The Sheikh's Christmas Wish by Clare Connelly

Author:Clare Connelly [Connelly, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-15T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

She blinked away the tears. They were stupid and unwelcome. She’d made the right decision.

The only decision she could.

But days after hearing Ra’if say he loved her, Melinda felt no less alone and remorseful than she had the night he’d left. It had all been a fantasy. Looking back, she’d been so foolish not to press him harder about his identity.

There had been signs the whole way.

He was no ordinary man.

From the way he spoke, to the quality of his clothes, the obvious hallmarks of wealth that were just a part of who he was, to the languages he spoke, the mystery about what he actually did… she’d let herself ignore all of those question marks because he’d seduced her with his beautiful smile and incredible body. With his sexual magnetism and masculine appeal.

He’d found a way under a barrier she never let anyone near!

Not once since having Jordan had she been tempted to get close to someone. Not romantically.

She’d had offers.

A guy she worked with had been pretty persistent in his interest over the years. But Melinda had always known that she was better off alone.

She wasn’t alone, anyway.

Her eyes lifted to Jordan’s closed door and her heart lifted.

But what if, in denying her own desires, she was hurting him, too? What if she was closing the door on relationships that might actually give Jordan something that he was missing.

She dismissed the thought instantly.

Jordan needed stability.

It was her job – her most important job – to provide it.

She lifted her tea to her lips and sipped it, enjoying the heat as it scalded her mouth.

But God, she missed him.

A shiver danced down her spine as she thought of Ra’if and wished, with every single cell in her body, that he was with her. That he was kissing her; touching her, holding her.

Her phone ringing beside her startled her out of her reverie, and tiny goose bumps lingered on her flesh when she saw Ra’if’s face on the screen. She swiped it quickly, her heart racing.

“Hello?”

“Can we talk?”

She frowned. “I guess that’s why I answered the phone.”

His laugh was soft and it made her gut twist painfully. She missed him. “I meant face to face. I’m downstairs.”

She leaped off the sofa so fast she almost spilled her tea. She cradled it in her palm as she crossed the room and looked through the window.

There he was, leaning indolently against the side of his car, looking far better than any one man had a right to look. His ankles were crossed, his eyes fixed on her apartment, he was both nonchalant and tense at once. It was snowing, but he appeared not to feel it.

“I need five minutes of your time,” he said, as though he thought she might be able to decline. To tell him to go away.

Not bloody likely.

“Come on up,” she heard herself say hoarsely.

He disconnected the call and kept his eyes on the window – on her – as he crossed the street. She groaned softly, her body weakened by needs that only Ra’if could answer.

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