Midnight at the Oasis: His Majesty's Mistake

And that twinge of tension was enough for him to come to a decision.

This wasn’t going to work with her here. He realized they’d only just arrived, but she had to go. The timing was terrible, but there was too much at risk to allow himself to be mired in indecision.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_68ee7cd4-7496-5ade-b16a-0950ed7abf3b)

STILL flattened from her call to Hannah, Emmeline showered and wrapped herself in her robe that had been unpacked and hung in the closet next to Hannah’s wardrobe.

Curious, Emmeline sorted through Hannah’s clothes. Hannah’s wardrobe wasn’t exactly dowdy, but it was practical. Hannah dressed conservatively in keeping with her job.

Stretching out on the bed, Emmeline felt a sudden rush of affection for her lookalike, thinking Hannah was the kind of friend you’d want in your corner. And she’d been in Emmeline’s corner, too.

Emmeline didn’t remember drifting off to sleep, but hours later the doorbell woke her.

Sitting up, she saw the sun had shifted across the sky and now sat low, hinting at twilight. Pale violet shadows crept across the bedroom and hovered in corners. She headed for the door. One of the palace’s kitchen staff stood outside with a gleaming silver trolley.

“Good evening, Miss Smith,” the palace staffer greeted her. “His Highness thought you’d want to dine tonight in the privacy of your own room.”

A thoughtful gesture on the sheikh’s part, she thought, opening the door wider. The man pushed the trolley through the living room out onto the flagstone patio. Emmeline watched as he arranged the tables and chairs closer to the pool and covered the small round table with a cloth from the cart, then dishes, silverware, goblets, candles and a low floral arrangement.

Then with a brief respectful nod to Emmeline, he left, taking the now-empty cart with him. Once he was gone, Emmeline stepped out onto the patio. The table had been set for two. Two plates, two sets of silverware, two water and two wine goblets.

She wasn’t dining alone tonight.

And just like that, Emmeline’s sense of well-being fled.

The moment Hannah opened the door that evening, Makin knew he’d made a mistake. He should have called her to his office to tell her he was sending her away, summoning her as one would summon an employee, instead of breaking the news over dinner.

He’d thought that talking in private would lessen the blow. But he was wrong. Wrong to speak to her at dinner, in her room.

Worse, she’d dressed for dinner tonight, and she’d never dressed for dinner before.

Why had she put on a frothy cocktail dress? And why those gold high heels that made her legs look silky smooth and endless?

Makin followed her slowly through her gold living room to the garden knowing he was compounding matters, adding insult to injury by staying. One didn’t give employees bad news like this. He should go and wait until the morning. Go and wait until he felt calmer, more settled.

But he didn’t leave. He couldn’t, not when he felt an irresistible pull to stay. Instead of going, he trailed after her through the large sliding glass doors to the garden where a table had been set for two.

Makin’s gaze rested on the table and his unease grew.

She’d dressed to match the table setting, her orange chiffon gown a darker, more vibrant shade than the table’s rich apricot-and-gold jeweled cloth. Tall tapered candles framed the low floral centerpiece of apricot and cream roses.

Yet another mistake. His chief of staff had misunderstood him.

Makin blamed himself for the confusion. He should have been more clear with his kitchen and waiting staff. He’d requested a quiet meal with Hannah so he could speak frankly with her. He’d asked to have the meal served in her room so he could talk without interruption. It had never crossed his mind that his simple request would get turned into this …

This …

Intimate setting for two.

Makin frowned at the gleaming display of silver, crystal wine goblets and fine bone china.

His frown turned grim as the tall tapered candles flickered and danced, throwing shadows and light across the table, accenting the rich jewel tones of the embroidered cloth. More candles flickered in hammered iron wall sconces. Even the pool and fountain were softly lit as a whisper of a breeze rustled through the tall date palms standing sentry around the perimeter of the garden.

Makin had come to Hannah’s apartment hundreds of times over the years, but they’d never dined here before, not alone, not late at night, and certainly never like this.

When they met for dinner, the tone had always been professional, the focus centered on business. She’d attended numerous banquets with him. Had sat across from him at countless perfunctory meals where she took notes and he rattled off instructions. But it had never been this, never the two of them seated across from each other dining by moonlight and candlelight. The lighting changed everything, as did the soft sheen of the embroidered silk tablecloth. The shimmer of fabric, the glow of light created intimacy … sensuality.

She’d never met him in anything but tailored jackets and skirts and demure blouses before, either. And yet she’d dressed tonight. As if this wasn’t just a business dinner. As if this was something more … something personal … as if this was a … date.

Just the thought of being alone with Hannah on a date, in a filmy cocktail dress and high strappy gold heels, made him harden.

It was a good thing he’d made the decision this afternoon to send her to a different office to work with different people. A good thing he’d decided to act swiftly. Relationships were tricky, particularly in the work arena, and he’d always been very careful to keep business and personal separate. But now, with Hannah, the line between work and personal life felt blurred. Around Hannah he’d begun to crave … something. And Makin was not a man to crave anything.

“We need to talk,” he said roughly, gesturing to the table, deciding he wouldn’t wait for dinner to say what he needed to say. He’d just do it right away. Get it over with. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he’d broken the news and she’d accepted his decision.

He watched as Hannah sat down gracefully, obediently, at the table and looked up at him, waiting for him to speak. On one hand she was doing everything right—sitting quietly, waiting patiently—and yet everything felt wrong.

Starting with her orange chiffon cocktail dress. And the gold bangle on her wrist. And the fact that she had left her long thick hair loose about her shoulders.

How could he coldly announce he was sending her away, transferring her to another department, when she was looking so good and lovely?

Especially lovely. The lovely part frustrated him. He felt tricked. Played.

Hannah didn’t wear vivid colors like juicy orange or exotic peacock. She didn’t leave her hair loose or smudge her eyes with eyeliner or stain her lips with soft pink color.

He turned his back on her to face the pool. The rectangular blue pool was illuminated tonight with small spotlights aimed at the elegant fountain so that shadows of dancing water played across the back wall. But even the small spotlights hinted at intimacy.

Makin walked around the edge of the pool, ran a troubled hand across his jaw, unable to remember a time when he’d been this uncomfortable. The night was warm but it wasn’t the temperature making him miserable. It was the knowledge that this was his last night with Hannah, that tomorrow he’d be sending her away.

He knew it was for the best but still.

Makin rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension balled in the muscles between his shoulder blades. Even his white shirt felt too snug against his shoulders and his trousers hot against his skin.

“You’re making me nervous,” she said quietly, her voice soft in the warm night.

He glanced at her, still unable to make sense of this Hannah, or of his ambivalent feelings for her.

For four and a half years they’d worked closely together and as much as he’d valued her and appreciated her skill, he’d never felt the least bit attracted to her. There had never been chemistry. Nor did he want there to be. She was an employee. Intelligent, productive and useful. Three words he used to describe his laptop, too. But you didn’t take a computer to bed.

“Why?” he asked equally quietly, seeing the faint tremble of her soft lower lip, and then the pinch of her teeth as they bit down.

The bite of her teeth into that tender pink lip made him hot, blisteringly hot. It was a physical heat, a heat that made him harden and his temper stir.

This was absurd. Ridiculous. Why was he feeling things now? Why was he responding to her now? For God’s sake, he was her boss. She was dependent on him. One didn’t take advantage of one’s position or power in life. Not ever. That lesson had been drummed into him from a very early age.

And yet his hard, heavy erection was very real, as was his drumming pulse.

He was feeling very angry, very annoyed and very impatient. With her, with him, with all of this.