“Not just any old ostrich. The Sheik of Omar’s ostrich.”
She gapes. “What is the Sheik of Omar doing with an ostrich?”
“He runs races. The bets on those races amount to millions. He calls it his golden ostrich. The bird has never lost a race.”
“He’ll lose shitloads of money if we steal his golden ostrich, but what do we get out of it?” She adds, “Except for the ostrich?”
“An ostrich population for the farm.”
She narrows her eyes. “You need a female for that.”
“I can get one from Oudtshoorn.”
Propping her hands on her hips, she gives me a stern look. “You can get a male from Oudtshoorn too. Do you have a vendetta against the sheik?”
“No.”
“Then what’s really in it for us?”
I grin. “A challenge.” When her brow doesn’t smooth out, I continue. “The race is taking place in Paris. The sheik will fly his bird out in a private plane. We can easily snatch it at the airport.”
Laughing, she says, “I can’t believe you’re trying to talk me into stealing a bird.”
I arch a brow. “The bird will be much happier here. He’d never have to race again. Unless he wanted to, of course.”
“Or unless a lion chases him.”
Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I pull her back to me. “That’s nature. You can’t change it. Besides, ostriches make excellent guard dogs.”
“So do crocodiles.”
“Crocodiles don’t wander all the way to the gates.”
“Ian Hart, what am I going to do with you?”
“Come on this mission with me. If it works, we go for something bigger.”
“Something bigger, huh?”
“The Louvre maybe.”
She slaps my arm. “Shame on you. That’s why you want to drag me to Paris. It’s not about the ostrich. It’s about sussing out the Louvre.”
“Reconnaissance,” I say in an appeasing tone. “An important part of any mission.”
She’s smiling from ear to ear. “Okay. You win. I’m in.”
I drop my hand to her hip. “You are?”
“Yes,” she says, laughing as I dip her low, but she quickly stops laughing when I chase after her lips.
I steal a kiss, giving her a preview of what I have in mind. “I’m in for the long haul, baby doll. You better believe that.”
“I do.” She splays her hand. The diamond on her finger catches the rays of the setting sun. “I have the ring to prove it.”
Hooking her thigh around my ass, I hold her steady with an arm around her waist. “I can think of another way of proving it.”
“Then do,” she says, daring me.
We go down to the ground. I don’t care about the soil or dirt. I don’t care about anything as long as I get to do it with her.
“You know what?” I ask as I go for my zipper.
“Tell me,” she says, catching my face between her palms.
I do. I kiss that sweet spot behind her ear and tell her again. “You’re mine.”
~ THE END ~
Afterword
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Charmaine
Sneak Peek of White Nights
The White Nights Duet by Anna Zaires & Charmaine Pauls
Excerpt from White Nights
Turning away from the sink, I look back at the wounded man, making sure everything is okay with him before I go check on my other patients.
At that moment, I catch a pair of steely blue eyes looking at me.
It’s one of the men standing near the victim, likely one of his relatives. Visitors are generally not allowed in the hospital at night, but the ER is an exception.
Instead of looking away, as most people will when caught staring, the man continues to study me.
Both intrigued and slightly annoyed, I study him back.
He’s tall, well over six feet in height, and broad-shouldered. He’s not handsome in the traditional sense. That’s too weak of a word to describe him. Instead, he’s magnetic.
Power. That’s what comes to mind when I look at him. It’s there in the arrogant tilt of his head, in the way he looks at me so calmly, utterly sure of himself and his ability to control all around him. I don’t know who he is or what he does, but I doubt he’s a pencil pusher in some office. This is a man used to issuing orders and having them obeyed.
His clothes fit him well and look expensive. Maybe even custom made. He’s wearing a gray trench coat, dark gray pants with a subtle pinstripe, and a pair of black Italian leather shoes. His brown hair is cut short, almost military style. The simple haircut suits his face, revealing hard, symmetric features. He has high cheekbones and a blade of a nose with a slight bump, as though it had been broken once.
I have no idea how old he is. His face is unlined, but there’s no boyishness to it. No softness whatsoever, not even in the curve of his mouth. I guess his age to be early thirties, but he can just as easily be twenty-five or forty.
He doesn’t fidget or look uncomfortable as our staring contest continues. He simply stands there quietly, completely still, his blue gaze trained on me.
To my shock, my heart rate picks up as a tingle of heat runs down my spine. It’s as though the temperature in the room has jumped ten degrees. All of a sudden, the atmosphere becomes intensely sexual, making me aware of myself as a woman in a way I’ve never experienced. I can feel the silky material of my matching underwear set brushing between my legs and against my breasts. My entire body seems flushed and sensitized, my nipples pebbling underneath my layers of clothing.
Holy shit.
So that’s what it feels like to be attracted to someone. It’s not rational and logical. There’s no meeting of minds and hearts involved. No, the urge is basic and primitive. My body has sensed his on some animal level, and it wants to mate.
He feels it too. It shows in the way his blue eyes darken, lids partially lowering, and in the way his nostrils flare as though trying to catch my scent. His fingers twitch, curl into fists, and I somehow know he’s trying to control himself, to avoid reaching for me right then and there.
If we were alone, I have no doubt he’d be on me already.
Still staring at the stranger, I back away. The strength of my response to him is frightening, unsettling. We’re in the middle of the ER, surrounded by people, and all I can think about is hot, sheet-twisting sex. I have no idea who he is, whether he’s married or single. For all I know, he’s a criminal or an asshole. Or a cheating scumbag like Tony. If anyone has taught me to think twice before trusting a man, it’s my ex-boyfriend. I don’t want to get involved with anyone so soon after my last, disastrous relationship. I don’t want that kind of complication in my life again.