Barbara Dunlop - Millions To Spare

And before Julia could hide them, Leila spotted the henna.

Her eyes went wide, and she stared at Harrison. “Brittany?”

“It’s complicated,” said Harrison.

Julia jumped in. “This keeping it a secret isn’t working out so well.”

Leila rapidly shook her head. “I will not tell a soul.”

“It’s temporary,” Julia explained. “Just until I get out of the country.”

Leila nodded, but her eyes were still wide.

“We can rely on your discretion?” Harrison asked in a stern voice, clearly driving home the point.

Leila bobbed her head.

He smiled at her. “Good. Can you help Julia with a bath?”

“Of course.”

Julia resisted an urge to reach for Harrison. Leila was fine company. She genuinely liked the girl. But she doubted Leila could fight off kidnappers or assassins should any of them sneak into the palace.

“I’ll come up later,” he said to Julia. “We can talk then.”

About whether or not to sleep together.

She supposed she should come up with her own answer to that question.

In her wildest dreams, Brittany never thought making love would last twelve hours.

She and Alex had barely left the bed all day long. They’d ordered room service a couple of times, and took a bath at one point, and now they were snuggled under the comforter. He was stroking her hair and telling her a story that was supposed to be about his first parachute jump. But, so far, they hadn’t made it past his tenth birthday.

“The race was the talk of the school,” said Alex.

His cell phone rang.

“Don’t you move,” he told her, kissing the tip of her nose.

She smiled in response. “Are you kidding? Before I find out how it ends?”

The phone rang again while he gazed at her with a goofy smile. Then he slipped from beneath the covers and tracked down his suit jacket, retrieving the chiming phone, his back toward her.

“Yeah?”

She stared unashamedly at the play of muscles across his shoulders, his taut buttocks and muscular legs.

“You’re back?” he said into the phone, lifting one of the hotel bathrobes and slipping into it.

“We’re in Abu Dhabi,” Alex said into the phone. “The Emirates Palace.”

Brittany sat up, pinning the comforter across her chest with her arms, trying to figure out who Alex would reveal that information to.

He turned to face her, and she raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Julia okay?” asked Alex, with a meaningful look at Brittany.

Harrison.

Alex was talking to Harrison.

A weight settled in the pit of Brittany’s stomach. Her soon-to-be fiancé had been fleeing through the desert on a rescue mission while she had been frolicking in bed with his employee.

Alex saw her expression and shook his head.

Ignoring him, she scrambled from the bed and stuffed her arms into the other robe. She scooped up her clothes and headed for the bathroom. But Alex grasped her arm on the way by and refused to let her go.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” he said to Harrison.

She glared at him, trying to wrestle her arm free. But private-school phys-ed class was no match for navy basic training, and she didn’t gain an inch.

“You are?” he asked Harrison.

He finally let go of her arm, but it was only to wrap his own firmly around her waist and jerk her against him. She didn’t dare yell, didn’t dare utter a word, but that didn’t stop her from kicking her heel into his shin.

“I’ll talk to you then,” said Alex.

Brittany twisted her head to glare at him.

“Glad to hear it,” said Alex.

Then he flipped the phone shut.

She wrenched against him. “I don’t believe you did that!”

His arm remained firmly around her waist, holding her back against his chest. “Where were you going?”

“To get dressed.”

His tone was implacable. “You agreed to stay put.”

“That’s before you started talking to Harrison.”

“So what?”

“I’m supposed to lie there naked in your bed with my fiancé on the phone?”

“He’s not your fiancé.”

“We have an understanding.” Well, they sort of had an understanding. She presumed they had an understanding.

If there wasn’t an understanding, why had Harrison invited her to Dubai in the first place?

“We agreed you were free,” said Alex.

“We hung our consciences on a technicality.”

“Yes, we did. And we can’t put your virginity back, and I’m still quitting my job in the morning. The only thing we have to decide, Brittany, is whether we spend one last night together or alone.”

“Alone,” she asserted.

He was silent.

Then his warm lips touched the crook of her neck.

“You sure?” he whispered, all trace of frustration gone from his tone. His hand splayed against her stomach.

“Yes.” She nodded.

He nibbled his way up her neck, drawing her earlobe into his mouth.

Despite herself, she felt her body respond to his gentle touch.

“Really sure?” he rumbled in her ear.

“Really sure,” she responded, but it came out on a sigh.

He smoothed her hair back from her temple and placed a kiss there. “Because it won’t change a thing.”

“I know,” she agreed. They couldn’t undo the day. And she couldn’t undo her feelings. Alex had been a magical lover-funny, patient and gentle. She never would have imagined it of him.

But the day was over. She had a life to go back to, and that life included her family, traditions, responsibilities and Harrison.

“I’m not asking you to make love again,” Alex told her, releasing her and gently turning her to face him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and there was something vulnerably earnest in his expression. “I only want you to sleep in my arms.”

Emotion tightened her chest, and she fought it with all her might.

“He gets you forever,” Alex whispered. “Give me this one night.”

Brittany’s heart all but melted.

She gave in and nodded.

Then she nodded harder, wanting it every bit as much as he did.

He scooped her into his arms and crossed to the bed.

He laid her down, then climbed in beside her, sliding her, spoon style, against the warmth of his body.

They lay there quietly for a few minutes. She forced herself to stay in the moment. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, just now and Alex, the hum of the ceiling fan and the softness of the bed that cocooned them in a fantasy.

“Finish your story?” she asked him.

