The Sultan's Bed Read Online Free PDF

moment,” he informed her. “I must make a phone call to the doctor, then I will return.”
    â€œMy doctor doesn’t make house calls.”
    â€œNo. But mine does.”
    â€œYours?” She stared up into that rough, intense and highly sensual face and wondered just who this new neighbor of hers was. Had his own doctor on call—and at eight o’clock at night, no less—had a fancy accent, worldly expression, tailored clothes, highly intelligent eyes and was impressively quick with a comeback.
    A stab of pain the size of New Jersey suddenly invaded her ankle. She dropped her cheek to the pillow, closed her eyes and moaned. When she opened her eyes again, Zayad was halfway out the door.
    â€œHey, Zayad?”
    He turned. “Yes?”
    â€œHow did you know this was my room?”
    A slow, almost fiendish smile drifted to his lips. “Careful deduction. You do not seem a risk taker to me, so the first-floor bedroom seemed correct.”
    Sad but true.
    â€œAnd then there was your computer, law books and yellow legal pads.” He pointed to her many Hockney posters littering the white walls. “The artwork. This is you.”
    The law books and such, she understood, but the artwork—that startled her. In all the time they were married, Alan had never even asked her about her love of Hockney, much less noticed if she had a connection to it. “Why is the art me?”
    His gaze swept the room and he took a thoughtful breath. “Firstly, you live in a town that boasts a beach-like feel, as many of Hockney’s paintings do. You are also very colorful, Mariah, and there is an interesting humor about you, as well.”
    She just stared at him. He got all that in two meetings? Oh, yeah, this guy was dangerous all right. “That was some pretty swift deducing from doorstep to backyard to bathroom to bedroom.”
    He grinned, haughtiness filling his black gaze. “I am said to be intuitive as well as highly intelligent.”
    â€œAnd maybe just a bit arrogant, too?” she added with a pained smirk.
    â€œOh, no, Mariah,” he said without humor this time. “I am far more than a bit.” And with that he turned and left.
    Â 
    Thirty minutes later, after a complete examination of her wrist and incredibly swollen ankle, the doctor—who was so young Mariah wondered if he’d had his first shave yet—told her in the same accent as her neighbor’s that her wrist was badly bruised. But her ankle?
    â€œI am afraid it is a serious sprain,” he said, his dark eyes on her. “I will prescribe a mild painkiller and bring you a brace and crutches. You may want an X-ray as well. In the meantime, you must rest. You will need to remain off your foot for a few days.”
    Mariah shook her head. “I can’t stay in bed. I have a ton of work to do.”
    â€œWork that will have to be done from bed, young lady.”
    She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. The twelve-year-old doctor had actually called her “young lady.” “I’m an attorney and I have a huge case to prepare. Lives are at stake and all that,” she said, trying to appeal to him in a way he’d understand. “If I can’t get up and get to work, I can forget about court in three weeks, and getting a wonderful mother of two custody and child support.”
    The doctor tried to look sympathetic. “I understand, Miss Kennedy. But if you want your ankle to heal, you will do as I say. And you will need someone to help you.”
    Zayad turned to her. “Your roommate is returning—”
    â€œIn a week.”
    His lips thinned. “Do you have a friend to help you?”
    â€œNot really.” Jane was her best friend. She’d allowed no one to get close to her since Alan. Of course, she had her work colleagues, but no one who she’d feel comfortable asking for help.
    â€œFamily?” Zayad asked.
    Mariah