The Sheikh's Borrowed Baby Read online

  “Much as I enjoy any kind of fireplace,” Hallie mused, collapsing into one of the cushy chairs, “I must admit that I miss the smell of burning wood.”

  “That is the downside,” he agreed. “The aroma should be part of the flames, yes?”

  Karim had poured some fragrant red wine into two glasses; they were now savoring the quiet, the coziness, the utter contentment of this wonderful final evening in this wonderful welcoming house.

  “I’ll never forget this place,” she murmured, looking around with nostalgia after a sip. “Thank you, Karim, for bringing us here. It’s been fabulous.”

  He leaned forward, slightly toward her; their knees were almost touching.

  “I think, if it is possible, that you have fallen in love with the house.”

  “You know, you may just be right. I wonder how many years I’d have to work to be able to afford the down payment?”

  “A good many, I would imagine. But you will always have the memories.”

  It was not said unsympathetically, but matter-of-factly. Which was all anyone could want. Yet, Hallie felt just for a moment as if someone had splashed the cold water of reality onto her face. That was certainly bracing. And a bit disillusioning.

  “Of course, you’re right. Memories are all we ever have, in the end.”

  Blinking, she pulled her knees up to sit cross-legged in the chair, with both elbows planted on both thighs and both palms cradling her face.

  “Karim, tell me something.”

  “Whatever I can.”

  “Just what exactly is it you do?”

  “At my company, you must mean.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  He paused to ponder, sipping from the rich, full-bodied wine and relishing the taste.

  “Mostly, I buy and sell, to put it simply.”

  “Like mergers and acquisitions?”

  “I suppose that about sums it up, yes.”

  Sinking more deeply into her comfortable perch, she frowned a little.

  “But that’s what I’m asking. What do you buy? What do you sell?”

  “You are aware of my upcoming buyout of Griffin Oceanic?”

  She brushed that aside with the flutter of one hand.

  “Of course I’m aware. Is that it?”

  “In a way, yes, though my previous acquisitions have been smaller in scale.” His shoulder lifted in an eloquent shrug, and his face registered slight embarrassment. “Griffin Oceanic is a veritable empire. This is the first time I have dared venture into such exciting—and risky—waters.”

  She tilted her head sideways, watching him, understanding him and his behavior just that much more. No wonder the goal of acquiring this mogul’s life work had become so vitally important. He had needed to prove that he could do it. And he had—with her help.

  “And will you plan to improve each of these acquisitions, before you put them back out to public auction? Or chop each one up into little pieces, to get rid of some here, some there?”

  “It is my hope,” he replied quietly, against the sizzle of the fire and the patter of the rain, “to make better whatever I can. And, no—there will be no public auction of assets. What I acquire, I keep.”

  A sudden chill ran up her spine, and she shivered. The words felt full of portent.

  “You look cold, Hallie.” Setting aside his empty wine glass, he extended one hand to her. “Please. Come join me, here.”

  Just how much closer did she dare get to this man, with his charm and compelling smile and intense eyes that saw beyond any façade? It would be a risky situation, just being near him—one in which she should never consider participating.

  And yet, weak-willed during this moment of overwhelming sweetness and romance, she did just that.

  The length of his left arm along the back of the sofa invited her in. As she sat down beside him, that arm slipped around her shoulder and tightened—not enough to be uncomfortable, only offering the closeness he had suggested.

  She felt his warmth and the lean muscle of an athletic body; she caught the clean, piney fragrance of his skin; she sensed a deepening, a strengthening, of the tentative mood that had begun this morning and continued throughout.

  “This has been an enjoyable day,” he told her.

  “A very enjoyable day,” she agreed with a serenity that belied her unsteady inner workings.

  A few seconds ticked by, and then a few more. Hallie could hear her own heartbeat racing away like some frenetic drumroll. Nerves. She was being attacked by nerves—and, the longer she stayed here, beside him, the more violent they became.

  “Once again, I would like to thank you for everything you have done this weekend.” His words came so softly as to be a mere breath near her ear.

