Loretta Landon was starting a new life, determined to prove herself as an independent woman. Having moved to a small holding in Morocco and integrating herself into the local community, she had finally started to feel happy again since escaping the misery of what she now laughingly referred to as her relationship with the ruthless Piers Wright. But her happiness looked to be short lived as rumours started to circulate that a resident property magnate had big plans for the charming little village where she had settled. Even worse, he was rumoured to be arrogant, with movie star good looks, owned a private yacht and had millions in the bank. But Loretta certainly wasn’t interested in all that and had set up a grass roots campaign to halt his selfish ideas, gaining support from local residents and making a name for herself as a trouble maker where desirable property developers were concerned.
Casablanca was probably not the best place in the world to fall foul of one of the leading local citizens, but that was exactly what Loretta had done. She had already crossed swords with the formidable Rashid al Harem without having even met him, but as he was proposing to turn an entire local community out of their village home to put up a luxury hotel and she was determined to stop him. During a rowdy protest meeting on the small plot of earth which passed for Loretta’s back garden, as she was leading the crowd in a rousing chorus of “We Shall Overcome”, she turned to see the figure of a man hoisting himself astride her garden wall, his curses mingling with the loud jeers of the protesting locals.
“What the hell are you playing at?” he snarled at her as he approached. “Have you lost your reason woman?”
How rude. The calm introduction she had been about to make died on her lips. She stared into a pair of eyes so green they were dazzling – which wasn’t helpful in the circumstances – and stopped her dead in her tracks. “This is my property” she said coldly.
“Not for much longer” he retorted. “My local building permit will be approved in 2 weeks and your precious holiday home will be my property and my site for my Venice Carnival themed 7* aspirational brand resort hotel. So you can gather up all your pathetic little leaflets and start packing. Plus your flimsy printed manifestos are drifting over the wall and floating in my swimming pool and all over the grounds”
“Good! Maybe you’ll read one and get the message” she glared at him, her eyes narrowed.
“Your mother ought to have warned you about being so friendly”, he mocked, “a man could get the wrong impression”.
“I hardly think there’s any danger of that with you” she responded coolly but met his green gaze again, and the impact was like a small electric shock. She swallowed hard, willing her voice not to falter. “This won’t be the last you see of me”.
“I have to admit that’s probably the only thing we agree on” His deep voice was unforgivingly humiliating. As he disappeared back into his own grounds, Loretta stared at the spot where he’d been, her cheeks burning, and not wholly because of the heat from the sultry afternoon. What a horrid individual and how dare he growl at her like that? But she couldn’t shake the image of his piercing green eyes, set in a tanned face that was more rugged than handsome and topped by black hair that reached the top of the collar of his open necked shirt. He hardly looked like an Arab at all, more agreeably Mediterranean and with an accent that suggested an expensive education at an international school.
Yet his mockery was galling, her reputation with the local villagers stood to be irreparably damaged after that ridiculous angry stand off while she had been doing so well at championing their rights. Well this would not be the last of it and Loretta took his words of warning as an invitation to thwart his development plans by the end of that night.
