The Sheikh’s Christmas Family: Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs Book Two

by North, Leslie

  Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs

  The Sheikh’s Christmas Fling

  The Sheikh’s Christmas Family

  The Sheikh’s Christmas Lover

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, DECEMBER 2018

  Copyright © 2018 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Who would have thought one little kiss would throw Maia Kurtz’s orderly world into complete chaos?

  It’s Christmas time in Maatkare, and it’s Maia’s job to make sure the Sheikh’s palace is decorated for all the holiday festivities in this tiny, Orthodox Christian kingdom. The decorating is the easy part. Yonas Yared, the youngest son of the family, is a bit more of a challenge. Maia knows she’s in trouble when she sees how wonderful Yonas is with her young son, and how his seductive smiles cause her to go warm all over. Protecting her heart from the one man who makes her think naughty thoughts she shouldn’t is proving more difficult than she thought.

  Yonas will go crazy if he’s forced to spend the entire, endless, holiday season with his family. He’d much rather be partying the nights away than stuck in the palace helping their new razor-tongued decorator. Still, Maia’s got something irresistible about her, and he certainly hadn’t planned on getting his socks knocked off by one simple kiss. As events transpire to keep him in the palace, he’s surprised to realize he’s glad to be home—and equally surprised to find that getting his serious little decorator into his bed is becoming more and more important. The problem is, once she’s there, he doesn’t want her to leave. And nothing in his life has ever scared him more.

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  (Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs Book Two)

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  End of The Sheikh’s Christmas Family

  Thank you!

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: The Sheikh’s Christmas Lover

  Also by Leslie

  1

  Yonas whistled to himself as he sauntered through the grand hall of his family’s palace.

  The place looked like shit.

  White, puffy tulle spiraled up the columns, bursting into a display of green pine needles and little red berries. All around him, remnants of the enormous holiday party still lingered, even though the guests had cleared out hours ago. The scent of eggnog wafted through the air. He hated eggnog. Almost as much as he hated these overblown American-style decorations his father insisted on for the gala with the American embassy.

  He tugged at a strand of Christmas lights. He was still buzzed—no, drunk—from the party. He might hate eggnog, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t drink it. A few of the twinkle lights popped free from whatever was holding them to the wall. He tugged again. A few more popped loose. Getting better.

  He tugged a final time, and the majority of the strand broke free. It hung lamely from a differently secured spot above an archway. He grunted. He hated the holidays most years—too many boring events, so much fuss about preparations, and not enough chances for him to sneak away and do his own thing.

  This year was even worse. With his mother out of the country on medical leave, there was a strange vacuum in the palace, while the holiday intensity had ratcheted up even higher.

  Yonas eyeballed an iridescent garland. He ran his hand over it and then tugged. It started to unfurl.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  A sharp voice broke his focus. He spun on his heel, the last bit of his whiskey on the rocks sloshing in the tumbler. “Excuse me?”

  “You. What the hell are you doing?”

  A totally unremarkable brunette approached him, pushing up her tortoise shell glasses as she came. Her hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail. Her gaze was fierce, scorching over him like a reprimand. His skin prickled.

  “Just taking down some of the abhorrent decorations littering my family home.” He gestured down the hall, where a Christmas tree twinkled in the middle. “This nonsense is over.”

  “Abhorrent?” The woman’s voice was pinched, her nostrils flaring. “What is wrong with you? I spent days getting this perfect.”

  Suddenly it clicked—this was the decorator, one of the many Americans his father had flown in to handle the various facets of the holiday season. He’d seen this one flitting around, decorating, measuring things with pushpins between her teeth. He narrowed his eyes.

  “You’re the decorator.”

  “Yes. And you’re an asshole.”

  Yonas reeled back, her comment as inflammatory as it was exciting. Now this was some holiday drama to get worked up about. Being insulted inside his own home could only lead to a memorable Christmas.

  “You’re wrong. I’m the nicest one of the three.”

  “Ah.” She softened slightly but didn’t back down. “That’s right. The youngest Yared brother.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “Well, you don’t have to love my decorations. But you should let me take them down. You’ll ruin everything if you just waltz around here tugging on things left and right.”

  “No.” Yonas sauntered toward his next target: a very annoying sprig of holly. “I’m so sick of looking at this, I can’t wait another minute.”

  She gasped as he reached for the sprig. He looked at her over his shoulder while he gave it a warning tug.

  “Stop that right now,” she hissed.

