Текст книги "The Desert Blooms "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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His lips tightened. "A note that contained two sentences: 'Don't look for me. I'll come back only when I'm ready.' Very melodramatic. Didn't it occur to you that it was also a little inconsiderate?"

For a moment her control broke. "No more than it did to you when you sent me away," she said fiercely. "I told you I didn't want to go. You wouldn't listen to me. I told you—" She broke off. "But that's all in the past. It's not important now."

His lips curved in a curious smile. "For a moment there I thought it did matter to you," he said softly. "My mistake." He stretched his legs out before him with the deceptively lazy grace of a stalking cat. "So what have you been doing all these years?"

She glanced away. "Nothing much. I had a few jobs. I managed to survive."

"You don't intend to confide in me?" He clucked reprovingly. "And we're such old friends, Pandora."

"It's not very interesting. I wouldn't want to bore you."

"On the contrary, I'd be very interested." He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "All right, let's move on to more recent history. Let's talk about Luis Estavas."

Her eyes widened. "Luis? But how—"

"Or perhaps you'd like to tell me about your weekend with that Texas millionaire, Ben Danford." His expression hardened. "Or your current live-in companion, Neal Sabine."

"You've had me investigated," she said, her eyes wide with incredulity.

"You're damn right I did," he said harshly. "You stole those six years from me. I had a right to know who you were spending them with."

"Stole!" She shook her head. "You're impossible. Those were my years, my life, not yours." She was so indignant that for a moment she didn't realize what a lucky break this was. Philip had done her work for her. She wouldn't have to drop any subtle hints about her shady past or dangle poor Neal in front of him. She was already established as a woman of the world thanks to Philip's possessiveness. She tried to hide her relief beneath a careless laugh. "My men friends have been delightfully amusing." She paused. "And quite protective. Life can be difficult for a woman on her own."

"Financially?" He lifted a brow. "I understood rock stars made exceptionally good money."

"They do while they last." She made a face. "And good musicians can have lasting and lucrative careers. Unfortunately, I seem to spend money as quickly as I make it." She touched the velvet of her gown. "I like pretty things, and I have no illusions about my talent. I have a good, strong pair of lungs, style, and a body that's appealing enough in the scanty costumes Neal dresses mein. I'll coast along another year or so, but in the end I'll be replaced by a new craze."

"Still, you're very watchable. I think I might like to see you perform."

She tried to hide the sudden alarm she was feeling. He mustn't do that. She revealed too much of herself when she was on stage. "You don't like rock, and I'm hardly good enough to change your mind. You'd be disappointed."

"You're very realistic."

"The life I've lived hasn't encouraged anything else. I've learned to look for certain"—she paused delicately—"rewards in my relationships." She gave him the smoldering look Neal had taught her for publicity photos. She did it very well by now. "That's the real reason I sent you the medallion. I thought we might come to an arrangement. You've always been very generous to women who please you."

His face was impassive. "You know I don't indulge in permanent associations. You were streetwise even as a child, and I never tried to hide my relationships from you. I haven't changed."

She laughed. "Does that report from your detective agency indicate that I'm looking for commitment?" She shook her head. "Permanency doesn't have any appeal for me either. It just so happens I have a three-month break after the concert tomorrow night and I thought we might spend it together."

His face was watchful. "Let's be very clear, shall we? You're offering to become my mistress for the next three months, with no strings attached, inexchange for my"—his lips curved in a mirthless smile—"generosity?"

Her throat was dry. "Yes. Does the idea appeal to you?"

"Oh yes, it appeals to me. You're a very beautiful woman, and I've always liked a businesslike approach in my Khadims."

Khadim. There was no special emphasis on the word, yet it cut like a knife. She held her smile in place with an effort. "I remember that. Then are we in agreement?"

"Perhaps." His expression was intent. "There's something about your very tempting offer that makes me vaguely uneasy."

"Uneasy?"

"Perhaps it's my pride smarting. Maybe I enjoy having a woman put up at least a pretense of desiring me before the negotiations start."

Pretense. Oh dear heaven, who wouldn't want him? Her problem was that she mustn't reveal how much she wanted him. "I don't think you'll find me lacking in emotion." Her voice was a little husky, but maybe he'd mistake it for sultriness. "I think you know I had something of a crush on you when I was a kid. It would have been hard to miss. I thought an affair might not only be amusing, it might serve to exorcise you."

