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Yet the very familiarity of seeing her again was taking him into the unknown realms of fantasy. The past was a place he did not revisit. At least never before now. His restless and nomadic nature saw no point to it. For him there was not the comfort—nor the danger—of long-standing friendships. His destiny was to stand alone.
Then why are you breaking your own rules? taunted a small voice in his head.
He did not rise to greet her when she got to the table, and, interestingly, this small lack of courtesy wounded her. Could he not just have pretended—gone through the motions of normality?
‘Hello, Hashim,’ she said, as calmly as possible.
‘Sienna.’ Not a flicker of emotion crossed over the diamond-hard features. ‘Please sit down.’
‘Thank you.’ She glanced up at the waiter, who pulled her chair out, and then there was nowhere else to look other than into the enigmatic black eyes. Their dark light swept over her, and she felt a moment of sheer physical weakness until she remembered her vow of earlier. Professionalism. ‘So.’ She flicked him a quick smile. ‘Where shall we begin?’
‘So quick to do business?’ he murmured.
‘One should always strive for professionalism,’ she answered coolly.
‘Ironically, that is what Abdul-Aziz always says.’
Sienna remembered the aide who had seemed to so dislike her. ‘And is he here with you now?’
Hashim shook his head. Hot-headedly, he had blamed his aide for showing him the calendar, even though he had only been doing his job. But for a while the Sheikh had seen him as a bearer of bad tidings—and he was as superstitious as the next Qudamah man. So he had sent him home, and in a way the split had been necessary—for the older man had begun to see himself in a role which was not befitting a royal aide. He had begun to love the fatherless Hashim as a son. And Hashim had no need of extra love.
‘Abdul-Aziz was posted back to Qudamah,’ he said. ‘He is married now, with a son of his own.’
‘Married?’
‘Yes.’ And then, because this exchange seemed almost too cosy, too familiar, he allowed his eyes to drift over her face. ‘Aren’t you going to thank me for the calendar?’ he questioned deliberately.
She had wondered when he would get around to mentioning it, and she had practised her response until she had it word-perfect. ‘No, I’m not. And if you continue to talk about it then I will walk out of here right now.’
He gave a faint smile. ‘Then I guess we’d better get the ordering out of the way.’
She glanced down at the menu, which was like a blur though she knew it backwards. ‘I’d like the Dover Sole, please. Grilled, no sauce. With a side salad.’
‘The choice of a woman on a diet,’ he observed.
‘Not at all. A woman who is careful about what she eats, that’s all.’
‘Careful?’ His black eyes glittered. ‘How very curious. Not a word I would have associated with you.’
She leaned forward. Big mistake—for now she was in full range of his subtle, spicy scent, and it crept over her like sensual fingers. She sat right back again. ‘Why don’t we clear something up before we go any further? You don’t know me. Maybe you never did—but you certainly don’t now. So you aren’t qualified to make any judgments about me. Understand?’
The waiter reappeared as Hashim glittered her a look which said Aren’t I? Sienna watched as he gave the order quickly, almost impatiently—like someone who had spent much of his life eating in expensive restaurants and was bored by them. She guessed he had.
And now take charge, she told herself. Behave like you would with any other new client. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a notebook. He eyed it with distaste.
‘Is that really necessary?’ he questioned acidly.
‘I’m afraid so. You wouldn’t be very happy if I forgot everything you told me, would you? And so far you haven’t told me anything.’
‘But you look like you’re interviewing me—and we’re in a restaurant!’
‘Well, you chose it.’
‘I know I did—but would you have agreed to dine in my suite if I had asked you?’
‘Not a snowball’s chance in hell.’ She looked at him, daring him to defy her. ‘Presumably you wanted me to be a captive audience?’
Hashim’s eyes narrowed as he considered her quickfire responses. Smart. And sassy. No matter how good an actress she was, she couldn’t play smart unless she really was smart. ‘Captive?’ he mused. ‘Yes, perhaps I did.’ He imagined her tied to his bed with black satin ribbons, wearing nothing but scarlet underwear and a pair of matching high heels, and he felt the heavy stab of an erection.
