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The Sheikh's Bride
Sophie Weston


Leonora Groom is an heiress in disguise, desperate to be loved for herself and not for her father's money. Yet she finds her cool facade cracking as the irresistible Amer el-Barbary woos her under the velvet Nile sky.Bored with dating shallow women, Amer sees Leonora as a tempting breath of fresh air. But how will Leonora react when he reveals that he is a sheikh, a true prince of the desert, who wants her for his bride?









“Shall I tell him to go away again and leave us alone for a couple of hours?” Amer said softly.


“I don’t know what you mean.” Leonora spoke with difficulty.

He was so close she could feel his little puffed breath of frustration. She thought, why doesn’t he touch me? But still he did not.

Instead, he murmured, “That’s the first lie you’ve ever told me,” and she felt a sort of agony at his words.

She held her breath. But Amer rolled aside and sat up. He gave the boatman a few orders. He did not sound annoyed. He did not sound as if he cared much at all.

Leonora smoothed her hair with a shaking hand. She had never been so intensely aware of sensation before, nor of her own sensuality. Never realized so totally that she was a physical creature. Never wanted….


Dear Reader,

Let your imagination take flight as Sophie Weston brings you a truly delicious touch of Eastern promise.

Amer el-Barbary is an Arab prince, a true lord of the desert—every woman’s fantasy man. He’s rich and masterful, living life on the edge of danger. And he’s about to capture Leonora Groom’s heart—and your own—in this most romantic of stories, The Sheikh’s Bride.




The Sheikh’s Bride

Sophie Weston







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


PROLOGUE (#u7a745bbf-2e4d-515b-811f-5fd077fa2289)

CHAPTER ONE (#ua2a0931d-72b6-5a05-a890-f57bc034d867)

CHAPTER TWO (#u354c6f2b-ffdd-552a-8c4a-0de7224f7c98)

CHAPTER THREE (#u88e1127b-e34f-5fd8-b279-34e27d11a1d7)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)




PROLOGUE


‘WHAT are we waiting for?’ asked the co-pilot.

The pilot looked down from his cockpit at the Cairo tarmac. In the early morning, the dust was tinged with diamond light and the roofs of the distant airport building gleamed. A couple of men in dark suits were doing an efficient sweep of the apron on which their plane had come to a halt.

‘Security,’ he said briefly.

The co-pilot was new to flying the Sheikh of Dalmun’s private fleet. ‘Do they always go through this?’

The other man shrugged. ‘He’s an influential guy.’

‘Is he a target, then?’

‘He’s megarich and he’s heir apparent to Dalmun,’ said the pilot cynically. ‘Of course he’s a target.’

His companion grinned. His girl-friend regularly brought home royalty watching magazines.

‘Chick magnet, huh? Lucky devil.’

The security men had finished their surveillance. One of them raised a hand and a white stretch limousine came slowly round the plane. The pilot, his cap under his arm, stood up and went to shake hands with the departing passenger.

An early-morning breeze whipped the Sheikh’s white robes as he strode towards the limousine. In spite of the entourage that followed, he looked a lonely figure.

The pilot came back into the cockpit.

‘We’re on stand-by,’ he said briefly.

Other cars arrived. The security team swung into them then the limousine drew away, flanked by its guardians.

The pilots sat back, waiting for an escort to the plane’s final parking place.

‘What’s he doing here?’ asked the co-pilot idly. ‘Business or pleasure?’

‘Both, I guess. He hasn’t been out of Dalmun for months,’ said the older man unguardedly.

‘Why?’

The pilot didn’t answer.

‘I heard there was a bust up. His old man wanted him to marry again?’

‘Maybe.’ A second monosyllabic answer.

‘So what do you think? Has he been let out to find himself a bride?’

The pilot was betrayed into indiscretion. ‘Amer el-Barbary? A bride? When hell freezes over.’




CHAPTER ONE


LEONORA pushed a grubby hand through her hair and breathed hard. The lobby of the Nile Hilton was full to bursting. She had lost three of the museum party she was supposed to be escorting; she had not managed to spend time with her mother who was consequently furious; and now this week’s problem client had come up with another of her challenging questions.

‘What?’ she said distractedly.

‘Just coming in now.’ Mrs Silverstein nodded at the swing doors. ‘Who is he?’

A stretched white limousine, its windows discreetly darkened, had pulled up in the forecourt, flanked by two dark Mercedes. Men in dark grey suits emerged and took up strategic stances while a froth of porters converged on the party. The doors of the limousine remained resolutely closed. Leo knew the signs.

‘Probably royal.’ She was not very interested. Her father’s recently acquired travel agency did not have royal clients yet. ‘Nothing to do with me, thank God. Have you seen the Harris family?’

‘Royal,’ said Mrs Silverstein, oblivious.

Leo grinned. She liked Mrs Silverstein.

‘A lord of the desert,’ the older woman said.

‘Quite possibly.’

Leo decided not to spoil it by telling her the man was probably also Harvard educated, multilingual and rode through the desert in an air-conditioned four-wheel drive instead of on a camel. Mrs Silverstein was a romantic. Leo, as she was all too aware, was not.

‘I wonder who he is…’

Leo knew that note in her voice. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ she said firmly.

Mrs Silverstein sent her a naughty look. ‘You could ask.’

Leo laughed aloud. It was what her client had been saying to her for three weeks.

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I’m your courier. I’ll do a lot for you. I’ll ask women how old they are and men how much it costs to feed a donkey. But I won’t ask a lot of armed goons who it is they’re guarding. They’d probably arrest me.’

Mrs Silverstein chuckled. In three weeks they had come to understand each other. ‘Chicken.’

‘Anyway, I’ve got to find the Harris family.’

Leo slid through the crowd to a marble-topped table where a house phone lurked behind a formal flower arrangement. She dialled the Harris’ room, casting a harassed eye round, just in case they had come down without her catching them.

The limousine party were on the move, she saw. Men, their mobile phones pressed to their ears, parted bodies. Behind them walked a tall figure, his robes flowing from broad shoulders. Mrs Silverstein was right, she thought ruefully. He was magnificent.

And then he turned his head and looked at her. And, to her own astonishment, Leo found herself transfixed.

‘Hello?’ said Mary Harris on the other end of the phone. ‘Hello?’

She had never seen him before. Leo knew she had not. But there was something about the man that hit her like a high wind. As if he was important to her. As if she knew him.

‘Hello? Hello?’

He wore the pristine white robe and headdress of a desert Arab. In that glittering lobby the severe plainness was a shock. It made him look even more commanding than he already did given his height and the busy vigilance of his entourage. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses but his expression was weary as his indifferent glance slid over her and on across the crowd.

‘Hello? Who is this?’

Leo read arrogance in every line of him. She did not like it. But still she could not stop staring. It was like being under a spell.

Mrs Silverstein slid up beside her and took the phone out of her hand. Leo hardly noticed. All she could do was look—and wait for his eyes to find her again.

I’m not like this, said a small voice in her head. I don’t stare blatantly at sexy strangers. Leo ignored it. She did not seem as if she could help herself. She stood as still as a statue, waiting…

A man Leo recognised as the hotel’s duty manager was escorting the party. He was bowing, oblivious to anyone else. As he did so, he brushed so close to her that she had to step back sharply. She hit her hip on the table and grabbed a pillar to save herself. Normally a gentle and courteous man, the duty manager did not even notice.

But the object of all this attention did.

The white-robed figure stopped dead. Masked eyes turned in Leo’s direction.

It was what she had been waiting for. It was like walking into an earthquake. Leo’s breath caught and she hung onto the pillar as if she would be swallowed up without its support.

‘Oh my,’ said Mrs Silverstein, fluttering.

Leo clutched even tighter. She felt cold—then searingly hot—then insubstantial as smoke. Her fingers on the pillar were white but she felt as if the strength had all been slammed out of her.

Then he turned his head away. She was released.

Leo sagged. She found she had been holding her breath and her muscles felt as weak as water. She put a shaky hand to her throat.

‘Oh my,’ said Mrs Silverstein a second time. She gave Leo a shrewd look and restored the phone to its place.

