The Sheikh's Captive American (Zahkim Sheikhs 1)

He stopped the video and stared at Tess for a very long time.

The truth of his grandmother's words cut deep—deeper even than Tess's song. He had sent her away. He had not said what was in his heart. He had not even listened to it. All from fear. Fear of loss—fear that he might lose again. His parents had died—and he'd had a hunch when he'd said good-bye to them that something terrible waited right around the corner. He had shut that away—shut everything away. Was it too late to bring it back? And Tess as well?

Chapter Fifteen

Tess leaned against the railing of her Malibu condo deck, swirling her wine in its glass as she watched her friends. They sat twenty feet away, gathered around a bonfire on the private beach, talking and laughing. Friday night and all should be well. She was due back in the recording studio in a few weeks; the new single was already a hit, and the album would be as well.

She'd expected a month would be long enough to get back into the swing of her life. Hell, Phil was already walking around without so much as a cane, and the specialist at UCLA loved how he was doing. She'd expected to be back on her feet as easily. Why not walk off the plane and feel as if she'd never left? She had a new batch of memories and experiences to add to her collection and songs flying from her fingertips—so what if tears kept falling onto the page as she wrote? An artist used every experience for inspiration.

So why did she feel as if she was living half in the present and half in memory?

She watched Phil toss a log into the fire and catch his wife around the waist. Their laughter came to her on the breeze, then stopped short when they kissed. Tess bit down on her lower lip, and her nose started to sting. Salt spray from the rumbling ocean washed over her, and that was a good excuse to wipe her eyes.

She wanted to know what Tarek thought of the song, but she couldn't ask him. She'd seen a new store open on Melrose with imports from the Middle East and wondered if Tarek would have liked it. She'd woken last night, dreaming of the oasis and reaching out to pat empty, cold sheets where a warm body should have been. She'd even bought frankincense body rub, taken one sniff, burst into tears, and stuffed it into the back of her linen closet. But she still smelled it everywhere she went. Worst of all, she kept pulling up travel sites on her computer and staring at the air fares. There weren’t any direct flights to Zahkim's main city Al Resab, but with a connection or two…

Oh, who was she kidding? Tarek had made it clear they'd had a fling and nothing more. She was the one writing sad love songs and climbing the charts with what the critics were calling her amazing world-beat shift.

She swigged her Chardonnay and wished for a stronger burn. Maybe she should switch to tequila.

Julie ran up the steps to the deck, her bare feet thumping on the wooden planks. Her long, dark brown curls bounced, and her wide hips swayed. She had on a dark-blue hoodie over a gold swimsuit that was indecent in five states, and Tess watched the guys on the beach turn to stare.

Putting her elbows on the railing, Julie nudged Tess with her shoulders. "What's up, chica? You look like someone ran over your dog. If you had a dog to begin with. Maybe you need a dog."

Tess gave a snort and snuggled deeper into her own sweats.

Shaking her head, Julie said, "Time to tell Aunt Julie what's with the face. You've been a little weird since you got back from your trip, but this is more than that. Did flying get to you after that crash? It did me, and I wasn't even involved."

"I don't know what the problem is. Distracted, I guess." She ducked her head, hoping Julie wouldn’t see the traces of tears.

"Maybe time to see a therapist? I know a great one in Venice. She makes the best smoothies and incorporates yoga into all her sessions. You'll lose five pounds, if nothing else."

Tess smiled. "Smoothies and yoga aren't going to do it."

"A cleanse? Write another song? Those cheer you up—they leave everyone else crying, but you love singing. Or…I know. How about a guy? Like that stud over there." Julie nodded to one of the three blond and built surfer dudes she had brought to the gathering.

A man? Was that what she wanted? Or was it more like the man. The only man. That sounded like another song brewing. She sighed.

"Tess!" Julie's mouth fell open. She shut it and narrowed her eyes. "While I was busting my ass, and needing therapy because of it, with a flight to India, you fell for him, didn't you? Damn, I should have known you had good reason to stay in a hot desert—an even hotter guy."

"It wasn't like that. It was just a…well, a romance."

"A sheikh in an old-fashioned romance." Her friend waggled her eyebrows. "I don't see a problem."

"The only problem is that it ends. Like all good things...and bad. And it's time to move on." Tess straightened. "And my wine glass is empty."

Smiling, Julie shook her head. "Oh, you don't fool me, chica. You do not give up and give in."

Tess looked up at the sky, but despite the lack of clouds, she couldn't see more than a few scattered stars. Beautiful as the ocean

was, she missed the charm of the oasis with its still waters and the way night had pushed across its surface.

"The stars were so beautiful there, Jules. Millions and millions of them."

Julie put an arm over Tess's shoulders and hugged tight. Pulling back, she dragged a square, white envelope out of her hoodie pocket, the paper crinkling. "I know what your problem is. This is the cure."

Setting her glass on the railing, Tess took the envelope. "You opened it."

"It was addressed to Angel Productions, and if I'm running things here, I got a right. It is about time you promoted me. After all, who did the deal with Sharma Entertainment? Who held down the fort like a pro? Who is so deserving of a raise and a bump in the company?"