  “I should tell you the same thing.” He scoffed, sauntering onward. “Why did you have to turn the palace into this garish display?”

  “Um, excuse me.” The acid bite was back in her voice, and he kind of liked it. “Your father hired me for this garish display, and he’s quite pleased with it. So while I appreciate that you’re part of the royal family, unfortunately you don’t hold any sway against your father’s opinion.”

  His nostrils flared, and he spun on his heel. He looked her up and down, making sure she knew he was assessing her. She was cuter than he first thought, studious-looking and tiny. Like she would be cast for the role of a fairy in one of the local Maatkaran theater productions.

  Normally, by this point in the holidays, he had at least two very exciting and jealousy-inspiring vacations lined up. The perfect getaways to temper the excessive family time.

  But this year, he had none. All his plans were falling through
. And the one sure thing he had lined up—finally meeting his online romantic interest in the flesh—was only a breath away from dissolving as well.

  He didn’t need this woman on top of all the rest.

  “I don’t care what my father has brought you here to do.” He stormed past her, heading for a rather garish sparkling strand of light. “This is my house too. I can take things down if I want.”

  “Don’t you take that down,” she warned, rushing after him.

  He paused, gripping the strand between thumb and forefinger. “Oh yeah?” He looked back at her, the golden hue of the twinkle lights illuminating her with a soft, heavenly glow. Teasing her was fun. Maybe a little too fun. The way she looked when she got angry was as hot as it was enticing. Yes, he definitely wanted to push more of her buttons.

  “Then what will you give me to stop?” he asked, smirking.

  She huffed, crossing her arms. “Excuse me?”

  “Let’s make a deal.” He toyed with the strand, making sure she saw the tension in the cord as he played with it. “I won’t pull this down as long as you make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

  She snorted, cocking her head. “Oh. Like one of the richest sheikhs in the world needs something from me.”

  Her retort rippled through him, egging him on. “Maybe I do. Go on. I know you can think of it.”

  “Hmmm.” She made a big display of thinking, tapping her index finger against her chin. “I know! How about I personally put all of these decorations in your bedroom? Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to wrap your pillow in holly.”

  He stifled a laugh. She was good. “You do that, and I’ll see to it that you’re fired.”

  Her eyes widened. “Was that a threat?”

  “Make me an offer, decorator.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not my name.”

  A low hum escaped his lips. “But it’s what you do. Now what’s it gonna be?”

  2

  Maia narrowed her eyes. This guy was eager to get under her skin, that much was certain. But she couldn’t figure out his game.

  Yonas Yared. The youngest Yared brother, the touted playboy, the one she’d seen plenty of times buried in his smart phone, too engrossed to notice her or even look up.

  Sure, she thought he was hot. That was a given. All three of the brothers were attractive, but Yonas had caught her eye from day one. He looked athletic, like he might run or bike or punch bags for fun. She’d fantasized on more than one occasion about what his activity of choice might be. It was hard not to, when he was a dark-skinned Adonis skulking through the halls of this elegant palace.

  But he was distracted and listless and too focused on fun. Or so said his father, Sheikh Yared. It seemed the whole family had opinions about Yonas, which no one had hesitated to share when she started the job here in Maatkare. Sheikh Yared had even gone as far to ask if Maia could keep an eye on him. Like that was a natural extension of her job description. On top of being a single mother in a foreign country.

  Maia had respectfully diverted the conversation to her true task—making sure the palace was royally decorated for each and every big event on the docket, from the end of November through the middle of January—but now that Yonas was in front of her, taunting her with her very own livelihood, she began to understand.

  Maybe Yonas did need help. Maybe she could be the one to give it, too.

  The man was magnetic, with cinnamon skin and eyes so dark they were nearly black. His lips quirked up, begging a response from her.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?” She crossed her arms, cocking a hip. Pure mischief shivered across his face.

  “Fine.” His eyes narrowed. “I want a kiss.”

  A laugh burst out of her. “Absolutely ridiculous. We’re not ten, Yonas. If you want to kiss me, there are other ways aside from ruining my hard work. You could even get me drunk, for god’s sake. But bargaining?”

  “So the decorator doesn’t like to have fun.”

  His words resonated like a challenge, touching a nerve he couldn’t have known about. He’d probably never even noticed her before; there was no way he could know how serious and focused her existence was. It was work, son, work, son. She hadn’t had a vacation in years. And probably wouldn’t for more to come.

