Taming The Sheik

“I need a fiancée.”

Rafik gave Anne a rueful smile. “I don’t mean a real fiancée. Though that’s what my father wants for me. He thinks I should get married and settle down. I’m against that plan. What I’m looking for is someone who’s willing to pose as my fiancée for a short time.”

“So what’s the problem?” Anne replied. “How could a woman say no to a charming man like you?”

“Perhaps you’d consider…”

“Me?” Her eyes widened. “You thought I would pose as your fiancée? Why would I do that?”

“I thought after reflecting on that night we spent together, the hours we shared…you might feel differently about me.”

She stared at him. “According to you, nothing happened that night we spent together. That’s what you said. Nothing happened. Now I want to know the truth.”

“Ah, the truth. All I can say is that it was the most incredible night of my life.…”

Taming the Sheik

Carol Grace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Books by Carol Grace

Silhouette Romance

Make Room for Nanny #690

A Taste of Heaven #751

Home Is Where the Heart Is #882

Mail-Order Male #955

The Lady Wore Spurs #1010

*Lonely Millionaire #1057

*Almost a Husband #1105

*Almost Married #1142

The Rancher and the Lost Bride #1153

†Granted: Big Sky Groom #1277

†Granted: Wild West Bride #1303

†Granted: A Family for Baby #1345

Married to the Sheik #1391

The Librarian’s Secret Wish #1473

Fit for a Sheik #1500

Taming the Sheik #1554

Silhouette Desire

Wife for a Night #1118

The Heiress Inherits a Cowboy #1145

Expecting… #1205

The Magnificent M.D. #1284

CAROL GRACE

has always been interested in travel and living abroad. She spent her junior year of college in France and toured the world working on the hospital ship HOPE. She and her husband spent the first year and a half of their marriage in Iran, where they both taught English. She has studied Arabic and Persian languages. Then, with their toddler daughter, they lived in Algeria for two years.

Carol says that writing is another way of making her life exciting. Her office is her mountaintop home, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean and which she shares with her inventor husband, their daughter, who just graduated college, and their teenage son.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Chapter One

It was the most beautiful wedding of the year. The sun shone through the stained-glass windows of the church atop Nob Hill in San Francisco. The scent of roses filled the air. Bridal consultant Carolyn Evans walked down the aisle to marry Sheik Tarik Oman to the strains of the wedding march played on the magnificent pipe organ. It was an occasion no one would ever forget. Especially bridesmaid Anne Sheridan.

As the groom lifted the bride’s veil and kissed her, there wasn’t a dry eye in the front row where the family sat. Anne’s eyes filled with tears, too. So many they threatened to spill down her cheeks. But it was not because she was overcome with emotion or because her pink silk shoes pinched her toes. It was an allergic reaction. While many people were allergic to grasses and trees, she knew from being tested last year she was allergic to flowers. She was allergic to the peonies and lilies in her bouquet, to the stephanotis at the end of each aisle, and even to the arrangements of roses at the altar.

To prepare for the wedding and guard against sneezing in the middle of the ceremony, she’d asked her doctor for extra-strength antihistamines which she’d taken an hour ago. Even so, her throat was raw and her eyes watered. It was clear she’d need another pill before the flower-filled garden reception to be held at the groom’s mansion. Unable to reach for a tissue, she blinked back the tears and bit her lip. She was grateful all eyes were on the bride so no one would notice her red-rimmed eyes and obvious discomfort.

But someone did notice. One of the groomsmen at the altar was staring at her and not the bride. It was one of Sheik Tarik’s twin cousins she’d met the night before at the rehearsal dinner. He was good-looking in an exotic way, but she couldn’t tell the difference between the twin brothers. They’d both flirted with every woman there except for her. She wasn’t the type men flirted with. She was a sane and sensible private-school teacher who stayed in the background and watched the festivities.

