Fire and Desire (Arabesque) Page 3

  “I don’t know how he could have thought that. I remember telling him I would not be going to that dinner with him.”

  “I guess he’s not used to being turned down.”

  Corinthians frowned. She was getting fed up with arrogant men. “Then he needs to understand he’s in America. In this country women have rights. I exercised mine when I turned him down. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Josh, I need to go. Bye.” She hung up the phone before her brother could say anything else. No doubt he would suggest that she talk to Rasheed, and she wasn’t in the mood.

  After hanging up the phone, Corinthians turned to find Trevor Grant standing across the lobby, leaning against the wall looking at her. He just stood there staring at her with an odd expression on his face. Even from the distance separating them, she could see something flicker deep in the depths of his eyes. It was something dark, compelling and seductive. He was looking at her as if he could see straight through the material of her gauzy white sundress; every revealing detail.

  Angry at the way her thoughts were going, she gave him a cutting look before turning and walking over to the elevators. When the doors opened, she quickly stepped inside. When she turned back around, she saw his eyes were still on her. She met his stare with her glare. She was glad when the doors closed, shutting him off from her line of vision.

  Trevor straightened his stance. He wondered whom Corinthians had been talking to on the telephone. Whoever it was had certainly teed her off. He had picked up on it even from across the room simply by reading her body language and facial expressions. A deep scowl covered his face. Him trying to get a rise out of her was one thing, someone else setting her off was another. He couldn’t help wondering if the person she’d been on the phone with was a man. He suddenly loathed himself for even caring. The woman had already proven to him that she had no scruples. She’d all but hinted at dinner that she had not gotten over Dex. He wondered if she was an obsessive type of woman. He knew firsthand the destruction an obsessive woman could do. Hadn’t Paris Sanders been the epitome of an obsessive woman when she had been responsible for his parents’ breakup?

  At the age of sixteen, he had taken his parents’ separation hard, not understanding the reason for it. At home, his mother was always despondent, and whenever he and his sister, Regina, went to visit their father, his mood was just as down-hearted. However, neither of his parents would reveal to their son and daughter the reason they had decided to live apart. And since neither of his parents had filed for a divorce, that had made the situation even more confusing to him. It was only years later, after he had finished school and joined the Marines, that he had found out the truth. Another woman had been involved.

  At least that was what his mother had believed, although his father had staunchly denied having an affair with Paris Sanders. But the photo that had been delivered to his mother from Paris Sanders, a shot taken of his father holding a half-naked Ms. Sanders in his arms during a business trip, had sealed Maurice Grant’s fate. Stella Grant had believed the worst.

  Trevor placed his hands in the pockets of his pants as he continued to stare at the closed elevator doors. If Corinthians Avery thought she was going to make her move on a married man like Paris Sanders had done, she had another thought coming.

  Washington, D.C.

  “You Americans give your women too much freedom.”

  Joshua Avery leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples upon hearing the statement from the man sitting across from his desk. “Look, Valdemon, I’m not my sister’s keeper. According to Corinthians, she never agreed to be your dinner date this weekend. I mentioned to you two weeks ago that she was going to Brazil. Why didn’t you find someone else to take?”

  The tall, handsome man with dark, piercing eyes, skin the color of almond, and dark, straight black hair that reached his shoulders, gave Joshua a measured stare. “Because I assumed she would be back by this weekend.”

  Joshua almost told him he apparently assumed too much, then thought better of it. The last thing he needed was enemies from the Middle East. In his quest to become the first Black governor of Texas, the one thing he needed other than the support of fellow Texans were allies in the Middle East. With Texas being the oil basin in the United States and the Middle East being where the major oil-producing nations were located, there was a lot at stake. In order to get American oil companies that were based in Texas to support him, he needed to make sure their counterparts abroad were kept happy and content. The last thing anyone wanted was a repeat of the monopolized oil prices that had plagued the nation in the seventies. Although Valdemon’s native country was not an oil-producing one, it was still located in the Middle East. And his father, the sheikh of Mowaiti, was well thought of in Washington, D.C., and Valdemon was his heir.

  He smiled. “I don’t think Corinthians will be back for another week, so I suggest you find someone else to take. I also suggest that if you’re really interested in my sister, you take another approach. She doesn’t like being told what to do. I don’t care how you might handle women in your country, we do things differently here.”

  Rasheed looked aghast. “Are you suggesting that I let a woman rule me?”

  Joshua raised his eyes to the ceiling. “No, I’m suggesting that you learn how to compromise.”

  Rasheed’s gaze was hard as stone when he spoke. “I know how to compromise. However, I practice the art of compromising with world leaders, and not with defiant women.” He stood and walked out of Joshua’s office.

  Prince Rasheed Valdemon left the Capitol building and stepped into a waiting limo. Once inside, he opened his briefcase and took out a manila folder. Flipping it open, he leaned back in his seat. Inside the folder was the profile on Corinthians Elizabeth Avery that he’d received six months ago. On top was a photograph of her. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. But unlike her brother assumed, her beauty wasn’t what interested him. Her intelligence did. Specifically, her vast knowledge of the production and extraction of crude oil. Some claimed she had a sixth sense when it came to pinpointing the locations of unknown oil reserves.

