The Sheikh's Secret Bride (The Adjalane Sheikhs 1)

The instructor went over the parts of the basic step for each of them and had them try the step apart, then in dance hold. With all his natural grace and agility, he didn’t step on Janna’s toes once and seemed to pick up the moves quite quickly.

“Very good,” the instructor said and pulled a remote control from his pocket. “Let’s try that with music, shall we?”

The slow, sweet strains of a waltz soon filled the air, and the instructor gave them both a few pointers on where to place their hands and their arms. Janna attempted to stay as far away from Nassir as possible, but the dance didn’t allow for much wiggle room.

Nassir proved to be an excellent student, and within half an hour, he was twirling her expertly around the small dance floor. He’d tightened his arms around her as their speed increased, pulling her closer into the heat of him, and Janna had a difficult time keeping her mind on the task at hand. His muscular body was so strong, and the spicy musk of his cologne had her senses overloaded.

“All right.” The instructor clapped and shut off the music. “That’s all the time we have for today.”

“Thank you,” Nassir said and led her off the floor. “That was enjoyable. I have not danced since I was a boy.”

“Really?” she asked as she picked up her bag and her planner and followed him out the door. “You were good.”

“As were you.”

Her car pulled up behind Nassir’s at the curb and they each went their separate ways, but all the way back to the palace, Janna couldn’t stop thinking about Nassir and the way she’d felt dancing with him, the way he’d seemed to only have eyes for her.

Since she’d been a little girl, Janna had always dreamed of having a man look at her that way, feel about her as Nassir seemed to feel about his wife-to-be. One thing was for sure. Whoever his mysterious bride was, she was one lucky woman.

*****

Nassir watched Janna’s sedan drive away through the rear window of his vehicle. It had been hard enough not kissing her until they were both breathless with need inside that dance studio—what with the way she’d moved with him, the way she’d felt in his arms, the fragrance of her hair, her skin, her perfume. If he went after her now, they’d would both end up in his bed until they’d sated their passions, several times.

No. Going after her now would be a mistake, no matter how badly he might want to.

He would have to wait.

Adilan called him on his back to the office. “How did the dancing go?”

Nassir grunted in response.

“That bad, eh?”

“No.” Nassir exhaled, low and slow. “That good.”

“Oh.” Adilan chuckled. “Well at least you only have five more days until the wedding. Surely you can resist temptation that long.”

“I am not sure I want to anymore.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the cool leather seat. “Perhaps I should tell her the truth. Maybe she’ll take pity on me and admit she’s feeling the same attraction?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If she leaves and Hazim gets wind of what’s happened, everything you’ve worked for will be gone. In fact, he could get the board to reconvene early and remove you immediately for trying to trick them.”

“I know. I need to think more on this.” Nassir hung up and closed his eyes, but soon his phone rang again, drawing him back into the business of running Adjalane Oil. The new quarterly projections were due in tomorrow and he hoped they were as good as he predicted. Maybe if the company turned a huge profit, the board would not look so harshly upon him if Janna refused his hand in marriage.

It was a long shot, but he hoped to get Nimr on his side. The old man carried a lot of influence with the other board members, and had been vocal against Hazim gaining control of the company. If those projections didn’t pan out, then he’d tell Janna the truth at dinner tomorrow night and let the chips fall where they may.

Chapter 10

Early the next morning Janna stood in the palace gardens, going over the placement of the tables and other ornamentation. She’d stopped at a hotel the day before to view their elaborate ice sculptures in the lobby and gotten the name of their resident artist. The man was supposed to meet her here to discuss several possible pieces for the reception.

Everything else with the arrangements seemed to be falling into place as well, and part of her couldn’t help envying Nassir’s still unknown bride. The woman was going to have the wedding of Janna’s dreams, but Janna didn’t even know if she would appreciate all the effort put forth on her behalf. She didn’t know if she’d appreciate being married to a man like Nassir either.

Janna certainly would.

And therein lay the crux of her problem. Somewhere in the midst of all this crazy mess, she’d gone and fallen head over heels for the groom. Now, on top of all the other things she had to worry about, she had to pretend she didn’t love him for the next four days or until the day she died. Whichever came first.

Given that the florists and the dressmakers had just left, again without a bride to measure as Nassir had said she would be absent until the day before the wedding, so she’d stood in once more, death might be a welcome respite after all this craziness.

She’d never taken on such a personal task as choosing the bride’s wedding gown before, had never dreamed anyone would even ask such a thing. Wedding gowns were an extension of the bride herself, each one unique. But, of course, Nassir had insisted. So, she’d chosen a gorgeous kaftan of white silk and sheer scarves, interwoven with strands of silver thread. Silver pearls adorned the bodice and the cuffs around the sleeves and hem.