“The lawn mower,” he said, picking up where he’d left off. “In my dad’s garage. If we wanted to win the go-kart race, my older brother, Jacob, and I needed four wheels and an internal combustion engine.”

“You turned your father’s lawn mower into a go-kart?”

“Not exactly.”

Brittany breathed a little sigh of relief. The worst she’d done as a child was steal the foil-and-chocolate decorations from the Christmas tree.

“We built a wood and scrap-metal frame, bolted on the wheels and connected a belt drive to the lawn mower engine. I thought it was fine, but Jacob insisted we needed more torque if we were going to beat those Brubaker boys.”

“What’s torque?”

“Power. So we disassembled the rototiller. Man, that did the trick. That puppy was fast.”

“Weren’t you scared of your parents?”

He rested his chin against the top of her head. “We had it all planned. Dad mowed the lawns on Sunday. We’d race Saturday morning, reassemble everything that afternoon, and nobody’d be any the wiser.”

“Did it work?”

Alex chuckled. “Does it sound to you like it would work?”

“How would I know? Forget about torque, I’ve never seen a rototiller.”

“It didn’t work,” said Alex.

Even though it was years in the past, Brittany felt her stomach tense with nervous anticipation.

“The good news is, we won the trophy. Got that baby up to fifteen miles an hour.”

She couldn’t help but grin at the pride that was evident in his voice all these years later. “And the bad news?”

“By ten o’clock on Saturday night, we realized we’d misplaced a few of the lawn mower and rototiller parts. My mom realized we weren’t in bed. And my dad realized he needed to teach us a lesson.”

Brittany cringed. “Ouch.”

“Ouch is right. But it was still worth it. We were boys. We accepted spankings as the cost of having fun. Besides, the go-kart was nothing compared to our next project.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“We decided to try parachuting off the roof.”

“Did your parents by any chance insist that you join the navy?”

“They thought it would improve my moral fiber.”

“And did it?”

“Not really, but it was a whole lot of fun.”

“Fun?” Brittany had seen enough movies to know the military wasn’t fun.

“Basic training was a piece of cake. There wasn’t anything a drill sergeant could do or say that my dad and older brother hadn’t been doing my entire life. And, after we got through basic, they let us blow things up, run obstacle courses and learn to use high-tech equipment. I thought I’d died and gone to adventure camp.”

Brittany found herself smiling. “I am so glad I’m not having your children.”

He went silent, and she immediately cringed.

Then she flipped onto her back to look up at him. “That was thoughtless. I’m sorry.”

He brushed a lock of hair from her face, his expression teasing rather than hurt. “I have a feeling you’d balance me out, Miss Pure-As-The-Driven-Snow.”

“Not anymore,” she reminded him, the memory suddenly blooming in her brain.

“No,” he agreed, his smile disappearing. “Not anymore.”

She was overcome with the desire to kiss him.

He obviously saw it in her eyes, because he leaned down, and his lips softly met her own, sweet, tender, so full of life and excitement.

Just here and now, she told herself. That was all they’d ever have.

“This is our last night together,” said Harrison as he pushed the bedroom door shut.

An hour had gone by since they’d separated, and Julia’s heart gave a little hitch at the sight of him.

“It’s also our wedding night,” he continued, starting across the floor to where she was curled up in an armchair.

He came to a halt directly in front of her. “What do you suppose the odds are I’m staying out of your bed?”

Julia had finished reporting in to Melanie, so she set the cordless phone down on the end table.

“Slim?” she offered, as his gaze swept the simple gauzy, white dress she’d slipped on after her bath.

“Nil,” he responded, his attention returning to her face.

“Nil,” she agreed with a nod.

They might as well make the inevitable decision up front. Real life might start again tomorrow, but tonight was theirs if they wanted it.

He reached for her hands and drew them up to the light, turning them over to inspect the palms. “If they did this right, my initials are somewhere in here. Tradition says that I’m not allowed to make love with you until I find them in the pattern.”

“What if Rania and her mother did it wrong?”

His twinkling gaze met hers. “Then it’s going to be a very, very long night.”

She wiggled her feet out to where he could see them. “There’s more down there.”

“Not a problem. I’m a patient man.”

She couldn’t resist. “That really hasn’t been my experience so far.”

“Are you tossing out a dare?” he asked, with a teasing touch of incredulity.

She gave a little shrug. “Why not?”

His smile broadened, and he turned her hands to inspect the backs.

“Is it like a bridal shower?” she asked, remembering the surreal experience. “Rania and Habeeba talked at me the entire time. They had to know I didn’t understand a word.”

Harrison’s expression turned grim. “That’s really unfortunate.”

Julia became worried. “That they talked?”

“That you didn’t understand it. Arabs are very sensual people, Julia. Rania and Habeeba were imparting the wisdom of the ages. All the secret, erotic arts are passed down from generation to generation at the henna ceremony.”

Julia opened her mouth in mock dismay. “And I missed it?”

“Worse than that. I’m missing it.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Why couldn’t you have learned Arabic instead of French?”

She withdrew her hands and folded her arms over her chest. “Excuse me? Are you suggesting my erotic arts could stand improvement?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little variety,” he deadpanned.

“Are you trying to ruin the evening?”

“I’d be happy to give you a few pointers. The groom gets an earful at an Arab wedding, too, you know.”

Really? Julia shimmied to her feet and gave him a saucy grin, pointing to her chest and putting a lilt in her voice. “On how to please me?”