His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,66

Alix Anderson, the world famous fashion designer, was Pip’s sister-in-law’s best friend. Jumal had met the man both at Matt’s stag party in London and also at their wedding, and he let his mind wander back to the wedding, which he’d literally had to fly straight in and out for. He had a business meeting in New York, or at least that’s what he’d told Matt. Truth was he couldn’t trust himself to be around Pippa in such a setting, especially when he was then newly engaged to Faridah.

A few days later, Jumal was finishing up his call with the owner of the garage dealing with Pippa’s car, when he heard the apartment door open.

“Salam! I’m home,” she called out.

He waved as she barged through the door into the apartment, her arms full of files from the office and a large pizza box balanced on the top. He gestured that he was on the phone and she nodded. She lunged for the table in the living room and dropped her heavy load.

He ended the call as she popped into the kitchen and dumped her new handbag on the counter—another gift from him.

“I come bearing gifts and a large spicy pepperoni—no jalapenos on your side.” She grinned at him before popping a kiss on his cheek and cheekily adding, “You wuss. Oh hey, the slings gone.”

“What? Oh, yeah, the physio said it’s okay to start taking my arm out for a bit.”

Her smile quickly dropped as she noticed the concerned look on his face.

She straightened and took a step back from him. “What’s the matter?” she asked, worry evident in her voice. He opened his arms and she happily accepted his offer of comfort, resting her head low against his chest.

“Nothing serious,” he assured her as she looked up at him. “It was just the garage calling about your car.”

“Oh yeah.” And he felt her body relax against his. “So what’s the damage?”

“Water in the fuel line, apparently,” he told her, his brow creased with concern.

She pulled away from him and looked up at his face. “What?” she asked, screwing up her face in confusion.

Jumal had already worked through the problem and concluded that it must have been done on purpose. There was no other alternative. That meant that someone was intentionally targeting Pippa. There were too many “unlucky” incidents for them to be random: the spiking of her drink, the slashing of her tyres, her bag being stolen and now this.

“Who knows?” he shrugged. “A prankster probably. Anyway,” he continued, unwilling to let her thoughts linger on it, “I need to go up to my home. There are some things I need to sort with the equestrian centre. Will you come with me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice upbeat.

Jumal’s main home was situated a couple of hours away, deeper in the desert. It was isolated and quiet. A perfect escape whilst he put the wheels in motion to figure out who the hell was targeting Pippa.

“Sure,” she agreed, opening the fridge and bringing out a couple of bottles of beer. “When do you want to go?”

He mentally calculated how long it would take him to make the necessary calls. “Let’s go tomorrow afternoon,” he suggested, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Come on,” he said, as she handed him his bottle. “I fancy pizza in bed.” He grinned, winked at her and strolled out to the living room, grabbing the pizza box before heading down the hall to their bedroom…their bedroom, he thought. A warm, comfortable feeling flooded his chest at the sound of it.

Pip looked over at Jumal in the passenger seat. His jaw was firmly set and she could tell he had something on his mind, but whatever it was it wasn’t up for discussion. She’d found him having hushed telephone conversations earlier in his study, which he’d quickly ended when she popped her head around the door and offered him a coffee. She’d tried twice to get him to talk about it, but he’d just diverted her attention with kisses. He was definitely up to something.

She sighed as she brought her focus back to the long, straight road. They’d been driving for almost two hours and had covered the full length of the island. Apparently they were almost there. Her back was starting to ache as was her head from the heavy glare of the sun on the asphalt. She pressed her foot lower on the Porsche’s accelerator as the clear road opened up through