by Leslie North
She took it and put it down again. “I’m not a pretend reporter. That’s my profession. This is what I do.”
“You are doing an excellent job at making our American business partners uncomfortable.”
“It’s our now—not your father’s. I was honest with you when I said I was here to get a story.”
Khalid let out a long breath. “And I was honest with you when I said I would arrange interviews—but now and here is not the place.” Her mouth pulled down, and he noticed then the stubborn tilt to her jaw. He took her hand and stepped closer. “Please, can you not just be a woman tonight?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “That line work for you before?”
He let go of her hand. “That was not a line.”
“It sounded like one to me. But I’ll make you a deal—no more questions tonight, but you guarantee me either an interview with your father or with Fadiyah tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “Tomorrow I can guarantee you a date for such a thing. Will that please you.”
She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
He took her hand as if to shake it, but then turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Deal. Now let us see if you can enjoy this evening and stop threatening disaster. I am hoping our American partners will be more forgiving if you now become charming.”
“Can I still ask the hard question if your father is around?”
Khalid had to grin. “You never give up, do you?”
She glanced up at him. “It’s one of the things you admire about me.”
They spent the next two hours mingling. While a few men found reasons to be other places when they approached, Casey turned on the smiles and changed her questions to casual ones. “Do you find it challenging to work with international companies? Is language a barrier to making deals? What do you think of the lobster and the smoked salmon?” It worked.
She charmed the men, swapped recipes with the few women attending the event, smoothing over most of the feathers she had ruffled. It was sad that he could not turn her loose as a reporter—that would have ended his father’s marriage plans, but it also would have ended too many business relationships. He could not endanger his country’s economy in such a fashion. Besides, if he was to get Casey her interview, he needed his father pleased, and it seemed he had at least accomplished that much.
When he noticed Casey’s smile beginning to sag and her shoulders starting to droop, he asked, “Are you ready to leave?”
“More than” she told him. She lifted her skirt and headed for the stairs that led to her apartment, but Khalid caught her elbow and moved with her toward the front doors. “Not that way—this way, for I have a better idea of how we may spend the rest of the night.”
5
Casey braced herself. She’d been doing research most of the day, digging into Khalid’s past—or at least everything the tabloids had written on him. He was by all accounts the playboy Sheikh, the man no woman could resist and a man who loved life. She’d known most of it, but she hadn’t really dug into the details. No wonder his father wanted him married—Khalid looked to be on a path to becoming a permanent bachelor. Not that he didn’t have his good side.
Khalid donated and supported several charities—he never turned down an invitation to one of their events, which was great for fundraising, and probably for partying. But all those headlines had left Casey wary. What had she gotten herself into here?
And just what was he proposing now? Nightclubs? Running off to some hotel for a night of…of what? Her heart thudded into her ribs, her breath shortened and she didn’t know if she wanted to find an excuse or an excuse to go with him. Her Midwestern side was coming out full force—she was in over her head with this guy. Stammering out the words and pulling back, she told him, “Khalid, I’m a little tired. Whatever bright idea you have, can it wait until tomorrow?”
“Just trust me,” Khalid insisted, pulling her with him. He flashed a smile and she tried to relax, but that smile would lure any woman to her doom. “Hurry before we’re spotted and delayed.”
He got her outside the front doors, paused there and waved at one of the staff nearby—wasn’t there always someone standing around here at the palace, just waiting for orders. She had no idea what time it was, but the moon was still up and the night had just started to cool. Stars glittered overhead in a way she hadn’t seen in years due to city lights. A limo’s engine rumbled to life and headlights flipped on. Rubbing her arms, she asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” His grin lit the night—all white teeth and charm.
She shook her head. “If this is some—”
His laugh interrupted. The sound shot a warmth through her she wasn’t sure she should be feeling. “Trust me. You will enjoy this.”
She huffed out a breath and muttered, “Question is will I regret it.”
The limo pulled up, a shiny black Mercedes. Someone else came forward to open the car door. Khalid took her hand and led her down the steps.
“Are we sneaking me out of your father’s palace?” Casey asked.
Smiling, Khalid leaned forward and told the driver, “Med-Men, muntajae sihi.”
Casey chewed her lower lip. She’d started a crash course in Arabic—no way was she ever getting caught at another dinner party without being able to at least follow the conversation. But these words hadn’t been part of the basic vocabulary. “Okay, is that a nightclub? A bar? Or—”
“Med-Men is the finest spa in my country. The waters are said to be healing, and I think we both could use a massage.”
“That’s not code for something else, is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Why so suspicious? Is my reputation really so terrible?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?.
Khalid shook his head, took her hand and squeezed it gently. “No. I do not. But I assure you, this is to thank you for a wonderful evening. Nothing more.”
Pulling her hand away, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be happy or sorry about that.
The limo sped down the streets, into the city and then out again on one of the highways. Glancing out the window, she could only see the desert as white sand and dark shadows. Glancing over at Khalid, she told him, “I’m sorry.”
