The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress (Jatar Sheikh 5)

Why am I blushing? Good grief he has—IT! Okay girl, deflect and make a joke. “So, Omar, you gonna hook me up with a sheikh friend this week?”

Anna’s gasp told me that was over the top. Oh well, this was me. Omar didn’t seem at all disturbed, however.

“I have many male friends who would adore a pale-skinned beauty such as you, Julie.”

Why is he wrinkling his brows? Is he going through the list of eligible bachelors?

“I fear, however, you might be a bit—not to be rude—I adore your outgoing personality, but..”

“It’s a bit much? Is that what you were going to

say?” I asked, trying to take the pressure off. “I am a bit much, I realize that. Even to myself I am often way too much! I get it. No worries. I will try my hardest to be on my best behavior.” Anna just snorted again.

Omar’s grin told me he doesn’t believe it, either.

“No, Julie, you are here to enjoy our wedding and have fun. You needn’t censor yourself at all—in fact, this particular week you can cut loose and enjoy being chauffeured and completely taken care of. Yes, in comparison to Arab females, you are more than too much for most of the men. And yes, I suppose some will find you deserving of punishment for being yourself. I, however, am the one making the rules, and I decree you will be as wild as you so wish. If anyone tells you differently—I shall send them home immediately.”

Anna blurted, “Don’t tell her that! She is already too wild.”

“Nonsense! She is free and shameless—I for one can thoroughly appreciate such a female.”

Bless his sweet heart for defending me. I cleared my throat, “I am still going to try and be a good girl. I figure I have to start sometime, why not now, when I will be around royalty?”

“Ahhh, yes, indeed, a splendid plan. As long as you have fun, Julie—that is all I request. Here, my love…”

Gasp, he just handed Anna a black Am-Ex card.

“I hope you can enjoy a shopping trip on me? There is no limit, and I only wish to see my young bride happy. Enjoy yourselves girls. Oh, whatever you purchase can easily be shipped back to the States.”

“Anna. OMG! No limit? Seriously?”

“Seriously, Jules. Yes—anything you want! The one thing I’m still catching up with is Omar’s generosity. With him and his family—more is more! None of them believe in doing anything half way—even shopping! It’s kind of their religion.”

I put my hand over my heart and took a serious tone, “I will drink the Kool-aid! I want in.”

Then I couldn’t help it, and I squealed and stomped my feet in place after Omar casually strolled away with a very telling masculine chuckle.

CHAPTER THREE

Anna and I shopped till we dropped. Thankfully, she had people around her at all times. Correction, big, burly, strong men who looked silly carrying rope-handled pink bags for us, but they did so without any dissent. I bought shoes and dresses and even some new lingerie. I made Anna get some new lacy and frilly stuff, too. She complained and said she already had acres of the stuff in drawers.

“This is different. This is something he hasn’t seen, or picked out for you. This is more like you giving him a gift.”

She spun in place and giggled, “I guess you’re right. I do like how this makes my butt look.”

“And your tits! Good grief, Anna, did they get bigger? You are kinda glowing, too. You look fabulous.” I perused her up and down again and I made appreciative sounds. “Indeed, he is so good for you.”

“He is, isn’t he? You know, I never imagined feeling this way—ever!”

I could only nod and then turn to go back into my own dressing room. I hated how contagious this kind of love is. Weddings and lifetime commitments—the whole soulmated love bullshit. It made me wish for something I doubted I would ever find. I was too jaded, too cynical, too something—maybe cold and dead is the best way to describe it. I just doubted I could ever truly surrender to another so fully. At least as much as Anna has.

She used to talk about her career or school, or debates, or the law—never about a future with a man and a family and all that crap. The difference, though, is that she wasn’t used up, like I feel. She was untouched and nubile. She was ripe for the picking, and Omar came along at the perfect moment. Me? I’m so far past ripe—I’m rotten. The thought made me sigh and erect that bawdy veneer I’m known for. I strolled out into the sitting area in just a thong panty and tiny demi push up bra that hardly covered my breasts.

I heard a couple gasps, and I stood up straighter, putting my hands on my hips as I look at myself in the massive full length—full wall of mirrors. The saleslady bustled to me, “Ma’am, this is a public area. A male might pass and see you—see too much of you.”

Even though her English was heavily accented, it was perfect, and I sighed and left. See too much? Who talks like this?

I kept forgetting how strict the Arab men are about their females showing any skin. I guess if the wrong man saw me this way, he’d have every right to discipline me. I wondered what that would entail. I let an evil thought dance through my mind, and then I knocked on Anna’s dressing room door.