She planned to pay him a surprise visit on his yacht The Bow Movement. Later that evening, summoning up all her confidence, Loretta marched along his private jetty to confront him head on and save her beloved village once and for all. Eyes flashing with anger, she now felt stupid for bringing a peace offering as she stood on the deck, clutching a cake tin. Despite her rage, she felt….nervous? Shy? Could it be that she had feelings for him, feelings of longing and desire? Her jaw tightened and she stepped decisively onto the yacht, her legs trembling as she fought for control. She was not attracted to Rashid al Harem. “ I am not!” she intoned weakly to herself, “no way, no how”. She had no intention of getting involved with a man for a long, long time – if ever – and certainly not someone like Rashid. She had fallen for a charming, honey tongued monster before and look where that had got her. Only last year, Piers Wright had fooled her completely and she’d trusted him, tumbling head over heels in passion into a loveless marriage in only 2 weeks. The memory of their final fateful night was still vivid – at least up to about 7.30 pm after yet another barrage of criticism about her cooking and he’d sent his dinner plate spinning to the floor with a flick of his hand. Such a small thing to signify the end of a marriage – potatoes that were slightly too hard in the centre – but she had snapped and could no longer take his bullying control. After that, it was all a blur…running out of the house, getting in her car, forgetting to change into her sensible driving moccasins, getting her kitten heel stuck under the brake pedal. The car crash had wiped her memory clean after that and she hardly knew how she’d ended up living in Casablanca or what had happened to the £20,000 in her building society account…
Peeking through a port hole, Loretta caught a glimpse of the yacht’s interior. Light and airy decorated with impeccable taste in shades of beige and cream with leather upholstery and subtle gold accents complimenting the black satin sheets of a king size bed. A sunken marble Jacuzzi dominated the main space, its crystal swan shaped taps surrounded by a profusion of fluffy white towels. Rashid al Harem slid back the door but instead of another angry stand off, he handed her a glass of champagne and intoned coolly “why don’t you come inside and we can talk about this like adults.” Enigmatically male, virile, strong and gentle at the same time - he was dangerously attractive.
So Rashid al Harem had turned the tables on her – by tricking her into meeting him alone that night, and here she was entirely on her own, virtually a prisoner on his yacht and completely in his power. Where would her ideals get her now? What’s more, he had a murky past with some property deals that had turned nasty and some said there was a price on his head. Loretta knew for a fact he kept a gun on his yacht for protection – so he was armed and devastating!
But little did Loretta know about Rashid’s thoughts since their first meeting. That young woman who had glared at him with such hostility was very young and attractive, Rashid mused, and clearly had a mind of her own. Who was Loretta Landon, he pondered, and why didn’t she like men? Or was it just him? The thought caused his firm sensual mouth to tighten. This was crazy, it didn’t matter who she was or what had bought her to Casablanca. He had no time for socialising with the locals. It was his chrome and glass London penthouse apartment where he conducted his out of hours business affairs, other affairs to come to that. So why had he put the Dom Perignon on ice that evening? Something told him she’d pay him a visit and he couldn’t help admiring her skin – the colour of honey peppered with spice and her red hair, a combination of endless shades, smelling sweetly of Pantenne – he had to resist the urge to stroke it. Pull yourself together he warned himself. This was hardly the reaction of a 35 year old man who had shared his bed and his life with countless women in his time. Experience told him Loretta was not the sort of girl who was looking for a bit of no strings fun. He must regain composure.
Hell, what a situation to be in. If anyone had told him he’d be lusting after a woman who wasn’t remotely interested in him, he’d have told them they were crazy.
Once his body was under control again, he reached for Loretta’s cake tin and opened it to reveal one of her unsurpassable moist Battenburgs. “Fancy a slice?” he asked
“It’s second to none” she said bashfully but with a hint of flirtatiousness. What on earth was coming over her? “I can guarantee you won’t taste cake like this again.”
“You’ve convinced me”
She smiled in such a friendly smile it made him feel a swine for his lecherous thoughts. He cut them both a generous portion and joined her on the chaise long. “It is fabulous” he said after his first bite. She smiled, wiping a crumb of the Battenburg from the corner of her lips and as his gaze followed the action his body responded sharply, causing him to gasp. She giggled, blushing slightly and as he looked at her parted lips he wanted to kiss her so hard it hurt. As he raised his eyes to hers they were smiling into his and for several seconds, seconds that quivered with intimacy, their gaze held. When her eyes dropped to her plate and she ate a morsel of cake with uncharacteristic clumsiness, dropping half of it onto the beige leather upholstery, he knew he had been right. Loretta Landon was no more indifferent to him than he was to her. “You’re jumpy as a kitten, he murmured. A little kitten that doesn’t know whether to bite or purr”. Whichever man had hurt her so badly in the past Rashid al Harem was determined to show her just how a lady should be treated.