"Exorcise?" he repeated. "You make me sound like a devil incarnate. If you're going to be a successful Khadim, you're going to have to learn to choose your words more carefully. I'm not sure I like to be thought of in those terms." His eyes narrowed. "But I admit the idea of being a fantasy figure is highly erotic to me." He rose lithely and strode across the room. Before she knew what was happening he had pulled her to her feet. His eyes were no longer cool, but burning brightly, and she felt her heart leap wildly. "Did you fantasize about me, Pandora?" he asked softly. "About how it would be when I made love to you?"

She couldn't breathe. She could scarcely get a word out. "Yes." She knew her eyes were revealing too much. She tried to shrug carelessly. "A few times, I suppose."

"I'm beginning to have a few fantasies myself." His strong, graceful hands were lightly cupping her shoulders, kneading the flesh through the black velvet. His eyes had dropped to the fullness of her breasts. "Do you know that when you shrug the way you did just now that the neckline dips just enough for me to get a glimpse of the pink of your nipples? Just a glimpse, and then it's gone. Much more arousing than going topless. Did you plan it that way?"

"No." Her voice was a whisper. She was glad his eyes were no longer on her face, for her cheeks were suddenly hot. "I didn't know."

"Whoever created that gown did. Its purpose is very clear. There's nothing more voluptuous than black velvet against smooth white skin." His voice was suddenly thick. "You have magnificent breasts. Your skin has an almost luminous quality." One hand slipped slowly from her shoulder to her throat. "It reminds me of the women in the Delacroix paintings." His finger reached the upper slope of her left breast. The touch was gossamer light, yet heat rippled through her. "But all paintings should have an appropriate frame."

She felt as if she were mesmerized. She knew her breasts were tautening, swelling beneath his eyes. "Frame?" she asked vaguely.

He chuckled. "Why not? They're obviously crying out for attention. You'll be out of that gown in a minute anyway." His other hand left her neck, and the velvet was swiftly pushed off her shoulders. Then her breasts were free of the velvet, the bodice now beneath them, lifting, offering them in the frame Philip had created. His face was heavy with sensuality as he looked at her. "Lord, that's beautiful. I think I'll have a black velvet halter made for you and have it sewn with pink diamonds." His face slowly lowered until his breath feathered her nipple. "Black velvet, diamond hardness. " His tongue licked delicately, and an electric shock sent tremors through her entire body. "Against white velvet." He sipped at her nipple, and she felt the muscles of her stomach clench. "And pink softness." He was sucking gently, tasting, nipping, his words muffled and hot against her breasts. His cheek felt hard and faintly rough as he rubbed it against her. "Would you like that? You could wear it when I take you to bed. . . . You're so pretty like this."

She could scarcely comprehend what he was saying. She was on fire. Strangely weak, yet vibrantly alive and yearning. "If you like. Whatever you want."

He suddenly stiffened. His head lifted jerkily from her breasts as if he were unbearably tempted to remain. "How very accommodating." His voice was still thick with desire, but it held a bewildering hint of anger as well. "What a good little mistress you're going to make. Pandora. Perhaps the most passionate one I've ever enjoyed." He swiftly put her bodice in order and stepped away from her. "But could it be that the offer of diamonds has something to do with that passion?"

She reached a shaky hand up to brush the silver-blond hair away from her face. She mustn't let him see how much that remark hurt her. It was terribly hard to look coolly at him when her body was aching with suppressed hunger. "I always did like diamonds." She smiled with an effort. "And pink ones sound lovely. You appear to be a little upset. Have you changed your mind?"

His gaze was once more on her cleavage, as if he were unable to keep his eyes away. "Not upset. Uneasy. You have a very primitive effect on me. I think I could easily form a minor obsession where you're concerned." He looked directly at her. "I don't permit myself that sort of reaction to women."

"I know." She hadn't meant to say that. Surface. Keep it all on the surface. "I mean, it's obvious that you're only interested in a casual affair. Surely a minor obsession wouldn't be intolerable. You 11 probably be bored to distraction with me in three months." She mustn't push. She turned away with another shrug. "However, it's your decision." She strolled slowly toward the door. "I wouldn't want you to feel at all uncomfortable with it." She picked up her black velvet evening bag from the low chest by the door. She opened it, pulled out the gold medallion, and dropped it on the chest. "But until you make up your mind I think you had better keep this."

