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She swallowed past her dry throat. “Wh-what did I say?”
“Nothing I could understand. Your body was twitching and you muttered some incomprehensible words.”
She exhaled softly. “Good.”
He arched a brow. “You know, you can trust me to share your personal demons. I’m here for you, little flame.’
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“But you’re not ready right now?” he said tonelessly.
“Not yet, but maybe one day.” By which time she’d be far, far away.
She sat and her abaya, which he must have put over her while she was asleep to protect her from sunburn, slipped back off. Suddenly aware of her nakedness, his flared eyes and hissed breath made her ten times more self-conscious and she became Miss Fumble-Fingers as she dressed in her clothes.
She glanced at Hamid and he managed a smile and said, “No need to cover up on my account. You’re gorgeous.”
She paused, his intensity half-thrilling, half-terrifying. Their connection was beginning to feel all too real. A buzzing awareness went through her. This could be her forever if she wanted it, if theybothwanted it. Yearning tore through her, leaving her reeling.
What the actual fuck?
She didn’t want to feel like this…she didn’t want this, period. She was a free spirit who wasn’t bogged down by emotional ties and commitments. She didn’t want a permanent relationship.
Are you sure about that?
Of course!
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
She nodded as she pulled on her leggings and boots. “Yes, I’m fine.” She managed a smile in return. “Thank you for bringing me here. I took some awesome shots of the desert cat. Not to mention that poor snake.”
“You’re welcome. And that’s life in the desert. Opportunistic hunting is the only way to survive out here.”
The sun was dipping low on the horizon by the time they finally mounted and rode back to camp. The helicopter streaked over them as they were riding into camp, thewomp womp wompof its rotors upsetting Camille enough to make her bellow.
“Good timing,” Holly said.
Hamid leaned forward and stroked Camille’s neck. “The pilot knew to return at dusk.”
“We’re not staying tonight?”
“Did you want to?”
“In a way, yes. But I also want to go through my photos and make a start on which ones to use.”
He nodded. “I thought so. You’ll get to meet your team tomorrow, too. You won’t have to stress too much about anything with them there.”
“Thank you.”
For once she was relieved and grateful not to be completely independent and alone. Having others help would loosen the load and maybe she’d even learn something from them. Photography was one thing, exhibitions were quite another.
This opportunity might have fallen into her lap thanks to her affair with a sheikh, but she was no longer willing to cut off her nose to spite her face. Being independent was well and good, but she accepted now that refusing an offer to further her career was beyond silly.
She’d be thankful for her windfall that might well propel her into becoming a sought after photographer.
After dismounting and giving Camille a well-deserved pat, Hamid grabbed their picnic basket with her precious camera inside, then clasped Holly’s hand in his free one as they walked toward the helicopter. She lifted a hand to the men who remained at the desert camp. Qaahir was noticeably absent, but then he was probably cooking up a storm back at the palace now Hamid had returned there.
She bet the men missed the talented chef.
