To Touch a Sheikh Read Online Free PDF Page B

man-eater. Which made her an even more dangerous one for being impossible to categorize, to predict, to despise.
    He huffed his disgust with himself. “Anything? And you’re supposedly a phenomenal political and financial law consultant. I thought when your father stopped making the dimwitted state and financial decisions he was famous for and started making choices far above his minuscule IQ, that you were behind it.Now I have to revise that belief, if you, too, go around giving carte blanche to conditions you haven’t heard yet.”
    â€œAnything for you, ” she amended indulgently, not bothering to counter his assessment, as only someone secure in her abilities wouldn’t. “I know you won’t make it anything bad.”
    â€œAnd you know that because I’m the Gandhi of the region? Are you already suffering from sunstroke? Your judgment is evidently impaired.”
    She made a hurry-up gesture with those elegant, trim-nailed hands. “Spit out your condition, and let’s be on our way.”
    He sighed again. “No complaints. If I hear one, you’re back here.”
    She fluttered those thick-enough-to-sleep-on lashes, gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
    He almost groaned. She was making kidnapping her too easy. Anything that started out that way invariably ended in catastrophe. What would that entail in this situation?
    He had no choice but to find out.
    He looked down at her, exhaled, nodded. To himself. To committing to this path. Wherever it took him.
    He only hoped that when catastrophe struck, he’d at least have accomplished his mission.
    Â 
    Maram looked down into those eyes Amjad had damned earlier.
    And damn summed them up all right.
    She’d had a good-to-great life on the whole. But it was only when she looked into his eyes that she felt aware of every spark of her being, every iota of her potential.
    And that was before he’d taken her riding on his horse.
    She’d expected him to ride a black stallion. Or a white one. She’d been delighted to find his favorite was a glorious light chestnut mare. Dahabeyah, literally “golden,” would be her twin if she were a horse. She’d held her ponytail next to the mare’s and exclaimed how they were almost the same color. She’d asked ifhe’d chosen the mare for the animal’s similarity to her, knowing he’d never admit it even at gunpoint.
    His answer had been a mere snort before he turned to tacking up the mare, then donned a billowy white abaya and traditional head cover.
    Then he’d mounted the mare in a demonstration of power and grace and all she could think of was him mounting her, riding her…
    She’d been combusting even before he’d pulled her up behind him. She’d declined to ride a horse of her own, wasn’t such an assured horsewoman that she’d risk it in this terrain. His eyes had said she just wanted to be as close to him as possible. She hadn’t denied the accusation. The truth consisted of both his version and hers.
    They’d ridden uphill for twenty minutes at a trot. Every second brought a new level of awareness of the hot, living rock she enveloped, the powerful heart that boomed beneath her ear, the scent that induced a hormonal surge with each inhalation.
    By the time they’d reached their destination, she thought she’d melted around him, could never be extricated from his flesh again.
    He swung down, leaving her jangling from the loss of him. She wondered if he’d help her down—but he’d already given her too many concessions. He wasn’t about to act the gallant knight.
    She didn’t want him to. Not out of, gasp, gentlemanliness. In time, she’d make him wish to offer those gestures out of the consideration he’d come to feel for her.
    She was getting down from the horse when she saw his eyes flood with a somberness she’d never seen there before.
    It shook her to