by Leslie North
Malik raised one eyebrow. “A man can’t always eat at the palace. Sometimes it’s nice to keep things a little less formal.”
“This is less formal?” She stole a look around the restaurant. Tuxedoed waiters. Hushed conversation. Expensive fabrics on the table.
“Less formal than walking through the front gates of the palace, to be sure,” Malik said with a laugh. “At least here I have some semblance of privacy for an intimate dinner.”
Intimate had the heat flying to her cheeks again. “That’s…fortunate,” Holly said, “because this is a wonderful opportunity to talk about some of my other ideas. The properties you’ve chosen for development have a range of—”
“Hmm.” Malik leaned back in his seat. “You know, Ms. Remington, there will be plenty of time to summarize your plans for the locations at the upcoming events.”
“Why not now, when I have your full attention?” She forced herself to look him in the eye and ignore the blush that had taken up permanent residence on her face.
“I have other plans for my attention this evening. I’m far more intrigued with Holly Remington, the woman, than I am with Holly Remington, the real estate developer.”
“I—” The laugh bubbled up and out of her throat before she could stop it. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you, Sheikh Malik?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure I’ve been called stubborn before, if only behind my back.”
She put her fingertips to her lips. “Oh, no. Now that I’ve made such a terrible faux pas, perhaps we should stick to talking business.”
“We could, if you were very insistent,” Malik said, amusement lighting up his eyes. “But you’re not on the clock right now. Are you?”
“No,” she admitted. “And my boss has no idea I’m dining with a potential client.”
“There it is,” Malik said. “The solution. Just stop thinking of me as a potential client.”
Excitement hummed through veins and over her skin. “How can I do that, when you’re the crown prince?”
Malik extended a hand across the table. Holly took it to shake without hesitating, but the moment their hands touched, the blush on her face wrapped around to the back of her neck. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Remington. I’m also Malik, the man.”
“Malik the man,” she repeated, letting her hand fall into her lap. “And what does Malik the man want to know about Holly the woman?”
“Everything.” His voice curled around her senses and drew her in. “Tell me how you ended up in Qadir. And start at the beginning.”
“You were the only person not clinging to the shade of the tent,” Malik told her. They’d been through three dinner courses and two glasses of wine, and Holly had finally asked about what made him notice her in the first place. “You had an air of independence about you.”
“Is that not typical for Qadir? For a woman to be independent?”
He considered her. “Our country has made leaps and bounds when it comes to women’s rights over my father’s reign, so I wouldn’t say it’s not typical.”
“Not typical for you to notice, then.”
Malik took a sip of his wine. “I’ll be honest. I wanted to get to know more about you because I’ve always been…more traditional.” His voice rang with pride. “The companions I’ve had in the past wouldn’t have been nearly so forward as you were. It got under my skin.”
She pretended to be demure, looking down. “Oh, Sheikh Malik, I’m sorry if I upset you.” He laughed, and her heart thrilled. “But the plan I had in mind—”
“Ah!” He held up a hand. “There you are again, trying to seduce me into talking about development.”
The idea of seduction floated in the air between them. “If I were going to seduce you, I wouldn’t do it by talking about real estate development,” Holly teased.
“Oh? How would you do it?”
“By coming to dinner with you and being charming while wearing business casual attire, just to prime you for more business chat later.”
His laugh turned to a smolder. “Is that what you think I’m primed for now?”
“Subconsciously, yes. Absolutely.”
“So confident.”
“I didn’t get to Qadir by being a shrinking violet.” Holly drank the last of her wine. It had steadied her throughout the dinner, even though sitting across from Malik made her feel curiously off-balance.
“I’m glad for it,” Malik said. He folded his napkin and placed on the edge of the table. “What would you say to a walk?”
She needed the fresh air almost as much as she wanted to walk by his side. “It’s a perfect suggestion.”
They strolled in the direction of her hotel in the evening air, the black SUV trailing behind. Holly’s skin tingled and tightened with every brush of the breeze. When Malik reached out to take her hand in his half a block later she felt like he was the only thing keeping her feet on the ground.
“So once I make partner, I’ll be able to build a reputation and start my own firm,” she said, finishing her answer to the last of his questions. They stopped in front of the hotel entrance, and the SUV pulled up to the curb beside them.
Malik looked down at her and slowly released her hand.
Oh, god. He was going to ask her to come up to her room. Had she left it in any state to be seen by the crown prince? Malik the man was one thing in the restaurant, but…
“And this is a stop on your way,” he said, and then he leaned down toward her.
Holly tilted her face toward his, holding her breath, every muscle tensed. Oh, he was going to turn his head, he would hug her, he would…
An inch a way, he stopped. She couldn’t breathe. “I’d very much like to kiss you goodnight,” he murmured.
Holly leaned in the final inch and kissed him.
It was fleeting, firm, warm—and over too soon.
Malik straightened up. “Good night, Ms. Remington.”
Then he was gone, leaving here there to press her fingertips to her lips, feeling for the ghost of the kiss.
4
Malik adjusted the saddle on his horse, Ghalib, and drew the straps through the buckles, his mind as far as possible from the task at hand.
