Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Did people think it was strange?”

  “That I’m a girl mechanic? Sure. Some of them tease me about it. Doesn’t bother me. I’m thick skinned.” She wished her skin was thick enough to fend off his penetrating stare. “Do you think it’s strange?” She braced herself for his answer.

  He reached a stall with a black horse, pulled the halter off a hook and slid it on over the horse’s head. “I think it’s good. Women should do whatever jobs they want and can perform.”

  She wasn’t entirely convinced by his answer, even though it was the right one. She had an odd feeling that he disapproved in some way, whether he wanted to, or not.

  Good. One more reason not to be attracted to him.

  Two grooms appeared with a saddle and bridle and readied the horse while he selected a second—a chestnut. “A redhead for you,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Malaika. She’s feisty.”

  “I can be rather feisty myself.”

  His dark eyes hovered on her. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  There was that spark of attraction. She felt it flash between them like electricity arcing dangerously from one terminal to another.

  She glanced hurriedly at the chestnut mare as he slid the halter over her head. Was he flirting with her? It didn’t make sense. He seemed to disapprove of her, yet he found her…intriguing? She couldn’t figure it out.

  She certainly found him intriguing, but then why wouldn’t she? In addition to being gorgeous and royal—neither of which did much for her—he was smart and hard working and took his responsibilities seriously. He could afford to spend his days indulging himself, jetting around the world and going to parties or lounging on a yacht. Instead he threw himself wholeheartedly into his work—and now into this contest that he’d reportedly planned himself.

  Another groom brought the saddle—it was covered with bright blue-and-silver fabric, tasseled and ornamented—and Amahd took it from him and saddled the mare himself, murmuring softly to her in his language.

  “What are you saying?”

  He tightened the girth. “Move swift and quiet as the wind, and carry your rider to victory.”

  “Is that a traditional saying?”

  “Before battle, yes.” He glanced up, eyes shining.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to ride into battle. I didn’t have time for coffee this morning,” she teased.

  “All the more reason you need your horse to help you out.” The quick flash of his smile made her heart jump. He turned away to take the bridle from another groom. Again it was blue, with silver ornamentation, and contrasted strikingly with the mare’s bright coat. He bridled her expertly, then handed Mac the reins. “I would race you back to the contest arena, but I suppose we should warm them up first.”

  “Good idea.” She tried to sound cool and collected even as excitement crackled through her. Yes, she was looking forward to riding this beautiful and feisty mare, and Amahd’s enthusiasm was catching. He looked so adorable when he suggested the race that she could tell he really would love to. Amahd around horses was a very different man from the dour and serious businessman whose bark and bite kept everyone on their toes back at the oil field.

  Or maybe it was Amahd around her?

  Two grooms carried a wooden mounting block toward her—she could get used to this!—and she climbed aboard her sturdy mount. The moment her butt slid into the saddle the mare started walking briskly for the archway, as if dying to taste freedom after spending the night in a stable.

  Amahd’s big black gelding came trotting right behind her so she didn’t even ask the mare to slow down. It felt so good to follow the motion of her back, feel the power under her and flow with it. She’d missed that sensation, but she’d been so busy working hard and trying to keep her head—and Maddy’s—above water, that she hadn’t realized how much.

  Of course, after this contest was over she’d probably go right back to not riding for years. Horses were something of an expensive luxury even if you did live on a farm. If you didn’t, then they were downright unaffordable—which meant she might as well live in the moment and enjoy this.

  Amahd described the first game and handed her a lance, then demonstrated how to gallop toward the target and stick the lance in it at full tilt. Adrenaline rushed through her just watching him. He wore a lightweight white robe that molded to his skin in the wind, outlining his broad shoulders. His powerful thighs wrapped around his horse’s sides and he stayed with the big, black horse like they were one powerful animal.

  The lance hit the target and quivered in it while he spun his horse and galloped back. “Your turn.”

  “Looks easy,” she quipped. Mac blew on her lance—as if that would help. “I’ve roped calves. This time the target isn’t even moving.”

  A smile flashed across Amahd’s face. How was his smile so adorable? In a flash he went from looking serious and commanding to cute and boyish.

  She took a deep breath, lifted her lance, and stuck her heels into her horse.

  Whoa! Her horse shot forward like a rocket-propelled grenade, causing her to lose her balance and drop her lance. She almost ran into Amahd before she got Malaika back under control. And it was a full minute before she managed to stop prancing about and settle down to a walk.

  Exasperated, she turned to Amahd—and found him laughing.

  “Our horses are very sensitive.” He lifted a brow. “You don’t need to kick them.”

  “You could have told me that before I started.” She tried to sound indignant, but it was hard since he’d already jumped off his mount and retrieved her lance.

  He handed it to her, and their fingers brushed for a split second and sent heat snapping through her already jumpy body. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  He shrugged, and gave her what looked like a distinctly mischievous glance before using his strong arms to pull himself up into the saddle in a single swift movement.

  “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.” She took advantage of the moment to watch his tight backside easing down into his saddle.

