Christmas Bride For The Sheikh

But they didn’t get a table.

Hazin and his glass of water were worthy of a booth.

He was so broad shouldered that the people parted like the Red Sea for him and she should have walked a smooth path behind, except her thighs felt like they were made of rubber.

‘After you,’ he said, and she slid into a velvet-lined seat and let out a tense breath of relief when he took the seat opposite, instead of sliding in beside her.

‘I’m Hazin.’

She noticed he did not offer his title.

This man did not need a title to have her feeling weak from the waist down.

He thought that perhaps, if she hadn’t been coming to Dion’s for a while, she might not know who he was. It was a refreshing thought—to lose the burden of it for a night.

‘You?’ he asked.

‘Flo,’ she said. ‘Florence.’

‘Like that old nurse?’

‘Florence Nightingale?’ she checked, and he nodded. ‘Well, she wasn’t old in her day,’ Flo corrected him. ‘Do you perhaps mean that nurse from olden times?’

‘I do.’

She smiled.

Hazin was well schooled but English was his second language and occasionally he slipped. Anyway, language and its intricacies could hardly be expected to be at the forefront of his mind when in the presence of such loveliness.

He liked her matter-of-fact correction that had come with a smile. Hazin had been raised to know any deviation from perfection would not be tolerated.

Yes he was wild, but whether it was a misspelt birthday card to his father, a torrid fling, or being born second in line, the verdict was always the same.

Not good enough.

So he no longer tried and instead happily disappointed everyone.

His sins would never be forgiven so Hazin had long since stopped apologising for them.

It made no difference when he did.

‘So,’ he asked, wanting to know more of her, ‘why have you banned yourself?’

‘Because the people here are terribly shallow.’

‘Yes.’

‘And my ex comes here...’ Flo explained just a little.

‘Were you hoping to see him?’

‘God, no.’ Flo grimaced at the very thought. ‘I’m not just avoiding Dion’s, I’ve been staying home a lot of late.’

‘For how long?’

‘All this year.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m off men.’

He looked at Flo and he wondered, in a way that was unusual for him, what on earth had happened that she would hide her light away.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Flo hadn’t told anyone.

Not a single soul.

Yet his eyes looked right into hers and his smile was non-judgmental and kind.

But, no, she would not be telling him.

‘So are you off all men?’

She swallowed because just a short while ago her response would have been an unequivocal yes.

Except he was ravishing.

And funny.

But mainly he was ravishing.

His eyes weren’t a uniform grey—this close she could see there were little flecks of green and amber.

‘I think so.’

‘Isn’t it a bit extreme?’ he asked. ‘To hide yourself away...?’

‘Perhaps,’ Flo said. ‘Yes.’

‘Would you like another drink?’ he offered.

‘No, thank you.’ She glanced at his empty glass. ‘Can I get you one?’

She was frantic to get some control here—to go and stand at the bar again so she could remind herself how to breathe, but Hazin would not let her get away that easily.