His firm mouth slanted. ‘The manager told me when I asked to speak to you.’
Isla’s brain cogs whirred. The manager would not allow a customer near a girl without a very good reason. So what was this man’s excuse? Making an apology for a disturbance at the club? She didn’t think so.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded, feeling unsettled, as well as slightly annoyed by this blatant breach of club protocol.
Her question seemed to amuse him. ‘My friends call me Shaz.’
‘Goodnight, Shaz,’ she said pointedly.
She remained outside the door, pressed against the wall, wanting to keep some distance between them. The fact that he had made enquiries about her had only added to her unease—that and his sheer, brutal machismo.
‘Goodnight, Isla.’
His eyes had turned warm and humorous, prompting her to soften enough to say, ‘I’m glad you enjoyed the show.’
Her body tingled when he gave her one last appraising look. She was relieved he was leaving, and yet almost regretful knowing they would never meet again. When he rested his hands lightly on her upper arm, she gasped out loud, but he wasn’t done with her yet. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against her cheek—first her right cheek and then the left.
Kissing on both cheeks was the usual greeting and leave-taking gesture in many countries across the world, she reminded herself as her heart went crazy, both with alarm, and something else.
Pulling herself together fast, she moved out of his way and stood stiffly to attention as he left. Her senses were in turmoil. Wherever life took her from here on in, the man in the club wouldn’t be easy to forget.
CHAPTER TWO
SINISTER HIGH-POWERED LAUNCHES announced the arrival of the Sheikh’s team. The lead launch was sleek and black, while smaller vessels swarmed like mosquitoes in attendance as they cut a foaming path up the River Thames. The vessels were all heading for the same pontoon, about a hundred or so yards from the café where Isla was working at one of several part-time jobs that helped to pay her tuition fees at the university.
‘Hey, Chrissie—come and look at this,’ she called out.
Staff and customers alike were held riveted by the sight of the fleet arriving. A sight like this was just what Chrissie needed to cheer her up. The family emergency had been resolved—sort of—but Chrissie was still worried to death about her father, who had been brought home by the police after being arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. The only blessing was that last night had ended so well for both girls, with a better than expected pay-out from the club.
A mystery benefactor had left the extra money, the manager had explained to Isla, to make up for the disturbance at the club. She guessed it must have been the man who had introduced himself. The money couldn’t have come at a better time, as she had been able to hand it all over to Chrissie to pay her father’s fine.
That wasn’t the only good thing about last night, Isla recalled, touching her cheek. It was the first time in years she’d come into contact with a man who hadn’t given her the creeps, and this was especially odd, as the man last night had been a paean to masculinity.
It was just a kiss.
Yes, but it was a kiss she would never forget.
‘What’s up?’ Chrissie said, joining Isla at the window. ‘Oh, wow...’
Isla rubbed her sleeve across the heat-misted window so they could both get a better view of the powerboats as they slowed in preparation for docking. She was glad to see Chrissie looking more relaxed as they crushed up comfortably against each other. Just dealing with the fine had been some consolation, though the problem with Chrissie’s father was unlikely to go away.
Men were leaping ashore to secure the ropes on a pontoon as new as the fantastic new development springing up next door to the café. This was all part of the same Thames-side university campus being funded by His Serene Majesty, Sheikh Shazim bin Khalifa al Q’Aqabi, a legendary philanthropic figure in a world weary of shallow celebrity. At thirty-five, the Sheikh was not just one of the richest men in the world, but was also practically invisible to the media. His immense power and wealth allowed him to remain beneath the avid radar of celebrity, which made any sighting of him all the more exciting. The new buildings he was funding included a veterinary science department, which Isla was particularly excited about as she had recently won the most amazing prize for her research project into endangered species. The prize included a trip to the Sheikh’s desert kingdom of Q’Aqabi to see for herself his world-beating nature reserve. And to work there one day, she hoped.
‘Isla! Chrissie! Stop daydreaming and get back to work!’
