The Sheikh's Tempted Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 13) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Also Available

  THANK YOU

  Copyright

  THE SHEIKH'S TEMPTED BRIDE

  Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 13

  By

  CARA ALBANY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Becca Wallace halted on the opposite side of the road from the restaurant nestled away on this quiet New York street, and told herself one more time that coming here had been a bad idea.

  No. It was more than that. Seeing Zaheer after three years was a really bad idea. Agreeing to this meeting would cause nothing but trouble. She knew that. But she'd had no choice.

  Becca glanced across the street at the black limo parked in front of the restaurant. The limo couldn't belong to anyone else except him, she told herself. It had to be his.

  He'd already arrived and was waiting inside the restaurant for Becca. She smiled dryly. Punctual, as usual, she reflected, thinking about Zaheer. Businesslike, even when it came to matters like this, she told herself bitterly.

  A truck roared past Becca, sending up a cloud of dust into the hot, summer evening air. She coughed softly and then drew in a deep breath. It did nothing to calm her frayed nerves.

  She glanced up the street toward the junction, the avenue busy with pedestrians and traffic. There was a steady him of noise from over there. It was the sound of New York. At least down here it was quieter.

  But then that had been why Zaheer had brought Becca here three years ago, before the trouble in Qazhar. Back then, they'd been filled with hope and anticipation for their future together.

  But then it had all gone horribly wrong.

  Becca gazed at the signage of the restaurant and tried to push away the memories of the last time she'd come here.

  With him. With Zaheer Al Shirah. The sheikh who had once broken her so badly that Becca had been sure she would never put her life back together again.

  But she had. In spite of everything he'd done. Despite all the hurt. Even in the face of the awful truth.

  Becca swallowed nervously and hardened her resolve. The best thing to do was to get this over as quickly as possible. She'd only agreed to see him because of the suggestion he'd murmured down the phone. She recalled his promise, spoken with his familiar velvet voice. A promise that he could take all her problems away.

  That was so like Zaheer.

  But how did he know what had happened to Becca these last three years? Why did he presume he had a right to just walk back into her life?

  Becca shook her head once again at the thought of Zaheer's arrogance. He was the kind of man for whom problems were simply playthings. He'd never taken anything seriously. He'd never even taken their relationship seriously, Becca reflected.

  And that still hurt.

  Becca could see Zaheer's driver behind the wheel of the limo. He was gazing curiously across at her. She didn't recognize the driver from the last time she'd ridden in one of Zaheer's limos. Had Zaheer told the driver about the young American woman who would be arriving for a dinner date?

  Zaheer had tried to insist on bringing her personally to the restaurant, but Becca had resisted that suggestion. She'd made her way into New York Penn Station by train from New Jersey. The last thing she wanted was to be picked up at the train station.

  Becca walked across the street and paused outside the front door of the restaurant. She glanced down at her plain blue dress and matching low-heeled shoes. Fussing with her thick blonde hair, she straightened. It didn't matter how she looked. This would be over before the main course.

  She walked down the few steps to the lower ground floor entrance and pushed open the door. The restaurant was surprisingly busy. It hadn't changed since the last time she'd visited. Beyond the reception area she could see the softly lit interior, the dark upholstery. She could hear the quiet murmur of guests' chatter and the gentle lounge music.

  "Good evening, ma'am," the hostess said to her. She was an elegantly dressed woman in her thirties. Becca was sure she saw the woman run her gaze quickly up and down Becca's petite figure. Sizing Becca up.

  "Is there something I can help you with?" the hostess asked stepping forward, hands clasped, eyes filled with doubt and judgment.

  Was the host assessing Becca? Perhaps she was thinking the young, modestly dressed woman who'd just walked in was somehow out of place in an upscale place like this.

  Becca drew herself up to her full height and peered defiantly into the woman's eyes. "I'm here to meet someone," she announced.

  The hostess' eyes narrowed. "Really," she replied in a flat, slightly disbelieving drawl.

  "Sheikh Al Shirah asked me to meet him here," Becca declared.

  The woman's eyes widened. Becca felt a brief moment of victory as she watched the hostess glance quickly down at the guest list on the table.

  "Becca Wallace is the name," Becca announced.

  Becca glanced into the restaurant and wondered if Zaheer would be seated at what used to be their favorite table, tucked away at the back where no-one could see them.

  The hostess shuffled papers nervously. Her attitude had undergone a one hundred and eighty degree shift at the mere mention of Zaheer's name.

  Nothing new there, Becca told herself wryly.

  "Please, Miss Wallace," the hostess said gesturing for Becca to follow her. She could tell that the clientele of this restaurant was just as affluent looking as she'd remembered. Getting a table here was a luxury denied to most. The place simply oozed money, Becca reflected as she made her way amongst the tables.

  Becca followed the hostess toward the rear of the room. Yes. Zaheer had done exactly what Becca would have expected him to do.

  There was a wide alcove at the back. Inside the space was a line of tables against the wall. Some couples were seated at the tables. They watched Becca as she passed.

