Omar paced the length of his office the next morning, as jumpy as if he’d overdosed on caffeine. But he hadn’t—not by a long shot—and was simply anticipating Marian’s inevitable arrival.

His willpower had taken a nosedive once he’d gotten home the night before. He’d gone straight to the shower and worked himself to an orgasm that made his knees buckle, Marian’s image burning bright under his eyelids. That in itself felt like a betrayal. He’d had sex since his wife passed, but nobody had had that mystifying link to Anahita like Marian did.

Marian had wife potential, even though it made no sense. They barely knew each other, were strictly work partners. But still, the core of him reverberated with this knowledge, and having anyone replace Anahita seemed a grave offense. It didn’t feel right to move on when his wife had been stripped of her life. It was his solidarity pact—one way to prolong the closeness.

Someone rapped on his door, and he jolted, moving to sit at his desk. But maybe he should lean against the windows, appear aloof and pensive. He walked in a circle before settling on the desk after all. He leaned against it. “Come in.”

Marian poked her head in, a bright smile at the ready. Just the sight of her made him relax.

“Good morning.” She bounced inside, clutching files to her chest. She wore simple black slacks and a tight-fitting top, one that simply demonstrated her curves instead of allowing him a glimpse of flesh. He had to pry his eyes off the deep swell of her hips.

“You look perky.” He fiddled with a pen, relishing the wash of energy that coursed between them. Was this what falling in love was like? It just happened, sideswiped you, without any warning or reason. He blinked. That was not a thought fit for the office. He should never think that thought again.

“Well, I am. I have a lot of perky things to show you.”

Like…maybe your breasts? He had to bite his tongue to keep that comment in. She would have liked it, had he allowed their conversation to flow to the sexual territory she’d craved the night before. Like any normal man with a penis. But no—he had to have the moral hang-up. Life would be easier if he weren’t bound to these rigid standards.

Marian set her files on his clear desktop, spreading papers out as she hummed. Her perfume reached him, something dusky and floral. His cock twitched in his pants.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you. You’re certainly concerned about my sleeping habits.” She clicked her tongue, rearranging a few papers. “Though I suppose that’s nice of you. Sleep deprivation is a very serious issue, and I would want to know if someone around me was suffering from it.”

He grinned. “Just trying to do my part.”

She glanced up at him, the vibrancy of her eyes ensnaring him. So much of him wanted to pin her to this desk and have his way with her. But Anahita…

“Well, I appreciate your concern. Have you been eating regularly? Urinating normally?” She eased into her seat, eyebrow cocked.

Omar blinked at her, the words settling into him, and then burst into laughter. Marian looked pleased with herself.

“We could keep a chart of these things, just to see how they progress over time,” she added.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” He gestured to an empty bulletin board by his desk. “We could put it there.”

“I think this is how work colleagues truly bond,” Marian said with a wink. “Monitoring bodily functions.”

Omar let the laughter coat him like a glaze. It felt like the first time he’d laughed—really laughed—in years. It was so hard to remember the last time he’d felt this way around a woman. A stranger, basically. Because it hadn’t even happened this way with Anahita. She’d been an arrangement, another wily plan of his father’s. They hadn’t fallen in love as much as grown in love.

Marian got to work explaining her new approach, pointing out some notes that she’d made and a new plan of attack. When she finished, Omar clapped his hands.

“Stunning. You really do know what you’re talking about.”

“I told you I could replace He Who Shall Not Be Named.” She puffed her chest out with pride. “No problem.”

The two worked until lunchtime, when Marian excused herself to meet Annabelle. Omar headed for a café down the road, spending his lunch reading the news and thinking about Marian. When they reconvened for work in the afternoon, Marian was breathless with excitement.

“I have some news.” Marian hurried toward him, resuming her spot in the chair. “I asked a friend of mine, Layla, to look into National Oil for me. She’s a researcher, and I trust her. I had some misgivings about the equipment, like I told you. Well, guess what?”

It was hard not to get caught up in her excitement. He practically shouted, “What?”

“They’re being manipulated.” She squealed. “She found out that Arab PetroChem has a stake in National Oil. Once they found out an American company was sniffing around for a deal, Arab PetroChem insisted on offering the cheapest equipment possible for the mining job. Because otherwise, we’d have to go out of the country to get it, which would be way more expensive for us. The imbalance in the deal would mean serious profits for National Oil and Arab PetroChem, and almost nothing for us.”

“Right. There’s no other local supplier for that equipment,” Omar mused.

“Exactly. But what they don’t know is that National Oil also works with one of our affiliates in the States,” Marian went on. “They get materials from a company that we can influence. So, I think if we bring this up and convince them that equal pressure does not a good deal make, we’ll get the best deal possible for everyone concerned.”

Omar’s mouth parted as he took it all in. “Wow.” He ran a hand through his hair, popping to his feet to look out the window. “And you have this information in some form that we can present to them?”

“It’s in my email right now. I can print it if you’d like. All we have to do is connect the dots.”

