Desert Mistress by Helen Bianchin

Author:Helen Bianchin [Bianchin, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance Fiction, General, Romance, Large Type Books, Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780373118724
Google: i0bXYgEACAAJ
Amazon: 0373118724
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1996-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Kristi’s voice was filled with outrage.

Shalef directed her a faintly mocking look. ‘This happens to be my personal suite.’

She sat up, carrying the sheet with her. ‘Either you go to another room or I will,’ she vented with thinly veiled fury.

‘The lodge has four guest suites,’ he enlightened her. ‘I have four guests.’

‘Couldn’t two of your guests share?’

‘Each suite is identical to this one,’ he revealed. ‘To suggest sharing would constitute a grave insult.’ His mouth curved into an amused smile. ‘You are my...’ he paused deliberately ‘...woman. Where else would you sleep, except with me?’

‘Like hell,’ Kristi said inelegantly.

‘I don’t perceive there is a problem. The bed is large.’

It might not be a problem for him, but there was no way she would calmly accept sharing the same room with him, let alone the same bed.

‘I’ll get dressed and go sleep on the sofa in the entertainment room,’ she declared purposefully.

‘And risk the possibility of being discovered by any one of my guests who might find it difficult to sleep and seeks the solace of music or television for an hour or two?’ One eyebrow slanted. ‘At least here you are beneath my protection.’

Anger lent her eyes a fiery sparkle. ‘I don’t want to be beneath you for any reason.’

He began to laugh softly. ‘I’m pleased to hear you enjoy variety.’

Colour flooded her cheeks, and, without thinking, she caught up a nearby pillow and threw it at him, uncaring at that precise moment if he should choose some form of retribution.

He fielded it neatly and tossed it back onto the bed, then he continued undressing, and she was unable to look away from the superb musculature of his near-naked body. Sinews stretched and flexed, their fluid movement beneath silk-sheened skin a visual attestation to a man who took care to maintain a physical fitness regime.

When he reached his briefs she averted her gaze. She wasn’t sufficiently bold to watch as he stripped off the last vestige of clothing.

Damn him. Didn’t he possess a skerrick of modesty?

Determination set her features into an angry mask. ‘I’ll opt for the chair.’

Shalef walked calmly to the opposite side of the bed and slid in beneath the covers. ‘As you please.’

‘It doesn’t please me at all,’ she vented in a furious undertone as she scrambled to her feet. She wrenched the sheet from the bed and wrapped it round her slim form, holding it firmly above her breasts with taut fingers as she scooped up the excess length.

‘Be careful you don’t trip,’ came a lazy drawl, and she turned to shoot him a fulminating glare.

The chair was large and looked reasonably comfortable, and she curled into its cushioned depths, adjusting the sheet so that it covered every visible inch of her, then positioned her head on the armrest and closed her eyes.

The early-morning start coupled with the events of the day gradually overcame her resentment, and she drifted into a light doze, only to stir some hours later as the air temperature dropped several points.

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