Whichever twin he was, he wasn’t flirting now, he was just looking at her intently as if he couldn’t believe she was getting carried away and crying at her best friend’s wedding. He raised one eyebrow, and she knew he must think she was an emotional basket case. As if she cared. After today she’d never see him again. He and his brother were just two of the out-of-town guests here for the wedding and would be leaving soon afterward.

She tore her gaze from his admittedly handsome face and focused on her friend Carolyn, thinking how happy she was for her. Marrying a rich and gorgeous sheik. After years of planning weddings for others, Carolyn was finally able to plan one for herself. And what a wedding it was. Somehow Anne got through the rest of the ceremony without coughing or sneezing and made it down the aisle and out in front of the church where she took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Are you all right?” A deep voice, a hand on her bare shoulder made a shiver go up her spine. Somehow she knew before she turned around. It was him. “Of course, I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on her bare skin. Telling herself the goosebumps that had popped out on her arms were due to the cool air and not his warm touch.

“Look, it’s just a wedding. Nothing to cry about,” he said. “If anyone’s crying it should be Tarik. Losing his freedom. Yes, it’s enough to make every man in the place weep.” He gave her a good-natured grin and removed his hand from her shoulder.

Immediately she missed the warmth of his touch. Ridiculous. A strange man took his hand away and she felt a chill. She tried to shrug off his remarks, which were obviously those of a confirmed cynic. He was just a typical, macho male with a commitment phobia. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I wasn’t crying….”

“Not crying?” There was amused surprise in his tone. Surprised that she’d try to deny it. Surprised that she’d dared disagree with him. He leaned forward until his face was only inches from hers and studied her carefully. His eyes held her gaze for a long moment. She tried to look away but couldn’t. She was trapped in the depths of those deep-brown eyes. Could that be sympathy she saw there or curiosity or something else? All she knew was she felt he was looking deep into her soul and she didn’t want him to. After all, she didn’t even know him.

He brushed a thumb against her cheekbone to wipe away a tear. A surprisingly gentle touch from a sophisticated man who looked like he came straight out of GQ. She felt a quiver run up her spine. Her legs felt like jelly. What was wrong with her, anyway? It must be the wedding, the tears, the joy and the music that were having an effect on her. Not to mention those allergy pills. No man had ever made her feel like this. No man had ever brushed away her tears either.

“Those were tears there,” he continued, cocking his head to one side. “You’re not a very good liar, sweetheart. I know what I saw.”

Anne took a deep breath and looked around. She had to get away from this man. Just in case it wasn’t the music, the tears and the flowers, just in case her condition had something to do with this man, with the way he looked at her, the way his thumb left an imprint on her cheek and the way his hand felt on her shoulder. She had to escape, right now. Before this cousin of the groom jumped to the conclusion that his unwanted attention was affecting her one way or another. That it was because of him she felt cold on the outside and hot on the inside. Or that she was afraid to look into his eyes again, which she absolutely was not.

She didn’t know where to go. Looking around, it seemed everyone was with someone. The photographer was snapping candid pictures, people were throwing rice and laughing and talking. No one was looking at her except him. She wished he wouldn’t. She wished he’d go join one of those other groups. But he didn’t. He just stood there looking at her. As if she were some rare bird like the ones she tracked on their migratory routes.

Thank heavens no one heard him call her “sweetheart” or noticed him touching her. Thank heavens no one knew what an effect that touch had on her. She felt it even now, the brush of his thumb on her skin. What an innocent she was. Any other woman would have shrugged it off, because it didn’t mean anything after all. Not to him.

“All right,” she said, “you saw tears, but not because…not for the reason you thought.”

“Cheer up,” he said with a smile that showed a flash of white teeth against his bronzed skin. “Think of it this way, you’re not losing a friend, you’re gaining a sheik.”

“Is that a good thing?” she asked, trying to strike a lighthearted, bantering tone, as if she dealt with handsome sheiks every day of the week. If she did she’d know how to deal with this man who undoubtedly needed a dose of humility. Not that she was the one to teach him. She taught six-year-olds to count and spell and read. She’d never met a sheik until Carolyn introduced her to Tarik, her fiancé, a kind and charming man who was obviously totally different from his cousin.