“Why should you apologize?”
“For being…being such a reporter earlier. I don’t get out much—my work is pretty much my life..”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My life has been all play—yours has been all work it seems. Does that make us the perfect couple?”
“You mean maybe we could find a balance in between. I don’t know about that—habits are easy to form, hard to break.”
He shook his head. “I would not like you so much if you were not…so…so…”
“Difficult? Hard headed? My mom used to call me stubborn as two mules hitched to the same plough.”
He grinned. “And I have been called a peacock with lovely plumage and no use at all.”
Casey relaxed and smiled. “Was that by your dad or you mom?” Soon as the words had slipped out she bit down on her lower lip. “Sorry—I wasn’t thinking. I read your mom died when you were pretty young. That must have been hard.”
He looked out the window. “No, but it made my father a hard man. The world would be different if my mother had lived.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, but it took no more than a few minutes before the limo exited the highway and drove down a palm-lined street to stop in front of a modern building. Casey stepped out of the limo and into a warm desert breeze. The spa seemed all stark lines of concrete and glass, but Khalid came around and took her hand, leading her inside.
It surprised her the place would be open this late, but maybe Khalid being a Sheikh and all had some pull—or maybe this was a twenty-four-seven kind of place. Two women and two men met them in the lobby, which had a restful fountain and music like that she’d heard earlier—some kind of stringed inst
rument and a drum.
She followed the two women into a separate area that seemed to be a changing room with lockers, mirrors and what looked like a full up makeup and hair salon. The women spoke excellent English, got her out of her dress and into a thick, white Turkish robe and sandals. After that it was a shower, and then the women led her into a smaller room with a massage table. She stretched out, and the women set to work on her body, unknotting every kink she knew about and a few she didn’t know she had.
All that hard prison time.
She had to smile at the idea. The scent of spiced oil left her half asleep, but the women left, and Casey roused herself. One of the two doors into the room had been left open. Sitting up, she grabbed her robe, dragged it on and headed into the next space, which looked more like a private oasis.
Glancing around, she saw Khalid, half naked and sitting in a huge, sunken tiled tub. Several other tubs dotted the area, but only the one next to Khalid steamed from the hot water piped into it. They were still inside, but glancing up she could see stars and the moon through a skylight. Candles glowed from niches set into the walls. More palms and other potted plants had been artfully placed to make the room seem a lush oasis. She glanced around, looking for the spa attendants, but it seemed as if they’d been left alone. She clutched at the throat of her robe, but Khalid only smiled and waved at the waters bubbling around him. “Come. I’m not some wild leopard who will leap onto you as if you are a tasty gazelle.”
Khalid found her modesty charming. He’d been around too many models who thought nothing of being naked—so much so that at times he thought nothing of it as well. And the actresses he had dated had always wanted to display the latest sculpting of their bodies by their plastic surgeons. It had, he had to admit, grown tiresome. Casey, standing there in her bulky white robe seemed far more alluring.
Covering his eyes with his hands, he told her, “I will not peek. And the water will preserve your modesty. The waters are also said to be healing, and I will add you have your own tub.”
He heard the rustle of cloth, a small gasp and splash. He peeked only a little, parting his fingers enough to see a flash of pale skin, a glimpse of her full breasts and then she was under the water, her hair floating around her and steam rising up to bathe her face.
“Okay, I’m in. You can look.”
He pulled his hand down. “I told you you would enjoy this.”
“Okay, you were right,” she said, her voice drifting a little. “Thank you for bringing me here. I didn’t realize I was so stressed.”
“It has been a difficult time for everyone, and will probably be even more so over the next week or more,” Khalid replied.
Leaning her head back, she stared up at the skylight and said, “I suppose, once you really get married, you will take over your father’s business—is that the plan?”
“I’ve been groomed for his position, yes. I will eventually assume his business interests as my own, but my father is in no rush to give up control to me. It is one of the great frustrations.”
She gave a small hum. “He wants you to be responsible, but won’t give you responsibilities. No wonder you lash out. You must have a lot of expectations to live up to that you never asked for.”
He glanced at her. “I did not know you were a psychiatrist as well as a reporter.”
She winced. “Ouch. Okay, maybe I asked for that.” Turning to him, she pulled her arms out of the water and propped her chin on her fists. Her arms proved a distraction—all that smooth, white skin on display. When he realized she had asked him a question, he had to ask her to repeat her words. “I said, what if you ever wanted to do something else? You know—be a pilot. Or…or just open a restaurant or something like that.”
“You Americans.” Khalid shook his head. He turned and faced her, copying her moves so he had his arms out of the water and his chin propped on his hands. “Everyone wants to be a famous actor or a rock musician or something other than what they are meant to be. It’s not like that here. Every son grows up in his father’s shadow. The eldest is expected to learn the family trade. It is just that my family’s business happens to be running a country and looking after affairs of state and an entire country’s economy. Eventually, if all goes well, I may have sons—and I can let one of them become the sultan. Then perhaps I might go into business for myself. That would be a true challenge.”