  “Any time, but first you need to hit the target.”

  “Shouldn’t we be testing the timers?” Yes, she was procrastinating. She didn’t want to try again and blow it.

  “They’ve been tested already. Right now we’re checking the distances, the terrain, the horses.”

  “Ah. So you put me on this horse to see if it’s crazy or not?”

  A slow smile crept across his mouth. “Would I do that?”

  “Not if you want your supply room inventory completed.” She lifted her chin. “But no worries. I’ll get it right this time.”

  She trotted her horse back to the starting line. This time she was careful to give only a gentle squeeze with her legs, and she managed to stay with her horse as she leaped forward and galloped for the target. As she drew close, she raised her lance, threw it, and was past it before she could tell if she hit it.

  “How’d I do?” she called.

  “Not bad. Possibly beginner’s luck.” That mischievous grin again.

  She rode back and saw her lance sticking out of the target, right on the edge of the bull’s-eye. Triumph rippled through her. “D’you want me to try it again?” Now she was ready for a challenge.

  “No need. We have several other games to run through.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She galloped her way through several more courses. Amahd’s aim was far more expert, of course, but she held her own and he seemed satisfied that they’d tested the courses and that they were set up correctly.

  “Our horses don’t look tired at all.” Mac patted the chestnut’s neck, which was barely sweaty.

  “I keep them fit. In fact all this sprinting probably has them wound up. Would you like to go for a gallop?”

  “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Her horse might not be sweaty, but she was. Of course Amahd was part of the reason for that. Just being around him raised her body temper
ature a few degrees.

  “I mean a real gallop.” He gestured with his chin toward the open countryside around them. Already his horse danced in anticipation.

  “How could I say no?” A smile spread across her face as they urged their horses gently forward and let them stretch out and enjoy their own power as they raced over the flat terrain, with only sparse grasses and the occasional lonely tree between them and the distant mountains.

  She passed Amahd, then he passed her, but she wasn’t sure if they were racing or not and didn’t care. It felt so good to feel the wind on her face, and in her horse’s mane, and to taste the freedom of going as fast and as far as she wanted.

  Their horses were steady and relaxed, athletic enough to run without getting tired. She was starting to wonder how far they could go before even breaking gait—five miles? Ten miles? Fifty miles? Then the terrain started to rise into the foothills of the mountains and suddenly there were more trees. “We’d better slow down,” she called, her voice being tossed on the wind.

  “They can find their way,” he shouted back. “They have a favorite watering hole.”

  Curious, she let her horse lead the way, and sure enough they slowed to a trot near a grove of trees, then walked in among the trees and up to the shore of a small lake.

  Amahd jumped down as they approached so she followed suit.

  “That water looks good right now.”

  “It tastes terrible,” he said with a grimace. “But the horses seem to like it.”

  “You’ve tried it.”

  “Only once, and that was enough.”

  She laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Amahd knotted his horse’s reins under her neck and let her wander to the water by herself. She tied her up horse’s reins, then hesitated. “You trust them not to run home?”

  “Absolutely. I trust them with my life.”

  “You must have built quite a relationship with them.”

  “How can I trust them if they don’t trust me?” It was a statement more than a question. Amahd did seem like the kind of guy you could trust—once you won his confidence. On the other hand, she wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. He was straightforward and didn’t pretend to be happy about something when he wasn’t. The horses probably appreciated that.

  She supposed she did, too. He certainly wasn’t pretending to be entranced with her so he could get into her jeans. If anything he was trying his best to let her know that he wasn’t interested in anything beyond a work relationship.

  They stood a few feet away from each other so she probably imagined the tension crackling in the air. Mac wished he wasn’t so handsome. She’d never worked with someone hot enough to make her catch her breath before. She should probably do her best to develop a crush on someone else—maybe even a movie star or singer—to get her mind off Amahd so she didn’t moon over him and embarrass herself.

  Even now she was doing her best not to look at him. She tried to keep her eyes focused on the horses as they mooched about at the edge of the lake.

  “You ride very well.” His low voice caught her by surprise.

  “Oh, thanks. I’ve spent a lot of hours in the saddle over the years. Not recently, of course. I’m glad I can still find my balance.”

  “Once you learn to ride, you never forget how.”

  “True, but I’m not a skinny kid any more.” She gestured to her body, then wondered why. Was she apologizing for her curves? She knew better than that.

  Amahd’s eyes drifted to her breast and hips for a second, and seemed to darken. She could almost swear he found her body attractive, and that made him even more irresistible.

  Even if he didn’t want to be attracted to her.

  “Your body is athletic.” He spoke seriously, as if trying to convince himself.

  She wanted to protest that it certainly wasn’t all muscle, but managed not to. “My job keeps me fit these days, even though I don’t have time to exercise.”

  He nodded slowly, his eyes resting on her face. A small frown hovered around his dark brows.

  “You should schedule a ride into your day. I have many horses that need exercise.”

