The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Cara Albany
could feel the heat of his body. He was inches from her, and if he'd wanted, he could have reached out a hand and touched her, taken her elbow, wrapped a gentle hand around her arm, laid his fingertips on her shoulder or the side of her face.
Rachel cleared her throat.
Zarif raised his brows but said nothing. She was aware of the silence in the room. Then she heard her own voice, and she could hardly believe what she was saying. When she spoke, her voice cracked slightly, but she knew that there really only was one answer to such a request. It wasn't every day that a sheikh asked you out to dinner.
"I would be delighted to accept your invitation to dinner, Zarif," she heard herself say.
The flickering doubts of past demons tried in vain to rise up and force her to change her mind. To try to get her to respond to this invitation in the same way she had always responded to invitations.
But she resisted the old impulses. This was different. The man standing before her was unique, not like the one who had driven her to put up her barriers; nothing like the one who had forced her to turn her back on love.
And, as she accompanied Zarif out of the apartment, she wondered just how she was going to resist the charms of the most handsome man she had ever seen.
CHAPTER THREE
Later that afternoon, Zarif closed the door to his apartment behind him with a resounding thud.
It was over. Finally, he had said his polite goodbyes to Abby, and he'd made his way back to the relative calm of his apartment. He faced a long wait for the one thing to which he was really looking forward.
A dinner date with Rachel.
It was only mid-afternoon, and he wondered how he was going to stand the wait. He stripped off and dived beneath the soothing needles of the cool shower. It felt as if he was cleansing himself of the events of the last two hours.
As he soaped his naked body, rinsing his skin with the sharpness of the powerful shower, his mind ran over the so-called lunch meeting. It had been crystal clear from the start of the lunch that Abby had been intent on trying to impress Zarif. She had fawned over him, trying to be as nice as humanly possible, sending out all the signals he so clearly recognized.
Abby was a woman determined to do whatever it took to capture the attentions of the sheikh, he told himself.
Zarif groaned aloud, his voice echoing in the confines of the shower stall. He leaned a hand against the smooth tiles and thrust his head beneath the welcoming torrent of water. He turned the temperature control until the water had been transformed into an icy barrage.
He closed his eyes and forced his attention onto something much more welcome. Someone more innocent; someone less self-serving.
Rachel.
Zarif felt a warmth inside him even as he stood beneath the freezing water.
Rachel would be sitting across from him in a matter of hours. It would be a welcome relief to be in the presence of someone so different, someone so very special. Even while he had been enduring Abby's ridiculous earlier performance at the restaurant, Zarif had been barely able to keep his mind off Rachel.
The way she had resisted him at the viewing of the apartment that morning had impressed him. She had shown a plain, defiant determination in refusing to take the bait he'd laid for her. He'd needed to test her, see if her apparent innocence had been an act, or whether it had been for real. There was something about her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Rachel had an elusive quality about her. It was something he had never come across before.
She had done everything possible to demonstrate that his wealth and power did not impress her in the slightest. At least, that was how it had seemed to him at the time. But, reflecting further on the events of the morning, he'd come to the conclusion that something lay hidden beneath the mask that Rachel worked so hard at maintaining. Because, Rachel was putting up a barrier to Zarif, and
Rachel cleared her throat.
Zarif raised his brows but said nothing. She was aware of the silence in the room. Then she heard her own voice, and she could hardly believe what she was saying. When she spoke, her voice cracked slightly, but she knew that there really only was one answer to such a request. It wasn't every day that a sheikh asked you out to dinner.
"I would be delighted to accept your invitation to dinner, Zarif," she heard herself say.
The flickering doubts of past demons tried in vain to rise up and force her to change her mind. To try to get her to respond to this invitation in the same way she had always responded to invitations.
But she resisted the old impulses. This was different. The man standing before her was unique, not like the one who had driven her to put up her barriers; nothing like the one who had forced her to turn her back on love.
And, as she accompanied Zarif out of the apartment, she wondered just how she was going to resist the charms of the most handsome man she had ever seen.
CHAPTER THREE
Later that afternoon, Zarif closed the door to his apartment behind him with a resounding thud.
It was over. Finally, he had said his polite goodbyes to Abby, and he'd made his way back to the relative calm of his apartment. He faced a long wait for the one thing to which he was really looking forward.
A dinner date with Rachel.
It was only mid-afternoon, and he wondered how he was going to stand the wait. He stripped off and dived beneath the soothing needles of the cool shower. It felt as if he was cleansing himself of the events of the last two hours.
As he soaped his naked body, rinsing his skin with the sharpness of the powerful shower, his mind ran over the so-called lunch meeting. It had been crystal clear from the start of the lunch that Abby had been intent on trying to impress Zarif. She had fawned over him, trying to be as nice as humanly possible, sending out all the signals he so clearly recognized.
Abby was a woman determined to do whatever it took to capture the attentions of the sheikh, he told himself.
Zarif groaned aloud, his voice echoing in the confines of the shower stall. He leaned a hand against the smooth tiles and thrust his head beneath the welcoming torrent of water. He turned the temperature control until the water had been transformed into an icy barrage.
He closed his eyes and forced his attention onto something much more welcome. Someone more innocent; someone less self-serving.
Rachel.
Zarif felt a warmth inside him even as he stood beneath the freezing water.
Rachel would be sitting across from him in a matter of hours. It would be a welcome relief to be in the presence of someone so different, someone so very special. Even while he had been enduring Abby's ridiculous earlier performance at the restaurant, Zarif had been barely able to keep his mind off Rachel.
The way she had resisted him at the viewing of the apartment that morning had impressed him. She had shown a plain, defiant determination in refusing to take the bait he'd laid for her. He'd needed to test her, see if her apparent innocence had been an act, or whether it had been for real. There was something about her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Rachel had an elusive quality about her. It was something he had never come across before.
She had done everything possible to demonstrate that his wealth and power did not impress her in the slightest. At least, that was how it had seemed to him at the time. But, reflecting further on the events of the morning, he'd come to the conclusion that something lay hidden beneath the mask that Rachel worked so hard at maintaining. Because, Rachel was putting up a barrier to Zarif, and
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