Duty, Desire and the Desert King

“Need?” he drawled.

“Let me be clearer.” She leaned forward, her gaze intent on his. “I don’t particularly like you, Sheikh Fehr, and because my practice is very successful and very busy I can afford to be selective. Therefore, I’d never work with you.”

“Why not?”

“Why not, what?”

“Why won’t you work with me?”

“I already said—”

“No, you’re giving personal opinions. I want a professional opinion. You are a scientist, are you not?”

God, he was arrogant. “I know too much about you. I couldn’t approach your situation without prejudice—”

“Because I didn’t love Angela?”

“Because you don’t love. You can’t love,” she blurted, before grinding her teeth together in remorse. She wasn’t supposed to say that last bit. It was something Angela had told her. Angela had said that Zayed had used his inability to love as the reason to end their relationship. Apparently he didn’t love, couldn’t love—seemed he’d never been in love—and because he couldn’t love, he thought it best to end their relationship as Angela’s feelings had grown too strong.

Classic narcissist.

Her father had never loved anyone but himself, either. Narcissists couldn’t love anyone else. Couldn’t see anyone else as separate or having individual needs.

“I’m sorry,” she added. “That was inappropriate of me. Doctor-patient confidentiality. But you can see why I can’t work with you. After counseling Angela, after knowing certain things about you, I believe it’d be too much of a conflict of interest.”

He looked at her levelly. “Of whose interest?”

“Yours.”

“And this is all based on my six dates with Angela?”

No, she answered silently, it’s also based on my personal experience with you. But she didn’t say that, as she’d never let him know she was aware of what he really thought of her. “It’s not complicated, Sheikh Fehr. You’re being deliberately obtuse.” Her voice hardened. “You told Angela you’d never marry. You said you’d never fallen in love, and that you were unable to love, and therefore, you didn’t believe you could be loyal to any woman—”

“I’ve changed.” His lashes lifted and the light golden gaze met hers.

“That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” His gaze skewered her. “You are a psychologist, aren’t you?”

Jamie’s head appeared around the corner of the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt again, but your escort’s arrived, Dr. Tornell. She’s waiting in the lobby.”

Rou nodded at Jamie and yet she never took her eyes off Zayed. She waited for the door to close. “I have to go.”

“Time is of the essence, so let’s meet for dinner. We’ll start tonight. The profile, the background information, everything—”

“No.” She rose to her feet, wound more tightly than she could ever remember. “Never.”

“Never?”

“It wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t represent you fairly, and—” she took a deep breath “—I’m not sure I’d want to.”

“I’m not asking you to find a cure for cancer, Dr. Tornell. I’m asking you to find me a wife.”

She moved from the desk. “You might as well ask me to find a cure. It’d be easier.”

If she’d hoped to quell him, she’d failed, as he laughed a deep bitter laugh. “I thought you were a professional.”

“I am.”

“Then do your job. It’s what you’re good at, and apparently the only thing you’re good at.”

Her breath caught as though she’d been sucker punched. “That’s low, and mean-spirited.”

“And you haven’t been? You judged and sentenced me before even meeting with me today. Fine. I don’t need your approval, but I need your time and your skill.”

“If you did your research you’d know that I don’t just accept everyone as a client. I take less than five percent of the applicants that come to me. My success is based on the fact that I’m exclusive. I only work with people I believe I can help.”

“And you could help me. I have an entire country waiting for me to return. Do this and I promise you that you will be compensated handsomely.”

“This isn’t about money. It’s about values and ethics, and working with you goes against my ethics, and frankly, no amount of money could induce me to compromise—”

“Not even five million pounds?”

For a moment she didn’t speak, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “Five million pounds?” she finally repeated, even as she mentally translated it to eight million American dollars. Eight million American dollars. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve never charged anything close to that, and I’d never accept a figure like that. The very offer smacks of desperation.”

“Determination,” he corrected. “And it’s sufficient compensation for you to overcome your objections, don’t you think?”

“No! I don’t care about money,” she spat, her patience shot. “I don’t do what I do for money. It’s never been about money. I do it for… I do it because…” But her voice failed her. The words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t tell him why she did what she did. It was far too personal for a man like Zayed, a man who didn’t care about anyone or anything but himself.

“Then don’t think of it as money. Think of it as funding for your research center, the one you’ve been wanting to open in Oakland for the past several years. Find me a wife I can take to Sarq as my queen, and you have your facility. I can’t think of a fairer bargain. I get what I want, and you get what you want, and everyone is better off.”

“But I don’t know that anyone would be better off—”

“Isn’t that the problem? You don’t know,” he said, almost gently, as he got to his feet. “You don’t know me. You think you do. But you don’t.” His golden gaze held hers, challenging her. “Perhaps you could do a little research before you jump to any conclusions. Just as I did my research before I came to you.”

He was moving to the door, about to walk out when Rou stopped him. “So what did your research turn up, Sheikh Fehr?”

He paused in the doorway, looked at

her. “I know why you’re so rigid and repressed. I know why you’re more machine than woman. It has nothing to do with money, and everything to do with your parents’ divorce. It broke your heart, didn’t it?”

She was speechless. He knew. No one knew. She’d never told anyone. How could he know?

He tipped his head. “You have an appearance at Fireside Books tonight at seven. I’ll pick you up from there at nine. Good luck with your interview.” And he was gone.

CHAPTER TWO

BUT she wasn’t at Fireside Books when he arrived, a half hour before the signing was to have ended. She’d cut the event short, citing illness, and she’d left.

Zayed rocked back on his heels as he stood outside the bookstore digesting the information. It was a crisp night and the late-October wind sent red and gold leaves swirling past his feet.

The ice maiden had run rather than meet with him.

That was a first, and certainly a change from how attentive she’d been at Lady Pippa’s wedding three years ago. That night Rou Tornell had clung to him like Velcro, hanging on his every word. But then, women were forever throwing themselves at him, eager, so eager, to be his next lover.

Fortunately, he’d always treated his women well—Angela included. Even after the relationship had ended, Zayed made sure the women were okay. Financially. Emotionally. He might be hard, but he wasn’t a complete ass. He had had sisters, after all.

Zayed pulled his phone from his pocket, knowing already that Rou Tornell would no longer be found at the Fairmont. If she’d left the store early, he suspected she’d left town early, and not for San Francisco, which was her home, but to Austria where she’d be attending another one of her high-profile weddings in just two days. Which was perfect, actually. He’d been invited to Ralf and Princess Georgina’s wedding, too.

I now pronounce you man and wife.

The guests erupted into applause as the groom lifted Georgina’s veil and dipped his head and bent her back over his arm to kiss her, her silk gown sparkling with the five thousand crystals hand stitched across the delicate fabric.