The Sheikh's Last Seduction

He took a deep breath.

“I need your help,” he said quietly. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

She stared at him. “Have you lost your mind? It’s—” she twisted her head to look at the elegant, nineteenth-century antique bedside clock “—three in the morning! I’m not going anywhere with—”

“My sister has run away.”

Irene cut off her angry words. She looked at his face in the dimly lit room.

“Run away? Are you sure?” She narrowed her eyes. “This better not be some kind of joke—”

“Do you think I would joke about my sister?”

She looked at him.

“No.” She sighed as all the anger went out of her, making her deflate like a balloon. Pushing her blankets aside, she stood up. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked at her long flannel nightgown, which went up to her neck and down to her wrists.

“Is something funny?” she demanded.

He cleared his throat. “Not a thing.”

Sheesh, did no one wear old-fashioned nightgowns anymore? Apparently none of Sharif’s lovers. Whatever. Irene liked it. A deliberate choice from all the tight knit camisoles and hot pants her mom and older sister used to lounge around in, on the off chance a current boyfriend might stop by the house for a booty call.

Irene lifted her chin, silently daring him to say something about her choice in sleepwear so she could bite off his head. Wisely, he didn’t.

“Aziza took no bodyguards. Only her old nurse is with her. It might be innocent. It might not be. Either way, I need you to help me find her. Quickly. Before any of the servants notice. Because once they do...”

Biting her lip, Irene nodded. Although many employees in a large household were loyal to death and would die before they said anything, others would find the gossip too delicious a currency to resist telling at least a friend or two. From there, rumors would spread like wildfire. “But why would she run away?”

Sharif’s face looked grimmer still. “Why is irrelevant. What matters is finding her. Quietly. Before the news gets back to her fiancé and the whole wedding is in an uproar.”

“But why,” she persisted, “would your sister run away from her own fiancé? If I were planning to marry, I’d be counting down the days. Wild horses wouldn’t drag me from the man I loved...”

“You are a private citizen. You have freedom that Aziza and I never will.”

“But—”

“You don’t need to understand. Just get dressed and come with me now.”

Was it possible his sister wasn’t keen on this marriage? But looking at Sharif’s hard expression and the impatient set of his shoulders, Irene knew there was no point in asking. She’d ask Aziza herself, once they found her. “Give me three minutes.”

He didn’t move.

“Wait outside!”

“Three minutes,” he warned her, “and I’m coming back in.”

She believed him. As soon as he went out in the hall and closed the door, she flew to her closet, putting on the quickest clothes possible, a casual maxi dress and a jean jacket. She pulled her unruly dark hair into a hasty ponytail and grabbed her purse. Three minutes? She’d done it in two. She opened her door. “Ready.”

He’d been leaning against the wall. He straightened, his face shocked.

Now she was the one to be amused. “Surprised?”

“I’ve never known a woman who could—” He pressed his lips together, then said tersely, “You’re different. That’s all.”

Not totally different, sadly. One of the things that had given her speed was that she didn’t want him back in her bedroom. But even now, against her will, she remembered how it had felt to have his body on top of hers. How it had felt to twine her hands in his hair as she pulled him hard against her and kissed him so deep she never wanted to let go...

“Um.” Her cheeks turned pink. So much for treating him only as an employer. She’d kissed him. Told him she’d been dreaming about him! Trying to pretend the kiss had never happened seemed like the best bet. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

He gave a single abrupt nod, then gestured for her to follow him down the silent hall. Her flip-flops thwacked against the marble floor, so she took them off to pad silently in bare feet.

Once they were out of the palace, he held up his hand harshly. She froze, confused. Then she saw that the gesture wasn’t for her, but for the bodyguards outside. For the first time since she’d known him, he was leaving all the bodyguards behind.

“Are we taking a plane?” she ventured.