Read One Night in the Orient for Free Online Page A

mouth. I have to leave you—I’ll be no more than five minutes. When I come back I want to see several of those savouries eaten.”
    Siena glowered balefully after him as he left the room, but although she wasn’t hungry the little mouthfuls of food looked delicious and smelt divine. Almostwithout thinking, she picked one up and nibbled, trying to sort out her thoughts and her odd reactions.
    She was over Nick. Had been for years. She no longer even wanted to know why he’d made love to her with such wild tenderness, then left her with nothing more than an abrupt and angry statement that he’d lost his head and he was sorry.
    As well as showing her how passionate she could be, Nick had hurt her—
damaged
her in a way she hadn’t understood or recognised until that moment. Unwittingly she must have vowed never to allow herself to feel so intensely again.
    It had taken all her will, but she’d eventually managed to put him behind her and get on with her life. She’d met someone safe—someone she’d been sure would never cause her the pain Nick had.
    She winced. Was that really why she’d chosen Adrian? Surely her love for him hadn’t been a mirage, desperately conjured by memories of the dark sorcerer who’d shown her passion and joy and then abandoned her to a world without either?
    If so—if she’d let her misery at Nick’s rejection make the choice for her—perhaps Adrian had sensed it.
    What weird power did Nick have that just being held in his sexless embrace roused a long-repressed hunger?
    OK, so the day had flung a couple of nasty surprises at her—well, one shock and one disappointment—leaving her off-balance, stranded and short of money on the other side of the world from home. She’d been worried, but she’d have managed.
    Then Nick had arrived. Being Nick, he’d taken over and.
    And what?
    In his aloofly controlled way he’d been protective and kind—clearly signalling that he was doing his duty to the couple who’d helped him when he was young and more vulnerable.
    The soft sound of the door made her look up sharply. Her stomach dropped as Nick came in, black brows almost meeting across his nose.
    “What’s the matter?” she asked.
    The frown smoothed out. “My question, I think. You look shell-shocked.”
    “I’m fine,” she said automatically.
    “And so am I.” He examined her face, then said with a touch of irony, “All right, I’ve just had a conversation with my PA that means I have to rearrange my schedule. It’s no big deal.”
    Without preamble she said, “I used to resent you when I was a kid.”
    He looked across at her, his brows slightly raised. “I know. You always wanted to come with us when your father and I went off to the various sports and games he introduced me to.”
    “I must have been a brat.”
    “Not exactly that,” he said dryly. “You were an uncompromising little thing, and very determined. I got used to thunderous frowns, black looks, pouting—”
    “I never pouted!”
    “You did, and very cutely. I didn’t blame you.”
    “Generous of you,” she said with a wry smile. And because she’d always wondered, she asked, “How did you find yourself being Dad’s protégé?”
    His expression tightened, but he spoke easily enough. “After my own father died I became hard to handle. My mother was desperate enough to contact an organisationthat helped fatherless boys, one your father had volunteered for. We clicked.”
    He stopped, then went on almost harshly, “I owe him an immense debt. When I decided to go out on my own in IT he couldn’t afford to back me financially, but he introduced me to people who could, and he gave me both intellectual and moral support.”
    Very moved, she said, “That’s quite a tribute. But you did something for him too, you know. You were the son he never had.”
    “I hope so,” he said, in a tone that came close to being dismissive, as if he’d said too much. “Dinner’s ready now if you are.”
    Siena