The Sheik's Desires Boxset

by Leslie North

  She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to, but she was able to at least press a hand to his heart, which was thudding under her touch.

  His fingers stroked down her spine. “I have not asked, but I assume you do have birth control.”

  Pushing up slightly, she stared at him and touched a hand to his cheek. “Would it be so bad if I didn’t? No—strike that. Stupid thing to say. And of course I’ve got myself covered. I figure a baby needs to be wanted—really wanted—to come into this world.”

  He nodded. But she could swear his mouth pulled down slightly. Sitting up, she looked for her robe and told him, “Now, how about that dinner? And then we can talk about what I’m going to wear to your brother’s wedding—and do I need something that will look good with running shoes underneath?”

  Chapter 11

  If she’d had time, Eden would have worried more over Adyan’s plans to catch Malik. But if she wasn’t at the construction site, she was being pulled in by Belle to help her get through the ceremony—and Belle was working herself into a wreck. She worried about every detail—including getting the wording right. On the day of the wedding, Eden was about ready to give Belle something to calm her, but once Belle saw Zafar, that seemed to settle everything down in her.

  Eden had to admit, Zafar in traditional robes, headscarf, and all the rest, with a scimitar hanging at his side, looked like every girl’s dream of a sheikh. It didn’t hurt that the guy was looking at Belle as if she was ice cream on a hot day—and it was dang hot today. Eden was just thankful she got to hang in the background, wearing nothing more than a silk scarf on her head to be traditional. In honor of the occasion, she’d also bought an ankle-length dress in butter yellow with long sheer sleeves and embroidered with gold. She was glad she had made the effort. Everyone looked like they’d pulled out their best clothing.

  Adyan looked more than handsome in traditional dress—but he also looked like the not-so-nice version of a sheikh, with his mouth pulled into a scowl. Heading over to him while she could, Eden asked, “Worried?”

  He tugged at his belt and pushed back the headscarf he had on. “No. I am calculating how long it will be until I can take off these clothes. Zafar is the one who likes tradition, I feel like I’m wearing fancy dress.”

  She grinned at him, wished she could sneak a kiss, but Sheikh Ahmadi arrived, and everything kicked into high gear.

  The private part of the wedding seemed beautiful to Eden, and she fought back a few sniffles. Belle looked dazzling in a long white robe richly embroidered in blue. The dress somehow mixed traditional garb with a Western influence, and whatever she’d spent on it, Eden was sure it had been worth it. The wedding party drove to what Adyan had called the old palace—Eden was fascinated by the stonework, incredible tiling, and the oasis at the center. Belle managed to get her Arabic right, and Zafar looked like he was ready to burst with pride—and carry Belle off with him. But there was still the parade back into the city, the public wedding to get through, and it was nearly sunset with fireworks going off when the real parties began.

  Zafar and Belle had to make an appearance at almost every party being given for them, but Eden snuck away and tracked down Adyan at the foyer of the main hotel. He was on the phone. He’d pulled off his headdress, and was tugging off his robes, too. She lifted her eyebrows—did he plan on going nude through the lobby? But it turned out he had jeans and a black T-shirt on under his robes. Now she was wishing she had something to change into.

  He hung up and sat down in one of the leather chairs in the lobby’s waiting area. She stared at him. “Didn’t it work?”

  He lifted a hand. “We have him. But it seems he is not willing to say anything. Daheer must be paying him a great deal.”

  “Why not offer him more?” she asked.

  He stood. “Do you think we have not already tried that? It seems that Malik is a cousin by marriage to Daheer—it is his family honor as well as his own that is at stake.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “Do you think Daheer’s all that confident in him?”

  Adyan took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I know that look in your eyes. You have something in mind.”

  She grabbed his hand. “Hon, Abbey Construction has to deal with the New York Teamsters—this Daheer fellow, it’s about time we put him in his place. Now, I need a flash drive and a photo of Malik signing some paperwork. Get him to sign anything—a parking ticket or an autograph, I don’t care, but have him sign it.”

