The Sheikh’s Secret Child: The Karawi Sheikhs Series Book Two

by Leslie North

  He saw her fingers tighten slightly on her glass, and she cocked her head. “What makes you think that I’m a tourist?”

  American. Slight Southern accent. He nearly groaned at the thought of her moaning his name. “For one, even the palest person colors under our sun, and your skin is still creamy and soft. Also,” he nodded at the tabletop as he spoke. “Your passport is sitting on the table.”

  “Aren’t you observant,” she chuckled as she slipped the passport into her purse. “I arrived last week. A friend of mine passed through here a few years ago, and she’s been talking about it ever since. I thought it was time for a visit.”

  “So you’re here for pleasure. Aren’t we lucky?” he teased. “My name is Riyad.”

  He felt compelled to give her his real name; he wasn’t quite sure why. Usually, he only used his own name if he knew that his target would recognize him as a sheikh. Otherwise, he’d create a new identity for himself. Still, if she was as new as she seemed, chances were good that she hadn’t done enough research to learn the name of the third royal brother. And if she was a plant, well, she’d already know his name.

  After a moment of hesitation, she extended her hand. “Danielle.”

  Her skin was soft and smooth. She was expecting a handshake, but Riyad wanted more than a passing greeting from this woman. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and softly kissed the velvety skin.

  Gasping, she quickly tugged her hand back. “My friend didn’t mention how friendly the men were here,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “If you let anyone else take such liberties with you, feel free to slap them,” he said dryly.

  That got him a small smile. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t be pleased if I slapped you.” Tilting her head, she eyed him quizzically. “Or maybe you’d like it.”

  It was his turn to be surprised. Chuckling, he pulled a package of mints from his pocket, dragging with it a piece of paper that fell to the floor as he popped a mint in his mouth. “Maybe later this evening, you’ll find out.”

  His mouth went dry when she shifted in her chair, and he found himself staring at her as she uncrossed her legs, leaned down to pick up the piece of paper, and delicately held it out to him before resettling in her chair.

  “Are all the men in Haamas this forward?” she asked him, not missing a beat.

  “I don’t believe in wasting time when I see something I like.” As he took the paper from her fingers, he made a point of lightly caressing her hand, carefully watching her response. While not a betting man, Riyad would put money on Danielle being nothing more than a tourist. A very beautiful tourist. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  Turning, he crushed the paper in his hand, moved to the trash can, and tossed in the crumpled ball. Almost in the same smooth move, he dropped the flash drive behind the centerpiece on his contact’s table. He never looked at the man who, to his credit, didn’t react.

  When he returned, Danielle was already reaching for her purse. “Have you decided not to waste time, either?” he asked as he settled into the chair across from her.

  She nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Riyad had to admit that the gesture didn’t seem practiced. “I thought it might be best if I walk away from temptation. I don’t even know you.”

  “So give me a chance and get to know me.” He spoke in his most persuasive tone. Gesturing to the untouched glass of wine in front of her, he added, “If you’re finished with your drink, we can take a stroll. I’ll give you a tour of my beautiful city, and you can decide for yourself if your friend was right. Then, maybe we can have breakfast.”

  She straightened in surprise. “You want to talk all night and then have breakfast? What then?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re thinking too far ahead.” His tone brightened. “You’re on vacation. Live in the moment.”

  A shadow crossed her face, and for a moment, he thought he’d lost her, but she bit her lower lip and nodded.

  Satisfied, Riyad relaxed.

  Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a complete loss after all.

  Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Pregnant Love

  Available 6 June 2019

  www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  BLURB

  Liyah Reed returns to the Middle East hoping for something more than her humdrum life back at home, but what she finds is beyond her wildest dreams...

