The Sheikh's Tempting Assistant

by Leslie North

  "And no being maudlin," Nasim said.

  Tarek straightened into a mock-formal pose. "I am a serious man, Nasim."

  Nasim snorted, and Arif said, "Tell that to the first year whose shampoo you replaced with mayonnaise."

  They laughed and turned toward the entrance, where chatter and laughter spilled out. The evening was descending, and streetlights flickered on up and down the sidewalk. The peculiar smell of Oxford—something not quite like sour milk—hung in the air. Tarek shivered in a cool gust of wind. He'd never become accustomed to the cold of England. He'd just reached the corner of the building when an old woman stepped from the shadows of an alley and grasped Tarek's wrist.

  The woman looked older even than Tarek's grandmother. In the dim light, he couldn't see much but bright blue eyes and wisps of gray hair escaping from the black scarves swathed around her head and shoulders. A baggy dress draped her figure, and she smelled faintly of beer.

  "I'll tell your fortune. Such handsome men, such tangled paths…"

  "Not tonight, mother." Shaking her off, Tarek reached for his wallet. "No futures. We want only this moment."

  But Nasim stepped between Tarek and the old woman. "It's the perfect night—we have only the future ahead of us. Let's hear her out."

  Arif frowned and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. "Do you really want to know? There's more to it than you realize."

  Tarek pulled two fifty-pound notes from his wallet and pushed them into the woman's gnarled fist. "Find yourself some food and a place to sleep, mother. I'm not thinking about the future until I must."

  She grasped his arm and pulled at him until he had to bend closer. She spoke clearly, but so softly only he could hear. "An angel will fall from the sky and land at your feet, sheikh. She will save your country, but only if you fall at her feet in turn. Trust your instincts, my son."

  Tarek stared at her, but she only gave a smile and faded into the gathering night.

  Nasim broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "I'm not sure what you just bought."

  Tarek hunched a shoulder. How had she known he was a sheikh? Was it a guess because he looked Middle Eastern? What had she meant about saving his country? From what? He shrugged off her words. If his country was on the line, he’d trust his intellect, not his instincts.

  Grab your copy of The Sheikh's Captive American from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com