LITMIR.BIZ

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of their girls and needed to get their priorities straight.”

      He lifted his eyebrows. “And you—said this—to them?”

      “I’ve always had a problem with telling the truth.”

      “You mean the problem is that you actually tell it?” He gave a low laugh, and she loved the sound. So sexy. So warm. It made his dark eyes light up in a way that melted her inside.

      “Don’t laugh,” Irene said. “You’re a billionaire and a king. I bet no one tells you the truth about anything. They’re too scared.”

      “I doubt that very much.” He gave another laugh, but this time there was no warmth in it. “I wish some of my servants were a little more afraid, to tell you the truth. My sister has a companion who—”

      He cut himself off.

      “You have a sister?”

      “Yes.” He looked away.

      Birds sang above them, echoing plaintively across the valley. Feeling awkward, Irene lifted her glass to her lips to take a fortifying drink of champagne, only to discover she’d finished it already. How had that happened?

      “Allow me.” Sharif brought the bottle to her glass. Placing his hand over hers, to steady her hold on the crystal stem, he tilted the bottle against the lip and poured deeply into her glass. Irene felt his larger hand over hers, felt the warmth of his palm against her skin, and a deep shudder went through her.

      She looked up at his darkly handsome face.

      “So where are you working now?” he asked.

      She licked her lips. “I’m, um, not.”

      “Taking time off?”

      “I’m sadly between jobs,” she said lightly. “It’s been six months. I’m running out of money.”

      Sharif frowned. “Can’t Mrs. Falconeri arrange a job for you at one of her husband’s hotels?”

      “She probably could, if I asked her. But I won’t.”

      “No desire to work in the hotel business?”

      “It’s not that. I wouldn’t dream of presuming on our friendship that way. It wouldn’t be right.”

      He was staring at her as if she were crazy. “What are you talking about?”

      She glared at him. “I’m not that kind of person, okay? Feelings are feelings, friends are friends, and I’m not going to use any relationship for financial gain. I won’t. I’m not like—”

      Like my family, she almost said, but cut herself off just in time.

      Or maybe she didn’t. Sharif was looking at her with consternation. As if seeing her for the first time.

      “What happened?” he said in a low voice. “I thought some man broke your heart. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Or else why wouldn’t you ask a good friend for help finding a job? Why would you be afraid?”

      “I’m not afraid!” Her cheeks flamed. “I just prefer to find a job on my own, that’s all. I don’t need Emma’s help.” She wouldn’t let him see into her soul. She wouldn’t. “Don’t worry about me, Your Highness,” she said coldly. “I’ll be fine.”

      He looked as if he didn’t believe her. His lips parted, as if he was about to ask her questions she wouldn’t want to answer.

      Looking down across the meadow, she rose unsteadily to her feet. “Let’s pack up. I’m done.”

      But after they’d silently packed the dishes and he’d folded the blanket, as she started to walk ahead of him, Sharif caught her arm.

      “Wait.” Tilting his head, he gave her an impish, sideways smile. “Before we rejoin the other guests, I have something to show you.”

      * * *

      An hour later, Irene was still staring at it in shock.

      “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said for the sixth time. She tilted her head, regarding it from the other direction. Nope. It still didn’t look real. It was too outrageously huge, too ridiculous to be believed.

      Beside her, Sharif tilted his head as well, looking down at it with poorly concealed masculine smugness. “Like it?”

      Irene licked her lips, trying to find the words.

      “A little too big?” he offered finally.

      She looked up at him. “You think?”

      “It’s purely for your pleasure.”

      “I didn’t ask for anything that huge.”

      “You didn’t ask for anything at all. But I knew you wanted it. Every woman does.”

      Irene bit her lip, staring at it.

      “Touch it,” he said encouragingly. “Go on. Don’t be afraid. It won’t bite.”

      “That’s what you think,” she muttered, but finally, the temptation was too much to resist. It was too spectacular not to touch. She wanted to feel it for herself, every hard delicious curve.

      Reaching out, she gently stroked her fingertips over the diamond necklace he was holding out in the black velvet case.

      The diamonds felt hard and smooth. Especially the center five stones, which had to be well over ten carats...each. They sparkled from the fire inside them.

      Just as she did when she was near Sharif.

      “Put it on,” he said, coming closer. “You know you want to.”

      Yanking back her hand, she shook her head, setting her jaw. “I couldn’t possibly accept.”

      “Why not?”

      She looked at him in disbelief. “You really have to ask? After I told you how I feel about mixing the lines between relationships and financial gain?”

      Sharif lifted a dark eyebrow.

      “Why, Miss Taylor. Are we in a relationship?” he purred. “Am I to understand you cannot accept my small gift because you’ve fallen desperately in love with me?”

      He’d caught her very neatly.

      “Of course not,” she said, glaring at him.

      “In that case...”

      He pulled her to the full-length mirror in his bedroom suite. Removing her borrowed band of Emma’s pearls, he replaced them with the diamond necklace from the black velvet box.

      She nearly gasped at the cool weight of the stones against her skin.

      “You look beautiful,” Sharif said softly, standing behind her. “You will be the queen of the ball tonight.”

      “No one will be queen but Emma,” Irene said. “It’s her day.” Then she swallowed as she looked at herself in his mirror.

      Afternoon sunlight was beaming down from the tall windows of his bedroom. She saw her own big eyes, the pink flush on her cheeks, her full, trembling lips. In her borrowed Lela Rose dress, with the diamonds flashing fire against her skin, she did look like a queen. But she couldn’t kid herself it was the dress, or even the jewels that made her look so...alive.

      It was the man standing behind her now. She couldn’t touch him. But she could touch this...

      Unthinkingly, she raised her hand and ran it down the thick, hard jewels. “How much did it cost?”

      “It’s not good manners to ask, is it?”

      “How much?” she demanded.

      He shrugged. “A minor amount that I can easily afford.”

      Irene licked her lips, still staring at herself in the mirror. Take

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