Omar nodded, hands on his hips as he looked at her. “Excellent. Absolutely stunning.” To say he was blown away was an understatement. It was all he could do to fight through the rest of their planning session, maintaining normalcy, when really he still wanted to press her against the wall and tear her clothes off. By four o’clock, he couldn’t resist it any longer. He had to give in, just a little bit. To ease the pressure.

“Let’s call it a day.” He slammed a pen down, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. “I’d like to take you out for a celebratory drink.”

“You mean celebratory water?” She winked at him.

“No, I think I’ll have a drink myself today.” He stayed away from alcohol because it usually led him to one place only: sadness and reliving the most painful memories stored in his head. But today, he felt like he might have a chance at handling his liquor. At the very least, it could help him break through his inhibitions and at least kiss this beautiful woman.

“Wow.” Her eyes widened appreciatively. “I wonder what you’ll do when we seal this deal tomorrow.”

“One can only wonder.” He led them out of his office, locking the door behind him. He knew exactly where they’d go: a little lounge bar near her hotel, famous for after-work cocktails for professionals in the district. When they pulled up to the bar, Marian looked like a child in a candy store.

“This is the place I want to be every day after work.” She glided inside, her gaze bouncing around their surroundings. Steel beams crisscrossed the open ceiling, modular art dappling the walkways between bold patterned couches. Sleek professionals lounged casually, looking more like models than the working class, even white-collar working class.

“Minarak is trendier than I imagined,” she murmured, sliding onto an open couch. Omar slid next to her, their legs brushing. He slung an arm over the back of the couch, smiling down at her. This felt right—but it would feel even more right after a drink. Already he could feel the guilt threatening at the edges, promising to steal his thunder.

“It’s a fun city to live in,” he said. “There’s always something to do, if you can stop working long enough to do it.”

“I’m a bit of a workaholic myself,” she said. “It’s hard not to be, as a woman in a man’s world.”

“You mean it’s harder in the US than it is here?”

“No, it’s easier in many ways. But still…” She trailed off as a waiter paused to hand them menus. “It’s a fight to be taken seriously.”

“I can’t imagine,” he said, the only thing that seemed appropriate.

“Well, apparently possessing tits means you’re somehow less capable.”

At the anatomical reference, Omar couldn’t help but glance downward. “I’d say they make you more capable.”

“Really?” A knowing smirk waited for him. “How so?”

“They attract all kinds of attention, but still you manage to succeed. If men had breasts, we would have floundered long ago.” Omar paused, perusing the menu. “Probably because we wouldn’t do anything other than play with them all day.”

Marian burst into laughter. The waiter arrived, and they ordered two martinis. The drinks appeared quickly, and both sipped appreciatively.

“I love a good martini,” Marian murmured.

“Yes, it’s very nice.” He ran a tongue over his teeth, enjoying the lick of alcohol through his veins. “A fitting celebration for your investigative connections.”

Marian lifted a brow, looking like she wanted to add more. His admonishment from the night before probably weighed on her. It certainly weighed on him. Perhaps the low point of his career as a man—imploring the sexiest woman he’d met to keep it professional. That has to change. Today.

They chatted easily, about everything from current politics to literature. One drink turned into two. When he’d drained his second drink, Omar knew he had to call it a night, or they might regret it.

“I think I should head back,” Omar said, signaling for a waiter to bring their check. “I don’t drink often, so I have to be careful.”

“Mmmm.” Marian eyed him, her eyes glittering as if she knew a secret. “A man who knows his limits. What a treat.”

His heart raced as he filled out the receipt and then offered a hand to help her stand. She wobbled to her feet, laughing as she stood.

“I’ll walk you to your hotel,” Omar said, sticking out his arm. “It’s very close.”

“What a gentleman,” she purred. She slid her arm through his. It fit perfectly, but more than that, the weight of her at his side felt ideal somehow. Like a piece he’d been missing. Sadness tried to take its familiar path through him but he rerouted it, inviting back the sexy thoughts from earlier. He would show her how he felt…what he’d been dying to show her.

Their steps fell quietly against the pavement as they meandered back to the hotel, more like a couple that had been together for twenty years than new work colleagues. People bustled by them. When they got to her hotel, he walked her to the elevators, not letting go of her arm.

He pressed her to the wall, out of view of the lobby. She inhaled sharply, looking up at him with the sexiest look he’d ever seen in his life. Her pink lips were a breath away, but he stilled himself. His heartbeat echoed wildly between his ears.

“Marian.” He dragged a hand down the side of her shirt, his fingertips desperate for more contact. “May I kiss you?”

“What happened to keeping it professional?” She murmured, brushing her lips against his. “I mean, yes.”

He smashed his mouth against hers, a warm, fragrant kiss emerging, something so tender and sweet that his belly hurt. They kissed again and again, their tongues mingling out of curiosity, and then out of passion. He pushed his hand into the mess of her curls, made a small noise as they kissed.

“Holy shit,” Marian breathed once they parted. “That was a hell of a kiss.”

His chest heaved as he looked down at her, his mind swirling with lust. He needed more than that. Way more than that. And from the looks of it, she did too.

“Want to go up to your room?”