Marriage in Name Only? by Anne Oliver

swimming-pool-sized spa set in polished granite, gold fittings, a gallery of mirrors and a view of the skyline. An opulent office with every amenity at one’s fingertips. Bowls of tropical flowers on polished tables.
    By the time she found the bedroom, their luggage had been unpacked, their cases removed out of sight. The vast purple-hued Arabian nights fantasy bed with its gold trimmed canopy dominated the room, reminding her of a flying carpet.
    But there was only one.
    And there were two of
them
… Images of soaring into the night sky filled her head … and those images didn’t involve aircraft. She turned away.
Remember why you can’t. Remember why you’re here
.
    She didn’t want to jeopardise this important deal that meant so much to Jordan because of something she’d done or not done. She was being paid a sheikh’s ransom to support him. Her feelings for him weren’t professional, never had been, so it was already a struggle to stick to the business relationship she herself had insisted on.
    She found him sitting in a bright alcove overlooking the sea and slicing a mango onto a gold-rimmed plate. She sat down opposite him and looked at the opulence about her. ‘I could get seriously used to this.’
    ‘Enjoy, but don’t get used to it,’ he suggested. ‘It’s a one-off.’
    ‘Ah, yes, the honeymoon. And you’re writing it off as a business expense, right?’ She smiled. ‘As your bride, I’m still annoyed about that.’
    He offered her the plate. ‘But you couldn’t wait to be married, remember?’ He raised a brow. ‘Which reminds me—
Pookie?’
    ‘It was your idea to have pet names.’ She took a slice ofthe fruit, slipped it between her lips and savoured its cool, pungent taste on her tongue.
    ‘There’s a certain eroticism attached to that particular endearment, however, and it
does
conjure images.’ Hot cerulean eyes lapped at her.
    ‘It does?’ It did. She felt the mango sliding down the wrong way and cleared her throat, which suddenly felt tight and scratchy.
    ‘Maybe you’ve been subconsciously considering my suggestion?’
    Nothing subconscious about where her mind had been
. ‘What suggestion? Sorry, haven’t given it a thought.’ Heat was spreading over her neck and even in the air conditioning she felt her T-shirt sticking to her skin. ‘Pookie’s just a little white rabbit with wings …’
    ‘Is he?’ He smiled and sliced off another piece of mango but she could tell he thought she was making up one of her fairy stories.
    ‘Yes. He is. Was. It was my favourite storybook when I was young and … I’m going to take one of the hotel’s famous rain showers before we head out.’ In that luxury shower room big enough for an entire football team. Or one blue-eyed golden man. She caught his hopeful look as she stood up, and shook her head. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
    ‘Can’t stop a man thinking,’ she heard him say as she walked away.
    A couple of hours later, they were wandering the narrow alleyways of the textile souq with its shuttered shops and rainbows of colourful silks and exotic fabrics. Everything from jewelled Arabian slippers to belly-dancing costumes to the latest fashion in business suits.
    Desert heat and unfamiliar scents and a lone Arabic voice chanting prayerfully assaulted Chloe’s senses. Tourists andlocals in Western dress rubbed shoulder to shoulder with those in more traditional clothing.
    She chose a couple of skeins of silken fabric for the simple reason that she couldn’t imagine leaving Dubai without them, so Jordan insisted she visit one of the resident tailors and have something made up while they were there. He offered extra cash for the garments to be constructed and delivered to the hotel by the end of the day.
    ‘But you paid me already,’ she told him, feeling awkward about the expense. ‘I’d not have bought it if I’d known. I pay my own way.’
    ‘Not this time. I want you to play the role you’ve accepted, and