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door of his life for far too long. She’d seen the women come and go. She’d walked many of them to the door herself as they clutched their handbags. Half the time with their wadded-up panty hose trailing from their purses as they took the walk of shame.
    She’d witnessed it and, if she was honest with herself, she’d been utterly judgmental. What kind of idiot woman got herself involved with a playboy sheikh? Oh, she knew what they all thought. What they hoped. That they were the one. The one he would marry and make into his princess.
    Sure, some of them just wanted sex, the same as he did. And that was fine. She didn’t pity those women, the ones who knew what they wanted and what they were getting.
    The majority, however, were the other kind. The dreamers and schemers and hopefuls.
    And she was not about to become one of them.
    Emily shoved against his chest. His grip immediately eased and she stepped backward, out of his grasp. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a marathon. She wrapped her arms around herself, embarrassed at the effect he was having, and moved farther away.
    Her wineglass was waiting on the table, so she picked it up and took a gulp. Then she faced him again. He looked oddly on edge, like a tiger waiting to pounce.
    “No kissing,” she said hoarsely.
    “I’m afraid that is a condition I cannot accept.” He sounded so cool, so calm, as if touching her hadn’t meant a thing to him. Which, of course, it hadn’t. His pulse wasn’t racing like hers. His breath wasn’t a struggle. She was simply another female to him.
    “You have to.”
    He shook his head, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Impossible, Emily. I can hardly be besotted with a wife I never kiss, now can I? Besides, you have already agreed. You cannot change the terms of the agreement afterward. That is bad business.”
    She clutched the wineglass like a lifeline. She knew he was right, but dammit, why hadn’t she thought of it before? Why hadn’t she made it a condition?
    Because it’s stupid, that’s why. Because he’s paying you to be his wife, and husbands kiss their wives.
    “Fine, you can kiss me. But only in public. Only when it’s necessary for the illusion. No touching in private. No kissing either.”
    His eyebrow quirked. “Are you that afraid of me, Emily? Worried about what kissing me will do to you?”
    Heat flared beneath her skin. “With all due respect, Your Highness, you really need to get over yourself. It’s not professional, is all I mean. I’m your partner, not your lover.”
    “So no mixing business and pleasure, I take it?” He sounded amused, and it irritated her. Was there really nothing she could say that bothered this man? That got to him the way he was getting to her?
    Maybe she should have been more blunt with him much sooner. But she’d always tried to be cool and professional and detached. She hadn’t wanted camaraderie with him. She’d wanted nothing but her job and her paycheck and the satisfaction of performing her duties better than anyone he’d ever employed before.
    She’d wanted to be indispensable to him—and she’d wanted to be the one he trusted with his business life. She hadn’t wanted to kiss him or touch him or, heaven forbid, lie naked in a bed with him.
    To do that would be like picking up a treasure map, pointing right to the place that said “Here Be Dragons,” and saying, “This is where I want to go.”
    No, not going there. Not ever.
    “Precisely.” She tried to sound like her usual cool self, but there was a hint of hot color in her voice. She could hear it vibrating. She didn’t like it.
    He shoved his hands into his pockets. It was such a casual move, and yet he looked no less intense—or delicious—than a moment ago.
    Stop.
    “All right, we’ll do it your way. For now. No touching unless necessary for public consumption. Which, by the way, includes my staff and anyone in the palace in Kyr. I expect this to work, Emily.”
    The tightness in