Both girls jumped into action as their boss, Charlie, yelled at them. Prize winner or not, Isla was still impoverished after so many years of study. She had yet to secure her first position as a veterinary surgeon and, like many students, her finances were precariously balanced. If she lost even one of her part-time jobs her future career could be in jeopardy.
The activity at the pontoon proved addictive, and Isla glanced repeatedly out of the window as she worked. The uniformed crew had moored up, and rain had begun to pelt down as a party of men disembarked. Dressed disappointingly in traditional western work clothes, rather than the flowing robes of her imagination, they strode up the pontoon in arrow formation towards the building site.
‘Do you think the Sheikh’s at the head of them?’ Chrissie asked, breaking Isla’s spell as she leaned against her.
‘Who knows?’ Isla replied, studying the figure in the lead. He was too far away to see his features clearly, but there was something about him—
‘Isla—Chrissie,’ Charlie called out sharply, reminding both girls that there was work to be done. ‘Get that order for the Sheikh’s team together now!’
Flashing a willing smile in Charlie’s direction, Isla hurried to obey. The Sheikh’s office had called ahead to make sure that an order of coffee was delivered to site as soon as the Sheikh’s team arrived.
‘I don’t think he’s with them,’ she whispered to Chrissie as she squeezed past her friend behind the counter. ‘I expect he has more important things to do.’
‘More important than supervising the building of his new facility?’ Chrissie’s expressive mouth pressed down with amazement as she shrugged. ‘Seems to me, he should be here, if only to make sure his billions aren’t wasted on coffee.’
Isla laughed. ‘They won’t be wasted. The new vet school is going to be amazing. I’ve seen the plans in the university library.’ And it was Isla’s dream to be part of those plans. Endangered species were her passion, and she was aching to do what she could to help out. The thought that very soon she would be flying thousands of miles to the magical-sounding kingdom of Q’Aqabi to visit the Sheikh’s nature reserve still seemed like a fantasy too far—
‘Isla!’
‘Coming,’ she promised Charlie.
‘I’ll take it,’ she added to Chrissie, grabbing the cardboard tray that was waiting to be loaded with coffee.
‘Knowing your luck, the Sheikh will be there,’ Chrissie complained, pulling a comic face. ‘I can just see the drama unfolding now: the fast-food flirt and the autocratic Sheikh. That should be a fun ride, shouldn’t it?’
‘After last night?’ Isla grimaced. ‘I’m all for the quiet life. I don’t want any more hunter-gatherers pushing me over the threshold from safe to insanity.’
‘It wasn’t so bad,’ Chrissie pointed out. ‘You met a great guy—’
‘I said, I met a guy—’
‘Don’t tinker with the detail. Main thing is, we got paid a fortune.’
‘Danger money.’ Isla laughed, hiding the fact that it had taken more than Chrissie would ever know for her to shed her clothes in front of a room full of men. The fact that Isla’s brush with the sickening danger of a sexual assault had happened years ago had left her no less wary. ‘And I’m not a flirt. I’m just friendly,’ she teased before Chrissie could see the shadow of that memory in her eyes.<
br />
‘Whatever,’ Chrissie intoned with a wry look. ‘You get bigger tips than me, that’s all I know.’
‘Which I share,’ Isla reminded her friend with a laugh. ‘And, as for the Sheikh—I doubt we’ll ever see him. If he comes to cut the ribbon when his new building is opened, I’ll be surpri—’
‘Will you girls stop gossiping and get back to work?’ Charlie rapped impatiently.
Exchanging glances, both girls quickly returned to their duties. Chrissie busied herself with the orders on hand, while Isla reluctantly shoved all thoughts of the exciting projects and sheikhs to one side so she could concentrate on finishing the coffee order for the building site.
‘Isn’t your shift almost over?’ she asked Chrissie as they bustled past each other.
‘Yes, Mum,’ Chrissie teased with a wink. ‘But I’m happy to stay on while there’s a rush and you’re taking that outside. I can’t afford to lose this job.’
‘I can’t afford to lose any of my jobs,’ Isla agreed.