  “I’d love to, but you know how tight the production schedule is and I do need to be there in case anything goes wrong.” She didn’t want to get shifted from her job as a mechanic to one as a groom, despite how much she’d enjoy the riding.

  “Yes, but perhaps if you were a manager, you’d have more time for other things.” His dark eyes rested on hers for a split second.

  “A manager? You mean like Bubba?”

  “Bubba manages all day-to-day operations. There isn’t a manager for the maintenance mechanics. I think there should be. We’ll be expanding all this year and next year.”

  Mac wasn’t sure whether her heart was beating faster at the prospect of a promotion—which would surely come with higher pay—or because Amahd had taken a step toward her.

  “I’d certainly be very interested in…” Why was he staring at her like that? “In helping the operation run smoother and I do have a lot of experience in…”

  His gaze was fixed on her mouth. When she stopped talking, he looked up, as if confused.

  Then his mouth claimed hers with force that took her breath away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Amahd’s arms wrapped around Mac, crushing her against his chest. Her hands, far from pushing him away, pulled him tighter. Her fingertips dug into his back, raking against the hard muscle.

  What are you doing?

  Something unstoppable flowed between her and Amahd—energy, excitement, raw, needy lust that she couldn’t control.

  And he couldn’t either. That much was clear from the way his big hands roamed over her body, exploring the curve of her backside, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. She heard his breathing quicken, then deepen, and felt his erection thicken against her.

  The scent of him drove her crazy—all male—and the roughness of his cheek against hers only quickened her passion. Next thing she knew, her hand was sliding inside his shirt to touch the muscle of his back, and his fingers were climbing inside hers and cupping her breast through her bra.

  This kiss set Mac’s insides on fire. Their first kiss had been surprising—and memorable—this one took her by storm. A low moan escaped her, and even that wasn’t enough to make her pull back. Their tongues touched with a zap of electricity and their lips moved over each other, soft, hard, fitting together no matter which angle they tried.

  Her fingertips roamed into Amahd’s thick, silky hair as her thumb raked his hard cheekbone. His breath came in ragged gasps, and she could feel his chest heaving against hers, as if they were already making full-on love.

  His erection pressed hard against her thigh. His obvious excitement was incredibly arousing. That such a gorgeous man, brilliant, successful and breathtakingly handsome—not to mention that he was royal!—found her so arousing that he couldn’t stop kissing her, was enough to turn any girl’s head.

  No wonder she didn’t have a scrap of common sense left. Who would?

  A deep throaty groan emerged from Amahd’s chest, rising to his mouth and mingling with their kiss. This seemed to startle him into awareness enough to pull back slightly. Their lips parted and cool air rushed between them. Though how it was cool she had no idea, since the desert heat was almost as blistering as the passion snapping between them.

  Amahd’s eyes stared into hers, his pupils dilated and that trademark serious expression touched by a hint of bewilderment. “You are a fascinating woman.”

  His soft-spoken comment tickled her. “I suppose I am a little unusual,” she admitted. She held her head high as one of the few female mechanics in the oil industry and was proud of the skills and experience she’d gained on jobs that had defeated many men. And now Amahd had just made her feel like she was not only still a woman—but an intensely desirable and sensual one. She hadn’t felt arousal like this in…ever.

  “The
effect you have on me is quite disturbing.” He frowned slightly.

  “I could say the same. I’m normally fairly sensible.” Well, this was awkward. And not likely to go anywhere good.

  He was her boss.

  Still, his big arms around her felt oh-so-good.

  The wrinkle between his brows deepened, as if he was contemplating a thorny problem or trying to make a million-dollar decision.

  Then his lips lowered over hers again and her knees turned to jelly. His tongue tangled with hers and sensations shot through her that threatened to make her collapse—but their firm embrace held her steady.

  Her nipples hummed and buzzed with sensation against his rock-hard chest. Her thighs pressed against his, and the jut of his erection grew harder. Heat was building inside her, and all this hot, fervent energy was heading in one direction.

  A ragged breath tore from Amahd’s chest. His eyes were dark slits of passion, his mouth wet with kisses.

  Her mouth opened but she couldn’t form words. Which was a good thing since the words probably wouldn’t have been too sensible.

  His fingers dug gently inside the front of her shirt, pulling the top button from its buttonhole and revealing the—hot pink—lace at the edge of her bra. She heard his breath catch as his fingertips brushed the curved top of her breast.

  Her own hands had formed an enthusiastic—or was it desperate?—grip on his powerful backside. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, and sense her pulse racing. The tingling in her insides even started to make a sound in the air…

  Until she realized that was actually her cell phone ringing. She gulped. “Uh, that’s me.”

  His hands lifted as her skin had suddenly grown poker-hot and she found herself fumbling awkwardly in her back pocket for her phone. Mosir. She pressed the screen with a trembling finger. “Hello,” she burst out, way too enthusiastically, her pink bra still on display.

  “There’s a problem with one of the ovens in the kitchen. Could you come take a look?”

  “Uh, sure.” He probably thought she was a five-minute walk away at most. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”