One Desert Night - By Maggie Cox Page 0,17

to reach him, to comfort him in some way. 'If I've caused you offence…if I've hurt you by word or deed…I honestly regret it. Can you forgive me?'

With his palm curved round the gilt handle of the door, he stilled. The dark eyes grew even darker, but within their mesmerising reflection Gina saw a spark of haunting gold light.

'Forgiveness where you are concerned is not an easy matter. But I would ask that when you meet Farida, my sister, you do not mention the jewel under any circumstances. It would only distress her if she learns that I plan to be rid of it.'

'But what will I say if she asks me why I'm here?'

Zahir sighed. 'The palace is full of beautiful artefacts. You may tell her that you and your colleague are doing an inventory of the most valuable ones for me…as you did for Mrs Hussein's books.'

'I will do it because you ask me to, but I want you to know that I'm not comfortable with lying.'

To Gina's alarm, Zahir came closer. Her space was suddenly disturbingly invaded by the subtle but intoxicating scent of a cologne with hints of sandalwood and agarwood. She know that particular essential oil was highly prized in the region.

Reaching out, he lightly curled his fingers round the tops of her arms. 'When I first saw you peeping out from behind the leaves of that jasmine I believed that you were a trusting innocent, incapable of deceit or subterfuge. To my bitter cost I have since learned that is not true. Apart from your undoubted beauty, Gina, there is nothing about you that could elicit my attention or regard again. You may as well tell me if there has been any other man in your life since we last met, seeing as it hardly matters to me now.'

'I told you the truth—there's been nobody else.' Her answer was as direct as the challenging look she gave him. 'And neither am I interested in another man. A relationship isn't my focus. I prefer to devote my time and attention to my work. Sometimes the paths it leads me down don't deliver exactly what I expect, but…unlike most men…it never disappoints me.'

Suddenly the grip on her arm grew tighter, and Gina bit back a gasp. 'When did I disappoint you? When I took you to bed? I have a photographic memory, rohi. I easily recall how incredibly responsive and eager you were in my arms that night. Yes, eager…even though you were untouched. Did you not think I'd realised that? Tell me, has there ever been another man in your life who has pleasured you longer or more ardently?'

Even though shock and embarrassment flooded her, she took heart at the distinct jealousy in Zahir's tone. He'd said she would never elicit his attention or regard again, but something in his possessive and furious manner told her that that might not be entirely true. Her senses clamoured and her pulses raced at the idea there might be a chance—even if that chance hung by the slimmest thread—that she could make things right between them.

Holding his hot and angry gaze, she breathed out slowly. 'You just told me you knew I was untouched when we went to bed…so the answer is no, Zahir. There has never been another man who has made me feel like you did that night.'

He abruptly released her. Dark eyes glittering, he silently surveyed her. 'For now, even though it is a hard thing for me to do, I will have to take your word on that. Tomorrow I will hear your presentation on the jewel, so please be well prepared. Goodnight, Dr Collins. I will see you in the morning.'

She stood frozen as he spun on his heel and exited the room, fervently wishing she had a magic spell to make him look at her fondly again instead of disparagingly…

Zahir's eyes burned from lack of sleep. When he had managed to doze a little, in his vast bed with its black silk sheets, he'd been tormented by only too real images of an alluring blonde angel with eyes bluer than a clear desert sky. He couldn't seem to get the scent of her out of his blood, either…

Frustrated beyond endurance, he dressed and went outside. In the sultry stillness of the perfumed night his footsteps led him to his own private garden—a sanctuary where the only other person allowed to enter was his gardener. Arriving at the Bedouin tent that was always