  Five years after her first stay as a foreign exchange student, American librarian Liyah returns to the Middle East. The move goes against her practical nature, but even a plain jane like herself sometimes thirsts for adventure. When a favor for a friend thrusts her into the path of beguiling billionaire Asad Sharif, Liyah’s sensible life may become something far more…sensual. Liyah is ensnared by Asad’s seductive charm, but she’s way out of her depth. However with a push from Asad’s meddling sister, Liyah is soon leading the lavish lifestyle of a sheikha.

  Billionaire businessman Sheikh Asad Sharif has willing women falling at his feet on multiple continents, but what he needs is a wife...or at least the appearance of one. To convince investors that he’s a dependable man, what Asad needs is a fake fiancée. The bookish American Liyah is the perfect choice, and when she accepts his pretend proposal, Asad’s sister is eager to help Liyah look the part. When his shy wallflower unexpectedly blooms into a stunning beauty, Asad will have to work doubly hard not to lose himself in Liyah’s strawberry blonde hair and enticing curves.

  In the playground of the wealthy Middle Eastern elite, things are getting hotter than ever for the sheikh and his would-be sheikha, but all fake marriages must eventually come to an end...

  Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Pretend Fiancée

  (Sharif Sheikhs Book One) here.

  EXCERPT

  Chapter One

  The sun lit up the kitchen, making the slowly moving older woman into a shadow of her former self. Liyah watched quietly from her spot in the doorway as Sahaar dutifully stirred the pot of boiling water on the stove. Sahar was different than Liyah remembered from the last time she had been here. Five years ago, her exchange family had been bubbly and laughing. There had always been something happening in the small household, and whether filled with music or peals of laughter, the house had never been quiet.

  With the exception of the bubbly sound of the simmering water, the house was achingly quiet. Liyah’s exchange-mother had lost her husband several years earlier, and the sadness was still etched into Sahaar's face. Her skin was drawn and paler than Liyah remembered, and the older woman moved as though she were trudging through sand.

  Liyah was only too sorry that she hadn’t learned of Ibrahim’s death until after the funeral arrangements. Not that she would have been able to fly back and see them—she’d been in over her head studying for her finals, but she would have found a way to communicate with Sahaar, even all the way from Connecticut.

  Straightening, Sahaar suddenly turned her head and narrowed her eyes. “Liyah! What are you doing? You should be resting after such a long trip.”

  Liyah had only flown into Dubai twelve hours ago, and the plane trip, as usual, had been grueling. Despite craving the excitement of an exotic city, Liyah was still uncomfortable around crowds. “I’ve been resting,” she said with a warm smile as she enveloped her exchange-mother in a hug. “Let me help.”

  During her senior year of high school, Liyah had been afforded the opportunity to join a studies abroad program for three months. Living with her single mother, Liyah had never even been outside her state, and she couldn’t resist the call to adventure. The trip had been mesmerizing, and Sahaar and Ibrahim had made her feel right at home. Now, five years later, she knew she had to return—if for no other reason than to step out of her comfort zone once again while she decided what to do with the rest of her life.

  “You’ve come here to relax and enjoy yourself,” Sahaar chided. “You did not come here to wait on me. Now go, go, go.”

  It was nice to have someone fuss
over her, but Liyah wanted to help Sahaar as much as Sahaar had helped her five years ago. “Yes, but this time I am not your exchange student. I am a guest in your home, and I will help out, even if I have to annoy you to do it!”

  A small smile crinkled over Sahaar's face as she gave in and handed Liyah a knife to slice the pita on the counter. While she set the oven, the older women swept critical eyes over Liyah. “You’ve lost weight,” she fussed. “Please tell me that you have not been on one of those ridiculous Western diets that all you drink is dandelion tea and lemon slices.”

  “I don’t think that’s a thing,” Liyah said with a chuckle. “And I assure you, I have not been dieting.” She didn’t point out that Sahaar herself had lost some weight.