There were several ways to describe the dinner he’d had with Holly Remington. One of them was tantalizing. The other was a complete backfire.
He’d meant to see her once for the express purpose of getting her out of his head. There had been something about the way she spoke about the oasis—even if it infuriated him—that sank its claws into his skin and hadn’t released him. He’d assumed, wrongly, that a dinner engagement utterly unrelated to business might be just the thing to transform her back into a person who didn’t dominate his thoughts.
Now he only had more to think about. Not only could he picture her white pantsuit from the oasis in vivid detail, he also couldn’t get that black top off his mind. It hadn’t been anything special, Malik knew. What was special was the woman wearing it. Her silver jewelry had set off the spare beauty of her face, and the fall of fabric over her body had made him notice how straight she sat. Holly wasn’t very tall, but her presence filled the room.
“Do you think you’ll be ready sometime today, Malik?” Baqir, his youngest brother, stood at the entrance to the stables, his horse already saddled and ready to go. “You’re making Zaman impatient.”
“I’m not impatient,” Zaman called from his spot in the open field behind the royal stables. “We had agreed to ride at eight.”
“He sounds impatient,” Baqir said. “Did you forget how to work the straps? Say the word, and we can help.”
“It would be easier if the two of you could allow a moment of quiet,” Malik shot back.
“Ooh, the crown prince is testy this morning. Don’t upset him any more, Zaman.” Baqir laughed. He led his horse out to where Zaman was standing, and Malik stroked Ghalib’s mane.
He wasn’t so much testy as torn. The truth was that he’d enjoyed the dinner with Holly much more than he’d exp
ected to. It had felt natural to flirt with her, and something at the core of him wanted to delve deep into her past. Maybe he’d asked too many questions about what it was like to grow up in Kansas City. Maybe he’d wanted to trace the path from there to New York City to Qadir too many times. But it was the story that had put her in his path, and he found himself drawn to it.
Drawn to her.
Drawn to the way she tipped her head back when she laughed and groaned about long-distance flights and lit up when she talked about getting her dual degree in architecture and landscape design. “There are so many possibilities for any given property,” she’d said at one point, waving her fork in the air like a magic wand. “I can hardly go anywhere without seeing what something could be.”
He’d caught her excitement in that moment. If only she could see what something already was. Holly’s passion about property development was obvious enough, and she had creativity in spades, but if she could blend all that with an understanding of tradition…
Malik laughed to himself. A person like Holly wasn’t likely to take tradition to heart after a lifetime of obsession with the future. But that didn’t matter, in the scheme of things. Clifton Berber’s invitation to all of this had been a favor to his father, and Malik had never expected to hire his firm. And here he was, doing mental gymnastics to fit Holly into that position.
“Come on, Ghalib. Let’s go.”
He led his horse to where his brothers waited in the meadow. Baqir hopped up into the saddle first, then Zaman.
“His head is in the clouds,” Baqir said to Zaman. “Our dear crown prince is distracted this morning.”
Malik shot him a look. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have thoughts in your mind, would you?”
Baqir laughed, Zaman smiling at the joke. Out here, they could rib each other without anything ending up in the Qadiri press. It was one of the benefits to all of them having a shared hobby that involved getting outside the palace walls on a twice-weekly basis. They’d all ridden since they were children. Despite his brother’s teasing, Malik felt the tension releasing from his shoulders.
“Have you had enough, Baqir? Can we ride?” Malik grabbed the pommel on the saddle and moved to plant his foot in the stirrup.
He knew something was wrong the instant he made contact, but it was too late to stop the downward pressure of his foot. The saddle twirled around Ghalib’s body, forcing Malik’s foot out of the stirrup and throwing him bodily to the ground. He hopped up into a dead silence, only to be confronted with Baqir biting his lip and Zaman wearing an absolutely stoic expression and gazing into the distance as if nothing had happened.
Malik reached to pat Ghalib, who huffed and shook his head at the indignity. “Go ahead,” he told his brothers. “Just go ahead.”
They both burst out laughing, their horses prancing underneath them from the joy filling the morning air.
“What happened, Malik?” Zaman had himself under control first, an expression of concern slipping over his face. “I haven’t seen you fall from a horse since you were twelve.”
Malik bent down. There was the problem, right in front of his face. He hadn’t double-checked the girth. A beginner’s mistake—he knew Ghalib liked to inhale the first time, so the strap would be loose when he let out his breath. “I didn’t fall from the horse. The saddle threw me off.” He tightened it properly.
“The way you leaped from the ground, though—” Tears shone on Baqir’s cheeks, and he flicked them away. “That was incredible. Thank you, Malik. You’ve made my morning.”
Malik’s face heated. It was only his brothers and not the press or anyone else from the royal household, but…wow. Holly had gotten to him. She had even taken his mind off things that should have been habit by now.
He gave the saddle a once-over, tugging on the side to make sure it was in place, then mounted. His heart banged against the inside of his chest. Deep breaths.
