by Leslie North
She also was paranoid now about backups of the files—and Zafar constructed a detailed model of the complex that was utterly beautiful. And which ended up adjusting the design slightly—she began to see why he liked to work with a three-dimensional, to-scale structure.
And almost every night, Zafar found his way to her room.
She’d figured their one night had been just that—one night. But Zafar insisted they must celebrate their first victory. He’d arrived at her room with a bottle of sparkling water and a tray of pastries made with honey. He’d then proceeded to eat those delicacies off her body. The next night, he’d taken her with him to the kayak building. He’d turned on the water and they’d stripped down and swam down the channels of water, laughing, splashing and tumbling into each other’s arms. She’d been sore the next day, so Zafar that night had offered to give her a back rub, but it hadn’t stopped with him rubbing her muscles. He’d turned it into a sensual treat that had left her shivering—he’d stroked every inch of her body, had sucked on her toes, and had left her quivering as he ran his nails lightly over her skin. She was becoming addicted to those warm nights with nothing but Zafar’s muscular body covering her.
But she didn’t dare talk to him about what their making love might mean to him.
Making love. That thought stopped her for a moment. This wasn’t just sex. No, it was far more complicated. The truth was that she’d fallen in love with Zafar, a man so far out of her league that she was dizzy even thinking of him.
She was also falling deeper every day—and she didn’t care. She was tired of playing it safe, of always wanting to know where a relationship might be headed. Whatever time she had with Zafar, she was going to make the most of it. And if her heart broke when she had to leave…well, she’d deal with that then.
It was late afternoon when she stared at her tablet and realized she’d just put the last detail in place. The drawings were done—foundations, side elevations, roofs, ceilings, supports, everything was in place. The blueprints were ready for permits to be pulled, construction estimates locked, and building could start. She blinked and looked up.
Zafar was meeting with Adyan and the contractor today—she knew that. And she was finished. She stared at her tablet. Her time in Scaran was coming to a close. There was nothing left to do here that couldn’t be handled via the Internet or with a phone call. She let out a breath. A hollow ache lifted in her chest. She’d have to make a trip back sometime to see the complex when it was done—but could she? The ache inside expanded when she thought about coming back and discovering that Zafar had married some nice, traditional Scaran girl.
She realized she was gripping her tablet stylus a little too tight. Relaxing her fingers, she followed her usual procedure to back up and email the files—no way was she losing the last bits of work. But…would it be so bad to have to stay a few more days? She sighed. It would. Zafar and his family had a deadline to meet—but now it would be up to them to realize the design.
After saving her files, she headed upstairs. She’d need to book a flight home. She’d been emailing brief updates to her parents, and she knew they wanted to see the final blueprints. But she’d done the job—she had satisfied the client and had more than proved herself. So why didn’t she feel happier?
Staring at her suitcase, she realized she was in no mood to pack. She changed into a loose robe—she’d acquired several in the old quarter and had gotten accustomed to their cool ease and headed downstairs.
She found Sheikh Ahmadi in the courtyard, sipping a cup of tea. He stood as she came out, but she waved him back and accepted the offer of mint tea.
“Well, it’s done. The blueprints are final, and ready for approval,” she said.
“You sound…less than enthusiastic.”
She nodded and shrugged. “It’s…I think I’ve fallen a little in love with your country?”
“Just with Scaran?” he asked.
She glanced at him. He sounded a little too knowing, but she was certain Zafar had been discreet with his visits to her room. She didn’t want Zafar to feel obligated to her—a fling was a fling after all. So she smiled and sipped her tea.
“You must know, Miss Reynolds, I have been speaking to your firm to tell them I am most pleased with your work. I plan to add a bonus to the final payment.”
Her smile faded, but she gave a small nod. “Thank you. That’s more than kind.”
He waved a hand. “It is good business to pay for good work. However, it seems to me you have put more than your heart into this…you have tied your soul to my family.”
That seemed rather…well, florid, she decided. She glanced at the garden. The lush blooms seemed to perfume the evening air. “I’m not sure I’ll ever design anything as spectacular as this.”
Sheikh Ahmadi gave a low laugh. “Perhaps you worry you need my son as much as he needs you.” He lifted his cup of tea to her. “The blend of my world and yours is not an easy one to maintain—but I suspect you are more than up to that challenge.”
What was he hinting at, Belle wondered. Frowning now, she began to ask, but Zafar came out to the courtyard. He looked windblown—and utterly delicious. The white of his shirt contrasted with his dark skin. She smiled up at him, and he came over to her, one hand reaching for her, but then he saw his father and he changed the gesture into a sweeping one to pull up a chair.
Sheikh Ahmadi stood, looked from Belle to Zafar and asked, “All is well with Adyan?”
Zafar relaxed back in his chair. “It is. The construction company breaks ground next week. Adyan has everything set to get us permits as fast as possible, and we need only to finalize the blueprints.”
“They’re done,” Belle said. Her throat tightened on the words and they came out choked. She gave a small cough and said, “I finished them today.”
