Dubai Dalliances: Offshore, #2

By Gretchen Wolf

If only it were easy to forget Porto…

It's been eight months since that night in Porto. Eight months since Amira Stevens left a naked man in his hotel room and returned to her comfortable yet complicated life in London. It's also been eight months filled with vivid images of penetrating grey eyes and gentle caresses—all of which Amira pushed back to the recesses of her mind.

And though Cillian had made peace with their one-night stand, he can't help how his body reacts to seeing her in Dubai now. Thoughts of their chance encounters eight months ago still linger in his mind, and it doesn't take long before sparks start flying again.

But as Amira fights their growing entanglement, she must also deal with the repercussions of the decisions she made back in London. The once-upon-a-time cosy, stable life she had built for herself lies shattered in her Chelsea home. And with Cillian so eager to please her, is opening herself up to deepening their connection really what she wants or needs right now?

Will this just be another offshore affair, or is Amira ready to let down her guard and let the Irishman in?

Maybe all she needs is a gentle nudge. One which Cillian is only too happy to give. Because this time he isn't going to let her leave the morning after. This time, his heart is in it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gretchen Wolf
• Release date: Apr 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224746477

Book preview

Prologue

Amira opens the front door to Emily, standing in a trench coat and faded jeans, looking much better than she did twenty-four hours ago in Porto, and who is holding up a paper bag with the Pret-a-Manger logo on the front.

Breakfast! Emily says.

Good morning, Amira opens the door further, allowing Emily to enter. She takes the paper bag from her, walks through the hallway, and into the bright kitchen. Emily removes her coat, hangs it on the hook at the door and follows Amira to the kitchen.

Where’s Ben? She asks, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

Amira turns on the Bari Automatic coffee machine. He had an early meeting to prep for. She replies, putting a glass cup under the spout. New client. The machine whirs, and hot black liquid starts pouring into the cup, filling the large kitchen with a rich Columbian roast aroma.

Emily opens the paper bag and takes out two Bircher muesli bowls. The pastries she puts on the glass serving dish on the counter and folds the paper bag. Amira has finished both coffees and sets them on the breakfast bar before sitting beside her best friend. And as she picks up her muesli bowl, Emily arches her brow, You want to talk about it?

Beg pardon, Amira says, faking a look of confusion.

Emily gives her a small smile and gets up to fetch a couple of plates from the cupboard. She puts one down in front of Amira, Are you okay? Then she sits down and grabs a berry croissant.

Amira opens her muesli bowl and grabs a spoon from the cutlery holder on the counter. She can feel Emily’s eyes burning holes into her. I don’t know. She finally looks up at her friend. It isn’t weird. There’s no guilt on my part—like before. And he doesn’t suspect anything. She scoops some muesli and yoghurt onto her spoon and looks at Emily again, I thought I’d feel guilty—like before. I thought Ben would suspect something.

Emily nods slowly, Well, I’m no expert, but it’s been what, thirteen years? He probably has his suspicions, but, as per the rules, he isn’t going to pry.

Amira thinks about this whilst chewing. Then she swallows and asks, And the no guilt on my part? I sleep with another man who isn’t my husband, and I don’t feel an ounce of guilt about it. Doesn’t that make me a horrible person?

No, Emily replies all too quickly. I mean, she pulls a piece of her croissant off, If you felt guilty, it wouldn’t be much of a mutual arrangement then, would it?

Both women sit in silence, eating their breakfast and drinking their coffee. And then Emily can’t hold it back anymore, How was it?

Chapter 1

Amira gets out of the limo and looks around the hotel’s grand entrance. She checks her phone as the driver unloads her luggage. Thanking him with a ten-pound note, she puts her phone in her handbag, grabs the luggage handle and walks into the hotel. As she makes her way to the check-in desk, she pushes her designer sunglasses up to the top of her head and looks around the lobby. She doesn’t recognise anyone, which doesn’t surprise her. She had purposefully booked an earlier flight to relax before joining the other delegates at the Welcome Reception this evening.

The hotel seems very busy, though—and she waits nearly three minutes until a check-in clerk is available. Once she gets to the counter, he smiles apologetically and asks for her name.

Stevens, she replies, handing over her passport and credit card.

Yes, booked into the Grand Suite for five nights. Here for the conference, then? he asks in a thick Indian accent whilst typing on his keyboard. Amira nods and smiles back at him. As requested, your room has been made available to you early. Most of the other delegates will start arriving in about three hours. Can we help you with your luggage?

No, I’m fine, thank you. She responds.

He hands back her passport and credit card and proceeds to swipe two key cards to activate them. Then he hands them over and smiles, If there is anything else I or any member of my team can assist you with, please do not hesitate to dial one on the telephone in your room.

Thank you, she says, putting her passport and credit card back in her handbag. She takes the handle of her luggage and starts walking through the large lobby as her phone beeps. As she opens her bag to retrieve her phone, the hotel key card drops to the floor. She is about to bend down to pick it up when a man kneels in front of her. When he straightens back up, Amira stops breathing. His eyes, which linger on her chest a second too long, finally meet hers before a knowing smile crosses his face. She stares into his piercing grey eyes, her lips parting.

You. It is all she allows herself to say.

You, he echoes. They stand quite still, just staring into each other’s eyes. Amira feels a stirring inside her that she has not felt in nearly eight months. What are the odds? He finally verbalises what they are both thinking. Coming or going?

Amira shakes her head slightly to rid herself of the images of naked bodies entwined, Just checked in. You?

He seems to have to think about it for a second before narrowing his eyes and saying in a rather flirtatious tone, Checking out.

She licks her lips and then smiles, holding her hand for her key card. He hands it to her, and her finger brushes his briefly as she slowly takes it from him. Then she moves closer and speaks in no more than a whisper, I have a suite.

Cillian takes in a quick breath, his hard chest rising, Stay right here. Don’t move, he orders. A wry smile plays on her lips as she watches him walk rather quickly toward the reception desk to check out of his room, pulling