Across the lobby, there was an imperious gesture. One of the suited men stepped respectfully close. The tall head inclined. The assistant looked across at Mrs Silverstein and Leo. He seemed surprised.

Leo knew that surprise. The knowledge chilled her, just as it had in every party she had ever been to. She was not the sort of woman that men noticed in crowded lobbies. She and the man in the grey suit both knew it.

She was too tall, too pale, too stiff. She had her father’s thick eye brows. They always made her look fierce unless she was very careful. Just now, too, her soft dark hair was full of Cairo dust and her drab business suit was creased.

Not very enticing, Leo thought, trying to laugh at herself. She had got used to being plain. She would have said that she did not let it bother her any more. But the look of surprise on the man’s face hurt surprisingly.

The white-robed figure said something sharply. His assistant’s face went blank. Then he nodded. And came over to them.

‘Excuse me,’ he said in accentless English. ‘His Excellency asks if you are hurt.’

Leo shook her head, dumbly. She was too shaken to speak—though she could not have said why. After all, with his eyes hidden by smoked glass, she had no evidence that the man in the white robes was even looking at her. But she knew he was.

Mrs Silverstein was made of sterner stuff.

‘Why how kind of—of His Excellency to ask,’ she said, beaming at the messenger. She turned to Leo, ‘That man didn’t hurt you, did he dear?’

‘Hurt me?’ echoed Leo. She was bewildered. Did he have laser-powered eyes behind those dark glasses?

Mrs Silverstein was patient. ‘When he bumped into you.’

Leo remembered the small collision with the under manager.

‘Oh. Mr Ahmed.’

She pulled herself together but it was an effort. The sheikh was no longer looking at her. Leo knew that without looking at him. She was as conscious of him as if her whole body had somehow been tuned to resonate to his personal vibration.

No one had ever done that to her before. No one; let alone a regal stranger whose eyes she could not read. It shocked her.

She swallowed and said as steadily as she could manage, ‘No, of course not. It was nothing.’

Mrs Silverstein peered up at her. ‘Are you sure? You look awful pale.’

The security man did not offer any view on Leo’s pallor or otherwise. She had the distinct impression that this was not the first time he had carried a message to an unknown lady. But that the messages were normally more amusing and the ladies more sophisticated; and about a hundred times more glamorous.

‘Can I offer you assistance of any kind, madam?’

Leo moistened her lips. But she pulled herself together and said more collectedly, ‘No, thank you. It was nothing. I don’t need any assistance.’ She remembered her manners. ‘Please thank His Excellency for his concern. But there was no need.’

She turned away. But Mrs Silverstein was not going to pass up the chance of a new experience so easily. Not when royalty was involved. She tapped the security man on the arm.

‘Which Excellency is that?’

The security man was so taken aback that he answered her.

‘Sheikh Amer el-Barbary.’

Mrs Silverstein was enchanted. ‘Sheikh,’ she echoed dreamily.

Just a few steps away the dark glasses turned in their direction again. Leo felt herself flush. She did not look at him but she could feel his sardonic regard as if someone had turned a jet of cold water on her.

She shivered. How does he do that? she thought, aware of the beginnings of indignation.

Uncharacteristically her chin came up. Leo was a peacemaker, not a fighter. But this time was different. She glared across the lobby straight at him, as if she knew she was meeting his eyes.

Was it her imagination, or did the robed figure still for a moment? Leo had the feeling that suddenly she had his full attention. And that he was not best pleased

Help, she thought. He’s coming over. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

And then rescue came from an unexpected quarter.

‘Darling!’ called a voice.

Leo jumped and looked wildly round. The lobby seethed with noisy groups talking in numerous languages. They were no competition for her mother. Years of ladies’ luncheons had given Deborah Groom a vocal pitch that could cut steel.

‘Darling,’ she called again. ‘Over here.’

A heavily ringed hand waved imperiously. Leo located it and counted to ten. She had tried to persuade her mother not to come to Cairo in the busiest week of the agency’s year. Deborah, predictably, had taken no notice.

Now Leo pulled herself together and said briskly to the hovering security man, ‘Thank you but I am quite all right. Please—’ she allowed herself just a touch of irony which she was sure the man would miss ‘—reassure His Excellency.’ Then, more gently to Mrs Silverstein, ‘Give me ten minutes. I have to clear up a couple of things. Then, if you still want to go, I’ll take you to the pyramids at Giza.’

‘You go right ahead,’ said Mrs Silverstein, still entranced by her brush with royalty. ‘I’ll go sit in the café and have a cappuccino. Come and find me when you’re done.’

Leo gave her a grateful smile. Then she tucked her clipboard under her arm and swarmed professionally through the crowd.

‘Hello, Mother,’ she said, bending her tall head. Leo received the scented breath on the cheek which Deborah favoured with a kiss and straightened thankfully. ‘Having a good time?’

Deborah Groom was known for going straight to the point. ‘It would be better if I saw something of my only daughter.’

Leo kept her smile in place with an effort. ‘I warned you I’d have to work.’

‘Not all the time.’

‘There’s a lot on.’ If she sounded absent it was because in the distance she could see Andy Francis trying to herd a group towards their waiting bus. He was not having much success but then he should not have been doing it alone. Roy Ormerod, the head of Adventures in Time, was scheduled to be with the party too.

Deborah frowned. ‘Does your chief know who you are?’

Leo gave a crack of laughter. ‘You mean does he know that I’m the boss’s daughter? Of course not. That would defeat the whole object. I’m called Leo Roberts here.’

Deborah snorted. ‘I just don’t understand your father sometimes.’

That was nothing new. She had walked out on Gordon Groom fourteen years ago, saying exactly that and leaving him to care for the ten-year-old Leo.

‘He thinks it’s a good idea for me to learn to stand on my own feet like he did,’ she said patiently. ‘Look, Mother—’

‘You mean he thinks if he turns you out in the world to cope on your own you’ll turn into a boy,’ Deborah snapped.

Leo’s eyes flashed. But there was enough truth in the accusation to make her curb her instinct to retort in kind. She and her mother both knew that Gordon had always wanted a son. Training Leo to succeed him in the business was just second best. He did not even try to disguise that any more.

Deborah bit her lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry darling, I promised myself I wouldn’t start that again,’ she said remorsefully. ‘But when I see you looking like death and running yourself ragged like this, I just can’t help myself.’

‘Forget it,’ said Leo.

She cast a surreptitious look at her clipboard. Where was Roy? He should have paid the bus driver for the Japanese party. If he didn’t turn up she would have to deal with it. And what about the Harris family? She had forgotten all about them and the museum tour was leaving.

Her mother sighed. ‘I suppose there’s no hope of seeing you at all today?’

Leo’s conscience smote her. ‘Not a chance unless—’

Mary Harris panted up to her.

‘Oh, Leo, I’m so sorry. Timothy got locked in the bathroom. I didn’t know what to do. The room attendant got him out. Have we missed the tour?’

Leo reassured them and plugged them rapidly onto the departing group. She came back to Deborah, mentally reviewing her schedule.

‘Look, Mother, there’s one more group I’ve got to see on its way. And then I’m supposed to take someone to the pyramids. But it will be hot and she’s quite elderly. I doubt if she’ll want to stay too long. Tea this afternoon?’

Deborah perked up. ‘Or could I give you dinner?’

Leo hesitated.

‘You think your father wouldn’t like it,’ Deborah diagnosed. Her mouth drooped.

Leo almost patted her hand. But Deborah would have jumped a foot. They were not a touchy-feely family.

So she said gently, ‘It’s not that. There’s a conference dinner. We’ve arranged it at an historic merchant’s house and there’s going to be a lot of bigwigs present. I really ought to be there.’

‘If the wigs are that big, why can’t your boss do it?’ Deborah said shrewdly.

Leo gave a choke of laughter. ‘Roy? He doesn’t—’

But then she thought about it. The guest list included some of the most illustrious charitable foundations in the world, including a high royalty quotient. Roy liked mingling at parties where he had a good chance of being photographed with the rich and famous. He called it networking.