  “I—uh—you’re welcome…” she managed. “I mean—we had…an agreement…”

  “This is true.” His free right hand had slowly drifted upward, almost without volition, to curve around her cheek. “But you have done more, in this role as my wife, than I had ever hoped for. I have no doubt it was your efforts that sparked a friendship with the Griffin family, and encouraged Chip to finalize the sale. You have talents you are just now discovering, Hallie Jameson.”

  “Uh-huh. A real—a real force in life.”

  The hand was gently turning her head toward him, and she felt his lips touch the lobe of her ear, and then her jaw, in tender, feather-light kisses that gradually reached her mouth, to encompass and explore. The moment held itself suspended, with slow-motion movements that only pulled them closer together physically and emotionally.

  If a kiss could ever be considered magical, this was it. And—ah. There it was. This was what had been missing from the picnic.

  The lights had been dimmed and most sounds silenced. There was only the soft tapping of rain at the windows, a sputter and occasional pop of the fire, and the easy musical glide of classical to jazz. As her body automatically responded to his, Hallie thought she had never before felt such a mixture of languor and need, all at once.

  “Hallie…”

  The kiss intensified, submerging her like a swimmer underwater. He released her only long enough for both to snatch air—and a stifled moan—before returning for more. His touch grew more inclusive, maneuvering from her chin to her throat to the jut of her clavicle. A careful, tentative touch, that took unexpected liberties, and then sought more.

  As her insides began to flow with warm honey, she melted into his embrace.

  Hold it! her conscience would lash out at her later. Pull away, show some spine, stand up and march away!

  But this was now, and it had been far too long since she had been courted and seduced, and every part of her was crying out for fulfillment.

  And, oh, dear God, she deserved this, this one little taste of heaven for Cinderella before she lost her slipper and slunk back to reality.

  Chapter 15

  No one had to tell her the idyll was over and the dream was done.

  It was there, evident in every brisk, abrupt movement of packing, of checking every final detail for departure. They’d eaten a quick, light breakfast, this little unrelated group drawn together as a purported family for so few hours. Then, they’d straightened up what was necessary and climbed into the limo arranged for transport.

  Nothing was said about last night’s incredible occurrence, either at the table or in the limo’s rear seat a little later; no word made reference to what had happened, for good or bad. It was, in truth, as if completely ignoring facts might make them cease to be true.

  Hallie avoided Karim’s gaze, just as he did hers.

  Embarrassment? Doubt? Regret?

  Whatever the reason, a sense of discomfort lay between them. And neither time nor privacy could be made available, from here on out.

  During the entire return trip, from auto to jet to auto again, and home, Hallie felt disconnected from what was going on around her. A little tense, a little headachy, a little jittery under the skin, as if she were falling ill with a cas
e of flu. It came as a positive relief when, once parked in front of her apartment building, she and Aaron could escape with their baggage inside.

  Karim, standing respectfully and silently at the opened car door, handed her a sealed envelope just as she prepared to flee.

  “As promised,” he said.

  She opened it to find a check, made out neatly in her name, for a total amount of $20,000. Earlier, at the country retreat, she had returned the exquisite set of engagement and wedding rings to him, contained safely inside their original velvet box. At the same time, he had insisted she keep the diamond necklace and earrings.

  Not a bad haul, for some three days’ or so worth of work.

  Then why was she feeling so empty and lost, a mere husk of herself?

  Hallie thanked the Sheikh, said an awkward goodbye, unsure of what more to say. This was it. The fantasy weekend was, officially, over.

  Now back in her own home, Hallie realized she needed some downtime. She needed to let her tight nerves stretch out once more, to relax in her own surroundings with a nice glass of iced tea and the soothing, reassuring voice of her mother.

  “Hi, Mom, we’re back home, safe and sound. Yes, yes, I know. The whole thing was a bit mysterious. It was…well, sort of a business thing.”

