Fire and Desire. Brenda Jackson
timeless moments, he didn't move. Then he leaned slightly and brushed his lips against hers in way of an affectionate greeting, effectively telling everyone present that Corinthians Avery was already taken.
Corinthians had seen the kiss coming, but hadn't had time to prepare herself for it. Although Trevor had barely brushed his lips against hers, her body had begun tingling all over. When he straightened his tall form, her gaze covered him from head to toe. If she thought Trevor had looked handsome in his dark suit at today's meeting, he looked doubly so in his white dinner jacket and dark slacks.
“For some reason, Trevor, I think you enjoy rescuing me,” she whispered.
He smiled as he reached out and took her hand in his. “I do.” He looked down at her. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
The room was no longer silent. People were once again engaged in conversations. However, Trevor knew those same slavering wolves were discreetly watching them. “I may have disappointed a lot of men here tonight,” he whispered to Corinthians.
Corinthians looked up at him. “How so?”
“When you entered the room dressed in all white, because of the customs, traditions and beliefs in their countries regarding women wearing white, they saw you as a maiden virgin. I may have destroyed that image with my kiss, especially since it was in front of everyone at a professional gathering. Rumors will probably begin circulating that we're lovers.” He angled his head, studying her intently. “What do you have to say about that?”
She smiled up at him. “Nothing, since you and I know better. Tonight, we're merely playacting.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Before she could answer, he led her over to the table where dinner would be served.
Rasheed stood in front of the window in his Washington, D.C., apartment watching the rain. In Mowaiti, the rain was always welcomed. His people needed it for the growth of their crops. For the past few years, occasional drought had ravished the lands, making it harder for the people to earn a living, and making it harder still for them to feed their families. These things seemed to worry him more than they did his father, whose only concern was with gaining allies to keep the country safe. He had closed his eyes to the bleak circumstances surrounding his people. If it continued, Mowaiti would no longer exist as a country.
The soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A few minutes later, Swalar, his valet, announced the arrival of Yasir Bedouins, a man who had been his father's adviser and close confidant for a number of years. Rasheed had once loved this man like a father because when his own parents hadn't had the time to listen to his youthful woes, Yasir had. But because of Yasir's close relationship with Sheikh Amin Valdemon, and his strong sense of dedication and loyalty to him, their once-close relationship was no more, especially now since he was no longer a child, but a man with his own views and a mind to express them. Rasheed regretted that, like his father, Yasir's ambition in life was not in making Mowaiti a stronger and powerful nation, but in keeping it safe and preserving its present state of existence.
“Yasir, to what do I owe this visit? Is something wrong with Father?” he asked with genuine concern in his voice when the older man entered his office. Even with their differences, he loved his father deeply.
“No, your father is fine. A little tired tonight more than usual, but he's fine.”
At that moment, efficient as ever, Swalar brought in coffee. And as Swalar went about pouring the brew in each of their cups, Rasheed studied Yasir, trying to decipher his mood and most importantly the reason for his visit. However, no words were spoken until after Swalar had finished his task and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“How long has he been serving you?” Yasir asked before taking a sip of the coffee.
Rasheed frowned. “Who? Swalar?”
At Yasir's nod, he answered, “Since I was thirteen years old. Why?”
“I think he's getting too old for the task. You need a younger, more able-bodied man to—”
“I don't want anyone else,” Rasheed interrupted. “I like Swalar just fine, and he still serves my needs extremely well.” He took a sip of his own coffee before adding, “He and I understand each other.”
Yasir lifted a brow. “In other words, he's still very efficient in keeping your secrets.”
Rasheed knew better than to play cat-and-mouse games with Yasir. The man was too sharp-witted for that. But tonight, just to humor him, he would make an exception. “I suppose he's as efficient at keeping my secrets as you are in keeping my father's. Should I try and guess why he's so tired tonight?”
Yasir met his gaze directly and unswervingly. “Your father has special needs.”
Rasheed smiled faintly. “Evidently. But isn't it enough that he has a harem full of women back home in our country. Does he have to create another one here in this country, as well?”
Yasir shrugged. “The American women are willing enough, and he's not hurting anyone.”
Rasheed snorted. “No one but himself. He turns sixty-one this year. How many women a night is he up to now? Last count it was five.”
Yasir shifted in his seat, not out of mortification or disgrace, Rasheed concluded, but merely to find a more comfortable position. “I don't keep tabs on such matters,” he replied gruffly.
“Maybe you should. He's not immune to AIDS you know. And I love my mother very much. I wouldn't want my father's private, sordid affairs to ever cause harm to her health.”
“I take care of such matters.”
Rasheed shook his head, not doubting that he did. A part of him couldn't help wondering just to what extent Yasir did so. “Are you going to tell me why you're here, Yasir?”
The older man sat back in his chair. “I've heard things…” Yasir said slowly. “Senator Joshua Avery has boasted to others of your interest in his sister. Your father and I saw the two of you together last month at that dinner party for Senator Nedwyn Lansing.”
Rasheed took another sip of coffee. “So, what of it? She's very beautiful. And I happen to like American women…like my father.”
Yasir's smile was slow. “If anything, you would not like them because of that very reason. So I've been curious as to why Ms. Avery has interested you. To appease my curiosity, I did some checking into her background. What I discovered is very interesting.”
“And just what have you discovered, Yasir?”
“Knowing your modern views on how you believe you can save Mowaiti, I think your interest in Corinthians Avery speaks for itself.” Yasir leaned forward. “But don't be a fool, Rasheed. Take this advice from someone who cares for you like a father. Whatever you're into, get out of it. The United States is one of our biggest allies. We don't need you to bring bad blood between our countries because of your foolish, boyish dreams. Are you determined to destroy the good, solid relationship we have with this country that your father has worked years to cultivate?”
Rasheed leaped out of his chair. “Is it foolish and boyish to want better for our people?”
“No, but you have no proof there is oil anywhere in Mowaiti. If there were, don't you think it would have been discovered by now?”
“Not necessarily. Look at Libya, and how—”
“I don't want to hear about Libya. When are you going to realize we are a totally different country?”
Rasheed narrowed his eyes. “And when are you and Father going to get your heads out of the sand and out from underneath the American women's skirts, and take note of what's really happening in Mowaiti? You're so busy keeping Father's secrets and he's so busy creating more secrets for you to keep that neither of you can see what's happening. Neither you nor him have been to Mowaiti in months.”
Yasir