“A very good thing,” he said, his dark eyes dancing with fun.

Flirting. That’s what he was doing, she realized with a start. He was flirting with her, but she didn’t know how to flirt back. So she just stood there staring at him, wondering why he bothered with her. Why not hit on one of the other bridesmaids who’d know what to do, know what to say to a good-looking bachelor on the prowl. Anyone else would know how to put him in his place with a lighthearted riposte.

She was saved from responding to this bit of braggadocio by a request from the photographer for a picture of the entire wedding party inside the church.

“I guess that means me,” she said, grateful for the distraction.

“It means us,” he said, offering his arm.

She smiled weakly. As much as she wanted to, she knew it would be rude to ignore him, to stalk on ahead as if he hadn’t spoken, as if he hadn’t held out his arm. So she gingerly took his arm, so gingerly that he paused.

“I won’t bite, you know,” he said, slanting a teasing glance in her direction. Again his eyes danced with fun. At her expense. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. And they walked back up the aisle of the church. Thank heavens she wasn’t a bride, because she stumbled on the red carpet halfway to the altar, which caused the sheik to tighten his grip on her arm. He finally had to let her go so she could take her place with the bridesmaids and so he could take his place next to the groom.

But before the flashbulbs starting popping, she was compelled to cast a glance in his direction and found him looking at her. When he caught her eye he winked flirtatiously at her, and she quickly looked away.

Luckily she had to help the bride with her train on the way back down the aisle, and she lost sight of the sheik. Otherwise who knew what would have happened? She might have ridden with him back to the reception. She might have been wedged into one of the limos next to him all the way through town. The thought of his thigh pressed against hers, his shoulder next to hers caused the heat to rise to her head. She paused to take another allergy pill while she gave herself a stern warning about handsome men on the prowl.

Instead of riding with the sheik, luckily she caught a ride to the reception with Carolyn’s mother and aunt, during which they oohed and ahhed about what a lovely wedding it was and how beautiful Carolyn looked. Anne agreed enthusiastically, but when they started talking about the twin brothers, Rafik and Rahman, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the leather seat. She didn’t want to hear about them and she didn’t want to talk about them. She had nothing to say. She didn’t even know which one was which. This second dose of allergy medicine made her feel increasingly tired and groggy. If she could just make an appearance at the reception, she’d sneak out early and take a taxi home.

But she couldn’t ignore the conversation floating around her in the car. She couldn’t help feeling as if she were listening to a dialog from a movie.

“Aren’t those twins the handsomest men you’ve ever seen? You know, they arrived for the wedding a few weeks ago, but I heard they like it so much in San Francisco, they’re opening a branch of the family business here,” Carolyn’s mother said. “They’re going to be quite an addition to the social scene. With their looks and their money and their status.”

“So handsome,” Carolyn’s aunt murmured.

“Absolutely adorable, if I were thirty years younger….”

The two women burst into girlish laughter and even Anne had to smile. What was it about weddings that brought out the frivolous in everyone? Everyone but her.

“Anne, dear, how are you?” Carolyn’s mother asked anxiously observing her daughter’s best friend. “Weddings can be so exhausting. I know I’m going to spend the next week recovering. But you’ll feel better once we get to the reception. They’ve booked the most wonderful band and the caterer is the best in town.”

Anne nodded. She was sure everything about the reception would be perfection, if she knew Carolyn. They’d been friends since high school, spending hours together daydreaming about the future. Carolyn sketching bridal gowns, clipping articles on weddings from the society pages, destined for bridal bliss herself. Anne studying hard, determined to be a teacher, picturing herself surrounded by children as she read the stories to them that she’d loved as a child.

When Anne was diagnosed with scoliosis in her sophomore year Carolyn stood by her. She took notes for her friend when she had to miss school for doctor’s appointments. Cheered her up when she had to wear a back brace right up to graduation. Tried to lure her out to parties and dances. But Anne was shy and unsure of herself around boys. Who in their right mind would be interested in a girl in a brace? No one, that’s who.