‘Mother, you’re a genius. It’s just the thing for Roy,’ she said. She pulled out her mobile phone.

All she got was his answering machine. Leo left a crisp message and rang off.

‘Right, that’s sorted. I’ll see you tonight. Now I’ve got to take a seventy-year-old from New Jersey to Giza.’

Deborah muttered discontentedly.

Leo looked down at her.

‘What?’

‘Surely someone junior could take this woman to the pyramids?’

Leo grinned. Deborah had been a rich man’s daughter when she married rising tycoon Gordon Groom. There had been someone junior to take care of tedious duties all her life. It was one of the reasons Gordon had fought so hard for the custody of his only child.

‘As long as I’m a member of the team, I do my share of the chores,’ she said equably.

‘Sometimes you are so like your father,’ Deborah grumbled.

Leo laughed. ‘Thank you.’

Deborah ignored that. ‘I don’t know why he had to buy Adventures in Time, anyway. Why couldn’t he stick to hotels? And civilised places? What does he want with a travel agency?’

‘Diversify or die,’ Leo said cheerfully. ‘You know Pops—’ She broke off. ‘Whoops.’

In the Viennese café Mrs Silverstein was chatting to an alarmed-looking man in a grey suit. Leo was almost certain he was a member of Sheikh el-Barbary’s entourage.

‘It looks as if my client is getting bored. I’ll pick you up at eight this evening, Mother.’

She darted into the crowd. It was a relief.

Deborah’s divorce from Gordon Groom had been relatively amicable and her settlement kept her luxuriously provided for, but she could still be waspish about her workaholic ex-husband. It was the one subject that she and Leo were guaranteed to argue about every time they got together.

Tonight, Leo promised herself, she was not going to let Deborah mention Gordon once. Leo was beginning to have her own misgivings about her father’s plans for her. But she was going to keep that from Deborah until she was absolutely certain herself. So they would talk about clothes and makeup and boyfriends and all the things that Deborah complained that Leo wasn’t interested in.

One fun evening, thought Leo wryly, after another wonderful day. She went to rescue the security man.

The Sheikh’s party swept into the suite like an invading army. One security man went straight to the balcony. The other disappeared into the bedroom. The manager, bowing, started to demonstrate the room’s luxurious facilities. He found the Sheikh was not listening.

An assistant, still clutching his brief-case and laptop computer, nodded gravely and backed the manager towards the door.

‘Thank you,’ said the Sheikh’s assistant. ‘And now the other rooms?’

The manager bowed again and led the way. The security men followed.

The Sheikh was left alone. He went out to the balcony and stood looking across the Nile. The river was sinuous and glittering as a lazy snake in the morning sun. There was a dhow in midstream, he saw. Its triangular sail was curved like scimitar. It looked like a small dark toy.

He closed his eyes briefly. It was against more than the glare reflected off the water. Why did everything look like toys, these days?

Even the people. Moustafa, his chief bodyguard, looked like a prototype security robot. And the woman he was seeing tonight. He intended quitting the boring conference dinner with an excuse he did not care if they believed or not in order to see her. But for an uncomfortable moment, he allowed himself to realise that she reminded him of nothing so much as a designer-dressed doll. In fact, all the women he had seen recently looked like that.

Except—he had a fleeting image of the girl who had tumbled against the pillar in the hotel lobby. She was too tall, of course. And badly turned out, with her hair full of dust and a dark suit that was half-way to a uniform. But uniform or not, she had not looked like a doll. Not with those wide, startled eyes. The sudden shock in them had been intense—and unmistakeably real.

The Sheikh’s brows twitched together in a quick frown. Why had she looked so shocked? He suddenly, passionately, wanted to know. But of course he never would, now. He grunted bad temperedly.

His personal assistant came back into the suite. He hesitated in the doorway.

The Sheikh straightened his shoulders. ‘Out here, Hari,’ he called. There was resignation in his tone.

The assistant cautiously joined him on the balcony.

‘Everything appears to be in order,’ he reported.

The Sheikh took off his dark glasses. His eyes were amused but terribly weary.

‘Sure? Have the guys checked thoroughly? No bugs in the telephone? No poison in the honey cakes?’

The assistant smiled. ‘Moustafa can take his job too seriously,’ he admitted. ‘But better safe than sorry.’

His employer’s expression was scathing. ‘This is nonsense and we both know it.’

‘The kidnappings have increased,’ Hari pointed out in a neutral tone.

‘At home,’ said the Sheikh impatiently. ‘They haven’t got the money to track me round the world, poor devils. Anyway, they take prosperous foreign visitors who will pay ransom. Not a local like me. My father would not pay a penny to have me back.’ He thought about it. ‘Probably pay them to keep me.’

Hari bit back a smile. He had not been present at the interview between father and son before Amer left Dalmun this time. But the reverberations had shaken the city.

A terminal fight, said the palace. The father would never speak to the son again. An ultimatum, said Amer’s household; the son had told his father he would tolerate no more interference and was not coming back to Dalmun until the old Sheikh accepted it.

Amer eyed him. ‘And you can stop looking like a stuffed camel. I know you know all about it.’

Hari disclaimed gracefully. ‘I just hear the gossip in the bazaars, like everyone else,’ he murmured.

Amer was sardonic. ‘Good for business, is it?’

‘Gossip brings a lot of traders into town, I’m told,’ Hari agreed.

‘Buy a kilo of rice and get the latest palace dirt thrown in.’ Amer gave a short laugh. ‘What are they saying?’

Hari ticked the rumours off on his fingers. ‘Your father wants to kill you. You want to kill your father. You have refused to marry again. You are insisting on marrying again.’ He stopped, his face solemn but his lively eyes dancing. ‘You want to go to Hollywood and make a movie.’

‘Good God.’ Amer was genuinely startled. He let out a peal of delighted laughter. ‘Where did that one come from?’

Hari was not only his personal assistant. He was also a genuine friend. He told him the truth. ‘Cannes last year, I should think.’

‘Ah,’ said Amer, understanding at once. ‘We are speaking of the delicious Catherine.’

‘Or,’ said Hari judiciously, ‘the delicious Julie, Kim or Michelle.’

Amer laughed. ‘I like Cannes.’

‘That shows in the photographs,’ Hari agreed.

‘Disapproval, Hari?’

‘Not up to me to approve or disapprove,’ Hari said hastily. ‘I just wonder—’

‘I like women.’

Hari thought about Amer’s adamant refusal to marry again after his wife was killed in that horse riding accident. He kept his inevitable reflections to himself.

‘I like the crazy way their minds work,’ Amer went on. ‘It makes me laugh. I like the way they try to pretend they don’t know when you’re looking at them. I like the way they smell.’

Hari was surprised into pointing out, ‘Not all women smell of silk and French perfume like your Julies and your Catherines.’

‘Dolls,’ said Amer obscurely.

‘What?’

‘Has it occurred to you how many animated dummies I know? Oh they look like people. They walk and talk and even sound like people. But when you talk to them they just say the things they’ve been programmed to say.’

Hari was unmoved. ‘Presumably they’re the things you want them to say. So who did the programming?’

Amer shifted his shoulders impatiently. ‘Not me. I don’t want—’

‘To date a woman who has not been programmed to say you are wonderful?’ Hari pursued ruthlessly. He regarded his friend with faint scorn. ‘Why don’t you try it, some time?’

Amer was not offended. But he was not impressed, either.

‘Get real,’ he said wearily.

Hari warmed to his idea. ‘No, I mean it. Take that girl down stairs in the lobby just now.’

Amer was startled. ‘Have you started mind reading, Hari?’

‘I saw you looking her way,’ Hari explained simply. ‘I admit I was surprised. She’s hardly your type.’

Amer gave a mock shudder. ‘No French perfume there, you mean. I know. More like dust and cheap sun-tan lotion.’ A reminiscent smile curved his handsome mouth suddenly. ‘But even so, she has all the feminine tricks. Did you see her trying to pretend she didn’t know I was looking at her?’

Hari was intrigued. ‘So why were you?’

