Free The Sultan's Bed by Laura Wright

in my budget.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œAnyway, the point is you’ve done enough for me.” And to me, she mused, her skin warming at the memory of his arms around her and his mouth on hers. “Take some time for yourself.”
    His brow lifted. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Mariah?”
    Just trying to keep myself a born-again virgin.
    No.
    Just trying to save myself the embarrassment of your rejection when I fling myself at you—and totally sober this time.
    â€œZayad, the truth is that you deserve a break. You’ve been amazing looking after me, making me meals, driving me to see Tara.”
    â€œI appreciate the thought, but I feel responsible for you and your well-being now.”
    â€œThat’s very gallant, but the knight-in-shining-armor routine is…” Well, actually, it’s so great I want to melt.
    â€œMy mind will not be changed.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œLike you, Mariah, I am a highly skilled debater.”
    â€œYeah, I see that.” She smiled.
    He shifted into fourth gear, then third as he came off the highway and onto the main drag. When he turned onto their street, he asked, “Do you know much about swords?”
    â€œNot much. But I find antiques and artwork very interesting.” Actually she found it so interesting that she’d looked on the Internet this morning when Zayad had gone over to his apartment to change his clothes.
    He pulled into the driveway with just a little too much speed, brought the SUV to a halt, then flicked off the ignition. “If you would like, we could share our worlds for the evening.”
    Fingers gripping the door handle, Mariah turned. “What do you mean?”
    â€œYou will come to my home for the pizza and, if itamuses you—if you are truly interested—you could see some of my collection.”
    Her insides went tingly and raw. Weekend nights for old-maid Mariah Kennedy usually consisted of frozen food or takeout—because Jane was working—and a movie, just as she’d said she was going to do earlier. But this—this addition of a sexy man showing her his passion for antique weaponry… Well, strange as it may seem, that just couldn’t sound any more fabulous.
    But she smiled with only mild enthusiasm. After all, he didn’t need to know how interested she was. “Maybe I could give you a fresh opinion on the pieces? Which ones you should sell and to whom? That kind of thing?”
    A flash of humor crossed his face. “We will see.”
    Oh, he was so arrogant.
    He got out of the car, came around to her side and helped her out. For a second he stood there, easing her arm about his shoulders, placing his hand unnecessarily on her hip. “We will see where the night takes us, yes?”
    Heat snaked through Mariah and she found herself nodding as he lifted her into his arms.
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    â€œThe man’s name is Charles Waydon.”
    Thirty minutes later Zayad stood in his sparsely furnished living room, surrounded by yellow shag carpeting and badly stuccoed walls, and gave one of his most trusted aides the address of Mariah’s client’s unscrupulous husband. “He is to be watched twenty-four hours a day. I want to know where he goes, who he sees. I want photographs, Fandal. Even his refuse should be checked.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œThis is very important.”
    â€œI understand, sir.”
    Zayad turned his back on the man, snatched up the phone book. He would serve Mariah this pizza himself, order it himself. And he would not question his motives for wanting to perform such an inane act, for wanting to be just an ordinary man for tonight and for the next two weeks.
    Though his servant might.
    â€œIf I may ask, Your Royal—sir?”
    â€œYes, Fandal?”
    â€œWhy are you helping this woman?”
    â€œI have given her my word.”
    â€œYes, but why? She is not the woman you seek.”
    No, she was not.