“It is true if I say it is.”
Amanda stared at him in disbelief. “Mr. Rashid—”
“You will address me as Lord Rashid,” he said, and she saw the sudden memory spark to life in his eyes. “We’ve met before.”
“No,” Amanda said, too quickly. “No, we haven’t.”
“We have. Something about you is familiar.”
“I have that kind of face. You know. Familiar.”
Nick frowned. She didn’t. The pale hair. The eyes that weren’t brown or green but something more like gold. The elegant cheekbones, the full, almost pouty lower lip…
“Let go of my wrist, Sheikh Rashid.”
“When you give me your camera.”
“Forget it! It’s my cam—Hey. Hey, you can’t…”
He could, though Nick had to admit, it wasn’t easy. The woman was twisting like a wildcat, trying to break free and keep him from opening her purse at the same time, but he hung on to her with one hand while he dug out her camera with the other.
She was still complaining, her voice rising as he thumbed from image to image. What he saw made him crazy. Photos of his home. The terrace. The living room. The library. The bathrooms, for God’s sake.
And his bedroom.
She had done more than invade his privacy. She had stolen it and would sell it to the highest bidder. He had no doubt of that.
He looked up from the digital camera, his eyes cold as they assessed her.
She was a thief, but she was beautiful even in a city filled with beautiful women. She seemed so familiar…but if they’d met before, surely he’d remember. What man would forget such a face? Such fire in those eyes. Such promised sweetness in that lush mouth.
And yet, for all of that, she was a liar.
Nick looked down at the little camera in his hand.
Beautiful, and duplicitous.
She played dangerous games, this woman. Games that took her into a man’s bedroom and left her vulnerable to whatever punishment he might devise.
He lifted his head slowly, and his eyes met hers.
“Who paid you to take these pictures?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Well, that’s progress. At least you admit you’re doing this for money.”
“I am. But it isn’t what you—”
“You came here in search of information. A story. Photos. Whatever you could find that was salable.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Do you know what the punishment in my country is for those who steal?”
“Steal?” Amanda gave an incredulous laugh. “I did not—”
“Theft is bad enough,” he said coldly. “Don’t compound it by lying.”
His eyes were flat with rage. Amanda’s heart thumped. Dealing with her father, her stepfather, even her ex, was nothing compared to dealing with a man who ruled a kingdom. She wasn’t one of his subjects, but she had the feeling this wasn’t exactly the time to point that out.
If Nick finds out, Dawn had said, he’ll be angry at me.
But Dawn was among the missing, the sheikh was blocking the doorway, and clearly, discretion was not the better part of valor.
“All right.” Amanda stood straighter, even though her heart was still trying to fight its way out of her chest. “I’ll tell you the truth.”
“An excellent decision, Ms. Benning.”
She licked her lips. “I’m—I’m your surprise.”
Nick frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“My services. They’re your gift. What Dawn talked about, on the phone.”
His gift? Nick’s brows lifted. His little sister had a strange sense of humor, but how far would she go for a joke? It could be that Amanda Benning was willing to tell one gigantic whopper as a cover story.
“Indeed,” he purred.
Amanda didn’t like the tone in his voice.
“I’ll have you know that I’m much sought after.” Oh, Amanda, what a lie. “And expensive.” Well, why not? She would be, one day.
“Yes,” Nick said softly. “That, at least, must be the truth.”
And then, before she could take a breath, Nick reached for the blonde with the golden eyes and the endless legs, pulled her into his arms, and crushed her mouth under his.
CHAPTER THREE
IF THERE was one thing Nick understood, it was the art of diplomacy.
He was the heir to the throne of an ancient kingdom. He represented his people, his flag, his heritage. And he never forgot that.
It was his responsibility to behave in a way that gave the least offense to anyone, even when he was saying or doing something others might not like. He understood that obligation and accepted it.
But when the spotlight was off and Nick could be himself, the truth was that he often had trouble being diplomatic. There were instances when diplomacy was about as useful as offering condolences to a corpse. Sometimes, being polite could distract from the truth and confuse things.
He wanted no confusion in Amanda Benning’s mind when it came to him. She was sophisticated and beautiful, a woman who lived by her wits as well as her more obvious charms, but he was on to her game.
And he wanted to be sure she knew it.
That was the reason he’d taken her in his arms. He was very clear about the purpose, even as he gathered her close against him, bent her back over his arm and kissed her.
He’d caught her by surprise. He’d intended that. She gasped, which gave him the chance to slip his tongue between her lips. Then she began to fight him.
Good.
She’d planned everything so carefully. The tiny camera that he should never have noticed. The sexy dress. The soft scent of her perfume. The strappy black silk shoes with the high, take-me heels…
Seduction first, conveniently made simple by his foolish sister, whose penchant for silly jokes had finally gotten out of hand. And then, having bedded the Lion of the Desert, the Benning woman would sell her photographs and a breathless first-person account of what it was like to sleep with him.
Nick caught Amanda’s wrist as she struggled to shove a hand between them. What a fool Dawn had been to hire a woman like this and bring her into their midst. But he’d have been a greater fool not to at least taste her.
He wouldn’t take her to bed. He was too fastidious to take the leavings of other men, but he’d give her just enough of an encounter to remember. Kiss her with harsh demand. Cup her high, lush breasts with the easy certainty that spoke of royal possession.
When she responded, not out of desire but because that was her job, he’d shove her from him, let her watch him grind her camera unde
r his heel. After that, he’d call for Abdul and direct him to hustle the lady straight out the door.
Then he’d go in search of his sister. Dawn needed to be reminded how dangerous it was to consort with scum. A few months in Quidar, under the watchful eye of their father, would work wonders.
That was Nick’s plan anyway.
The kiss, the reality of it, changed everything.
Amanda had stopped struggling. That was good. She’d been paid to accept his kisses, welcome his hands as they caressed her pliant body…except, he suddenly realized, she wasn’t pliant.
She was rigid with what seemed to be fear.
Fear?
She’d cried out as his mouth covered hers. A nice touch, he’d thought coldly, that little intake of breath, that high, feminine cry. Righteous indignation didn’t go with the dress or the heels, certainly not with the face or the body, but he could see where she might try it, just to heighten the tension and his arousal before her ultimate surrender.
There were games men and women played, and a woman like this would know them all. Either Amanda Benning was an excellent actress or he’d started the game before she was ready.
Was she the kind who wanted to direct the performance and the pace? Or was her imagination running wild? Innocent maiden. Savage sheikh. The story wasn’t new. Nick had come across women who hungered for it and would accept nothing else, but he never obliged. It was a stereotype, a fantasy that offended him deeply, and he refused to play it out.
Sex between a man and a woman involved as much giving as taking or it brought neither of them pleasure.
But this was different.
He had neither wooed the Benning woman nor won her. She hadn’t seduced him with a smile, a glance, a touch. She was here because his sister had decided it would be amusing to give her to him as a gift.
In other words, none of the usual rules applied.
The woman was his. He could do as he wanted with her. And if what she thought he wanted was some rough sex, he could oblige. He could play along until it was time to toss her out.