  “Then it is stress, and that will simply not do,” Sahaar declared. “Mila has been here three months. Took like a duck to water; she’ll bring you around. You should be having fun at your age,” the older woman assured her, eyes on the boiling pot of chickpeas. Liyah licked her lips at the thought of homemade hummus. For five years, she had tried the store-bought brands, and she had even tried making it herself, but for some reason, it didn’t compare to Sahaar's delicious dip. Between that and the moujedhra, Liyah might never leave.

  As if the independent woman had heard them talking about her, Mila threw open the door and rushed in. Liyah barely had time to brace herself before her old friend wrapped her in a bear hug. “You’re here!” Mila shrieked in her ear.

  “Of course I’m here,” Liyah laughed. “You picked me up from the airport!”

  “Yes, but you were half-dead, and I was afraid that if I hugged you too tightly, you’d just pass out. And then you were sleeping, and then I had to go to work—but now I can greet you properly!” Mila released her and took a step back to eye her critically, and Liyah knew that her friend was seeing her the same way that Sahaar did.

  It wasn’t that she meant to lose the weight. It was just that her life wasn’t exactly following the plans that she’d so carefully laid out for herself four years ago when she’d started college. She had met Mila during her previous trip to Dubai, and Mila had always planned to return. Even though the past five years had separated them, she and Mila had kept in touch, and it was Mila who’d suggested that she take some time and return to Dubai where the temperature was hot enough and the sights gorgeous enough to steal her breath away.

  It hadn’t taken much arm-twisting.

  “Are you rested?”

  “Rested enough to be bothering me,” Sahaar complained with a smile. “Mila, won’t you please take her out of here so she can have some fun? I want to see a bronze sheen on that pale skin and hear some laughter in that girl’s voice.”

  “You heard her,” Mila said, her whole face lighting up. “Come on. We’ll walk through the market bazaar. They’ve got the most gorgeous things there, today.”

  “They have the most gorgeous things there every day,” Liyah laughed, but she grabbed her bag from the counter. “Sahaar, we can go later, if you want me to finish helping you here.”

  “Nonsense. You two young ladies have fun, and this hummus will be ready and waiting for you when you return!”

  There were no other excuses, so Liyah quietly followed Mila out. It was a quick walk to the main road where Mila expertly hailed a cab. The driver greeted them with an enthusiastic grin, probably hoping that they were just tourists who wouldn’t know if he took the long way around. Mila exchanged a small smile with Liyah and gave him specific instructions to their destination.

  Happy to let Mila take charge, Liyah settled back and tried to get comfortable on the hot leather. It would appear that most of the cabs here still didn’t have air conditioning.

  As though her friend knew that she was still getting acclimated, Mila talked a mile a minute about what she’d been doing for the past three months. “The lounge is obviously not my dream job, but it helps me get to know the locals,” she chattered. “Plus, it’s been great to catch up on the gossip. My language skills are still a bit rusty, but when they discover that you’re American, they assume that you don’t know it at all and speak freely in front of you. Girl, I have heard the most salacious stories.”

  Mila’s giggle was infectious, and even Liyah cracked a smile. After leaving the cab, Liyah tried to relax as they walked through the marketplace. Everything felt so alive. Men and women alike talked over each other, some excitedly and others in intense haggling with the merchants. Smells mingled in the air from the sweet fragrances of perfumes to the tangy aromas of spices. For a moment, she felt a little lost. The marketplace was so vibrant and loud, and she felt so small. Vaguely, she realized that Mila was asking her a question. “Hm?”

  “I was asking what kind of job you were hoping to get here. Liyah, you must tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t like you at all.”

  Liyah looked away from her friend, pretending to be interested in a table full of jewelry. “Nothing is wrong. I was just admiring the craftsmanship of this bracelet,” she lied, and she picked up smooth silver links attaching blue and green crystals.

