A Sheikh for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 1)

“Why?” She frowned, her stomach sinking to her toes. “Who is this person we’re looking for anyway?”

“Murphy’s sister, Aileen.”

“Whoa.” She s

et her cup down, her fingers shaking. “Wait a minute. You mean I’ll be working with you and Murphy and…”

“Heath. Yes.” Daveed grinned. “Best drink up. You’re going to need all your energy for what lies ahead.”

4

“Ugh. Pretty sure my butt is permanently numb from sitting so long,” Melody said, stretching. “What time is it?”

“A bit after ten,” Daveed said, glancing at his watch. They’d been back at the condo, working on deciphering that note from Aileen for the last four hours. Heath had also emailed over a few more of the cryptic messages they’d discovered lodged inside Murphy’s sister’s books. He had to admit he was impressed with Melody, and not just because of those killer legs she had tucked beneath her again. She’d managed to find a few more words in those mangled missives—things that seemed to go along with the original “corruption”—like illegal, fraud, deception, and software. There were also the words one-hundred twenty-four and west fifty-second.

“It’s an address, I think,” Melody said. Unfortunately, though, none of it made much sense without more information on what Aileen had been doing just before her disappearance.

Sighing, Daveed tossed down his pen and rubbed his eyes, yawning. Their meal at the café had been good, but he was hungry again. After a good stretch, he stood and walked over to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the fridge. He’d planned to go shopping the day Melody had shown up and never made it. Closing the fridge, his gaze caught on a stack of menus stuck to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet.

“You hungry?” he asked Melody over his shoulder. “It’s not too late to order takeout.”

She laughed. “I will never turn down food. What do you want to get?”

“Hmm.” He grabbed the menus and went over them as he bent over the breakfast bar. “Looks like there’s pizza, subs, Chinese, Indian, and Middle Eastern.”

“Oh, let’s do the Middle Eastern,” she said, joining him. “I’ve never had it before. What’s good?”

“Well.” He skimmed the assortment of falafel, shawarma, and hummus then pointed out what he thought would make good starter choices for a newbie. “Let’s do a rotisserie lamb shawarma platter with tahini, pita bread and salad. An order of falafel balls and hummus on the side, and a couple of baklava for dessert. That way we can share and you can try a little bit of everything. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” She took a seat on one of the stools while he called in their order. Man, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had food from his homeland. The restaurant they were ordering from wasn’t far from the condo and was supposed to be one of the best Middle Eastern restaurants in the city, with a high rating from Zagats. But Daveed had been so busy helping Heath and Murph lately that he just hadn’t gotten around to getting down there yet. After he hung up the phone, he put the menus back. “They said half an hour.”

“Cool.” Melody looked around. “So, how long have you been staying here?”

“Since I got back to the States two months ago. I don’t really have a place in New York to crash and Heath offered the condo, so here I am.”

“Hmm. Doesn’t look like you’ve added any personal touches of your own around here.”

“Why would I?” He gave her a confused look. “I’m not planning on staying here long term.”

Melody met his eyes at last, her pretty blue gaze making him feel far more vulnerable than he liked. “Don’t you get lonely? Being so far away from your homeland? Don’t you ever long for a piece of it, even if it’s just tiny or temporary?”

Suddenly, her choice of dinner menu made a lot more sense. “Is that why you wanted Middle Eastern food? Because you thought it would make me feel better?”

Her little shrug caused a fresh wave of warmth inside him. The fact she’d cared at all about his feelings touched him. Most people never gave him two thoughts, or if they did, he kept them firmly at bay using his barriers of politeness and reserve. But somehow, this kooky, kind, surprisingly thoughtful woman had managed to breech all his defenses and see inside to the real him.

“Maybe. But I really did want to try the food though too,” she said at last, flashing him a guilty smile. “I’ve heard that moussaka and tahdig are really delicious.”

Daveed chuckled. “Moussaka is Greek and tahdig is Persian crunchy fried rice, not at all related to my country’s food. But yes, they are both quite tasty.”

Pink color suffused her cheeks and he had the insane urge to reach out and stroke her velvety-looking skin, to the feel the heat of her, to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. He even went so far as to reach across the bar toward her before he caught himself and pulled his hand back. Shocked, he turned back toward the kitchen and began to pull out plates and silverware for them.

By the time the food arrived, he’d almost gotten his thudding heart rate back under control. Almost. They set their dinner out on the breakfast bar, then sat side by side to fill their plates.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to tell me what everything is because I have no idea. It all smells amazing though.”

“Yes, it does.” He pointed to the shawarma first. “Okay, so this is basically like a Greek gyro, but with Middle Eastern spices. The meat is thin-sliced rotisserie roasted lamb and it’s served with veggies and tahini sauce wrapped in warm pita bread.”

“Sounds yummy.” She grabbed half of the sandwich and put it on her plate. “What’s next?”