Anne was never jealous of Carolyn. Even now with a lifetime of happiness ahead of her, Anne only wished her the best. Carolyn deserved it. After spending years planning weddings for other people, she’d finally planned her own to a man she was madly in love with.

Anne was determined to try to enjoy the reception for as long as she could. The good news was she’d been able to avoid the groom’s cousin completely so far. The bad news was she was so terribly tired. All she wanted to do right now was to lie down and take a nap. It was a side effect of the medicine, she knew. At least her tears had dried up and she wouldn’t be accused of getting emotional over a wedding.

The house on the bluff above the ocean was beautiful. The view from the garden was spectacular. Guests were handed a glass of champagne or sparkling fruit juice as they arrived at the entrance to the patio. Anne sipped her champagne gratefully. Her mouth was as dry as cotton. She found a chair half hidden behind a native fern and drained her glass. She heard voices, saw shapes and forms but hoped that no one, especially no one from the wedding party, could see her or they’d ask her what was wrong, insist she join the party, meet someone and say something. Never a social butterfly, she had never felt less social than today.

Suddenly the murmur of voices got louder. Voices she recognized.

“Say, Carolyn,” a familiar male voice said, “have I told you how beautiful you look? Too bad Tarik saw you first. He has all the luck.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky, Rafik. And so happy. One of these days we’ll be dancing at your wedding.”

“Have you been talking to my father? That’s his idea of happiness, not mine. Why get married when there are so many wonderful willing women around. By the way, who’s your bridesmaid?”

“Which one?”

“In the pink dress.”

“They’re all in pink dresses.”

“Reddish hair, blue eyes.”

“You mean Anne. My best friend from high school. Stay away from her, Rafik. She’s a wonderful woman, but she’s not willing. And she’s too good for a player like you,” Carolyn said in a teasing voice.

“Why don’t we let her decide?” he asked. “Besides, everything’s about to change. I’m going to be in charge of the new office here in San Francisco. I’m afraid my party days are over and my playboy ways are going to be sharply curtailed. Not that I’ll ever settle down, but I can’t stay out all night partying anymore if I’m going to be in the office at nine every morning. Woe is me.”

“You’re too much, Rafik. Let me introduce you to Lila. She’s a lot of fun.”

“I met her. She’s fine but not my type. Have you seen Anne around?”

“Rafik, I warned you…” Carolyn sighed. “No, I haven’t seen her since the church.”

Just as Anne was congratulating herself on her apparent invisibility, the pollen from the flowers that bordered the ferns she was hiding behind overcame her antihistamines and she sneezed.

Carolyn peeked around the plants. “There you are,” she said. She and Rafik circled around the ferns and stood looking down at her. “Come on and join the party. You’ve met Tarik’s cousin Rafik, haven’t you?”

“Yes, of course, I mean, that is I…I….” she stammered. “Not formally.”

Rafik held out his hand and he pulled her to her feet. If it weren’t for him she might have fallen over. Her knees wobbled and she felt dizzy. She hoped they wouldn’t notice. Carolyn didn’t, but then her head was in the clouds. Rafik gave Anne a searching second glance.

“Happy to meet you, Anne,” he said, trapping her hand between both of his. She tugged, but he had no intention of letting her go. Maybe it was just as well. Without his support she might have toppled over.

“If you two will excuse me,” Carolyn said. “I must say hello to some people. Rafik, remember what I said,” she added pointedly.

Anne wanted to go with her. Surely there were people she had to say hello to, too. But she couldn’t move. So she stood there, her hand still being held tightly by the sheik who showed no sign of remembering anything Carolyn had said. Why? she asked herself. Why didn’t he go off and dance with Lila, why stay with her?

“You look like you could use something to drink,” he said, studying her with narrowed eyes.

She nodded. “I’m really thirsty.”

“Let’s get some champagne and a few of those delicious hors d’oeuvres.” He tucked her hand securely under his arm for the second time that day and they strolled over to a table laden with all kinds of delectable canapés. With his support, she felt stronger, more in control.