  “Business? Hallie, what kind of—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it later, Mom. Maybe dinner this week, if I get off shift at the hospital on time one of these days?”

  Scrunching down a little more comfortably into the couch, Hallie laughed. No one could have noticed a dearth of spirit in that laugh, or a depression that needed lifting.

  She was barefoot, in an old pair of pajamas, and, oh, it was good to be home! Wasn’t that the motif of so many schmaltzy movies? Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home. But weeks of accumulated mail lay on the hall table; unpacking and putting away still needed to be done; this chore and that chore had to be taken care of before her work shift started early tomorrow.

  “Dinner would be great, honey. And Aaron is okay?”

  “He’s fine. But he’s exhausted; he was very busy while we were gone, and he’ll probably be cranky when he wakes up.”

  “Well, that’s just fine. We’ll take him any way we can get him, won’t we?”

  Across the few miles that separated her home from Hallie’s apartment, Joanne’s voice held a contented smile.

  “Yup. He’s definitely an important member. And how is Dad doing today?”

  For a few minutes the discussion continued, with her father’s deterioration of health taking precedence. They were a close-knit family, and Hallie knew she would have been in desperate straits were it not for her parents’ routine physical and occasional financial support.

  “And you’re all right, Mom?”

  “Oh, I’m chuggin’ along, honey. Tomorrow is supposed to be such a nice day; I think Aaron and I will make a trip to the zoo. I got some coupons in the mail—he goes for free, and a super senior discount for me. At least there’s some perks to being old, huh?”

  “He’ll love that. Something different, and he takes in so much, now. I swear, when I read his books to him, he really understands.” Hallie’s words were full of satisfaction—the proud mother for the child, developing as he should. “Well, I’d better start cleaning up around here. See you in the morning.”

  “I’ll be here. Love you.”

  Even while she unzipped cases to put away clean outfits and dirty laundry, Hallie found herself stopping in the middle of tasks, distracted. Her hands stilled; her thoughts raced around in crazy circles like a hamster in its wheel. Such a mixture of emotions churning in her middle. Changing from one to the other, at dizzying speed—disappointment, elation, wistfulness, dejection, puzzlement.

  She had spent the night in Karim’s arms. They had made love in that fire-lit family room that welcomed them as if it were some great cocoon of romance. Once, then again, joining at first in slow, courting moves, only to be guided by excitement and rapture.

  Had it all just been a dream?

  Plopping down on her couch once again, she retrieved her cellphone from the coffee table and punched in the telephone number Karim had given her. The offices of Al Ahsan Enterprises, played only a recorded message asking the caller to try again later. The number of his penthouse at Wilshire Reef, here in Philadelphia. Again, a recorded message. The number of his private cell. Another recorded message.

  Her vision blurred with tears.

  What was the point? His silence during the return trip—and now, when he could not be reached, or would not answer, for whatever reason—told her all she needed to know. She had served her purpose. She had provided the cover he needed; she had even willingly, joyously, slept with him. He had used her, he had paid her, and he was finished with her.

  There were many descriptions for behavior or people like that.

  They were not flattering.

  Sunday night, at the rented country estate, had seemed like hours spent in paradise, in some secluded haven, despite the inevitable threat of a rejoining to civilization that loomed just over the horizon.

  Monday night, by comparison, meant more restless time spent in a bed that was hot and uncomfortable, its mattress lumpy, its surroundings cramped and straitened, its occupant racked by worrisome thoughts.

  Finally, giving up any attempt to sleep, Hallie left Aaron in his crib—at least he was slumbering like an angel!—and parked herself in front of the television to watch something inane and uninspiring.

  Consequently, she looked and felt exhausted when it was time to start her routine Tuesday morning. A quick shower and uniform, breakfast and clothing for Aaron, all daily supplies loaded, and out the door they could go.

  “Hallie, honey, are you all right?” Her mother greeted them at the front door with obvious concern. “Here, give me the baby. What happened?”

  “Nothing serious, Mom. Just pesky stuff running around in my head. You know how it goes.”