Amer hesitated, his eyes unreadable for an instant. Then he shrugged. ‘Three months in Dalmun, I expect,’ he said in his hardest voice. ‘Show a starving man stale bread and he forgets he ever knew the taste of caviar.’

‘Stale bread? Poor lady.’

‘I’ll remember caviar as soon as I have some to jog my memory,’ Amer murmured mischievously.

Hari knew his boss. ‘I’ll book the hotel in Cannes.’

It was not a successful visit to the pyramids. As Leo expected, Mrs Silverstein insisted on walking round every pyramid and could not be persuaded to pass on the burial chamber of Cheops. Since that involved a steep climb, a good third of which had to be done in a crouching position, the older woman was in considerable pain by the end of the trip. Not that she would admit it.

Ever since Mrs Silverstein arrived in Egypt on her Adventures in Time tour, she had wanted to see everything and, in spite of her age and rheumatic joints, made a spirited attempt to do so. When other members of the group took to shaded rooms in the heat of the afternoon, Mrs Silverstein was out there looking at desert plants or rooting affronted Arabs out of their afternoon snooze to bargain over carpets or papyrus.

‘The woman never stops,’ Roy Ormerod complained, looking at the couriers’ reports. ‘She’ll collapse and then we’ll be responsible. For Heaven’s sake get her to slow down.’

But Leo, joining one of the party’s trips, found she had a sneaking sympathy for Mrs Silverstein. She was a lively and cultivated woman with a hunger for new experience that a lifetime of bringing up a family had denied her. She also, as Leo found late one night when the local courier thankfully surrendered her problem client and retired to bed, had a startling courage.

‘Well, it’s a bit more than rheumatism,’ Mrs Silverstein admitted under the influence of honey cakes and mint tea. ‘And it’s going to get worse. I thought, I’ve got to do as much as I can while I can. So I’ll have some things to remember.’

Leo was impressed. She said so.

‘You see I always wanted to travel,’ Mrs Silverstein confided. ‘But Sidney was such a homebody. And then there were the children. When they all got married I thought now. But then Sidney got sick. And first Alice was divorced and then Richard and the grandchildren would come and stay…’ She sighed. ‘When Dr Burnham told me what was wrong I thought—it’s now or never, Pat.’

Leo could only admire her. So, instead of following Roy’s instructions, she did her best to make sure that Mrs Silverstein visited every single thing she wanted to see in Egypt, just taking a little extra care of her. It was not easy.

By the time Leo got her back to the hotel she was breathing hard and had turned an alarming colour. Leo took her up to her room and stayed while Mrs Silverstein lay on the well-sprung bed, fighting for breath. Leo called room service and ordered a refreshing drink while she applied cool damp towels to Mrs Silverstein’s pink forehead.

‘I think I should call a doctor,’ she said worriedly.

Mrs Silverstein shook her head. ‘Pills,’ she said. ‘In my bag.’

Leo got them. Mrs Silverstein swallowed three and then lay back with her eyes closed. Her colour slowly returned to normal.

The phone rang. Leo picked it up.

‘Mrs Silverstein?’ said a harsh voice she knew all too well. Even when Roy Ormerod was trying to be conciliating he sounded angry. ‘I wonder if you can tell me where Miss Roberts went when she left you?’

Leo braced herself. ‘This is me, Roy. Mrs Silverstein wasn’t feeling well, so I—’

He did not give her the chance to finish.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? I told you to stop that old bat going on excursions, not give her personal guided tours. You should be back at the office. And what do you mean, leaving me a message that you won’t be at the dinner, tonight? You’ve got to be there. It’s part of your job….’

He ranted for several more minutes. Mrs Silverstein opened her eyes and began to look alarmed.

Leo interrupted him. ‘We’ll talk about this at the office,’ she said firmly. She looked at her watch. ‘I’ll come over now. See you in half an hour.’

‘No you won’t. I’m already—’

But she had cut him off.

‘Trouble?’ said Mrs Silverstein.

‘None I can’t handle.’

‘Is it my fault?’

‘No,’ said Leo.

Because it was not. Roy had been spoiling for a fight ever since she first arrived from London.

Forgetting professional discretion, Leo said as much. Mrs Silverstein looked thoughtful. She had met Roy.

‘And he doesn’t like it that you’re not attracted to him,’ she said wisely.

Leo stared. ‘What? Oh, surely not.’

Mrs Silverstein shrugged. ‘Good at your job. Independent. Clients like you. All sounds too much like competition to me, honey.’ She struggled up among the pillows. ‘The only way you could put yourself right with the man is by falling at his feet.’

Leo stared, equally fascinated and repelled.

‘I hope you’re wrong,’ she said with feeling.

There was a knock at the door. Leo got off the side of the bed.

‘That must be your lemon sherbet.’

But it was not. It was Roy. His eyes were bulging with fury.

‘Oh, you were calling from the desk,’ said Leo, enlightened.

He brushed that aside. ‘Look here—’ he began loudly.

Leo barred his way, giving thanks for the carved screen behind the tiny entrance area. It masked the doorway from Mrs Silverstein’s view.

‘You can’t make a scene here,’ she hissed. ‘She’s not well.’

But Roy was beyond rationality. He took Leo by the wrist and pulled her out into the corridor. He was shouting. He even took her by the shoulders and shook her.

An authoritative voice said, ‘That is enough.’

They both turned, Leo blindly, Roy with blundering aggression.

The speaker was a man with a haughty profile and an air of effortless command. A business man, Leo thought. Someone who had paid for expensive quiet on this executive floor and was going to see that he got what he paid for. The dark eyes resting on Roy were coldly contemptuous.

Roy did not like his intervention. ‘Who are you? The floor manager?’ he sneered.

Leo winced for him. On the face of it, the stranger’s impeccable dark suit was indistinguishable from any of the other business suits in the hotel. But Leo’s upbringing had taught her to distinguish at a glance between the prosperous and the seriously rich. The suit was hand tailored and, for all its conservative lines, individually designed as well. Add to that the air of being in charge of the world, and you clearly had someone to reckon with.

But Roy had never been able to read nonverbal signs.

He said pugnaciously, ‘This is a private conversation.’

‘Then you should conduct it in private,’ the man said. His courtesy bit deeper than any invective would have done. ‘You have a room here?’

‘No,’ said Leo, alarmed at the thought of being alone with Roy in this mood.

For the first time the man took his eyes off the belligerent Roy. He sent her a quick, cool look. And did a double take.

‘Mademoiselle?’ he said blankly.

Leo did not recognise him. She tried to pull herself together and search her memory. But Roy’s shaking of her seemed to have scrambled her brains.

Meanwhile, the fact that the stranger seemed to recognise her had sent Roy into a frenzy.

‘You want to be careful with that one, friend,’ he said. ‘She’ll stab you in the back as soon as look at you.’

Leo’s head spun as if she had been shot. All she could think of was that Roy must have found out who her father was.

‘What?’ she said hoarsely.

The stranger sent her a narrow-eyed look. ‘It is perhaps that I intrude unnecessarily,’ he said, his accent pronounced. ‘Mademoiselle?’

Leo shook her confused head.

Roy snarled, ‘You’re fired.’

Leo paled. She could just imagine what her father would say to this news.

‘Oh Lord,’ she said with foreboding.

This time the stranger did not bother to look at her.

‘Your discussion would benefit from a more constructive approach,’ he told Roy austerely.

Roy snorted. ‘Discussion over,’ he snapped. He sent Leo one last flaming look. ‘You don’t want to come to the dinner tonight? Fine. Don’t. And don’t come near the office again, either. Or any of my staff.’

Leo began to be alarmed. She shared an apartment with two of his staff.

‘Roy—’

But he was on a roll. ‘And don’t ask me for a reference.’

Leo was not as alarmed about that as he clearly thought she should have been. When she said, ‘Look, let’s talk about this,’ in a soothing voice, two bright spots of colour appeared on Roy’s cheeks.

He took a hasty step forward. Leo thought in a flash of recognition: He is going to hit me. It was so crazy she did not even duck. Instead she froze, panicking.

Fortunately their companion did not panic so easily. He stepped swiftly in front of her.

‘No,’ he said.

