The Desert Prince's Proposal

Hoping she was doing the right thing, and too tired to care one way or the other, she followed him, taking the time to admire the flattering fit of his charcoal-grey pinstripe suit and the impressive way he held himself—with casual grace underlined by strength.

She might have been tired but she wasn’t dead, and when he reached the taxi and swivelled to face her, appearing surprised she hadn’t kept up, she quickly raised her gaze from where it had been hovering around his body and forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the surge of uncharacteristic heat in her cheeks.

Bria glanced at her watch, roughly estimating that they were ten minutes away from the hotel, and she was rather grateful.

Since the initial small talk with Sam they’d lapsed into silence, and while it wasn’t uncomfortable it was a tad disconcerting to be confined this closely with a guy like him.

A guy like what? Intelligent, articulate and suave?

She may be going through a dating drought by choice, but she wasn’t completely oblivious to a sexy guy, and she could think of worse ways to while away the time between the airport and her destination.

‘How long are you staying at the hotel?’

‘Just a few days. The conference ends on Sunday after my presentation, but I’m staying on for an extra day. I heard they have a fabulous day spa there, so I thought a little R and R would be a good idea. And you?’

Not that she particularly cared. Sam was one of those guys that flitted in and out of places, focussed on business and little else. She could tell. If he were any other type of guy he would’ve been talking non-stop to impress her—usually about himself—or pushing her for a date. Instead, he’d done her the courtesy of staying silent for most of the trip.

‘I’m staying tonight and tomorrow.’

Surprised and somewhat concerned by the tiny flicker of disappointment at his words, she said, ‘That’s what I call a flying visit.’

He shrugged, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders beneath a crisp pale-blue tailored shirt.

‘Part of the business, I’m afraid. I’m used to it.’

She nodded, understanding completely. Her schedule often included regular flights to all parts of the globe, and she’d fine-tuned a jet-lag cure to cope with it.

In fact, Sam looked damn good for a guy who’d spent over a day on a plane, so he’d obviously discovered his own magical cure for biological-clock warfare, too.

‘Do you have any plans tonight?’

She shook her head, envisaging that long soak in the tub she’d been hankering for since the airport.

‘In that case, I’d be honoured if you would have dinner with me.’

An instant refusal sprang to her lips. She never dined or flirted, or did much of anything other than focus on work these days, and having dinner with Sam, no matter how nice he’d been, was out of the question.

However, the longer he stared at her with those compelling dark eyes, the more her resolve wavered.

There was nothing sleazy in his invitation, merely a polite request from someone who had already done her a favour by letting her share his taxi.

Why shouldn’t she have dinner with him?

She had to eat, hadn’t she?

Besides, she sensed a kindred spirit in Sam—someone who was so business-oriented that it was rare to take time out to speak to another human, let alone eat with them.

‘I hear that Joseph’s restaurant has a world-renowned chef who spent many years in London. Sampling the cuisine would be a must. And I would love to hear more about your presentation. I’m intrigued. It might give me some ideas to improve my own business.’

‘In that case, how can I refuse?’

She smiled, surprised at how quickly she’d capitulated, more so by the quick glint of pleasure in Sam’s eyes.

He didn’t appear smug or sneaky, or any of the things she’d come to look for when guys asked her out. Instead, he seemed genuinely pleased she’d accepted his invitation, and suddenly she looked forward to tonight.

If there was one thing she was comfortable discussing it was her business, and why shouldn’t she help Sam out? She owed him for the taxi ride.

Dinner would be like the countless other business meals she’d shared with strangers who’d ended up being her clients.

No pressure. No expectations. Just the way she liked it.

Pleased with the way she’d rationalised her acceptance of Sam’s invitation, she sat back and watched as they pulled up outside the beautiful hotel.

‘I’ll make the reservations. Does eight suit?’

‘Fine,’ she said, returning his smile, a small part of her recognising she’d never looked forward to dinner with clients as much as she was looking forward to dinner with this enigmatic stranger.

CHAPTER TWO

BRIA entered the restaurant a few minutes early, confident she’d be the first one there. However, the moment she stepped into the elaborate room with velvet banquettes, brushed-silver table lamps and polished mahogany, she saw Sam rise to his feet from a far table and weave his way through the room, his dark eyed gaze fixed solely on her.

She swallowed, unprepared for the rush of excitement, the little thrill of anticipation that this incredible-looking guy was dining with her. Women’s heads turned as he strode between the tables, not that she could blame them.

He’d changed out of his business suit into black trousers and an open-necked white shirt which accentuated his deep tan. Though his mannerisms and accent screamed British, she guessed he had a Mediterranean background, what with his dark good looks and unusual surname.

‘I’m so glad you joined me,’ he said as he reached her side, his appreciative stare sending warmth spiralling through her body. She stiffened, not used to the uncharacteristic physical reaction to a guy, especially one she wouldn’t see after tonight.

‘Thanks for asking me.’

His eyebrow flicked upward at her short, clipped response, and she inwardly sighed, knowing this was a bad idea.

So she felt slightly indebted to the guy for sharing his taxi with her—that didn’t mean she’d had to agree to his dinner invitation. She could’ve said a polite ‘thank you’ like the super-cautious woman she usually was and left it at that.

Instead, she’d dithered over her wardrobe choice for five minutes too long—exactly four minutes longer than she usually took—and had that weird, quivering sensation in her belly that dinner with an attractive man for the first time in ages might bring her more than she bargained for.

‘You seem a little tense. Are you tired?’

She shook her head, impressed by his perceptiveness, surprised by his consideration. Most guys wouldn’t have noticed she was tired.

‘Actually, I’m starving. The tiredness is par for the course with my business at the moment.’

He inclined his head, a strangely formal gesture that added to his appeal rather than diminishing it.

‘I understand. Please, let us eat so you can retire early.’

Stifling a smile at his formal way of speaking, she fell into step beside him, acutely aware of his hand resting in the small of her back, gently guiding her through the maze of tables.

Heat seeped through the silk of her dress and her skin prickled, utterly aware of his barely-there touch and reacting accordingly.