"An ultimatum?" Philip asked, his expression once more alert and watchful. "Sexual possession or none at all?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but perhaps that is what I meant." She opened the door. "Good night, Philip."

"Pandora."

She stopped and looked over her shoulder inquiringly.

"You haven't asked about your father," he said with a cruel smile. "Don't you want to know how overcome with joy he was when I called to tell him you'd been found?"

She felt the blood fade from her cheeks. She'd thought she had armored herself over the years, but trust Philip to find a weakness and strike with blinding swiftness. For a moment she felt as naked and vulnerable as she had when she was a child.

"No," she said shakily. "No, I don't want to know." She closed the door so swiftly she didn't hear the violence of the curse Philip uttered behind her.

He took an impulsive step forward and then stopped. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had hurt her. He had known that if there was even a vestige of the old Pandora left, his remark would hurt her, and he'd deliberately used it to test the sophisticated facade that had filled him with such anger and frustration. Why did the agonized look on her face make him feel slightly sick? He had never been particularly kind to women, yet in the past his actions had never filled him with such guilt. Since the moment she had walked through that door, he had felt that the Pandora he had known was somewhere just out of reach, beneath the smiling sophistication. There was something wrong, something out of kilter with this Pandora. The change was too radical.

He walked to the chest and picked up the medallion she had dropped so carelessly. Why was he questioning the metamorphosis that he had always known would come eventually? She was a desirable woman, and he would be a fool not to take advantage of the offer she had made. He could still taste the warm sweetness of her breasts on his tongue, and he felt a sudden thrust of desire in his loins at the memory. No, there was no question that he was going to take her up on that offer. He was tempted to follow her now to the hotel at the address the Blackwell's man had given him.

His hand tightened around the medallion as he remembered that she wasn't alone in that hotel room. According to the dossier, one Neal Sabine had recently moved in with her. With a start he realized he was actually shaking with rage. He took a deep breath and unclenched his hand. His palm throbbed slightly from the welt the raised design had left on his flesh. For a moment he had visualized that black velvet gown being slipped off her body by the faceless man in the report. He had seen her smile and stretch out on the bed, hold out her arms ... He shook his head to clear it. The emotion he was feeling was too strong. If he continued this way, the obsession of which he'd been so wary would grow until he could no longer term it minor.

He didn't like not knowing everything there was to know about this new Pandora. The Blackwell report had been annoyingly scanty. Blackwell's man, Denbrook, had seemed to think that Pandora's romantic affairs were all that he was interested in.

He turned and walked slowly across the room to the phone on the table by the couch. He picked up the receiver and reached into the drawer for the business card Blackwell's man had given him. Martin Denbrook. He punched in the number rapidly.

"Denbrook? Philip El Kabbar. I've decided I want that in-depth report as soon as possible." He paused as he remembered Pandora's obvious reluctance for him to see her perform. "And I want a ticket for the Nemesis concert tomorrow night. Not too close to the stage." Denbrook started to protest, but he cut him off. "I want it. Get one for yourself too. There are scalpers at every sold-out concert. Get it for me." He hung up a few minutes later. He sat on the couch and stretched his legs out before him, his eyes fixed abstractedly on the door that Pandora had closed behind her such a short time before. His uneasiness persisted, but he knew that no matter what he discovered behind Pandora's alluring mask, his decision was already made.

The surge of primitive jealousy he'd felt when he'd imagined her with Neal Sabine was too strong to ignore. Whether she wore the medallion or not, she still belonged to him. This was the last night she would spend in her lover's arms. He should have kept her with him insteadof letting her go to that bastard, dammit. He had an idea he was going to get very little sleep tonight.

* * *

Pandora in concert was electrifying. From the moment thousands of daisies rained down on the screaming fans until the moment she disappeared into the smoke and strobe lights at the end of the long, circular runway that led backstage, she was riveting.

She was dressed in the Grecian tunic that seemed to be her trademark. It was the color of old ivory, and so silky and flimsy that it revealed legs as beautifully symmetrical as her body was curvaceous. But after the first few minutes neither Philip nor the screaming fans were conscious of her sexuality except in a subliminal fashion. It was her energy that captivated them. Her energy, and an emotion so raw and basic that it touched a response in every person in the audience. She exploded with it and thrived and shimmered in the flames that explosion left behind.