  Distracted, Hallie was already unburdening herself of diaper bag, purse, and tote. Amazing how much the average baby needed. And the average baby’s parent, as well.

  “Well…” Joanne’s tone and expression, as she held her grandchild and pored over her child, remained unconvinced.

  “I’m okay, honest. Gotta run.” She stroked Aaron’s chubby cheek, and then her mother’s thinner one. “I’ll give you a call later on, when I can.”

  Her ten-year-old car, having recently had its innards cleaned and oiled by the nearest garage, obligingly took her down streets and across intersections and into the parking lot at Cranston Memorial. Sunday’s rain storm in upstate New York had evidently hit here first, for the streets had been washed clean and the air, sweltering as it was, held that crystal clear quality.

  “Hey, Hallie.” Anna Belinsky, helm of the ER’s front desk, greeted her as she walked in. “Lucky you, taking a couple days off. Vacation, huh?”

  “Oh, sort of. It was great to get away, but now I’m back. Anything major going on?”

  “Not much.” Yawning, Anna returned to a pile of charts she was working on. “This early, it’s quiet. But you know how it goes—a surprise every minute.”

  “For sure. I’ll get settled and be right out.”

  In the lounge, she stowed her personal belongings away in her locker, checked the condition of her flyaway hair (now pulled up into a ponytail), and poured a cup of coffee. The door swung in and another nurse joined her to plunk down for a few minutes’ rest in the uncomfortable vinyl chair.

  “Back to work, huh?” he said gloomily, all the while struggling to keep his eyes open.

  Nothing like stating the obvious.

  Hallie smiled. “Uh-huh. I’m definitely back to work,” she affirmed. “How much longer is your shift, Josh?”

  “Huh. Got another four hours to go. Dunno if I’ll make it.”

  “Well, best of luck, bud. I’m gonna head out there; see you later.”

  Once out in the
general line of fire, Hallie began checking to see which injury/illness had been sent to which room, and what needed to be done to provide care. Suspected food poisoning in Room 312 (oh, joy); car accident victim, suffering minor injuries, in Room 323; child with bleeding lip and bruises (schoolyard scuffle) in 345.

  Curtains opened and closed with a rattle of rod rings; voices rose and fell in consultation; footsteps moved past, pushing carts and carrying supplies.

  Just another typical day in the ER. Things started off slow, but guaranteed to pick up. Cranston lay at an intersection of very busy streets, with a number of businesses fanning out from there. A quiet moment happened as rarely as a blue moon, and ought to be marked on the calendar as such.

  At some point, in the middle of cleaning a wound in preparation for sterile bandages, someone walking past queried if Hallie would like to grab lunch in the break room.

  “Oh my gosh. It’s that late already?” Hallie, with her head down to immediate duty, was aghast that so much time has passed. “Sure. Give me a few minutes, Nat.”

  Eventually, she was able to slip away from the most pressing of demands. Her feet, in their well-padded clogs, were already hurting, and her back and upper shoulders were blazing with a dull fire. Not to mention the headache that aspirin had not yet relieved. Just a few of the detriments involved in working a non-stop shift.

  “Hey, how was your vacation?” one of her coworkers, already biting into a PB&J, asked.

  “It wasn’t strictly a vacation,” Hallie said, slightly affronted. “Just a few days off.”

  “Hell, Lord knows you deserve that, sweetheart,” was Tony’s unbiased opinion. “We all do. Did ya go somewhere?”

  “Uh—well, out of town. With a friend.”

  “A friend?” Oohs and aahs sounded from the assembled crew, along with some knowing winks. “Well, get you, girl. Shackin’ up, huh? Had you some playtime?”

  Deeply flushed, she chose not to answer but to change the subject, instead. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

  Breaks and mealtimes were rarely marked into anyone’s schedule as a cold, hard fact. Too much was always going on, and accidents were called accidents for a reason. They were not planned, and they happened at the absolute worst time for everyone. While you worked your shift, you were expected to be on call, no matter the time.