  Adyan smiled. “I think I have an idea of what you have in mind—but you will not face Daheer alone.”

  “What—you think I’m nuts? You’re coming with me—but put on that garb and that scowl again. You may not like it, but you’re a heck of a lot more intimidating dressed up and looking ready to kill.”

  He made the phone calls while he changed back into his robes. Eden freshened up her lipstick and put a hand on her stomach. She wasn’t kidding about Abbey Construction having had to deal with the Teamsters. However, it had been her father doing the strong-arm work—she had only been there to watch. This was going to be a little different. But if it worked—it’d be worth the bombers flying around her stomach right now.

  Adyan had a driver in a black limo meet them out front. The driver brought with him an envelope that he handed to Eden—it held a photo of Malik signing a paper that she’d asked for and the flash drive. In the photo, guards hovered in the background—she was going to guess palace guards, given the fancy uniforms some of them wore. She put the photo back into the envelope, put the flash drive into her purse and glanced at Adyan. “Well—rock and roll, hon.”

  He gave a smile and asked the driver to head to the Daheer palace. The driver directed a startled look at them in the rearview mirror and then started the limo up. Adyan snuck a hand over and covered hers. “I will allow nothing bad to happen to you.”

  She fixed a bright smile in place. “Counting on that, hon.”

  The Daheers had to be doing pretty good, Eden decided. She had to lean forward to take in all of the palace—plenty of stone and turrets, even more guards. The driver pulled up to tall, iron gates. Guards looked them over, but when Adyan rolled down his window and gave them a look, the gates were opened and the guards waved them through.

  “What do you need from me?” Adyan asked.

  Eden pulled her stare from the lush garden and the imposing house—the palace looked like one of New York’s best hotels on steroids—incredible plasterwork and good lines for the structure. Someone had built well. “Know anyone in the press? Call them. Now. Tell them they need to head to the Daheer Palace pronto.”

  He glanced at her but did as she asked. She patted his arm. “Good. Now you get to be, like, the most arrogant jerk ever.” She grinned. “That shouldn’t be too hard a stretch for you.” He arched an eyebrow, and she patted his arm. “That’s just the look we want, hon.”

  The driver pulled up and came around to open the door for her, handing her out. She was glad she’d had to wear the dress now—it wasn’t armor but it would have to do. Adyan swept from the limo, glanced around as if he smelled something nasty and strode into the palace as if he owned the place. Servants hurried to meet him. He didn’t look at any of them, but said in Arabic, “Find Daheer. Have him meet me in his study.”

  Everyone stood where they were—nervous glances were swapped. Adyan looked at them and asked, “Are you all deaf?” He clapped his hand and strode down the hallway. Servants hurried after him and Eden trailed along—that kind of high-handed command had to be something you were born with. It was awesome to watch, and she was glad she wasn’t on the other side of it.

  Daheer’s study turned out to be a huge room. Bookcases lined one wall. A deep carpet in blue and gold with a medallion design covered the tile floor, and an ornate desk of what looked like mahogany stood in front of wide French doors overlooking a central courtyard complete with a pool and fountain. Oil paintings hung on two of the walls—one of them looked like
a Picasso to Eden. She would have bet real money it wasn’t a copy.

  They didn’t have long to wait. Footsteps echoed down the hall and an older man stepped into the room—that had to be Daheer.

  She turned, put her chin up, pulled in a breath and told herself she’d meet with tougher guys—but already she didn’t like those beady black eyes that seemed almost lost in his wide pudgy face. Short and stocky, his custom suit did a lot to disguise his extra weight. He wore his black hair cut very short, and immediately offered up a wide, insincere smile. “To what do I owe such an honor that a member of the esteemed Tadros family would grace my home, and on such a special day.”

  Eden stepped forward and slapped the envelope with the photo of Malik down on Daheer’s desk. “I’m Eden Abbey with Abbey Construction and you know damn well who I am and why we’re here. And we’re going to offer you a one-time deal, or your pal Malik’s going to be sending you to prison for what I would guess would be the rest of your life.” She crossed her arms. “Now do we deal—or do we walk out and let the police come and slap the handcuffs on you?”