Zafar was staring at her, his tawny eyes dark in the gathering dusk. He looked at his father suddenly. “I believe I have one last matter to clear up with Belle. If you’ll excuse us?”
“I thought you would never get to it.” Sheikh Ahmadi gave Belle a small bow, smiled at his son, and left them.
Belle turned to Zafar. “We don’t have anything else to clear up. It’s not Daheer? He’s not—”
“He has nothing to do with this.” Standing, Zafar took the tea cup from her hand and put it down on a side table. Reaching down, he grabbed her hand. “And this is where you are very wrong—we have much to clear up.”
He pulled her to her feet, but Belle balked. “What are you talking about?”
Stepping closer, he ran a hand down her arm. “Us, Belle. I’m not ready for you to leave Scaran.”
She bit her lower lip. She wanted to tell him she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to leave, but she couldn’t put that kind of pressure on him. “What…what are you proposing?”
Grinning, Zafar pulled her with him. “I am doing things the traditional way.” Dragging her with him, he pulled her thought the palace, to the front doors and out onto the drive. A sports car—something silver and sounding like a large cat purring—stood in the driveway, its engine idling. “Will you be so kind as to get into the car on your own, or do I need to put you in?”
Belle tugged her hand free. “You’re kidnapping me?”
He swept a hand to the car. “It is not quite an Arabian steed, but some tradition needs a little adjustment. Now, last chance. Are you getting in on your own?” He stepped closer.
Belle’s heartbeat kicked up, but she met his stare. “Uh, am I supposed to play the distressed maiden here?”
Zafar leaned in closer. His eyes danced with a wicked light. “A very large, very soft bed and absolutely no interruptions for the next few hours await you.”
Belle licked her lips again. “I like your ideas.” Before she could move, he swept her up and slipped into the sports car. “Fasten your seatbelt—I plan for it to be a very exciting ride.”
“Whatever you say, oh my sheikh.”
Chapter 14
Once out of the city, Zafar open up the BMW and let it eat up the road. The old palace was a small gem, with only a skeleton staff in residence, and miles of desert for protection. He pulled up in front of the moonlit structure and turned to see Belle’s eyes wide as she stared up at the building. It was a gem—perfect in every curve, every line. His great-great-great grandfather had built the palace for his favorite wife, and the white marble gleamed in the moonlight like a pearl.
“This...this is amazing,” she said and climbed from the BMW.
He cut the engine and climbed out, shutting the door behind him. “This was built around an oasis. Water flows year round. This has been in my family for generations—it is the ruler’s private residence.”
She glanced at him. “You mean if Daheer overthrows your father, this would become his? No wonder the guy is so pushy.”
Zafar led her inside the main doors. In the central courtyard, a pool of water reflected the sky and stars. “That is not going to happen. But tonight, there is just you and I.”
Belle smiled up at him. “And all that water. Can you swim in it?”
“I did not pack a swimsuit. Are you suggesting swimming naked?”
Belle’s smile curved and her eyes glinted. She stepped back and slipped off the loose robe she wore. “I’m not suggesting anything.” With a giggle, she ran for the pool and slipped into the water.
Grinning, Zafar thought he could see her like this forever and never tire of watching her. She rose up in the pool, giving him a view of her pert, round breasts painted white in the moonlight. “Aren’t you coming in?”
Zafar pulled off his shirt and dropped his trousers. He kicked off his sandals and waded into the water. “You’re putting ideas into my head.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, “One of my favorite things to do.”
He tightened his arms around her waist. Her breasts flattened against his chest—her skin was hot and silken. “I have a favorite as well.” Pulling her to him, he kissed her. She gave in to him, almost melting in his arms.
“You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered against his lips. She ran a hand down his side to his hip and then took his shaft in her grip. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, her voice breathy.
Zafar nipped at her neck and smiled. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slowly rocked his hips, pushing into her. “We have all the time we want right now.”
She shook her head. “There is never enough time.” With a little wiggle of her hips, she coaxed him into her. He gave a sigh as he slipped into her warmth. He turned her so her back was against the side of the pond. He set up a steady rhythm, thrusting in slowly, pulling out even more slowly. He knew by now what she liked—how she liked it easy at first and then harder and faster. But tonight, her skin felt like fire and it burned into him. He wanted more from her—he wanted to make her his. He wanted her to surrender to him. “I don’t think I can wait much longer,” he said.
She dug her nails into his back and whispered, “Then don’t.”
He thrust into her, deep and hard. She gasped. The pressure built in him as he pulled out and pushed in again—harder this time, deeper, claiming her. She threw back her head and gave a cry. Moonlight spilled over her face, turned her breasts milky. He bit her neck and then the world turned white as he spilled into her.
For a few precious moments, she was part of him and he was a part of her. He clung to the connection—he never wanted it to end. Looking at her, seeing her eyes drift closed and her mouth curve, he knew what he wanted.
“Belle, stay with me.”
She smiled and snuggled close. “And where else would I go in the middle of the night in the desert?”