It was quiet enough but it had the force of a blow.

Leo winced. It stopped Roy dead in his tracks. For a moment he and her rescuer stood face-to-face, eyes locked. Roy was a big man and the red glare in his eyes was alarming. The other was tall and his shoulders were broad enough but, under the exquisite tailoring, he was slim and graceful. No match for a bull like Roy, you would have said. Yet there was no doubt who was the master in this encounter.

There was a moment of tense silence. Roy breathed hard. Then, without another word, he turned and blundered off, sending a chair flying.

Leo sagged against the wall. Her heart was racing. Now that it was over she was horrified at the ugly little scene.

Out of sight, she heard the lift doors open…several people get out…voices. Her rescuer flicked a look down the corridor. The voices got louder, laughing. He slipped a hand under her arm.

‘Come with me.’

And before the new arrivals caught sight of them, he had whisked her to the end of the corridor and through impressive double doors. Before she knew what was happening, Leo found herself sitting in a high-backed chair in what she recognised as the Presidential Suite. The man stood over her, silent. He looked half impatient; half—what? Leo felt her heart give a wholly unfamiliar lurch.

‘Are you all right?’ he said at last.

Leo thought: I want him to put his arms round me. She could not believe it.

‘What?’ she said distractedly.

He frowned. As if people usually paid closer attention when he spoke, Leo thought. Now she came to look at him closely she saw there was more to him than grace and good tailoring. The harsh face might be proud and distant but it was spectacularly handsome. And surely there was a look in those eyes that was not proud or distant at all?

I must be hallucinating, Leo thought feverishly. This is not my scene at all. I don’t fancy chance-met strangers and they don’t fancy me. This is the second time today I’ve started to behave like someone I don’t know. Am I going mad?

‘I said, are you all right?’

‘Oh.’ She tried to pull herself together. ‘I—suppose so.’ She added almost to herself, ‘I just don’t know what to do.’

He sighed heavily. ‘In what way?’ His distaste was obvious.

If he dislikes this situation so much, why doesn’t he just leave me alone, Leo thought irritated.

‘He said I wasn’t to go back. But everything I have is at the flat…’

Unexpectedly her voice faltered. To her horror, Leo felt tears start. She dashed them away angrily. But the little gesture gave her away more completely than if she had started to bawl aloud.

The man’s face became masklike.

‘You live with this man?’

But Leo’s brain was racing, proposing and discarding courses of action at the rate of ten a minute. She hardly noticed his question.

‘I’ll have to call London.’ She looked at her watch. ‘And then book a room somewhere. If I can get one in the height of the tourist season.’

The man sighed. ‘Then it will be my pleasure to offer you my assistance,’ he said in a long-suffering tone. He picked up the phone.

Leo’s brows twitched together. There was something oddly familiar about the formal phrase.

‘Have we met?’

He was talking into the phone in quick, clicking Arabic. But at that he looked down at her.

‘We have not, Miss Roberts.’

He had the strangest eyes. She had thought they would be brown in that dark face but they were not. They were a strange metallic colour, somewhere between cold steel and the depths of the sea; and dark, dark. Leo felt herself caught by their icy intensity; caught and drawn in, under, drowned…

She pulled herself up short. Was the man a mesmerist?

‘You know my name,’ she pointed out breathlessly.

He smiled then. For the first time. It made him devastating.

‘I can read.’

She stared at him, uncomprehending. He reached out a hand and brushed her shoulder. Even through the poplin jacket of her suit, his touch was electric. Leo shot to her feet with a gasp.

‘What—?’

‘Your label,’ he said gently.

He had removed the large lettered name tag that she had worn to the airport this morning. He dropped it into her hand, not touching her fingers.

Leo’s face heated. She felt a fool. That was not like her, either. What is it about this man that makes me lose my rationality? And feel like I’ve never felt before?

The phone rang. He picked it up, listened without expression and only the briefest word of acknowledgement before ringing off.

‘The hotel has a room for you. Pick the key up at the desk.’

Leo was startled into protesting. ‘A room? Here? You’re joking. They’re booked solid for weeks. I know because I was trying to get a room for a late attender at the conference.’

He shrugged, bored. ‘One must have become available in the meantime.’

Leo did not believe that for a moment. Her eyes narrowed.

But before she could demand an explanation, the door banged back on its hinges and two large men in tight suits appeared at it. One of them was carrying a revolver. Leo gaped.

Her rescuer spun round and he said something succinct. The gun stopped pointing at her. The two men looked uncomfortable. Leo turned her attention from the new arrivals to her rescuer.

‘Who are you?’

He hesitated infinitesimally. Then, ‘My name is Amer,’ he said smoothly.

Leo’s suspicions increased. But before she could demand further information, one of the men spoke agitatedly. Her rescuer looked at his watch.

‘I have to go,’ he said to her. ‘Moustafa will take you down to the lobby and ensure that there are no problems.’

He gave her a nod. It was sharp and final. He was already walking away before Leo pulled herself together enough to thank him. Which was just as well. Because she was not feeling grateful at all.




CHAPTER TWO


LEO was not really surprised when the room proved to be not only available but also quietly luxurious. When a discreetly noncommittal porter ushered her in she found there were gifts waiting on the brass coffee table: a bowl of fruit, a dish of Arabic sweetmeats and a huge basket of flowers.

Leo blinked. ‘That’s—very beautiful.’

The porter nodded without expression. He surrendered the plastic wafer that served as a key to her room and backed out. Neither he nor the hotel receptionist had expressed the slightest surprise about her lack of luggage.

It was unnerving. Leo felt as if the unknown stranger had cast some sort of magic cloak over her. Oh, it was protective all right. But it made her feel as if he had somehow made her invisible as well.

Still, at least it had got her a roof over her head tonight. Be grateful for small mercies, she told herself. He’s given you the opportunity to get your life back on track. She checked her watch and started making phone calls.

Her mother was fourth on the list. She expected to have to leave a message but Deborah was there.

‘Sorry, Mother, you’re going to have to take a rain check for tonight,’ she said. ‘I’ve got problems. They’ll take a bit of time to sort out.’

‘Tell me,’ said Deborah.

Leo did.

Her mother was indignant. She might not approve of her only daughter toiling as a menial courier but that did not mean that she thought anyone had the right to sack her. She urged various strategies on Leo, most of which would have ended with both Roy and Leo being deported. Used to her mother’s fiery temperament, Leo murmured soothing noises down the phone until her mother’s fury abated.

‘Well,’ said Deborah pugnaciously, ‘Mr Ormerod is certainly not interrupting my dinner plans. You have to eat and I want your company. See you at eight o’ clock.’

‘But I haven’t got anything to wear,’ wailed Leo.

‘You’ve got a credit card.’ She could hear the glee in her mother’s voice. Deborah was always complaining about Leo’s lack of interest in clothes. ‘And you ought to know this town well enough to know where the class boutiques are. I’ll see you downstairs now.’

Leo knew when she was beaten. She negotiated a fifteen-minute delay to allow her to make the rest of her calls. But that was as much of a concession as Deborah was willing to make.

Deborah was waiting in the lobby.

‘I’ve got a car,’ she said briskly. ‘And I know where to go, too, so don’t try to fob me off with any old shopping mall.’

She led the way purposefully. Leo grinned and followed.

Installed in the back of the hired limousine, Leo tipped her head back and looked at her mother appreciatively. Deborah fluffed up the organza collar to her stunning navy-and-white designer dress. The discreet elegance of her earrings did not disguise the fact that they were platinum or that the navy stones which echoed her ensemble were rather fine sapphires.

‘You look very expensive,’ Leo said lazily.

She did not mean it as a criticism. But Deborah flushed. She swung round on the seat to inspect her weary daughter.

‘And you look like a tramp,’ she retorted. ‘Do you dress like that to make a point?’

Leo was unoffended. She had been taller than her exquisite mother when she was eleven. By the time she entered her teens she had resigned herself to towering over other girls. She had even started to stoop until an enlightened teacher had persuaded her to stand up straight, mitigating her height by simple, well-cut clothes. Deborah had never resigned herself to Leo’s chosen style.

