—to have Daddy thinkin' I'm not responsible enough to run Leeland Enterprises even though I'm his only child. But Hank wanted the job of running Leeland, too. More than he wanted me." She frowned. Did she sound like she was whining?
Nasim kept his eyes on the road, but his hand had tightened on the steering wheel. "Control of your impulses is important. I could help you learn."
She slanted him a glance, unsure if there was a double meaning behind that offer. Did his idea of learning involve more of them spending time together—and him pushing her to the breaking point with what he could do with that clever mouth of his? She let out a breath. She wasn't sure she could handle that—or if that was wise. Maybe this marriage was for real, maybe not. If it was, she needed to find out about annulments or divorce, and going in for a honeymoon before she was sure she wanted things to last had to be one of those irresponsible ideas that kept appealing to her and landing her in hot water with her family.
Putting her stare outside the battered, old vehicle and on the endless sand dunes they were passing now, she started wrapping one curl around her finger. "Thanks, but I'm not sure you're the right guy to teach me."
He didn't answer, so she glanced over at him only to see his lips curving in that maddening smile, the one that made her want to grab that short beard of his and kiss that look off his face.
Oh, she had it bad all right.
Business—focus on the business.
Back at the palace, she headed up to her room, showered, changed, and called for a tray to be sent to her room. That, at least, was a safe and sensible move. Her dinner—something that had her mouth watering with the aroma of roast meat—came with a note from Nasim.
Rest well—tomorrow we have a busy day, and I have the night planned.
With a groan, she leaned against the door. Somehow she had to get this turned around so he was wrapped around her little finger and willing to sign a deal that would impress her daddy.
Settling the tray on the bed, she picked at the food—okay, it was great, and she did more than pick—and pulled out her phone. She sent her folks a description of the Ash Lands and the rainbow light. She threw in a mention of how she was getting tours from a sheikh of Zahkim—might as well start laying the groundwork for the amazing deal she'd be bringing home. Her phone binged, and she opened a text from Jasmine, which offered up a big thanks and a bunch of smiley faces.
Ginni texted back, “Need a way out! Those words got me married!!!”
Fifteen minutes later, food gone—and wasn't that spicy lamb just the best—Jasmine texted back. “Ask Nasim for a divorce.”
Ginni rolled her eyes. Jasmine was making it sound easy. At least she'd sent along a link, and Ginni followed it to some dry, academic article about the laws of Zahkim. She had no idea if any of the information was up to date, but the news wasn't good.
Seemed a man could get a divorce in Zahkim by just saying “I divorce you” a few times. A woman had to jump through all kinds of hoops. Divorce was frowned on by the royal family, but at least it was legal and around. Maybe a lawyer in Zahkim could help her out. She did a search of the biggest city—Al Resab—came up with a couple of law firms that had their website information in English, and sent off some texts on her phone. That was worth a try. Or maybe she should just try to get Nasim ticked off enough he'd say those words.
Instead of planning how she might do that, however, she fell asleep remembering how Nasim's hand had felt on her, how his mouth had left her shivering and shattered, how he'd tasted coming in her mouth like that. And how she'd like to do all that again.
The clatter of china on a metal tray woke her. Getting her eyes open, she glimpsed daylight and a dark-haired maid in one of those flowing white outfits bringing her coffee. She frowned. Not Nasim, but the maid handed her a note with a grin and left. Ginni opened it.
Seemed Nasim had government stuff to deal with, which left Ginni working hard not to feel disappointed.
She drank her coffee, showered, pulled out a flowered dress that would do well with the heat already building, and went looking for food. She found the breakfast room with no trouble, but leaned her palms on the back of a chair. Her shoulders slumped. No Nasim there, either—not that she was missing his company. No, sir. She nibbled on something like a pastry, asked one of the guys bringing in food and more coffee about a computer she could use, had a laptop brought to her, and was bowed into the library, which outdid the one her father had put in on the plantation he'd bought as a showcase of his growing wealth from Leeland Enterprises.
Settling into an oversized leather chair, she chewed on a thumbnail, checked her email from the website, downloaded her proposal for shipping Zahkim oil to fiddle with some of the numbers, and checked her phone five times to see if any of the law firms had gotten back to her. They hadn't. She considered calling the family firm back home, but they'd feel obliged to tell Daddy, and wouldn't Mama have a fit over having missed the wedding. Ginni couldn't face the ruckus. It'd be different if she had a deal in hand. Mama would still kick up a fuss about the wedding, but Daddy would be all smiles and settle Mama’s feathers soon enough.