  The corridor twisted, and the line of tables extended even further into the rear of the restaurant. A heavy rope was stretched across the passage, barring the way, announcing that this area was off-limits.

  Beyond the rope each of the half-dozen tables was empty. She couldn't see to the far end. Had Zaheer reserved this entire part of the restaurant for their meeting?

  The hostess lifted the rope and gestured for Becca to make her way through. Becca heard the sound of the metal clip as the rope was set back into position. She smiled politely at the woman who simply waited a moment and then turned away from Becca.

  Becca walked forward, passing the empty tables. The light was soft, not quite dark, but subtle enough to encourage intimacy. Memories flooded back into Becca's mind. She pushed them away as she peered ahead into the soft gloom.

  She knew exactly where he would be seated. Up ahead, she saw the last table with the leather curve of the seat. This was the most secluded part of the restaurant. No-one would see them here.

  Becca made her way toward the table and saw the back of a head, dark haired and ever so slightly cocked to one side. Wide shoulders leaned back against the end of the curving leather seat. Was he del
iberately avoiding looking at her as she arrived? Did he always have to play these kind of games? Even after three years apart?

  Becca was only a few feet away from him now. But she knew it was him.

  Zaheer.

  Her legs felt soft, and her shoes sank into the deep carpet. Her heart was racing and her mind was suddenly a treacherous blank. She'd thought about this moment so many times; what she would say to him; how she would look at him; how she would greet him.

  But all those preparations were rapidly vanishing from her mind now.

  Then she cleared her throat and saw Zaheer's head flick suddenly to the left. His shoulders stiffened and she froze on the spot.

  He stood up, easing out of the alcove, rising from the seat and turning to face her. He was immaculately dressed in a sharply cut suit and bow tie. The skin at his neck contrasted with the brilliant white of his shirt. He was immaculately turned out. Becca wouldn't have expected anything else.

  She felt her throat tighten and her pulse quicken.

  Even in the soft light of the restaurant he looked intimidating, like something that had emerged from out of another world, another age. How could she have forgotten how incredibly handsome she was? The shadows of their surroundings seemed to match the sheer darkness of his presence.

  "Becca," he murmured, his voice a deep, gratified growl. His deep, brown gaze flickered down the length of her body and she felt an involuntary quiver in every nerve.

  Could he still affect her like that? Even after all this time? Becca tried to get a hold of herself. She needed to show him that three years had been long enough for her to get over their breakup.

  Zaheer took one step toward Becca, an easy, masculine power filling the movement of every muscle. His eyes brightened and he smiled at her. He was going to try and embrace her, Becca told herself.

  Once again, nerves quivered as she gazed at his even features. How could she have forgotten those full lips, those wide cheekbones, the sharp line of that jaw, the amazing broad ridge of his brows? But, most of all, how could she have forgotten the intensity of his presence?

  "Zaheer," Becca she managed to utter. She lifted a brow. "How nice to see you," she forced herself to say.

  Zaheer hesitated for a moment. She saw his lips open slightly and his brows furrowed. "Nice?" he asked softly, almost incredulously.

  Becca nodded quickly. "It's been a while," she said in her cheeriest possible voice.

  Zaheer paused and she saw the flickering of surprise in his eyes. Then he seemed to gather his composure. "It's been too long," he declared moving toward her.

  Becca knew refusing to at least be polite was going to be impossible. So, as his hands settled on her upper arms, and his head descended, she took hold of Zaheer's shoulders, feeling the power in his body. Her fingers curled around the roundness of his muscles.

  They exchanged an air kiss, one that Becca tried to make clear was a mere formality. Her body stiffened as she glanced at him. Zaheer peered at her. Was that disappointment in his narrowing eyes?

  Becca was so close to Zaheer now that she could inhale his scent, a powerful mixture she remembered all too well. It was the same scent which had once driven her senses wild.

  Zaheer took a step back and released her. His gaze brightened. "You haven't changed a bit," he said softly. Zaheer's gaze drifted appreciatively down the length of her body.

  Before Zaheer had a chance to add anything, Becca narrowed her eyes. "You're joking, right?" she asked tilting her head.

  Zaheer shook his head. "No. I never joke about essential things." He squinted at Becca. "Don't you remember?"

  Ignoring that comment, Becca glanced back up the corridor. "This is pretty private, isn't it?"

  Zaheer shrugged. "I thought you might appreciate some privacy. Just like before," he added gazing down at her. Was he testing her? Did he want to find out if she was thinking about the past? About them? Becca felt her heart race faster.

  Becca moved toward the curving leather seat. Suddenly she wanted to be on the other side of the table. She needed some distance between herself and Zaheer. Butterflies tumbled in her middle and she felt like an awkward high schooler on a date.

  Zaheer gestured toward the seat. "Please," he announced.

  Becca slid into the alcove, feeling the softness of the leather beneath her. Becca took up a place at one end of the oval table and looked up at Zaheer. She watched as Zaheer unbuttoned his jacket and settled down opposite her.