Unable to stand the tension any longer, he swept Loretta into his arms as they strained in an agony of need and murmering incoherent words of love until Loretta pulled away sharply. “Wait!” She cried “How can I be sure that you don’t just want my body and to keep your luxury hospitality development?” Yet her mind was racked with contradiction and she was feeling deliciously like a wanton hussy. Her chaste beauty had unlocked a powerful need in her body that only Rashid al Harem could sate.
“I love you” he whispered, “can you forgive me for taking advantage of you?”
And after that moment, they were inseparable. Over a candlelit dinner the next evening, Rashid took Loretta’s dainty hand in his and asked as his hard rugged features melted into a smile that was beautiful “ Will you be my wife to have and to hold for ever?”
They were married a week later on Christmas eve at the little parish church in her childhood village home. How on earth Rashid managed to arrange everything so quickly, Loretta didn’t know. All that paperwork and legal stuff not to mention persuading the vicar to fit in a service between 3 carol concerts and a couple of rather unfortunate funerals. She suspected a hefty donation towards the church roof fund may have had something to do with it. Certainly the vicar seemed very jolly, though he did whiff rather of stale whisky. After the Fairy tale wedding, complete with Loretta’s dream mermaid style dress in turquoise satin and sequins, they made a new home on the plot destined for Rashid al Harem’s luxury hotel. He had so much love to give – it turned out he’d had rather a deprived childhood, and the womanising was just an act and a cover for his true gentlemanly nature.
But there was just one complication – Loretta was pregnant…with twins!
As her memory slowly returned after the car crash amnesia she realised, she might have made a baby that time she shared a shisha with Omar who owned the village kebabish. He had said he didn’t want to use precautions, but with his strong accent she had thought he meant pea cushions, referring to the bright green furnishings that were digging into her back as she lay upon his ottoman. Anyway she didn’t think she could get pregnant after years of wearing tummy control pants. She had been feeling a little out of sorts and would usually made an appointment with the local GP, Dr Manliman, so dashing and handsome, but she was devastated to hear he’d eloped with nurse Blenkinsop and was too depressed to book a check up with his replacement.
Yet Rashid al Harem accepted her fate like a true gentleman as he longed to be a father and share his enormous new house. Loretta had to admit the new build was quite nice really with its aga, farrow and ball paint and country cottage style set in 5 acres of grounds with tennis courts and plenty of room for a pony each for the twins didn’t – it didn’t look at all out of place in Morocco.
Six months later, Loretta hadn’t planned on a home birth: what with it being twins, her first pregnancy and having recently suffered a major head injury, a hospital confinement was advised. But after a mild spell of backache and a slightly uncomfortable feeling after lunch, Loretta’s 2 beautiful baby girls made an appearance into the world. After cleaning up and taking a brief nap, Loretta awoke to find Rashid holding his daughters in his strong masculine arms whilst gently stroking their soft downy hair. What proud parents they were! she beamed. While not strictly speaking their actual father, theirs would be a proper family and their children loved and cared for and given Calpol when they’d had too many sweeties regardless of whether they were theirs biologically or not. Convinced that she was barren for so long, Loretta had set her sights on adopting – maybe a poor child with scabies rescued from social care or with a minor disability that was actually endearing. But now she had the perfect family which proved that love could move mountains and break down the most carefully constructed barricades around her heart, just like the bulldozers had smashed through the community small holdings and so many of the villagers shacks to build their modest home.
The next morning as man and wife watched the sunrise whilst lying in their marital bed, Loretta again contemplated just how lucky she was. If this wasn’t heaven, it was close enough, Loretta thought as she snuggled against Rashid al Harem’s chest. Thank goodness that against all the odds she had found the one man who could release her from the past and make her life complete. With her body sensuously satisfied, and her mind at peace, she wanted to stay like this for ever.
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