  A year and a half ago, she’d made history with her in-depth research and her uncanny ability to locate an unknown oil basin in the United States. It was the first to be found in more than fifty years. That had been quite an accomplishment and had gained her both national and international attention, especially in those countries whose main source of income was oil. Offers of employment had poured in from around the world, and she had turned them down, saying she was totally satisfied with her job as head geologist with an American-owned oil company, Remington Oil.

  Rasheed shifted in his seat as he closed the folder. A deep, troubled look covered his face. His country had not been one of those who had offered her employment, but in truth it was his country that needed her the most.

  The Middle East contained roughly seventy percent of all the world’s oil reserves. Many of those basins rested within a few large fields, so most of the other countries in the region had relatively small quantities of oil or none at all. His homeland of Mowaiti was one of those countries that had none at all. The majority of his people were engaged in farming, and most lived harsh and impoverished lives. More than anything, he was determined to change that.

  His father, Mowaiti’s present leader, was ignoring the people’s pleas of a better life. He regretted to say his father didn’t have a vision. But Rasheed did. Unlike others, he believed there were oil reserves located somewhere in his country. What they needed was someone with the ability to find them.

  Someone like Corinthians Avery.

  Once the reserves were located, Mowaiti would emerge as a highly productive nation, and a powerful influence in OPEC. The discovery of oil over fifty something years ago had transformed Libya from a poor agricultural country, like Mowaiti was today, into one of the world’s leading oil producers.

  Rasheed placed the folder back in his briefcase. The decision had been made and a secret cartel had been formed. On
e way or another, Corinthians Avery would do for Mowaiti what she’d done for her own country. After spending time with her, he knew she would never leave the United States to live permanently in Mowaiti. He also knew the American government would never sanction her leaving the country for an extended stay in Mowaiti to help his country locate oil. To do so would be too political, and other impoverished Middle East countries would demand that the U.S. government provide the same services to them. And that would never happen for fear of the Middle East controlling all of the world’s oil supply. Therefore, he’d been forced to take other measures.

  Placing the briefcase on the floor by his feet, he finally turned his attention to the man who’d already been seated in the vehicle. “There better be a good reason why the Brazilian government did not follow my directive and apprehend Ms. Avery at the airport.”

  Chapter 4

  Corinthians felt her breath catch as she glanced around Praca da Republica, the city of São Paulo’s most lovely park. The forty-five-minute air shuttle from Rio de Janeiro had been well worth it. She checked the travel brochure she held in her hand for what would be her next stop, and decided she needed to get something to eat first. She had skipped breakfast to catch an early flight out of Rio.

  She knew from the information she had read that São Paulo was the largest city in South America, and was considered the financial, commercial and industrial center of Brazil. It didn’t have the suave beauty of Rio de Janeiro, but its wide variety of international restaurants, fabulous shopping districts and parks and museums made it a popular place for tourists.

  Corinthians smiled when she saw, of all things, a McDonald’s, and was in total awe of how elegant it looked. She then remembered reading in the brochure that the hamburger chain had restored one of the last remaining manors that had once been a millionaire’s mansion.

  Entering the McDonald’s, she sat down at a table overlooking the São Paulo Museum of Art. She smiled at the waitress who came to take her order, feeling somewhat strange to get such personal service. In every U.S. city that she knew of, such service was not provided. Most McDonald’s had drive-thrus and walk-up counters for service.

  After her disastrous experience yesterday in trying to speak Portuguese, Corinthians thought it best to stick with English. After the woman had left with her order, she decided to pay a visit to the ladies’ room before her food arrived. Standing, she made her way toward the area where the facilities were located.

  Leaving the restroom a few minutes later, Corinthians noticed two men hanging around in the hallway. She made a move to walk past them and came to a stop when they blocked her path. She frowned and looked closely at them. She swallowed. Their expressions were anything but friendly.

  “Excuse me,” she said, and made another attempt to go around them and felt a sense of panic when they didn’t move an inch.

  Trevor entered the McDonald’s and glanced around, not seeing Corinthians anywhere. He had been following her for the past hour or so, and she hadn’t been aware of him doing so. Not that he had any complaints, since he had thoroughly enjoyed watching the sway of her hips as she’d moved through the streets of São Paulo. Her shapely thighs and small waist did a lot for the skirt and blouse she was wearing.

  Deciding Corinthians must have gone to the ladies’ room, he looked over in that direction. He stopped suddenly when he saw her surrounded by two men, and had a gut feeling they were up to no good. He cursed under his breath. Couldn’t the woman go anywhere without getting herself into trouble?

  Although there were a number of African-Brazilian women in the city, an African-American woman stuck out like a sore thumb. Especially one as beautiful and one dressed as classy as Corinthians. She made herself an easy target for anyone committing crimes against tourists.