Now Leo said tolerantly, ‘I dress like this to stay cool and look reasonably professional during a long working day, Mother. Besides,’ she said as Deborah opened her mouth to remonstrate, ‘I like my clothes.’

Deborah gave her shoulders a little annoyed shake.

‘Well, you won’t need to look professional tonight. So you can buy something pretty for once. It’s not as if you can’t afford it.’

Leo flung up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

The car delivered them to a small shop. The window was filled with a large urn holding six-foot grasses. Leo knew the famous international name. And the prices that went with it. Her heart sank.

‘It’s lucky I paid off my credit card bill just last week, isn’t it?’ she said.

Deborah ignored this poor spirited remark. ‘We’re going to buy you something special,’ she said firmly, urging her reluctant daughter out of the car.

‘Here comes the frill patrol,’ groaned Leo.

But she did her mother an injustice. Deborah clearly hankered after a cocktail suit in flowered brocade. But she gave in gracefully when Leo said, ‘It makes me look like a newly upholstered sofa.’ Instead they came away with georgette harem pants, the colour of bark, and a soft jacket in a golden apricot. Deborah gave her a long silk scarf in bronze and amber to go with it.

‘Thank you mother,’ said Leo, touched.

Deborah blinked rapidly. ‘I wish you were wearing it to go out to dinner with someone more exciting than me.’

For a shockingly irrational moment, Leo’s thoughts flew to her mystery rescuer. She felt her colour rise. Inwardly she cursed her revealing porcelain skin and the shadowy Amer with equal fury. To say nothing of her mother’s sharp eyes.

‘Ah,’ said Deborah. ‘Anyone I know?’

‘There’s no one,’ said Leo curtly.

She stamped out to the limousine. Deborah said a more graceful farewell to the sales staff before she followed.

‘Darling,’ she began as soon as the driver had closed the door on her, ‘I think we need to have a little talk.’

Leo stared in disbelief. ‘I’m twenty-four, Mother. I know about the birds and the bees.’

Deborah pursed her lips. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Not that anyone would think it from the way you go on.’

‘Mother—’ said Leo warningly.

‘It’s all right. I don’t want to know about your boy-friends. I want to talk about marriage.’

Leo blinked. ‘You’re getting married again?’

Deborah enjoyed the attentions of a number of escorts but she had never shown any sign of wanting to have her pretty Holland Park house invaded by a male in residence.

Now Deborah clicked her tongue in irritation. ‘Of course not. I mean your marriage.’

Leo was blank. ‘But I’m not getting married.’

‘Ah,’ said Deborah again. She started to play with an earring. ‘Then the rumours about you and Simon Hartley aren’t true?’

Leo stared at her in genuine bewilderment. ‘Simon Hartley? Dad’s new Chief Accountant? I hardly know him.’

Deborah twiddled the earring harder. ‘I thought he was the brother of a school friend of yours.’

Leo made a surprised face. ‘Claire Hartley, yes. But he’s quite a bit older than us.’

‘So you’ve never met him?’

Leo shrugged. ‘Dad brought him out here a couple of months ago. Some sort of familiarisation trip. All the Adventures in Time staff met him.’

‘And did you like him?’

Leo gave a snort of exasperation. ‘Come off it, Mother. The strain is showing. Believe me, there’s no point in trying to make matches for me. I’m not like you. I honestly don’t think I’m cut out for marriage.’

Slightly to her surprise, Deborah did not take issue with that. Instead she looked thoughtful. ‘Why not? Because you’ve got too much to do being Gordon Groom’s heir?’

Leo tensed. Here it comes, she thought. This is where she starts to attack Pops.

She said stiffly, ‘I chose to go into the company.’

Deborah did not take issue with that, either. She said abruptly, ‘Leo, have you ever been in love?’

Leo could not have been more taken aback if her mother had asked her if she had ever flown to the moon.

‘Excuse me?’

The moment she said it, she could have kicked herself. Deborah would take her astonishment as an admission of failure with the opposite sex. Just what she had always warned her daughter would happen if she did not lighten up, in fact.

‘I thought not.’

But Deborah did not sound triumphant. She sounded worried. And for what must have been the first time in her life she did not push the subject any further.

It made Leo feel oddly uneasy. She was used to maternal lectures. She could deal with them. A silent, preoccupied Deborah was something new in her experience. She did not like it.

Amer had given Hari a number of instructions which had caused his friend’s eyebrows to climb higher and higher. He took dutiful notes, however. But at the final instruction he put down his monogrammed pen and looked at Amer with burning reproach.

‘What am I going to tell your father?’

‘Don’t tell him anything,’ said Amer fluently. ‘You report back to my uncle the Minister of Health. My uncle will tell him that I made the speech I was sent here to make. Et voilà.’

‘But they will expect you to say something at the dinner.’

Amer gave him a wry smile. ‘You say it. You wrote it, after all. You’ll be more convincing than I will.’

Hari bit back an answering smile. ‘They’ll find out,’ he said gloomily. ‘What will they say?’

‘I don’t care what a bunch of dentists say,’ Amer told him with breezy arrogance.

‘I wasn’t thinking of the dentists,’ Hari said ironically, ‘I was thinking of your uncle the Health Minister, your uncle the Finance Minister, your uncle the Oil Minister…’

Amer’s laugh had a harsh ring. ‘I don’t care what they think, either.’

‘But your father—’

‘If my father isn’t very careful,’ Amer said edgily, ‘I shall go back to university and turn myself into the archaeologist I was always meant to be.’

Hari was alarmed. ‘It’s my fault, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have said that the women you know were programmed to think you are wonderful. You’ve taken it as a challenge, haven’t you?’

Amer chuckled. ‘Let us say you outlined a hypothesis which I would be interested to test.’

‘But why Miss Roberts?’

Amer hesitated for the briefest moment. Then he gave a small shrug. ‘Why not?’

‘You said she was like stale bread,’ Hari reminded him.

Amer’s well-marked brows twitched together in a frown.

‘I hope you weren’t thinking of telling her that,’ he warned.

‘I’m not telling her anything,’ said Hari hastily. ‘I’m not going anywhere near her.’

Amer frowned even more blackly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. That’s not the way to stop me seeing her.’

‘I’m not being ridiculous,’ said Hari. A thought occurred to him. He was beginning to enjoy himself. ‘If you want to play at being an ordinary guy, the first thing you’ll have to do is fix up a date in person like the rest of us.’

There was a startled pause. Then Amer began to laugh softly.

‘But of course. I never intended anything else. That’s part of the fun.’

‘Fun!’

‘Of course. New experiments are always fun.’

‘So she’s a new experiment. Are you going to tell her that?’ Hari asked politely.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to tell her yet,’ Amer said with disarming frankness. ‘I suppose it partly depends on what she tells me.’ He looked intrigued at the thought.

‘The first thing she’ll tell you is your name, title and annual income,’ snapped Hari, goaded.

But Amer was not to be shaken out of his good humour.

‘I’ve been thinking about that. If she hasn’t recognised me so far, she isn’t going to unless someone tells her. So you’d better make the arrangements in your name.’

‘Oh? And what about when you turn up instead of me? Even if you can convince the maître d’ to be discreet what about the other people at the restaurant?’

‘I’ve thought of that, too.’ Amer was as complacent as a cat. ‘Now here’s what I want you to do—’

Back at the hotel Leo found her father had tried to return her call twice. He had left a series of numbers where he could be contacted. Immediately, according to the message. So he was serious about it.

Leo tapped the message against her teeth. She did not look forward to it. But years of dealing with her father had taught her that it was better to face up to his displeasure sooner rather than later. She squared her shoulders and dialled.

‘What’s happened?’ Gordon Groom said, cutting through her enquiries after his health and well-being.

Leo sighed and told him.

She kept it short. Her father liked his reports succinct. He had been known to fire an executive for going on longer than Gordon wanted.

When she finished, slightly to her surprise, his first thought was for Mrs Silverstein. ‘How is she?’

‘Sleeping, I think.’

‘Check on her,’ Gordon ordered. ‘And again before you go to bed.’