They shared a rueful grin. Juggling studies and holding down multiple jobs wasn’t easy for either girl, though, while Chrissie had the looks and figure to strut her stuff for loads of money at the pole-dancing club, Isla’s second job was working quietly in the university library. That was when she wasn’t working her third job, teaching basic gymnastics to keen youngsters in the gym. Not that she was complaining. She loved the quiet of the library, where she could snatch a study break along with her lunch, while the children in the after-school gym club kept her fit and motivated with their enthusiasm—
‘Isla!’
‘Yes, boss!’ Conscious that Charlie was watching her, she quickly loaded the last of the coffees. ‘The site order is ready to go.’
‘Then, get it out there before the coffee gets cold,’ Charlie grumbled, doing his best to look as if he’d just sucked on a lemon.
Glancing at the rain battering the windows, Isla grabbed her jacket and tugged it on. ‘Yes, boss—’
‘This is a coffee shop, not gossip central,’ Charlie grouched, deepening his frown as she walked past him.
She countered Charlie’s bad mood with one of her usual cheery smiles. ‘You know you love me, really.’
‘The only reason I employ you is for that smile,’ Charlie grudgingly admitted.
‘That man,’ Chrissie exploded. ‘Who does he think we are? Smiling puppets?’
‘Employees?’ Isla suggested with her usual good humour. ‘We need this job, Chrissie,’ she discreetly reminded her hot-headed friend.
‘You’re going to get soaked,’ Chrissie objected, brow wrinkling thunderously as she stared out of the window.
‘Yes,’ Isla agreed, ‘but, the sooner I get out there, the sooner I get back.’
‘Okay, Ms Capability—say hi to the Sheikh, if you see him.’
‘Like I’m going to get close.’
‘If he’s there he’ll have security surrounding him,’ Chrissie agreed. ‘Oh, well, you can still drop a few hints to his team that you’re a star student at the university, and you’ll be over in Q’Aqabi very soon, when you’ll be only too glad to offer your services—’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Isla acted shocked.
‘Okay, Miss Prim—you know what I’m talking about. Get out there before the coffee goes cold. And don’t forget to drop that hint,’ Chrissie called after her.
Was she wrong to hope that, if the Sheikh had chosen to visit his billion-dollar building site, the white-chocolate mocha with the extra caramel shot and a double squirt of cream wasn’t destined for him? Isla smiled as Charlie opened the door for her. A girl had to have her fantasies, and Isla’s involved real tough-guy sheikhs—impossibly handsome, riding imperious white stallions... The Sheikh would be clad in flowing robes, and he would live in a Bedouin tent that billowed gently in the warm desert breeze—
‘You’re lucky I don’t dock you girls’ dreaming time from your wages,’ Charlie rapped as she went past him. ‘If you don’t watch out, I’ll charge you for breakfast.’
Charlie was a kind old thing really, with a bark that was far worse than his bite. And no way was she going to lose out on breakfast, when it was her one decent meal of the day.
Head down, she speed-walked through the driving rain to the mud bath next door. There was no easy way to walk across a building site other than to do it as fast as she could without spilling the coffee.
‘Stop!’
She stopped dead and almost dropped the tray. She had reached a steel mesh gate manned by an unsmiling security guard, but, as the gate was open, she had walked straight through.
‘You’re not allowed on the site,’ the guard informed her brusquely.
‘But I have instructions to be here,’ she tried to explain.
‘No one is allowed on the site without protective clothing. And I have to check your identity—’
As the guard reached towards her she flinched. An instinctive reaction. Just one of the many leftover side effects from the attempted assault... It made her creep to have any man touch her, with the exception of Charlie, who was like a grumpy old uncle, and the man in the club last night—
‘I’ll take over here.’
She jerked alert as a second man spoke. Oh, no! Shoot me and bury me now. ‘It’s you,’ she said lamely, recognising the man from the club.
‘Quite a surprise,’ he agreed drily, and with maximum understatement. ‘I’ll see to this,’ he said, dismissing the guard.
