with every ounce of will power she had.
When Jordan surfaced from a disturbed sleep interrupted by erotic dreams, Chloe’s side of the bed was empty. Which was just as well, he decided, all things considered. He could smell her fresh-from-the-shower scent overlaid with the equally enticing aroma of a full English breakfast.
Pulling his jeans on over his boxers—not an easy task in his state—he followed his nose in search of the coffee pot. He found Chloe sitting at the breakfast table flicking through sightseeing brochures. She’d tied her hair back and he approved the conservative elbow-sleeved navy dress that met Dubai’s fashion etiquette. ‘Good morning.’
She looked up, her eyes instantly drawn to his chest, then quickly looked back to her reading material. ‘Good morning.’ She waved a hand at the table and said, ‘I didn’t know what you liked so I ordered everything.’
‘Everything.’ His eyes roamed over the sea of silver domes on the table and he had to grin. It appeared she was serious.
‘The staff were waiting to serve you but I sent them away … I didn’t know what time you’d be getting up.’
He stepped up to the table. ‘And you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t still be in bed when I did.’
Bingo. Chloe felt the blush explode into her cheeks. She lowered her head farther and reached for another pamphlet. ‘I … I’m an early riser.’
‘So am I,’ he murmured, all lazy innuendo. The tips of her ears burned like a furnace, and she felt him lean in so that his lips grazed one to whisper, ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’
Honey over sand. Her breath caught, her pulse blipped. That sleep-husky voice was a reminder of last night and how she’d come so close to losing control, and in the glaring light of day she felt the flames of embarrassment all the way to her toes.
She gritted her teeth and decided a women’s-only spa session was on this morning’s agenda. Maybe she could make it last all day. ‘We both know the reason for that.’
‘I wonder if it’ll still hold true for tomorrow?’ Thankfully, he moved away, lifting domes and piling a plate with bacon and eggs. ‘You’ve eaten, then.’
‘Yes.’ She replayed his words in her head then turned, studying him with narrowed eyes. ‘Tomorrow morning won’t be any different.’
He looked far too smug as he poured himself a coffee. ‘Ah, yes, it will. Because tonight, Mrs Blackstone, we’re to be treated to an Arabian honeymoon special, courtesy of Sheikh Qasim.’
Her heart thumped once, hard. ‘What?’
‘The sheikh’s had some family emergency. It’s an apology for postponing our meeting.’
‘Postponing?’ Chloe stared at him, a spurt of panic trickling through her bloodstream. ‘How long for?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m sure we’ll hear very soon.’ He smiled—a hint of wicked fun—over the gold rim of his cup. ‘Don’t look so worried.’
That devil’s smile was supposed to reassure? ‘So what’s this honeymoon special we’re being treated to?’ More importantly, what did it involve and how did it impact on her decision to keep that space between them?
‘It’s a magical mystery tour for me too. We have to be ready with an overnight bag by noon.’
All night. Just the two of them in some romantic getaway spot? This wasn’t good. She shook her head. ‘You go. I … have a salon appointment this afternoon.’
His eyes cooled, as rapidly as molten steel turned black when dropped in water, and a muscle tensed in his jaw. ‘Then cancel it.’
His reaction and demand stunned her. She’d never heard him speak that way to her and shock curdled with something akin to fear beneath her breastbone. That loss of control feeling reminded her of Markos and the subtle but dangerous power he’d had over her. It was her worst nightmare and she struggled against it. ‘I … don’t want to cancel.’
His expression hardened further, the lines around his mouth deep, drawn. He set his cup down with a snap. ‘Have you forgotten why you’re here?’
‘No.’ She lifted her chin, determined not to let him forget either. ‘And it’s not to please you in bed.’
Something in his eyes warned her she’d overstepped some boundary. ‘You’re here as my wife.’ He wasn’t the smooth charmer now; he was all sharp spikes and business. ‘This is our honeymoon and we’re going to smile and act like honeymooners.’ His jaw was tight. ‘For our host at least.’
‘But our host won’t—’
‘His staff, Chloe.’ His eyes pinned her in place, his warning as clear as thunder over water. ‘The status of