Which was almost a pity, she mused. Diamond had had a lot of fun. True, she’d also got herself into a perilous situation, from which she’d only just escaped. But she had escaped, and the whole event now looked like a thrilling adventure.
She gave a little sigh that was almost regretful. Suddenly her life seemed very lacking in adventure.
She disapproved of Sheikh Ali with every fibre of her being. She must keep reminding herself of that to dispel the sensual dream he’d woven around her, and which still lingered disturbingly.
At the time she’d fancied herself in control, but looking back she could see how disgracefully quickly she’d succumbed to a little cheap magic and a practised line.
But the scorching intensity of his lips on hers wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. It haunted her night and day, filling her dreams so that she awoke wondering if she would ever know such sensations again. At work she tried to concentrate on figures, but they danced and turned into diamonds.
‘I just hope the cheque clears before he sees you,’ Joey said now.
With a start, Fran came out of her dream. ‘I didn’t take that money for myself,’ she said. ‘I made it out in favour of the International Children’s Fund and handed it over to them yesterday. They’ll be writing to thank him. I’d like to see his face when he gets that.’
Joey was pale. ‘You gave away all that money?’
‘Well, I couldn’t have kept it,’ she said, genuinely shocked.
‘I sure would have done.’
Fran chuckled. ‘I don’t think he’d have given it to you.’
‘I just can’t believe he agreed to this interview.’
‘I spoke to his secretary, and said that Frances Callam wanted to interview him for
‘Your taxi’s here,’ Joey said, looking out of the window. ‘Sure you don’t want me to drive you?’
‘I think this time I should beard the lion completely alone.’
‘I think I should be there waiting when he throws you out.’
‘He isn’t going to throw me out.’
‘After the way you vanished and left him looking silly?’
‘That merely told him that I can’t be trifled with. Trust me, Joey. I’m right on top of it this time.’
Afterwards she was to remember the supreme self-confidence with which she got into the taxi and had herself taken back to the house of Ali Ben Saleem. It seemed so simple at the time.
At first nothing happened to change her mind. As soon as she rung the bell outside Ali’s house the door was pulled open by the porter, who inclined his head in a silent question.
‘Good morning,’ Fran said. ‘I have an appointment with Prince Ali Ben Saleem.’
She walked past him as she spoke, and into the centre of the tiled hallway. The porter hastened after her. He looked alarmed.
‘Will you please inform His Highness that Frances Callam is here?’
At that moment the door to the office opened and Ali walked out. The porter made a sign of relief and backed towards the door. Fran took a deep breath and faced Ali, smiling.
He frowned when he saw her, then his face lightened and he advanced towards her, both hands outstretched, smiling in welcome.
Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. He should have been annoyed at the memory of her desertion. Perhaps he didn’t recognise her. But his first words dispelled that illusion.
‘Diamond! My beautiful Diamond. What a pleasure to see you again. Come.’
He gestured towards the dining room, and she followed him in.
‘I know why you’re here,’ he said when he’d closed the door behind them.
‘You-you do?’
‘You’re angry with me about the other night. My poor Diamond, it was so unchivalrous of me to leave you and not return. My only excuse is that I was overwhelmed with business. I sent my secretary to make sure you got home safely, but I would have liked to see you myself.’
Fran took a deep breath, struggling for words while various images flitted through her mind: kicking his shins was the best, but boiling him in oil wasn’t far behind.
He hadn’t come back at all.
All this time she’d been picturing his face when he found her gone, and he didn’t even know. He’d just forgotten about her.
His secretary had probably been too afraid of his wrath to admit that she wasn’t there, and had invented some story about having seen her home. The doorman, too, had probably kept very quiet.
Then she saw Ali’s eyes, glinting behind his smile, and a doubt crept into her mind. Did he really not know that she’d left? Or did he know, and had invented this story to turn the tables on her?
With this unpredictable man, anything was possible.
‘I hope that some day soon we’ll be able to enjoy the evening that was interrupted,’ Ali continued, ‘but just for the moment I’m afraid I’m very busy. In fact, you must leave at once, as I have an appointment with a journalist.’
‘I thought you never saw journalists,’ Fran said, getting ready to enjoy the next few minutes.
‘Normally I don’t, but Mr Callam is from a serious newspaper.’
‘Did-did you say Mr Callam?’
‘Mr Francis Callam. I’ve agreed to the interview because there are things it would suit me to make clear in his pages.’
Fran’s thoughts were in a whirl. When they settled she gazed with delight on the resulting pattern. He was about to get the shock of his life.
‘What kind of things?’ she asked innocently.
Ali’s smile was like a locked door. ‘I wouldn’t dream of boring you with such details.’
‘Well, I know I’m just a stupid woman,’ she said humbly, ‘but I know how to spell financial. F-E-no, it’s I, isn’t it?’
He laughed. ‘Your wit enchants me. Now, I’ve no more time for games. Mr Callam will be here at any moment.’
‘Don’t you want to know my name first?’
‘I’ve already taken my own steps to discover it. I’ll be in touch with you when I have time.’
‘I wouldn’t put you to so much trouble,’ Fran said, breathing hard. ‘My name is Frances Callam. Ms Frances Callam.’
She was fully revenged in the look that crossed his face. It was compounded of alarm, horror and anger.
‘Are you telling me…?’ he asked slowly.
‘That I am the journalist you’re waiting for. And I can not only spell financial, but I can add up. You know, one and one are two, two and two are four. I have a first-class economics degree, you see, and they insisted on it.’
His voice was very hard. ‘You deceived me.’
‘No, I didn’t. I spoke to your secretary, and said Frances Callam wanted to talk to you for an article in
‘And the other night? Was it mere coincidence that you turned up at The Golden Chance?’
‘No, I was observing you.’
‘And afterwards? Do you dare say that wasn’t deception?’
‘We-ell, I may have left a few things out. But you made it easy.’
‘And all the time you were laughing at me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know what would happen, in my country, to a woman who dared to do that?’
‘Tell me. No, wait!’ She rummaged in her bag and produced a notebook. ‘Now tell me. Hey!’ Ali had firmly removed the notebook from her hand and tossed it aside.
‘You will not make notes about me,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘You will not write about anything that happened the other night-’
‘Oh, I wasn’t going to. I write for a serious paper. It wouldn’t be interested in that corny line you handed