He lifted her up and carried her out of the pond and into the bedroom. She thought he meant to keep her only this one night. But now it was up to him to make sure she never wanted to leave—for this night and all the nights after.
But would she stay? Or would she prove she was that very American girl who could love a man and then turn around and leave him? He did not know—and that shook him to the core.
***
He woke her with kisses, trailing them down her spine. “I have something to show you—but first you must shower and dress.”
Stretching, she rolled over. “Dress? I thought we had hours and hours.”
“We do—but you must see something first.” He climbed from the bed. He’d made certain to arrange clothes for her—khaki pants and a shirt and sturdy boots. She gave him a sideways look when she stepped from the shower and saw that, but she dressed quickly. He’d had coffee brought to their room, and she downed hers like it was a harsh drink.
As he led her back to the BMW, she asked, “Where are we going?”
He looked at her. “It’s a surprise.”
She got into the car and folded her arms. “I hate surprises.”
“You’ll like this one,” he promised.
Fastening her seatbelt, she leaned back in her seat. She also slipped on sunglasses and turned on the radio. She found music she liked and sat there, humming along even though she couldn’t possibly know the Arabic words of the song.
A half hour later, she sat up and shot him a look, but she didn’t say anything.
He stopped on the cliff that overlooked the construction site. Climbing from the car, he held out a hand to her, but she jumped from the car and walked to the edge of the cliff. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back a step. “That is your success—and mine. But it will mean nothing if I do not have you.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I want you with me—not for a night, or a few nights, but forever. I know you have another life—one that is not here. But I want to make a new life—one for both of us both in your world and in mine.”
Belle started to shake her head. “Zafar—”
He put a finger to her lips. He didn’t want to hear the word ‘no’ from her. He had once thought only his father’s approval mattered—now he realized this woman held his life in her hands. If she said no now, he would follow after her—he would court her with flowers and gifts. He would do what he must—he would even be very non-traditional. But he must have her with him for she was the breath of life—she was the joy of his heart. She had shown him the path he must walk in this life, not to hang needlessly to tradition, but to blend the old and the new. That was what they were together.
“Please,” he said. “Tell me you will at least think of it. I want to argue with you. I want to build with you—not just structures, but a family. I want to grow old with you. I should let you go back to your home—I should court you over months. But…well, in some things I am traditional. In Scaran, when a man falls in love, he asks his woman to marry. I am asking you, habbitti. Please tell me there is hope for me.”
She cupped a hand to his face. “More than hope. Oh, this is crazy, but I want to stay! I want to watch our building go up, and my parents are going to think I’m crazy, but I don’t care. I don’t want to leave ever.”
Hands shaking, Zafar reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold and sapphire ring. “This was my grandmother’s. She would have liked you.” He pushed it onto her finger. It almost stuck at her knuckle, but then slipped on. Pulling her back in his arms, he kissed her, and then turned so they could stare down at the construction site, standing with his arm around her waist.
After a moment, Belle asked, “Uh, Zafar—why are we here?’
“Patience, my love.” He kissed her forehead.
“I’m an American—we’re not known for our—” She bit off the words as she saw what he did—a column of dust heading to the construction site. “Is that…?”
“The start,” he said. “It is just the beginning.”
THE END of The Sheikh’s Untraditional Lover
By Leslie North
Book One of the Tadros Twins Mini Series.
Start reading book two, The Sheikh’s Stubborn Partner, on the next page!
The Sheik
h’s Stubborn Partner
By Leslie North
The Tadros Twins Mini-Series
Book Two
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Chapter 1
Adyan Tadros sighed and glanced at his watch once more. The man was late. He was working hard not to become impatient, but this project had to start and it had to start now. Provided this meeting with Abbey Construction went okay, they should be able to begin work immediately. Even starting tomorrow wasn’t soon enough.
He’d already received a text message from his twin brother, Zafar, that the construction plans had been finalized. Zafar and an American architect had been working madly on the blueprints. Now it was Adyan’s job to get this complex built. This was his chance to prove that he was his own man—and to step out from the shadow of his only slightly older twin.
But where was Thomas Abbey?
He glanced around the lobby bar once again, and then at his watch. It was too early in the day for the bar to have many patrons—and Adyan sat with a bottle of sparkling water in front of him. Abbey was now ten minutes late, and counting. This did not bode well for a company that would need to complete a job in less than six months.
A woman stepped into the bar and paused, sweeping the room with a quick stare. Long auburn hair flashed with a mixture of deep reds that seemed to shimmer in the lighting. She wasn’t tall, but she brought with her a distinct presence. She also had on a conservative, long-sleeved dress in a pale pink that made her skin glow.
For a moment he spared a thought to wonder what color her eyes were. Green to go with her hair and full of mischief—or brown and earthy and full of passion? Those eyes turned his way and latched onto him. Ah, dark brown.
She strode over to his table and Adyan raised an eyebrow. He was not here for pleasure, but she stopped at his table and addressed him, a distinct drawl to her voice. “Sorry to be late. Seems your taxis don’t run as regular as the rest of the world. I’m Eden Abbey.”