  She felt relieved that he hadn't expected to simply slide alongside her. Then they might not have even made it to ordering the food, she told herself. Being this close to Zaheer after so long might have driven her back out onto the safety and calm of the street. Anything to escape the feelings tugging at her.

  Zaheer clasped his hands and gazed across at Becca. "I'm so pleased you could come," he said.

  Becca shrugged. "How could I refuse? Your call was so mysterious," she replied.

  "Not too enigmatic, I hope," he retorted.

  "How did you find me?" she asked. She'd told herself she wouldn't start the evening by demanding answers, but her curiosity had been piqued ever since she'd put down the phone the day before, when he'd called her out of the blue.

  "Maybe we shouldn't talk about that, right now," Zaheer said sharply. He turned and watched the waitress coming toward them.

  Becca felt a surge of impatience. She'd wanted an answer to that question. But then her attention was taken over by the choosing of the food and the ordering of drinks. In both their cases, it would be mineral water. Obviously the evening called for clear heads.

  She recalled that Zaheer never drank alcohol, anyway. And, Becca knew that, in the last couple of years, alcohol had been off the menu for her.

  The waitress headed off, leaving Becca and Zaheer alone again.

  "So, how did you find me?" she repeated. This time she made sure her voice indicated answers would be required. No evasion.

  Zaheer's brows furrowed. "You forgot?" he asked lifting a brow.

  "What?"

  "One of my overseas business interests is security. Information gathering. Usually commercial. Don't you remember?"

  Becca leaned back against the leather back of the seat.

  "And you decided to gather some information about me?" she asked.

  "It seemed like the natural thing to do."

  "Natural? I'd call it an invasion of privacy," she replied. She peered across at him, her jaw tightening slightly.

  "No-one really has privacy any longer," he announced casually.

  "Obviously not," she snapped.

  Of course. It was all coming back to her now. She remembered Zaheer mentioning the company when she'd been with him in Qazhar. But, back then, she seemed to recall it had merely been just another part of his sizeable investment portfolio. Along with all the other companies used to diversify his family's staggering wealth.

  She'd assumed its only purpose was to create profits. Clearly it had other uses. Like finding old girlfriends whenever the need arose.

  Becca felt herself bristle with irritation. "And you did some digging? To find me. Is that what you're saying?" she asked.

  Zaheer nodded. "Sometimes investments have additional and useful benefits." He shrugged. "Other than profits, of course," he added casually.

  Becca felt the irritation pulling at her even harder. The way he spoke about money hadn't changed, she told herself. He had so much of it, compared to what Becca had. His entire family were obscenely rich. Even for Qazhar, they were right at the top of the heap as far as wealth was concerned.

  Had he forgotten just how poor she'd been when he'd met her? Did he really think things for her had improved much since then?

  The waitress brought their drinks. Becca was glad for a reprieve from her discussion with Zaheer.

  "How is your life in Trenton?" he asked once the waitress had left.

  Becca was taken aback by the suddenness of the question. She spun the stem of her glass slowly betwe
en her fingers. What could she tell him? How could she describe her circumstances, so modest compared his opulent lifestyle?

  "I'm happy," she declared.

  Zaheer lifted a brow. "You are?"

  Becca nodded. "I have my friends, my job, my cousin. Life is good," she managed to force herself to say. She lifted the glass and took a long drink of the cold, fizzy water.

  Becca glanced at him. Zaheer didn't look convinced. He drew in a deep breath and eyed her across the table, nodding slowly. He'd always had a way of looking at her when he didn't believe something she'd said. And, right now he had that exact look on his face.

  "That's not what I read in the report," he said evenly.

  "Report?" she snapped.

  "Before I called you, I wanted to make sure I knew as much as possible about your...circumstances."

  "You have been spying on me," she accused leaning forward and glaring at him. "It seems I'm not the only one who hasn't changed a bit."

  The corner of Zaheer's mouth curled sardonically. "I knew you'd returned to Trenton," he said and sighed. "But, I had no idea you were living in quite such reduced circumstances."

  "Is that your polite way of saying I'm poor?" she blurted. A rush of indignation surged through her body.

  Zaheer's brows furrowed and he shook his head. "I'm merely trying to tell you I was surprised."

  "What? That I live in a one bedroom apartment? That I work at a local store?" she retorted. "Is that so shocking to you?"

  Zaheer lowered his gaze. She saw his jaw tighten as if he was trying to maintain control of himself.

  "I suppose it must be horrifying, seeing as how you exist in another world of palaces and wealth and privilege," she added angrily.

  Zaheer lifted his gaze and he peered at her for a long, patient moment. "It could have been so different," he said evenly.

  Becca frowned at him. "If I'd done what? Married you? Is that what you're saying?"

  Zaheer drew in a deep breath and leaned back against the seat. He drummed his fingers on the table and peered across at Becca. She could see he seemed to be weighing his next words carefully.