  ***

  Adyan sat down on one of the silk-covered couches in Daheer’s study, leaned an arm over the back and prepared to enjoy himself. His job was to look arrogant—he could do that. But he also intended to take Daheer by the throat and shake the man like a rat if he offered so much as a hint of harm to Eden.

  Daheer looked from Eden to Adyan, his smile fading and uncertainty slipping into his eyes. “Malik? Who is this Malik?”

  Eden smiled tightly. “He’s the guy you’ve been paying to sabotage the Tadros complex—Ihsan min al Badiya. Gift of the Desert. Doesn’t that sound familiar to you?”

  Daheer put one hand into his coat pocket and waved the other. “I had heard you were doing well—opening early even.”

  “We are. But don’t you want to see what Malik’s been doing of late?”

  Daheer looked as if he would continue to stall—Adyan did not like that. It was time for him to be even more his father’s son. He sat up. “Daheer, you would be wise to look at the photo we brought you.” He made the words hard and edgy.

  Daheer’s mouth curved down but he moved to his desk and opened the envelope. His face paled ever so slightly. He threw the photo down. “What is this? A man being coerced? Is that what you show me?”

  Eden pulled the flash drive from her purse. “No. Malik decided he wanted to stay out of prison. He cut a deal.”

  Sheikh Daheer’s eyes narrowed. “Malik would never—” He cut off the words. His face reddened, but he caught a breath, paused then forced a smile. “Are all American women as bold as you?”

  “No, I’m on the mild side.” She waved the flash drive in the air. “But Malik—oh, you should hear some of the things he’s been saying.”

  Daheer moved behind his desk and sat down. “If he had, you would not be here. The police would be here instead. I think this is some silly game. Now if you will excuse—”

  “We excuse nothing.” Adyan stood. He moved to stand over Daheer and stared down at him. “We bring you an offer, and you would be wise to take it.” He waved for Eden to keep talking. He had no idea what she was playing at, but she had Daheer nervous and that was worth watching.

  Eden tucked the flash drive into her purse. “Here’s the deal. I know you’ve got construction going on a new hotel. Well, you’re going to tell the press today that in honor of Zafar’s wedding, you are putting that project on hold and you’re throwing all of your labor crews into work on Ihsan min al Badiya.”

  Daheer’s mouth pulled down. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “You will say you have realized this complex will be good for the region,” Adyan said. “That you wish to the Daheer family to be involved in such a great structure.”

  Daheer gave a snort, and Eden leaned her palms on his desk. “You’re also doing this to stay out of jail. Y’see, with you throwing in with this, it means the Tadros family has a reason to want you out of jail so your workers keep working. It also means you will now want the complex to open a little early so that you get to share in the glory. Nothing like having skin in the game to make everyone want the same thing, now is there, hon?”

  She straightened. “Of course, we’re in a win-win here. You don’t want to throw in with us, fine. We’ll be happy to let Malik throw you to the wolves.”

  Daheer looked from Adyan to Eden and back again. “What is to stop the police from arresting me?”

  Adyan waved at the photo. “Take another look. That is the Palace Guard holding him. It would be easy enough for Malik to leave the country now—quietly, and with money in his pocket.”

  Rubbing his chin, Daheer said, “I need time to consider.”

  Eden glanced at Adyan. He shrugged and looked at Daheer. “You have ten minutes. The press will be here by then. We await you on the front steps. Have your guards admit the press and prepare your statement.”

  He turned and strode out, but he stopped at the door, waiting for Eden. She gave Daheer a blinding smile. “Trust me, hon. You’re going to want your name on this building. Takes a real man to know when to throw the cards in.” She headed out.

  In the hallway, Adyan leaned down to whisper to her, “I do not think he will agree.”

  She grinned. “Oh, he will. He may be a son-of-a-bitch, but he’s not stupid.”