‘Of course,’ said Leo, touched.

‘There’s a real up side opportunity here. The retired American market has a lot of growth potential for us,’ Gordon went on, oblivious.

That was more like the father Leo knew. She suppressed a grin. ‘I’ll check.’

‘And what about Ormerod? Has he lost it?’

Leo shifted uncomfortably. She had been very firm with her father that she was not going to Cairo to spy on the existing management.

‘Some of the local customer care is a bit archaic,’ she said carefully.

‘Sounds like they need an operational audit.’ Gordon dismissed the Cairo office from his mind and turned his attention to his daughter. ‘Now what about you? Not much point in making Ormerod take you back, is there?’

Leo shuddered. ‘No.’

Her father took one of his lightning executive decisions. ‘Then you’d better come back to London. Our sponsorship program needs an overhaul. You can do that until—’ He stopped. ‘You can take charge of that.’

Leo was intrigued. But she knew her father too well to press him. The last thing he was going to do was tell her the job he had in mind for her until he had made sure that she was up to it.

‘Okay. I’ll clear up things here and come home.’

Other fathers, Leo thought, would have been glad. Other fathers would have said, ‘It’ll be great to have you home, darling.’ Or even, ‘Let me know the flight, I’ll come to the airport and meet you.’

Gordon just said, ‘You’ve still got your keys?’

They shared a large house in Wimbledon. But Leo had her own self-contained flat. She and her father did not interfere with each other.

‘I’ve still got my keys,’ she agreed.

‘See you when you get back.’ Clearly about to ring off, a thought struck Gordon. ‘You haven’t heard from your mother, by the way?’

‘As a matter of fact she’s here. I’m having dinner with her tonight.’

Gordon did not bad mouth Deborah the way she did him but you could tell that he was not enthusiastic about the news, Leo thought.

‘Oh? Well, don’t let her fill your head with any of her silly ideas,’ he advised. ‘See you.’

He rang off.

Leo told herself she was not hurt. He was a good and conscientious father. But he had no truck with sentimentality; especially not if it showed signs of interfering with business.

It was silly to think that she would have liked him to be a bit more indignant on her behalf, Leo thought. When Deborah had ranted about Roy Ormerod, Leo had calmed her down. Yet when her father didn’t, she felt unloved.

‘The trouble with me is, I don’t know what I want,’ Leo told herself. ‘Forget it.’

But she could not help remembering how the dark-eyed stranger had stood up to Ormerod for her. It had made her feel—what? Protected? Cared for? She grimaced at the thought.

‘No regression to frills,’ she warned herself. ‘You’re a Groom executive. You can’t afford to turn to mush.’

Anyway she would not see the mysterious stranger again. Just as well if he had this sort of effect on her usual robust independence.

She made a dinner reservation for herself and her mother. Then she stripped off the day’s dusty clothes and ran a bath. The hotel provided everything you needed, she saw wryly, even a toothbrush and a luxurious monogrammed bathrobe.

She sank into scented foam and let her mind go into free fall. When the phone rang on the bathroom wall, she ignored it, lifting a long foot to turn on the tap and top up the warm water. For the first time in months, it seemed, she did not have to worry about a tour or a function or timetable inconsistencies. She tipped her head back and gave herself up to the pleasures of irresponsibility.

There was a knock at the door.

Mother come to make sure I’ve plucked my eyebrows, diagnosed Leo. She won’t go away. Oh well, time to get going, I suppose.

She raised the plug and got out of the bath. She knotted the bathrobe round her and opened the door, trying to assume a welcoming expression. When she saw who it was, she stopped trying in pure astonishment.

‘You! What do you want?’

‘Very welcoming,’ said the mysterious stranger, amused. ‘How about a date?’

‘A date?’

‘Dinner,’ he explained fluently. ‘Music, dancing, cultural conversation. Whatever you feel like.’

Leo shook her head to clear it.

‘But—a date? With me?’

A faint hint of annoyance crossed the handsome face. ‘Why not?’

Because men don’t ask me on dates. Not out of the blue. Not without an introduction and several low-key meetings at the houses of mutual friends. Not without knowing who my father is.

Leo crushed the unworthy thought.

‘When?’ she said, playing for time while she got her head round this new experience.

‘Tonight or never,’ he said firmly.

‘Oh well, that settles it.’ Leo was not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved. But at least the decision was taken for her. ‘I’m already going out to dinner tonight.’

She made to close the door. It did not work.

He did not exactly put his foot in the door, but he leaned against the doorjamb as if he was prepared to stay there all night.

‘Cancel.’ His tone said it was a suggestion rather than an order. His eyes said it was a challenge.

Leo found herself reknotting the sash of her borrowed robe in an agitated manner and saying, ‘No,’ in a voice like the primmest teacher she had ever had at her polite girls’ school.

He bit back a smile. ‘I dare you.’

She looked at him with dislike. ‘I suppose you think that makes it irresistible?’

‘Well, interesting, anyway.’

If Leo was honest, his smile was more than intriguing. She felt her heart give an odd little jump, as if it had been pushed out of a nice, safe burrow and wanted to climb back in again. She knew that feeling. She hated taking chances and always had.

She looked at the man and thought: I don’t know where going out with this man would take me. Thank God I’m spending the evening with Mother.

And then, as if some particularly mischievous gods were listening, along the corridor came Deborah Groom. Leo groaned.

‘Is that a yes, no or maybe?’ said Amer, entertained.

‘None of the above. Hello, Mother.’

He turned quickly. Deborah did not hesitate. Assuming that the man at Leo’s door was Roy Ormerod, she stormed straight into battle.

‘How dare you come here and harass my daughter? Haven’t you done enough? I shall make sure your employer knows all about this.’

Amer blinked. A look of unholy appreciation came into his eyes.

‘I didn’t mean to harass her,’ he said meekly.

Leo writhed inwardly. ‘Mother, please. This is Mr—’ thankfully she remembered his name just in time ‘—Mr Amer. He was the one who persuaded the hotel to find me a room.’

‘Oh.’

Deborah took a moment to assimilate the information. Then another to assess Amer. The quality of his tailoring was not lost on her, any more than it had been on her daughter.

‘Oh,’ she said again in quite a different voice. She held out a gracious hand. ‘How kind of you, Mr Amer. I’m Deborah, er, Roberts, Leo’s mother.’

‘Leo?’ he murmured, bowing over her hand.

‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? Especially with a pretty name like Leonora. After my grandmother, you know. But her father always called her Leo. And it just stuck.’

‘Mother,’ protested Leo.

Neither of them paid any attention to her.

‘Leonora,’ he said as if he were savouring it.

Deborah beamed at him. ‘And how kind of you to check on Leo.’

He was rueful. ‘I was hoping to persuade her to have dinner with me. But she is already engaged.’ He sighed but the dark grey eyes were sharp.

Deborah put her pretty head on one side.

‘Well, now, isn’t that odd? I was just coming to tell Leo that I really didn’t feel like going out this evening.’ She allowed her shoulders to droop theatrically. ‘This heat is so tiring.’

Leo could not believe this treachery.

‘What heat, Mother? Every single place you’ve been today is air conditioned within an inch of its life.’

Deborah looked annoyed. Amer’s lips twitched. But, strategist that he was, he did not say anything.

Deborah recovered fast. ‘Well, that’s exactly the problem.’ She turned to Amer appealingly. ‘We English aren’t used to real air-conditioning. I think I must have caught a chill.’ She managed a ladylike cough.

Leo felt murderous. She was almost sure the beastly man was laughing at both of them.

‘Then you’d better stay in your room,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll order room service.’

Deborah gave her a faint, brave smile. ‘Oh no, darling. I’ll be better on my own. You go and enjoy yourself with Mr Amer.’

Amer took charge before Leo could scream with fury or announce that the last thing in the world she would enjoy was an evening with him.

‘If you are sure, Mrs Roberts?’ he said smoothly, as if that was all it took to decide the matter. He nodded to Leo, careful not to let his satisfaction show. ‘Then I shall look forward to our excursion, Miss Roberts. Shall we say, half an hour?’

