The Sheikh's Captive American (Zahkim Sheikhs 1)

Tarek had frowned when she mentioned flirting. "I have been trying to get this strike settled for weeks. Why will you have such sudden success?"

"My womanly wiles." She grinned. "Actually, guys hate looking like a fool in front of a woman. Introduce me. Tell them I'm worth listening to. I'll do the rest. What do you have to lose?"

He studied her. "Very well. You can be my alien invasion. Just don't promise anything I cannot deliver. Believe it or not, they are all my employees, since the government runs almost everything."

"Well, that's a problem right there," Tess said.

Tarek shot her a sideways look but headed back to the conference room. She walked a half-step behind. The men stood and bowed to Tarek and then glanced at her.

With a smile, Tarek waved to Tess. "Consider yourselves abducted by Tess Angel for the next few hours. You will pay her every respect you would give to me. Get something done." He glanced once around the room, then strode out.

Tess stared at the wary, angry, and sullen men. She sat, gave them each a smile and thickened her drawl. "Well, now, you know I'm Tess—recording artist and head of Angel Productions. I'd be happy to sign a few autographs if you've got daughters who are fans of mine." A couple of men swapped looks, and Tess knew she'd gotten a toehold. "Let's clear the air and start

off with you telling me the one thing you want most in the world. Besides world peace and maybe a pay raise…or for Tarek to not come in here and start glaring at all of us again."

Two hours later, Tess had discovered they all wanted the same basic thing—a country where their children had a future. Workers needed wages high enough to support a family, opportunities for their sons and daughters, and a voice in government. Ministers needed a strong economy, full coffers that could support new infrastructure, and a balance of modernity and traditional values. It all seemed basic enough. The trouble came in how to get all those things at one time.

Tess went with her instincts.

These guys were trying not to lose face. She got that. If one looked weak, he'd figure on being out of a job soon. That meant no one wanted to give up anything. She started off slow with them, telling them how things got done back home. Soon enough, she was the enemy—she was the American, and they were having to put things down on paper to show her how much better Zahkim was at doing things. She didn't have to act impressed—she was. These men could work together. They only needed to think they had to outdo the pushy American who thought she knew better. Soon enough, they were slapping each other on the back.

Another two hours, and Tess stood in Tarek's outer office, waiting for his assistant to announce her. The secretary—or whatever he was—had to be forty if he was a day and looked vaguely disconcerted to be dealing with her. Maybe that was because of her nationality or her sex, or because she was Tess Angel. She didn't know. He spoke Arabic into the phone, and Tess caught her name somewhere in the middle. A moment later, he stood and opened one of the heavy, dark inner doors.

She stepped through.

Tarek's inner sanctum seemed all dark, elegantly carved wood. It looked a lot more modern than the rest of the palace. Bookcases, desk, chairs, and a conference table filled the space. A thick rug with a gold and blue medallion design covered the floor. The gurgle of water drew her attention to the right, and she discovered a small blue-and-white-mosaic fountain. A bookcase covered the wall behind Tarek. He looked up from his computer screen.

Tess slid a sheet of paper across his pristine desk. How does he get any work done with such a clean desk? Her own back home was carefully balanced chaos.

"What's this?" he asked.

"The first draft of a compromise. Signed by everyone at the table. At least that's what they told me. I don't read Arabic."

He studied it, his eyebrows flattening. "This pay raise will bankrupt the country."

"Nope. Read on. It's offset by two things: a visitor tax and a road improvement tax that'll come from imported luxury goods. The higher income for the workers means they have more to spend, or so your ministers conceded. They're the ones who worked out this deal. I was just there to be the alien in the middle, making them think they'd better get their act together. The part you're not going to like is that the workers also want more say in the government."

He glanced at the page again. "Representative government? That's working so well for your country right now?"

Tess crossed her arms. "From what your guys are saying, the younger generation needs to know they've got skin in the game. Meaning they need a seat at the table and you're going to have to do something. Stubborn resistance to change has brought down petty tyrants throughout history."

He stood and leaned his palms on the desk. "Petty tyrant—is that what you think I am?" His dark eyes flashed with specks of fire. Tess caught her breath and flushed hot. She wasn't sure any longer how much of that glint in his eyes was anger and how much something else.

"Tarek…?" She took a step back. "I brought you the deal your guys worked on."

He circled his desk and stalked toward her. She took another step back, and another, bumping her back against the wall, and she couldn't look away from him. He bracketed her body with one arm on either side and leaned in so close she could smell his scent, so familiar to her now.

"Petty tyrant," he said again softly. "I believe the palace still has a dungeon. Shall we go look, so I can show you exactly what a petty tyrant I can be?"

The image flashed in her head of herself naked in chains and Tarek standing over her, chest bare and a smile curving his lips.

God help her, she almost said yes to that.

Bad, terrible, horrible idea, Tess.

He was about to kiss her. And he looked angry about it. Lord, she wanted him again, but not like that.

She ducked under Tarek's arm and made a break for the door. "I have other things to do. I need to visit Phil this afternoon." She put her hand on the knob and paused. "I'm not telling you how to run anything, sheikh. You're the one who wanted to get your guys talking and get something done. Well, you got that. Now it's up to you. You know in your gut this is a good deal."