“And that sounds like something you really want to do. Well, business is one thing I could help you with.”
He lifted an eyebrow and straightened. “What do you know about business? You’re a journalist.”
“And just a woman, too?” Casey said, but she sounded for once as if she was teasing.
He splashed water at her and said, “That’s not what I meant. It’s because of your field. What, did you cover business once upon a time?”
“That’s how I got my start. And my family didn’t just run a shop. My dad owned the best general store in Wisconsin and grew it into a giant mail order business. He also did well enough in stocks to send me to college. My sister, too, if she’d wanted it. He sold out to a larger company and my folks retired to Florida. Over the years, I’ve learned a little.” She winked at him. “Trust me.”
Khalid laughed. “He turned, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “So, wise sage, what would you advise me?”
“What kind of business were you thinking of going into? Camel exports? Sand castle constructions?”
Opening his eyes, he turned his head and stared at her. “Now you are mocking me. I haven’t thought about something exact, I just have a sense that I could do something different. Everything around me is big—the family palace, the family business. It is all huge oil, banking and the life of my country depends upon large profits. But I…” He trailed off, his face warm.”
“Go on,” she said.
He waved a hand. “I want something that could be mine—something where what I do with my hands matters.” Looking at her, he asked, “Do you think me crazy? The playboy who plays because he cannot do what he wants.”
She sat up and said, “Open a restaurant.”
Khalid laughed. He turned to face her again. “There are so many of those around I wouldn’t stand a chance. And what do I know of food.”
“You know a good time. That’s what people want when they go out. You know how to be gracious. You could…you could make it a place for young people to learn how to be great chefs. Make it a place to showcase your country’s food—but, you might want to leave out the sheep’s head.” She pulled a face.
He shook his head. “Well, it is not as if I must decide today. There is time yet for me. After all, I do not plan to ma— ” He cut off the words as one of the female attendants slipped into the room. Khalid cursed himself. He had almost said he did not plan to marry, and if that got back to his father, he was certain the sultan would insist on this marriage going through no matter what.
The attendant slipped up to Khalid’s tub, bowed and handed Khalid a message. It seemed the sultan had called the limo’s driver and had ordered Khalid’s immediate return.”
“Is everything all right?” Casey asked.
Muttering under his breath, Khalid tossed the note aside. He had no idea what was wrong, but something was. Standing, he hoisted himself out of the bath. The attendant held his robe for him. He wrapped it around him and then glanced at Casey.
She was staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted and it took every ounce of will not to strip off his robe and climb into her tub. She closed her mouth and Khalid told her, “Dress. We must return to the palace. I think my father noticed we were missing.”.
6
Casey was having a hard time keeping focused. The image of Khalid naked, his skin glistening and all those muscles on display kept circling in her mind, teasing her, leaving her mouth dry and her pulse a little too fast. She’d figured him to be fit—she’d had no idea he’d be utterly stunning, with long legs and a lean body, and abs that would make any man jea
lous and any woman want to put her hands on him.
Down, girl.
She should focus on the fact that Khalid’s father had hunted down Khalid for some reason—she didn’t know what.
Khalid seemed both tense and quiet on the drive back, and she couldn’t blame him. So far her take on the sultan was that he was way too used to getting his own way—in other words, a lot like Luke only worse.
The limo pulled up in front of the palace. Casey got out without waiting for the driver again, which seemed to exasperate the man, given the way he huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. She did, however, wait for Khalid so she could climb the front steps with him.
They found the sultan in the main hall, pacing the floor, looking far too much like an elderly, caged bear that wasn’t too happy. He stopped his pacing and turned on Khalid. “What was so important that you could not stay?”
Khalid shrugged and put an arm over Casey’s shoulder. She stiffened—just what was he planning? “Why should I say? I have a bride to be to entertain. What—did you think marriage would change my ways?”
The sultan’s face reddened. Casey glanced from him to Khalid and decided she was done being a pawn for this night. Obviously, Khalid was using this sham of an engagement to irritate his father and his father was just about as easy to poke as a bear in a cage. More importantly, if Khalid picked a fight with his father right this second, the whole engagement might end up being tossed out and her along with it and she’d never get her interview.
Slipping out from under Khalid’s arm—and okay, it felt more than good, but she needed a brain back—she offered up what she hopped was a charming smile for the sultan. “We’ve been to Med-Men, the spa, and I’m starting to think I should take up travel writing. Why if more folks knew about that place, you’d be overrun with tourists. It’s an amazing place. A muntajae sihi, Khalid called it. You should be proud of such an attraction.”
The flatter seemed to sooth some of the sultan’s sour mood. His color settled. He smoothed his mustache and turned to Khalid. “Nevertheless, it was inappropriate to abandon our guests as if you were a boy with no thought to your duties.”