He walked off down the corridor before Leo could respond.

‘Mother,’ she said between her teeth.

Deborah was unrepentant. ‘Just what you need,’ she said briskly, ceasing to droop. ‘An evening with a seriously sexy article like that. Should have happened years ago. Now what are you going to wear?’

Leo knew when she was beaten. She stood aside to let her mother come in.

‘There’s not a lot of choice,’ she said drily. ‘My work suit. Or the sun flower job you’ve just talked me into.’

Deborah flung open the wardrobe door and considered the ensemble with a professional eye. ‘That will do. It’s versatile enough. How smart do you think it will be?’

Leo sighed in exasperation. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea. I only met the man once before you thrust me into this evening’s fiasco.’

If she thought that the information would make Deborah apologise, she mistook her mother. Deborah was intrigued.

‘Determined, isn’t he? Very flattering.’

‘Oh please,’ said Leo in disgust.

Deborah ignored that. ‘We should have bought you some shoes,’ she said in a dissatisfied voice.

Leo picked up her low-heeled black pumps and held them to her protectively. ‘They’re comfortable.’

Deborah sighed. ‘Oh well, they’ll have to do. At least, there’s stuff in the bathroom to polish them up a bit. Now what about make-up?’

Leo gave up. In her element, Deborah took charge. She shook her head over the ragged ends of Leo’s newly washed hair and took her nails scissors to it. After that, she gave her a brief but professional make-up which emphasised Leo’s long silky lashes and made her eyes look enormous. She ended by pressing onto her a magnificent pair of topaz drop earrings.

‘I’m not used to all this,’ protested Leo, surrendering her neat pearl studs with misgiving. ‘I’m going to make a terrible fool of myself.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ said Deborah.

But she did not pretend to misunderstand Leo’s doubts.

‘Darling, you’re so capable. You can handle anything, not like me. How have you got this hang up about men?’

‘It’s not a hang up,’ said Leo drily. ‘It’s the sure and certain knowledge that any man who goes out with me has been turned down by everyone else in the netball team. Unless he thinks he’s dating my father.’

Deborah shook her head. ‘I don’t understand you.’

‘I do,’ muttered Leo.

‘So explain it to me.’

‘Big feet and too much bosom,’ said Leo baldly. ‘Plus a tendency to break things.’

Deborah was shocked. ‘Leo! You have a wonderful figure. Think of all those girls out there having to buy padded bras. Men just love curves like yours.’

‘Oh sure. A demolition expert with feet like flippers is pretty irresistible, too.’

Deborah sighed but she was a realist. ‘Look, darling, men can be very unkind but they’re not difficult to deal with if you know how. Tonight, just listen to the man as if he’s an oracle. And try not to bump into the furniture.’

Leo’s laugh was hollow.




CHAPTER THREE


THERE was no furniture to bump into.

First, Amer arrived in designer jeans and a loose jacket that was the last word in careless chic and made Leo feel seriously overdressed. Then, he announced that they were going out of Cairo. To Leo’s increasing trepidation, this involved a short trip in a private helicopter.

‘Where are we?’ she said, when the helicopter set down and its ailerons stopped turning.

The airstrip was abnormally deserted. In her experience Egyptian airports heaved like anthills.

But her horribly hip companion just smiled.

The briefest ride in an open Jeep took them to a dark landing stage. The stars, like a watchmaker’s store of diamond chips, blinked at the water. Silent as a snake, the river gleamed back. There was a warm breeze off the water, like the breath of a huge, sleepy animal.

Leo was not cold; but she shivered.

‘Where are we?’

‘Seventy miles up river from Cairo,’ Amer told her coolly.

‘Seventy—’ Leo broke off, in shock. ‘Why?’

‘I wanted to give you a picnic by moonlight,’ Amer said in soulful tones. He added, more practically, ‘You can’t do proper moonlight in the middle of a city.’

Leo looked at him in the deepest suspicion. Standing as they were in the headlights of the Jeep it was difficult to tell but she was almost certain he was laughing at her.

The dark harem pants wafted in the breeze. Her gold jacket felt garish under the stars and ridiculously out of place. She felt as clumsily conspicuous as she used to do at agonizing teenage parties.

‘Why would you want to take me on a moonlit picnic?’ she muttered resentfully. ‘You know I thought I was signing up for dinner in a restaurant. Look at me.’

Amer was supervising the removal of a large picnic basket from the jeep. He turned his head at that. He looked her up and down. In the jeep’s headlights, Leo somehow felt as if she were on display. She huddled the jacket round her in pure instinct.

‘Do you want to go back?’ he asked.

It should have been a courteous enquiry. It was not. It was a challenge. On the point of demanding just that, Leo stopped, disconcerted.

After a day of shocks, was this one so terrible, after all? At least it promised a new experience. Who knows, she might actually enjoy it. And she did not have to bother about an early night, for once. She did not have to get up in the small hours to meet an incoming flight. She would never have to again.

‘I suppose, now we’re here…’ she said at last.

Amer raised his eyebrows. It was hardly enthusiastic.

‘Shall we call it an experiment then? For both of us.’ He sounded rueful.

The driver took the picnic basket down the slope to a wooden jetty. Amer held out a hand to help Leo. The bank was steep. He went first.

She took his hand and scrambled down the dusty path unsteadily. His arm felt like rock, as she swayed and stumbled. It also felt electric, as if just by holding on to him, Leo plugged herself in to some powerhouse of energy. She held her breath and did her best to ignore the tingle that his touch sent through her.

Amer seemed unaware of it. Leo did not know whether that was more of a relief or an irritant. How could the man have this effect on her and not know it? But if he did know it what would he do about it?

‘Blast,’ she said, exasperated.

He looked back at her. ‘What was that?’

Hurriedly she disguised it. ‘I turned my ankle over.’

She began limping heavily. Amer came back a couple of steps and put a supporting arm round her, hoisting her with her own petard. It felt like fire.

‘Thank you,’ said Leo between her teeth.

On the jetty Leo stopped dead.

‘It’s a dhow,’ she exclaimed, half delighted, half alarmed.

The little boat did not look stable. She swayed gently against her mooring rope. There was an oil lamp on the prow; no other light but the stars.

Leo edged forward gingerly. And mother warned me not to bump into the furniture, she thought. With my luck I could have the whole boat over.

A sailor greeted them politely before taking the picnic basket on board. Amer turned and gave a few crisp instructions in Arabic to the driver.

Leo peered at the dark interior of the boat. She thought she could see cushions. They seemed a long way down.

The driver vaulted into the Jeep and gunned the engine. Amer turned back and took in Leo’s wariness.

‘Are you going to tell me you’re seasick?’ he said, amused.

Leo cast him an harassed look. Nothing was going to serve her but the truth, she realised.

‘I am not the best co-ordinated person in the world,’ she announced defiantly. ‘I was just trying to work out how to get into this thing.’

The jeep roared off. It left behind the starlit dark and the soft slap of the river against the jetty. And the man, now no more than a dark shadow against shadows. It was a warm night. But in the sudden quiet, Leo shivered.

‘That’s easy,’ Amer said softly.

He picked her up.

‘Careful,’ gasped Leo, clutching him round the neck.

She could feel the ripple of private laughter under her hands. Amer held her high against his chest and stepped down into the boat.

She was right. There were cushions everywhere. Amer sank gracefully into them. He seemed, thought Leo, to hold on to her for far longer that was necessary. She inhaled the new aroma of expensive laundry and man’s skin, all mixed with some elusive cologne that was hardly there and yet which she knew she would never forget.

None of the semidetached men in her life had made her feel like this. Was it because he was, as her mother had called him, a seriously sexy article? Would any woman have felt her pulses race in this situation? Or was it only Leo? Had her cool temperament and shaky experience led her to over-react to an embrace that was not an embrace at all? Somewhere deep inside there was still a clumsy sixteen-year-old who had hung around at the edge of the room at parties, marooned in her own self-consciousness. Had someone found the route to reach her at last?

If so, Leo was far from grateful. She disentangled herself, not without difficulty, and sat up. She pulled her jacket straight and smoothed her hair.




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