  Five minutes later, Daheer stepped out of the house. The gates opened. The press drove in with vans and set up cameras. Daheer shot Adyan a sour look, and he ignored Eden completely, but he was all smiles as he promised everything Eden had asked for. The press seemed elated to have photographs of Daheer with Sheikh Ahmadi’s son. Adyan noticed Eden on the edge of the circle of faces—she was looking tired.

  He went to her at once, swept her up with an arm around her waist and took her to their waiting limo. “Don’t you think—?”

  “I think we both deserve a rest—this has been an exhausting day.” He nodded to Daheer. “Let him have his moment of glory now. He knows he has lost—we have won. And we must celebrate that.”

  Chapter 12

  Adyan took her back to the palace—and to his room. She didn’t ask why, she simply put her head on his shoulder and decided she could sleep for a month. But she’d never been in his room before, and she was curious. She walked once around it, touching small objects he had on display—statues, tapestries, paintings. He wasn’t quite as Western as he liked everyone to think—many touches here were traditional. She liked the mix of wall hangings, and the netting hung over his bed, which left it seeming secluded.

  As soon as he closed the door, he stripped off his robes and left them on the floor. He pulled off his T-shirt, leaving his chest bare. She forgot how tired she was. She wanted to touch him.

  He pulled her to him and slid down the zipper of her dress. Lifting his hands to her shoulders, he slid off the dress, taking her bra straps with it. He let it fall to her waist and undid the clasp of her bra, murmuring, “Beautiful.”

  Her skin heated. Her dress fell down to pool around her ankles and she was glad she’d worn lacy white underwear. Kneeling before her, he kissed her stomach all around her belly button. “You were brilliant today.”

  She ran a hand over his shoulder. “We’re a good team.”

  Standing, he lifted her and carried her to his bed. She stretched out across the silken coverlet. Slipping off his jeans, he lay down next to her and kissed her—lazily, slowly. She ran a hand over his arm—she loved his muscles, his smooth, taut skin.

  “Don’t stop,” she said.

  The air was warm. Sweat pooled between her breasts and slicked between her thighs. Adyan kissed his way down to her toes, and then back up. Settling next to her, he stroked his fingers into her. She gave a soft moan and put a hand on his shoulder. “No—this time I’m calling the shots.”

  He lay back and she sat up and swung a leg over him. “Why do I think I am getting into trouble here?” he asked.

  She grinned. “I’m just g
etting started.” Licking her lips, she settled her hips over him, letting his member stroke her. She lifted up and down again. “You feel so good.”

  He put his hands on her breasts and she leaned into them. The shift in angle had him sliding into her. She gave a gasp. He pushed up into her, and she put a hand on his chest. “Not so fast, hon. We’re taking this slow.”

  She rode him, rocking her hips, making him wait and herself, too. Sweat slicked her back and dripped down her thighs. Sweat gleamed on his skin. His breath came in short gasps, and she could feel herself trembling on the verge. He wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her down—she went, pleasure rushing into her, filling her. She gave a gasp and heard him groan with pleasure. His body shook and he arched—she lay down fully, clamping her legs around him, letting the world fade away.

  She didn’t know when she woke—it was early. Or maybe too late. Adyan had wrapped his arms around her. She shivered slightly. The night had cooled. She wondered if she should get up, head back to her own room. They’d never spent the entire night together. She should go. But it was so comfortable here.

  A buzzing pulled at her. She frowned, and realized it was her cell phone. Adyan muttered something in an unhappy voice. Eden rose and started to search for her purse—it had to be here somewhere. She found it just as Adyan switched on the light.

  “What?” she asked and headed back to the bed to drag a sheet over her. Adyan dragged the sheet right off her again, and she slapped at his hands. “What?” she said again.

  Her mother’s—well, step-mother’s—voice came over the line, sounding tired and worried. “Eden, sweetie, I’m so sorry—your father’s had another stroke.”

  Eden sat down suddenly, fear chilling her to the bone, her arms all over goosebumps. “What?” she whispered.

  “It’s not as bad as the last one, but the doctors are worried. They’re running tests. It’s—”