  Knowing he had to intervene, but that he had to do so in such a way that would cause as little trouble as possible, Trevor boldly walked past the men and right up to Corinthians. He leaned over and kissed her lips, effectively silencing her startled gasp. “Sorry I got detained, sweetheart. Have you ordered yet?”

  At first Corinthians was too surprised at seeing Trevor Grant to say anything. It was as if he’d materialized out of thin air. She couldn’t help wondering where on earth he’d come from. But at the moment, she didn’t care. Although she understood his game plan, she was too shaken up to answer his question. She merely nodded.

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “Good, then come on before our food gets cold.” Taking her hand in his, he turned and together they faced the two men.

  Corinthians couldn’t help wondering what the men would do now that Trevor was with her. She watched as he stared down at the two men with a look and stance that almost dared them to take him on. For a moment it seemed the standoff would go on forever, then finally the two men stepped aside and let them pass. Trevor continued to hold her hand as she led him to her table. Instead of them sitting down, he took some bills out of his pocket and tossed them on the table.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. I know another place where we can eat.”

  Corinthians nodded and let him lead her out of the door. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. The men were gone.

  “Are you all right?”

  Corinthians drew in a deep breath before answering. “Yes.”

  After leaving McDonald’s, Trevor led her over to a rental car that was parked not far away. After he opened the door she slid inside without asking any questions. She felt a sense of relief when he walked around the car and got in beside her.

  She gazed over at him. “I wonder what that was all about.”

  Trevor turned and stared at her before starting the engine. He could not believe she’d asked such a question. Before answering he tried calming his overactive male hormones. Even in the midst of danger, his body had immediately reacted when he’d made the mistake of watching her when she’d slid inside the car. The movement had inched her skirt up, exposing plenty of leg and thigh. Just thinking about what he’d seen made him ache in the worst way.

  “What that was about was a simple case of thieves getting ready to pounce on their next victim,” he said slowly, starting the car and pulling away. He tried putting a cap on the anger he felt in knowing how close she’d come to that happening. He wanted to give her the third degree for not being more alert while alone in a strange city.

  He glanced back over at her and could tell she was still pretty badly shaken up over the incident. The last thing she needed was for him to get on her case.

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Corinthians said, leaning back in her seat. “I left my valuables at the hotel in Rio. I’m not even wearing any jewelry.”

  “Yeah, but that Chanel purse of yours draws attention. It’s probably worth more than the shacks some of these people live in.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. Crime against tourists is high here.”

  A few minutes later Trevor brought the car to a stop in front of a seaside restaurant. Even from the outside, the smell of grilled fish made Corinthians’s mouth water. Whatever spices they were using had definitely tantalized her taste buds. She’d heard that the largest single influence on the preparation of Brazilian foods had come with the arrival of African slaves many years ago. West African cooking was firmly established on the Brazilian palate. Then later, with new arrivals of other nationalities from Asia, Europe and the Middle East, each made massive contributions to make Brazil’s multiethnic cuisine unique, delicious and the best in the world.

  Corinthians stood by Trevor’s side at the entrance to the restaurant while he spoke in Portuguese to a waiter. She did not understand a word they were saying, but her curiosity was piqued when the waiter kept looking at her and smiling. Moments later they were led up concrete stairs to a balcony. Surprisingly, the room was deserted, so they had their choice of tables. After giving them menus, the waiter left them alone.

  “What did you say to him?” Corinthians asked. After w
hat he’d said to the waitress yesterday, she wouldn’t put anything past him.

  Trevor shrugged as he glanced at his menu. “I told him we were newlyweds and wanted to be alone.”

  She leaned back in her chair and stared at him. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “It got results, didn’t it? Would you have preferred staying below in that crowded room? I thought you’d enjoy the view from up here.”

  He was right. She did enjoy the view from up here. It was simply breathtaking. The photogenic beauty of the vast ocean that surrounded them moved her. Rising, she walked over to the edge of the deck and looked out, scanning the distance to where the blue sea ended and the coastal mountains began.

  She turned to Trevor and smiled. “This is beautiful,” she said. “Thanks for bringing me up here.”

  A hot stab of desire rushed through Trevor with Corinthians’s smile. It was the first real smile she’d ever directed at him, and he suddenly felt off balance. She made a sultry image against the backdrop of ocean and mountains, while standing silhouetted in the sunlight. Of its own volition, his gaze took in everything about her, her outfit, her features, her hair…even the flat shoes she wore.

  An exquisite pressure began building deep inside of him. He shifted in his seat, needing to regain control of his mind and most importantly his body. He didn’t like the fact that she was putting him through changes.

  “Don’t mention it. And if you don’t mind, we need to have our order ready by the time the waiter gets back,” he snapped.

  Corinthians’s smile sagged. She then took two deep breaths. The first was to ignore the urge to pour the chilled pitcher of water that was sitting on their table over Trevor’s head at the tone he’d suddenly taken with her. The second was to downplay the heroic image that kept flashing through her mind of him—one man against two. He’d been an imposing force to reckon with when he’d come to her aid. No matter how much she wanted to forget that, she couldn’t.