"She's fantastic, isn't she?" Denbrook asked as the lights went on. "I feel as if I've been put through a wringer and hung out to dry." He shook his head. "You know, I even forgot how luscious she is after the first few minutes. No wonder the concert was sold out."

"Yes, she's fantastic." Philip's face was thoughtful.

Seeing Pandora tonight had been a revelation. The woman behind the cool, sophisticated mask. So much power. So much emotion. Why had she tried to hide that emotion? Well, it would be interesting to find out. The next three months were going to prove very stimulating if tonight's concert was anything to go by. He rose. "I'm going backstage. Phone the airport and have the plane fueled and ready. Then go wait in the car."

Denbrook got to his feet. His expression was disapproving. "Why don't I go with you, at least until you get backstage? It's not safe to carry that little trinket in your pocket in this kind of crowd."

"I'm quite safe at the moment." There was a flicker of humor in the smile that touched Philip's lips. "Pandora has hung them all out to dry too."

* * *

It took him fifteen minutes to negotiate the cordon of security men that surrounded the performers, and his temper was more than a little on edge by the time a message had been sent to Pandora and he had been granted permission to go backstage. Evidently the security measures he had ordered were completely unnecessary.

She was still dressed in the thigh-length tunic, but she'd already shed that awful orange wig when he entered the dressing room. She looked up from brushing her hair. The annoying mask of sophistication was back, and it irritated him even more now that he'd seen what lay behind it.

"You must be very tired. That was quite a performance you put on out there," he said as he closed the door.

"You were in the audience?" She went still, halting the brush in midmotion.

"I saw a little of it," he said carelessly. "I may even be forced to go out to the lobby and buy a Pandora sweat shirt. I was impressed."

"Don't joke." The brush resumed its stroking rhythm. "I told you I didn't have any voice to speak of."

"But your lungs are every bit as admirable as you boasted." He paused. "I'm not at all sure you're the flash in the pan you claim to be."

He could see her hand tense on the handle of the brush. "That's because you're not a rock devotee. It's here today, gone tomorrow."

"Is it?" His look was quizzical. "Then we must make sure you have a little something to fall back on." He strolled toward her, reaching into his pocket as he did so. "I brought your medallion back."

"Did you?"

"But you didn't bring the box, so I was forced to substitute one of my own." He set down the object in his hand on the vanity in front of her. "I think you'll like this one better."

The box was perhaps two inches square and was the most fabulous piece of artistry she had ever beheld. It was composed entirely of large, square-cut emeralds set between rows of sparkling diamonds. She stared in disbelief. "It's magnificent," she murmured. "It must be absolutely priceless."

"I bought it. Nothing that can be bought is priceless." He opened the box. "But I think you'll find it an adequate demonstration of my generosity."

"I believe adequate is a gross understatement," she said dazedly. "I take it you've made up your mind?"

"Yes." He took the medallion out of the box and fastened it around her throat. "On consideration,

I found the idea of this particular kind of possession totally irresistible." His eyes met hers in the mirror as his hands slid beneath the low neckline of the tunic to cup her naked breasts. "You're very responsive," he noted with cool objectivity. "You like my hands on you, don't you?"

"Yes." Her heart was beating so hard, she had trouble breathing. "I do like it."

His hands moved over her breasts in a slow massage that was like tongues of flame on her flesh. "That's fortunate. They're going to be on you a great deal in the next three months. I may find it impossible to keep them off you, in fact.

"I hope you don't have any plans that can't be changed. I'm taking you away tonight."

"Tonight!" Her eyes widened. Then she gasped as his thumb and forefinger closed on one burgeoning nipple and pinched just hard enough to send a liquid burning to the center of her being. She closed her eyes until the tremors had abated slightly. When she opened them they were still clouded with emotion. It was difficult to gather her thoughts. "We're leaving tonight? Where are we going?"

His eyes were narrowed and his face heavy with sensual pleasure as he watched her response in the mirror. "To Sedikhan. Where else? I have to meet with Alex Ben Raschid early next month about negotiating a new treaty." He was lazily plucking at her nipples, enjoying the dazed look of pleasure the action was bringing to her. His hands moved around to lift her breasts, and he studied the shape of the nipples pressed against the thin material of the tunic. "God, that's lovely."