  Not so much a lie, after all. The bracelet was beautiful, held against her wrist. She looked up to meet the salesman’s beaming smile. It was something that she could afford—but she needed to save her money in case it took her longer that she’d first thought to find work. She shook her head—with a regretful smile for the merchant’s sake—and put the bracelet down, taking Mila’s arm to resume walking. “I’m going to start with the local libraries. Even if I can’t get a job there, I might be able to find some tutoring positions, either for English or literature studies.”

  Mila reached out and grabbed her hand. “Liyah, I want to help you, but I’m not sure what to do.”

  What could she tell her friend? It wasn’t some horrible fate that had sent her running back to Dubai. It wasn’t a broken heart or a terrifying nightmare. It was just the knowledge that Liyah had accomplished nothing in five whole years. Sure, she’d gotten a degree and even a teaching job, but she hadn’t been able to connect with anyone. The more she tried to get past her comfort zone, the more she ended up walling herself in. There had been weeks when the only time she’d left her apartment was to go to work and run errands. She hadn’t had a date in a year. She wondered what Mila would say about that. She’d made no real friends since college. She felt like she was just existing rather than living.

  But someone like Mila, who thrived on life, would never understand, and it was humiliating to admit as much. Swallowing hard, Liyah shook her head.

  “Fine,” Mila said with a long-suffering sigh. “But you will have a good time here if I have to drag you out every day and every night to do it!”

  “I want to enjoy myself,” Liyah assured her. “So drag away.”

  They had wandered around the market for some time longer when a table on the edge caught her eye. Beautiful jewels sparkled in the sunlight, displayed in the most intricately carved wooden boxes she’d ever seen. Unable to help herself, she reached out a hand. She didn’t dare touch the jewels; instead, she ran her fingers along the curves of the darkly stained wood.

  On the other side of her was a table that held burning incense, and for a moment, Liyah was enthralled by the scent. Sandalwood and frankincense. She recognized the distinctive odors immediately. They were thought to be a powerful trigger for mystics. A woman covered in the traditional dark hijab stood behind the table, but she was also draped in gorgeous colorful glass beads. Each one caught the sunlight, and Liyah couldn’t help but stare. It seemed that each bead was unique in color and design. Dark eyes stared at her intently from under the woman’s cover, but their owner made no move to approach Liyah or attempt to sell her anything.

  “She’s a full-blooded Nawar,” Mila whispered in her ear as she tugged Liyah away. “They’re the gypsies of the Middle Eastern world. Sahaar says they keep to themselves, but I’ve always been curious about them. It’s rare to see them in the center city market. They usually peddle their wares outside the crow
ds.”

  After relenting and purchasing the pretty crystal bracelet that she’d first seen and some cardamom for Sahaar's delicious pudding, Liyah caved and applied for an alcohol license at Mila’s insistence.

  “You’ll thank me later,” her friend said with a wink. “You’ll want to be able to drink when you visit me at the lounge.”

  Finally, as the sun started to set, Mila hailed a cab to take them home.

  Home, Liyah thought as she stared out the window. It was strange, really. Her home used to be the series of small two-bedroom apartments where she grew up, but her mother moved around so much to avoid climbing rent prices that it never really had felt homey. Even her dorm room and the cramped quarters of her rental back in the States hadn’t felt like home—but there was something about this city that called to her.

  It wasn’t comfortable. It was hot and loud and messy and everything she shied away from, but she just couldn’t stay away.

  Days passed, quiet and uneventful—and unproductive.

  Mila hadn’t been able to take any extensive time off work, and Liyah refused to allow Sahaar to show her around since her exchange-mother walked with the pain of arthritis, so she went out on her own. It didn’t surprise her when the locals gave her the cold-shoulder treatment, so she spent most of her time job hunting and reading in a small cafe that was only a few blocks from Sahaar's home. It afforded her a chance to people-watch and get out of the heat. As the tendrils of steam curled above her chai tea, she looked out through the patterned-metal frames to the parts of the city she hadn’t seen. Despite Mila’s insistence, she hadn’t visited the lounge yet, but she knew that she needed to try something new.