The brothers rode out of the meadow and into the low hills to the back of the palace. When the city had first been established hundreds of years ago, the desert had been close—now it took a couple of miles to leave the lush, irrigated land behind. There was room to roam for the horses, and for the princes.
They picked up speed, going up one hill and down another, getting some distance from the palace. They’d fallen into that habit early on—waiting until they were alone to speak. Not that the brothers were ever really alone. Members of the royal security team patrolled the perimeter of the royal holdings. They could be with the brothers in under a minute, should anything go wrong.
Malik slowed to a trot, his mind drifting back to last night’s dinner.
After the dinner, to be exact.
He had not intended to kiss her.
He had not, in fact, intended to go even so far as holding her hand, but when they were finished eating, Malik’s body had ached to stay near Holly. He hadn’t wanted to leave the bubble of their conversation, and he’d had the sense that climbing back into his SUV would cause the whole thing to burst. So he’d walked with her out into the night, giving in to the urge to take her hand, and she hadn’t let go.
He still felt her lips on his and the thrilling shock when she’d leaned in and kissed him. Malik had always been cautious when it came to his dating life. As the crown prince, anyone he dated would be thrust into the public eye. Being in control was key to managing that, and it had always seemed easier to date the kind of woman who waited for him to make the first move. Always.
Holly had made her own move.
“I don’t think he can hear us.” Baqir’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“I can hear you,” said Malik, looking out over the low hills. They’d been dunes once, and the generations before him had decided they’d be better off with water and greenery. That was enough change, wasn’t it? They didn’t have to landscape everything.
“Where are your thoughts this morning, Malik?” Zaman’s question drifted over the breeze. “The properties, or something else?”
There was no use arguing that he wasn’t distracted. “Something…related to the properties,” he hedged.
“I told you it was a woman,” Baqir said to Zaman. “He doesn’t fall off his horse over properties.”
“Is it?” Zaman asked. “If you’re interested in someone, you should tell us.”
“If I told you about every woman who caught my interest, we’d spend the rest of our lives on it,” said Malik.
“Please.” Baqir spurred his horse on a little faster, and the other men matched his pace. “You’re picky, and you know it. Who is she?”
“He’ll tell us when he wants to,” said Zaman. “It would be convenient if he’d tell us now, but—”
“Fine. There has been a woman on my mind.”
Baqir thrust a fist into the air but didn’t say anything. Both of Malik’s brothers kept a careful silence.
“It’s someone I work with,” Malik offered. “That’s as much as I’m going to tell you.”
“Let’s start with the guest list from the oasis,” Baqir said to Zaman. “There were, what, thirty people there? About half of them women?” He turned back to Malik. “Is she…from Germany?”
“I’m not playing this game,” said Malik.
“It’s a simple question,” insisted Baqir. “Is she from…France?”
“Yes, Malik,” teased Zaman. “Is she dark haired?”
Malik laughed out loud. They kept peppering him with question after question, the way they’d done as children when he was trying to focus on something else. When we last saw her, was she wearing a skirt? Is she an assistant? Does she own a development company?
No. Yes. No.
He kept the answers to himself.
“You should take her out,” said Zaman. “Get to know her. If she’s one of the women from the oasis, then she won’t be here long. No time to waste.”
“That’s not like you, wanting to rush headlong into something,” Malik said, keeping his voice neutral
.
“I’m not suggesting you rush into anything,” his brother answered. “I’m suggesting that you’re already distracted enough to fail at saddling your horse. Maybe there’s something to it.”
“He should choose her firm as the one to develop the properties,” said Baqir.
Malik groaned. “That’s the last thing I’m going to do. Tell me you’re not serious.”
“Why not? It would give you plenty of reasons to spend time together.” Baqir waggled his eyebrows.
“I don’t need to manufacture reasons,” Malik shot back. “And I’ve already taken her out.”
“The truth comes out!” cried Baqir. “Malik has a secret lover.”
“I don’t,” said Malik.
“You had a secret rendezvous with her. You’re telling me you haven’t also sent gifts? Something to show her your true intentions?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Malik told his brother, but the idea sank into his mind like a seed being planted.
Gifts. True intentions.
Lover.
5
Holly clicked across the screen on her computer, eyes searching the documents that flashed one by one under her cursor. Every one of these proposals needed to be perfect. She had the bones in place—the temporary sketches, the descriptions, the spaces blocked out for anything she’d need to add. All of them had one thing in common: modern architecture, like Clifton favored. Glass and steel, with nods to Qadiri buildings. Something about these designs felt off to her, though. She needed to focus more on Qadir, less on the Berber Inc. style.
She did not have time to be thinking of Malik.
Or the dinner.
Or the kiss they’d shared outside her hotel room.
Or the fact that she hadn’t seen him since then, or heard from him, and it had been three days.
“How are the proposals coming?”
Holly dragged her eyes away from the screen and blinked. How long had she been staring at them, scanning for errors and picturing Malik’s face? Clifton leaned against the doorway of their temporary office in a new, still mostly empty office building in the city. He had rented the small suite in the business district of the capital city so they’d have space and equipment to work. It held two offices, a reception desk, and a room with the copier and a large table for drafting.