He leaned forward, his breath warm on her ear. "This excites you, doesn't it?" he whispered thickly. His eyes were on her reflection in the mirror. "Another frame for you, Pandora. Perhaps I'll radio from the plane and have the servants install a full-length mirror in my suite. I love to see you excited."

Everything he did excited her. Just being in the same room with him excited her. "I have to pack," she said.

"No." His teeth pulled gently at her earlobe. "I'll buy you anything you need. Is your passport in order?" She nodded, her eyes fixed on the image of his dark, sensual face in the mirror. "Good. I'll send Denbrook to your hotel to pick it up and have him meet us at the airport. I want to leave as soon as you're dressed. You know I've never been patient when I wanted something." His tongue touched the sensitive cord behind her ear and a shudder went through her. "And I want you very much, Pandora."

She knew that. She could feel it in the hard tension of his chest as it pressed against her back. "All right." She leaned her head back against him and closed her eyes. What difference did it make? He was taking her with him—that was all that mattered. "I'll come."

"I want to see you again." His voice was a hoarse mutter as his hands left her breasts and fumbled with the back of her tunic. "Does this thing have a zipper? All I could think of last night after you left was how pretty you were jutting out of that black velvet. How good you tasted." There was anedge of frustration in his tone. "How the devil do I get you out of this?"

"It doesn't have a zipper. It slips over my head," she said dreamily. He wanted her. After all the aching years, at last he wanted her.

"Then take it off, dammit. I want to see you."

Her eyes flicked open. "Here?" she asked.

"Anywhere." His eyes were hot and smoky. "I want you. At the moment I wouldn't care if we were out there on that stage in front of your thousands of fans."

She felt a melting in every bone of her body. She didn't think she would care either. "Philip, I'm not..." She was interrupted by a new voice.

"Pandora, will you fasten this damn ..." The door had opened, and through a haze she saw Neal in elegant tuxedo pants and a white dress shirt. He stopped just inside the door when he saw Philip. "Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt something? I just wanted you to fasten these damn cufflinks." He strolled forward. "Be a luv and do them up for me?" He held out his wrist to her.

"What?" She shook her head and the room came back into focus. Philip straightened behind her and his hands fell away from her shoulders. "Oh, yes, of course. Neal, this is Sheikh Philip El Kabbar. Neal Sabine." Neal nodded civilly at Philip. Her hands shook as she fastened the cuff link. "I don't know why you bother to wear them. You never manage to get them fastened."

"Elegance, luv. I like to see the expression of shock on the birds' faces when they see the campy rock star in all this sartorial glory." He held out the other wrist, and while she fastened the cufflink he said genially to Philip, "They're the very devil, aren't they? Are you coming to the promoters' big do tonight?"

"No." Philip's voice was so dangerously soft that Pandora stiffened, and her eyes flew to his face. "And neither is Pandora. Sorry to disappoint you. She's coming away with me tonight." He turned away and crossed the room. "I'll wait for you in the car, Pandora." The door snapped shut behind him.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Neal asked quietly. His blue eyes were fixed musingly on her face. He had never seen her look so glowingly alive, not even when she was on stage performing. "He's the man you wanted to impress with our cozy little setup." His lips twisted ruefully. "If I'd known he was so intimidating, I might have hesitated a moment or two. I wasn't sure if he was going to leave quietly or order me beheaded first."

"They don't behead people in Sedikhan anymore," she said with a shaky smile. "Yes, he's the one."

"You're leaving for good?"

"You won't have any trouble replacing me. You'll find someone else. Maybe shell even have a decent voice."

His face was grave. "We'll miss you. You're sure you won't change your mind?"

"I told you when we started out that it was only temporary, that there'd come a time when I'd walk away from it. It's not my kind of life. It's not what I want."

He bent and kissed her on the cheek. "Then go for what you do want. I'll be rooting for you." He

straightened. "I'll send Gene and Pauly in to say good-bye. We wouldn't want his royal munificence to get impatient, would we?" He stood there a moment, looking down at her. "I remember the first time you walked into that club in Soho where we were playing. You were only sixteen and you looked like a hungry chicken."

"I was hungry," she said. "And scared. God, I was scared."