“Champagne?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were permitted to drink.”

“My brother and I were sent to boarding school in the U.S. as kids. Then we stayed in this country for university on the east coast since the family business is multinational. I’m afraid we’re pretty much Americanized by now. For better or worse.” Again that disarming grin. The one that charmed all those willing women who were no doubt in his life. “You notice Tarik is serving fruit juice, too, for those like my parents who observe the religious rules of our country.”

Anne felt much better after she’d eaten two stuffed mushrooms and drunk another glass of champagne. “I’m fine now,” she said to the sheik. “Thank you.” You can go now. Don’t feel obliged to take care of me.

“Sure you’re all right? Not going to cry anymore?”

“For the last time, I wasn’t crying.” Goodbye.

“Right. You notice I didn’t mention it to your friend Carolyn.”

“I appreciate that,” Anne said. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going to uh…I see some friends over there. Nice meeting you.” If that wasn’t a decided exit, she didn’t know what was, she thought as she walked slowly across the lawn, her high heels scraping the ground. She didn’t turn to see if she’d hurt his feelings. She was sure she wasn’t capable of any such thing. He was most likely on his way to find another woman, chat up another bridesmaid, hoping she’d be more receptive to his so-called charm.

Rafik stood watching the woman wobble across the lawn, Carolyn’s words ringing in his ears. A wonderful woman. Stay away from her. Too good for you.

She was right. Anne was just the type he was not interested in. Shy. Quiet. Emotional. Heaven save him from the weepy kind of women who cry at weddings. Oh, it was okay if you were the mother of the bride or groom. So what was wrong with him, hitting on a woman who was most definitely not his type? There was something about her, the way she tried to hold back the tears that brought out the protector in him. She made him feel admirable. The way she looked at him through damp lashes, cheeks flushed, her face framed in that gorgeous red-gold hair.

He reminded himself he was not interested in being admirable. He was not looking to protect someone. He was looking for a smooth, sexy, smart and sassy woman who could protect herself. Anne Sheridan was none of the above. Besides she was a friend of Carolyn’s, his new cousin-in-law whom he respected. Half-reluctantly, he turned and looked over the bevy of lovely women, enough women gathered here to please a whole family of sheiks. For some reason he couldn’t seem to focus on any one of them.

“Hey,” his brother threw an arm around his shoulders. “Having fun? Who was the lady in pink I saw you with?”

“Just one of the bridesmaids.”

“I know it was one of the bridesmaids,” Rahman said. “What’s her name?”

“Anne Sheridan. A friend of Carolyn’s. Why?”

“I don’t know. Don’t remember her from the rehearsal dinner. Thought I’d met every pretty woman there. I might introduce myself. Unless you…?”

“No, absolutely not,” Rafik said. “Wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. Not my type. Not yours either.”

“Okay. Just asking. What a party, huh?”

It was quite a party, and Rafik would have been a fool to miss a moment of it. He threw himself into enjoying the music, the dancing, and oh, yes, chatting up the women. So much so, he almost forgot about the auburn-haired bridesmaid in the pink dress. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s the way it always was with him. But in one small corner of his mind during the fun, he wondered what had happened to her. He hoped his brother had followed his advice and ignored her. Not that he really cared. Not that she was his responsibility. It was just that she seemed so fragile and so vulnerable. It was obvious somebody ought to be responsible for her. Just so it wasn’t him or anyone he knew.

Yes, he’d all but forgotten about her, until at the end of the afternoon, as dusk was falling over the manicured grounds, after the eating, drinking and dancing, he was called upon to make a toast. He stood on the dance platform in front of the musicians who were packing up and told some anecdotes about Tarik that made everyone laugh. Just as he lifted his glass of champagne to toast his cousin and his bride, he saw Anne at the edge of the crowd. She lifted her glass and caught his eye. She definitely looked like she’d had a few too many glasses of champagne. Funny. He wouldn’t have picked her for a lush.