The guard’s reaction was impressive. He practically stood to attention and saluted. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, taking a giant step back.
Before she had chance to say anything, two strong arms had snapped around her waist.
‘What are you doing?’ was about all she could manage as the air shot from her lungs. She had to concentrate on balancing the coffee as the giant of a man led her away. And, for the second time, strangely, there was no fear, no creeps, just quite a lot of affront that the people on the site were making it so hard for her to deliver coffee.
‘I’ll drop the tray if you don’t slow down.’
Not that it would do him any harm in his steel-capped boots. Gone were the black silk socks and highly polished shoes and in their place was a hard hat and a high-vis’ jacket. If he’d seemed big last night, he was positively enormous now. And he didn’t look the type to yowl if hot coffee should happen to land on his naked skin.
His naked skin...
Stop that now!
She had never known anything like it. Her mind was permanently closed to all thoughts of men’s physical attributes—or so she’d thought up to last night. And now she had enough to do, balancing a tray of red-hot coffee while keeping up with the man’s ground-eating stride. By the time they reached one of several mobile homes on the site, she was well and truly rattled, and when he angled his chin towards the door she stopped dead and refused to go a step further.
Reaching in front of her, he opened the door. Jerking his chin, he indicated that she should go first.
‘Everyone on the site has to wear proper clothing and carry a security pass,’ he explained. ‘Health and safety,’ he added brusquely.
She stalled, playing for time. She didn’t feel uncomfortable with him, as she had with other men, but going into a building where she would be alone with him was a step too far. ‘I’ve never encountered a problem before,’ she protested with some justification. ‘Like most of the people at the university, I use the building site as a cut-through when I’m walking between the campus and the café.’
‘That doesn’t make it right,’ he said flatly with a stare that ripped through her like a shot of adrenaline. Since he’d arrived, things had obviously been tightened up. She’d spread the word.
The sooner she left the coffee, the sooner she was out of here, but she couldn’t deny that the all-embracing warmth inside the mobile building was welcome. The man called Shaz had started rifling through a rail of high-vis’ jackets. Blowing on her hands, she wondered if he f
elt the cold. As part of the Sheikh’s team, she guessed he didn’t have to suffer it for too much of the year.
‘Here—try this one,’ he said, holding out a jacket.
Seeing her difficulty, he took the tray of coffee, brushing his hand against her frozen skin as he did so. ‘It should be better,’ he murmured, holding her gaze a disturbing beat too long. ‘This one is smaller.’
He put the tray down and then came back to help her out of her wet coat. This time his hand brushed her neck. She had just moved her wet hair out of the way, leaving her skin exposed. It was an accident, she told herself firmly. It had to be an accident.
Leaving her to fasten the jacket, he started work on her security pass.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked politely.
He raised his head and stared at her. ‘Should there be anything else?’
The expression in his eyes pinned her. He was definitely interested—no doubt about it—and he was curious about her, which made her skin prickle. He had the most incredible eyes, and it wasn’t just the fact that they were dark, and heavily fringed with jet-black lashes—they were quite simply the most expressive eyes she’d ever seen...and right now, they were warming as he stared at her.
‘A pastry, perhaps?’ she suggested with a gulp.
With a faintly amused look, he turned back to his work. ‘I’ll need a photograph,’ he said, coming to stand between her and the door.
He fixed her printed image inside the pass. ‘You’ll need this next time you visit the site,’ he explained, pressing it into her hand. The brief moment of connection between them sent a sizzle up her arm.
Closing her hand around the pass, she stepped back. ‘It might not be me bringing out the coffee for you next time,’ she felt it only fair to point out.
‘It will be you,’ he stated. His face grew grim. ‘I have no intention of equipping every member of staff at the café with a pass and protective clothing.’
‘So I drew the lucky straw,’ she commented ruefully.
‘Seems so,’ he agreed. His expression softened minutely.
‘Thank you, anyway.’ She slung the lanyard holding the pass around her neck.
In the Sheikh's Service Page 2
