Saved by the Sheikh! / Million-Dollar Marriage Merger: Saved by the Sheikh! / Million-Dollar Marriage Merger

Tiffany swayed, eyes closed beneath the sensory onslaught.

At last, an eternity later, he lifted his head and gazed down at her with hooded eyes.

“So,” he said with some satisfaction, his fingertips rubbing in soft circles against the sensitized nape of her neck, “you will agree that most women are right. You are charmed.”

Tiffany reeled under the deluge of what could only be cool calculation.

“I think that you are the most arrogant and conceited playboy—” she spat that out “—I have ever met.”

For an instant he stared at her, and she steeled herself for retaliation … of a sexual kind.

He threw his head back and laughed.

“Thank you,” Rafiq said when he was finally through laughing, bowing his head with mock grace, his eyes still gleaming with hilarity. “I am honored.”

And Tiffany wished with wild regret that she’d smacked his face until her hand stung while she’d had the chance. Through lips that still burned from his kiss, she said, “You don’t charm me.”

Three

His amusement instantly evaporated.

Rafiq suppressed the flare of annoyance and studied her dispassionately. Her hostility surprised him. He’d thought she’d leap at the opportunity to seduce him. Had she gauged he was not easily swayed? Intrigued by the idea, he assessed her. Was the taunt a ploy to capture his attention? Was it possible that she’d known exactly who he was? Researched him?

He shook off the sudden concern.

No, she might be street-smart. But she was a nobody—an insignificant foreign girl illegally working in a dubious club in the backstreets of Hong Kong. He dismissed his apprehension.

“Don’t look at me like that, you arrogant jerk.”

No one talked to him like that. Certainly not a woman like her. With a growl he grabbed her hand and yanked her toward him. She made a little squeaking sound as she landed in his lap. Rafiq softened his hold, stroking his fingers in long sweeps along her spine. Bending his head, he nuzzled the soft skin of her neck, murmuring sweet words. Her gasp quickly turned to a moan of delight. He marshaled every seductive trick he knew. She responded like a moonflower opening, overwhelming him with her sweet response.

Rafiq fought against the intoxicating pleasure her soft body unlocked. Told himself he was still in control. After all, he’d only teased her … flirted with her … kissed her to determine how far Tiffany was prepared to take this scam.

It was a test.

He told himself she’d failed. Dismally. Even as she’d kissed him like angel. He should’ve been thrilled he’d been proved right.

Instead he drowned in her unresisting softness.

When she shoved at his chest, he blinked rapidly in surprise and shook his head to clear it. “What?”

She scrambled to her feet, her breathing unsteady, her eyes blazing. “You misled me. I didn’t come here for this. I’m not so desperate for a place to sleep.”

Before she could spin away, he caught her arm.

“Tiffany, wait. You insult both of us. You might think I’m a jerk but I never assumed you came with me to find a bed for the night.” Although perhaps the possibility should’ve occurred to him.

There was something about her that made him want to believe she wasn’t like that. Maybe it was her wide brown eyes that gave her such an air of sincerity. Or the baby-soft skin beneath his fingertips …

He brushed the observation aside. She was a woman—of course her skin was soft. It made her no different from a million other women.

Time to get rid of her, before she had him believing the tales she’d spun. He dropped her arm and drew his wallet from the back of his pants, flipping it open to extract a five-hundred-dollar bill. To his surprise his fingers still shook from the aftershocks of the kiss. “Here, this is your tip for serving me drinks—that should help cover your accommodation for a couple of nights.” If indeed, that story was true.

Bowing her head, Tiffany mumbled, “I can’t take that.”

“Why not?” By Allah, she drove him mad. What did she want from him? “I always intended to give you something to tide you over.”

Rafiq tried to figure out her agenda. He still wasn’t sure what she was after. She was such a curious mix of sophistication and spontaneity. On the one hand she’d almost convinced him her purse and passport had been stolen and all she wanted was a few dollars for a couple of nights’ budget accommodation. Hah, he was even ready to give it to her. In the next breath she’d told him she couldn’t afford the airfare home, leaving him certain that he was being manipulated by an expert.

He couldn’t work out whether she was simply a victim or extremely smart.

But his conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave her homeless in case she really had been the victim of petty crime. He thought of his cousin Zara, of his brother’s wife, Megan. What if it had been one of the women of his family in such a predicament? He would hope that someone would come to their aid.

“Take it, please.”

She stared down at the note in his hand. “It’s too much. After that kiss it would feel … wrong,” she mumbled, her hair blocking him from seeing her face.

He couldn’t help noticing the catch in her voice.

“Okay.” Growing impatient with himself, for being so aware of the woman, he opened the billfold again and extracted a twenty and a ten before shoving the other note back. “Take this then—it’s not as good a tip as you deserve, but at least you won’t suspect my motives.”

She tilted her head back and stared at him for a long moment. “Thank you for understanding.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry,” he said roughly.

“I can’t help it.” She sniffed and wiped her fingers across her eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

Rafiq found himself smiling. She enchanted him, this woman whom he couldn’t get a fix on. One minute he had her down as the cleverest schemer he’d ever met, the next she appeared as sweetly innocent as his cousin Zara.

She leaned forward. The scent of gardenias surrounded him. She rested her palm against his chest, her hand warm through the fine cotton of his shirt. Rafiq’s breath caught in his throat.

But the hunger he felt for Tiffany bore no resemblance to the sisterly love he showered on Zara.

By the time Tiffany rose on tiptoes and pressed soft lips against his cheek, he was rigid with reaction.

“Thank you, you’ve saved my life.”

She smelled so sweet, the body brushing against him so feminine, that Rafiq couldn’t stop his arms from encircling her. He drew her up against him. “Oh, Tiffany, what am I supposed to make of you?”

“I’m not very complicated at all—what you see is what you get,” she muttered against his shirt front.

He felt her smile against his thundering heart, heard her breath quicken as his arms tightened convulsively around her … and was lost.

A long time seemed to pass before Rafiq lifted his lips from hers.

As Tiffany’s fingers crept up his shirt and hooked into his loosened tie, Rafiq forgot that he’d started this driven by perverse curiosity and affronted male pride, to see if Tiffany would kiss him when she’d vowed that she wasn’t affected by his brand of charm.