"I'd never have known it. You were the most boldly alive person I'd ever met." His lips curved in a whimsical smile. "It's a wonder I didn't go completely bonkers over you. Isn't it lucky that I didn't?"

"Yes, very lucky," she said gently. "I refuse to give you too much credit, though. It was probably my froggy voice that turned you off."

"Maybe." His hand touched her hair. All the light in the room seemed to be gathered in that silvery-blond mass. "I always did have a sensitive ear." His hand dropped away. "Well, if things don't work out for you, come back to us. I can always wear earplugs if you offend my sensibilities too drastically. Good luck, luv."

"Good-bye, Neal," she said huskily. "And thank you. Thank you for everything."

His shoulders lifted in a shrug as he turned away. "You gave more than you got. You always do. Keep in touch."

She watched the door close behind him, her throat tight with tears. So many years. She hadn't realized how hard it would be to say good-bye and walk away. She'd had her mind so fixed on the goal at the end of the road, she hadn't realizedwhat treasures she had acquired along the way. She stood up and pulled the ivory silk costume over her head.

If things didn't work out, Neal had said. The memory of those words sent a frisson of panic through her. Things had to work out. She couldn't bear it otherwise. Her whole life was wagered on this toss of the dice. Oh Lord, they had to work out.

Three

"Good afternoon, Sheikh El Kabbar. Everything has been taken care of, just as you ordered," Raoul Coupler said as he met them at the front door. The words were as casual as if it had been only a few hours instead of six months since Philip had left Sedikhan. Raoul snapped his fingers and two white-uniformed young boys appeared to fetch the bags from the limousine. His thin, pale face was as impassive as usual as he turned to Pandora. "May I say what a pleasure it is to have you with us again, Miss Madchen?" he asked politely.

"Thank you, Raoul," she murmured, trying to suppress a smile. It was difficult to believe that he could be sincere, considering all the uproar she had brought to his serene, well-ordered life in the past. She had taken a heathenish delight in playing the most outrageous pranks just to see if shecould disturb the cool aplomb of Philip's personal servant. She had never succeeded. "It's good to be back."

"I took the liberty of ordering dinner in your suite tonight. Sheikh El Kabbar," Raoul said as he preceded them across the foyer and down the gleaming, mosaic-tiled hall. "You must be very weary after your trip. Miss Madchen. The time difference can throw your system a bit out of whack."

"I feel fine." It was good to have Raoul as a bulwark between them. He was ignoring Philip's grim and forbidding demeanor with the habit of years. "I'm not at all tired."

"You've forgotten what a powerhouse of energy Pandora can be, Raoul," Philip said caustically. He stopped at the door of his suite. "Time zones and jet trips of thousands of miles scarcely faze her at all."

"I haven't forgotten." A pained expression appeared on Raoul's face. "Miss Madchen was always exceptionally enthusiastic in all her . . . endeavors."

"However, well definitely have dinner in my suite. I find I'm not as resilient as our Pandora. I don't bounce back as quickly as the dynamic young rock stars she's accustomed to dealing with."

The barb in his last statement was obvious, but Pandora felt only a sense of relief. At least he was getting it out in the open. He had been in a foul mood since the moment Neal appeared in her dressing room. He'd practically ignored her for the entire trip, involving himself in a voluminous stack of paperwork from his many corporations.

In a way it had been easier for her. She hadn't had to keep up her guard, to maintain that nerve-racking air of sophistication. "Oh, I don't know. You should see us after two weeks of one-night stands. We practically fall into bed every night."

"I imagine you do," Philip bit out as he opened the door. "Though I'd guess you're very fond of one-night stands as well. Your suite is next door. Please join me in forty-five minutes." The door swung shut behind him with a force that was not quite a slam.

Pandora made a face at the door. Yes, Philip was definitely upset and on his imperial high horse. "Do you think I've been insulted, Raoul?"

For a moment there was a flicker of humor in Raoul's brown eyes. "I wouldn't presume to say, Miss Madchen. However, Sheikh El Kabbar has always been talented in that direction, as we both know." He had moved to the carved door a few yards down the hall. "I believe you'll be comfortable here. When I received the phone call from the San Francisco airport I facilitated the acquisition of the wardrobe the sheikh said you would require." His eyes rested for a fleeting moment on her full bosom. "He said you had filled out a trifle. I hope the clothing fits."