  “I have fun,” she shot back, but the conviction was missing from her voice. This guy had taken a lucky shot in the dark—or maybe he could smell the seriousness on her.

  “Then prove it.”

  She tapped her foot, rolling through all the scenarios in her head. She didn’t want him to rip the decorations down…but if he did, it wouldn’t be her fault. She could let him do it and then gladly rat him out to his father.

  But part of her was screaming inside. Just do it. Kiss him. Because when else might she get a chance? With someone like him, with looks like his?

  This might very well be the highlight of her entire trip to Maatkare.

  “Fine,” she said, straightening. “But you should know, this is incredibly asinine.”

  “Don’t care,” Yonas murmured, and then he leaned forward.

  She saw his mouth coming for her, that sultry pucker that she’d noticed across the grand hallways of the palace too many times to count. And now it was headed for her lips. She drew a sharp breath and braced herself. The heat of his mouth connected with hers, his lips impossibly soft. There was an authority in the kiss that she hadn’t expected, a firmness that sent tingles down her spine. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she gripped his bicep without even meaning to.

  Yonas pulled back slightly, and the loss of his heat made her panic. She jerked him toward her, bringing their lips smashing together. He smiled through another kiss while her senses burned.

  She shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. She shouldn’t be enjoying it at all.

  Yonas made a small grunt that made her knees wobble. Game over. She titled her head back, welcoming the kiss as it deepened. His tongue pressed against her lips, and she opened her mouth, welcoming him in. As he kissed her, she saw herself from above: stunned and rooted, kissed into submitting to her base desires.

  At this rate, he could tell her to take her clothes off and bend over, consequences be damned.

  Heat zipped under her skin, both a reaction and a warning. Yonas wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her solidly against him. The heat of his body seeped into her, making the last thread of her common sense fizzle and pop. Something pressed between her legs; dear lord, it was his bulge. His erection. That hard, probably-lovely, gorgeous—

  Rrrrrip.

  She gasped, jerking away to find the source of the noise. Yonas had tugged the strand of lights from the wall, causing an enormous section of plaster to dislodge from the wall. Dust floated down through the golden hue of the lights. Yonas’s mouth rounded.

  “What did you do that for?” She shoved his shoulder—hard. He stumbled backwards, his lips slightly swollen from their kiss. “Now look what you did!”

  “Uh,” he began.

  “This is probably just a joke to you, huh?” She stormed over to where she’d left her pile of things: her phone, the masking tape, the small crate of decorations she’d begun removing in advance of tomorrow’s full take-down. “Now I have to add ‘fixing up your mess’ to my list of things to do tomorrow.”

  “Listen,” he said, but the tone of his voice irritated her even more. She knew what came after those words. Listen, it’s not that big of a deal. Listen, you’re overreacting. Listen, lighten up. Like every man who’d ever spoken in that tone before.

  She was so sick of men. She hated that he’d managed to lower her defenses long enough to sneak a kiss in.

  “Nope.” She snatched up her things, embarrassment scorching through her alongside the memory of that kiss.

  It had been hot—hotter than hot. But she needed to forget all about it, those lips, whatever inkling of attraction she might have harbored for the past week and a half. She stomped down the hallway, leaving Yonas g
ape-mouthed in the foyer.

  Kissing this man had been a mistake—and the last thing she needed in Maatkare was a royal mess.

  3

  Yonas rolled over with a groan, groping blindly for his cellphone on the night stand. His father was calling—made evident by the funeral-dirge ringtone moaning annoyingly in the early morning light. He cracked open an eye, inviting a warning throb of his head.

  Hangover. He pinched his eyes shut, his hand finally connecting with the phone.

  Yonas cleared his throat before swiping his phone on, trying to make himself sound awake. Productive. Alive. “Yes, Father?”

  “Yonas.” The familiar grumbly drawl of his name sent clarity zipping through him. Already Yonas could hear some disappointment on the horizon. He pushed to sitting, rubbing at an eye. “The American decorator has come to me with a complaint about you. Do you know anything about this?”

  His father loved to quiz him before starting the lambasting. It was part psychological tactic, part ruler mentality. Yonas sighed. He could still taste vodka on his tongue.

  “Yes. It was an accident. I wanted to help her tear down, really, but—”

  “I won’t have you meddling in my plans for this year’s holidays!” His father’s booming voice was a warning that made Yonas snap his mouth shut. “You know how different this year is, and if you interfere any further with this woman or any of the other new hires, then I will see to it that you don’t participate at all.”