But this sheikh, with that soft beard that had tickled her cheek and that mouth that had set her on fire, almost made her wish she really was that kind of girl after all.
She swallowed and tried to manage what she hoped was a charming—but not too charming—smile. He'd brought her to the perfect spot for a romantic moment. Golden light spilled onto the stone terrace. The music had become a faint tune that was almost haunting. Beyond the wrought iron railing, a crescent moon spilled light across a starlit sky and edged the sand dunes with silver. Sheikh Arif's scent—that subtle spice with a hint of male underneath—left her dizzy. She could almost believe it to be a place where love at first sight was possible. But that just wasn't the world she lived in.
And she was here for the archives. She kept telling herself that.
Sheikh Arif studied her, his head tipped to one side and the ends of his keffiyeh fluttering in the breeze. Was he mad, to go around proposing like this to a total stranger? Or just accustomed to women falling into his arms at the mere hint of marriage? His eyes had narrowed, and she honestly couldn't make out from his expression what he was planning. To kiss her again?
Oh yes, please.
No…not that.
She frowned at herself. She wasn't usually this confused, but she also wasn't usually swept onto a balcony and kissed senseless.
Arif smiled, an insufferable, sure of himself smile that left her wishing she had some quip that would show him she was no man's toy. "You are not going to accept my proposal, are you?"
Pulling in a breath, she let it out slowly and said, "Thank you. But no, thank you. I didn't come here to become a sheikh's wife."
"What if I make you a bargain? You will stay in Zahkim for three months. In that time, you may research in the archives, and I will help you."
"That sounds…a little too good to be true. What's the other shoe you haven't dropped?"
He took her hand, holding her fingertips lightly within his palm. Even that touch set her heart pounding. "During that time, you will allow me to court you. To prove I adore you—and that instant attraction is more than possible."
"That's it? You want to court me. And for that I get three months’ access to the archives? Full access? Please tell me you really are serious this time. And just what happens if I don’t end up falling for you? You don't have dungeons in this palace still, do you?"
He grinned. Oh, no—that was worse than his smile. His teeth gleamed white in the darkness, contrasting with his dark skin and trim, black beard. That small crescent scar near the corner of his mouth disappeared into a dimple.
"I promise you, the next time I ask you to marry me, you will say yes."
Chapter Three
Okay, that did it. Christine had met some arrogant men in her time—academia was full of tenured professors who were sure they were God's gift to their university—and this guy topped the list. But she wasn't about to pass up an offer for exactly what she needed to prove her father's theories. She met his stare, pulled her hand from his, and then stuck it out again. "Deal."
He smiled, but instead of just shaking her hand, he pulled her into his arms. "No. We will seal this bargain with a kiss."
She braced herself for…well, for him. But he simply brushed his lips over hers, a teasing, tempting touch that left her ready to growl with frustration and wanting to pull him back in for something more than a taste. He stepped back at once and smiled. "Now, shall we dance?"
Christine got a stiff upturn of her lips in place. Okay, maybe it was going to be harder than she'd thought to manage both her research and this too-sexy sheikh. He already had her off balance and distracted. The cure for that was to keep thinking about access to the palace archives. That was going to be hard, however, with his arm around her waist and all that masculine goodness so close to her.
Arif strolled into Tarek's office. He'd dressed in casual Western clothing—trousers and a loose, white linen shirt. He had no need to be formal today, but he wondered why Tarek had sent for him. His cousin would be madly busy getting everything in or
der so he could take three weeks away from his duties as ruler of Zahkim to spend time with his new wife on an official honeymoon.
Tarek's office lay in the newest part of the palace, built around the turn of the previous century, not long after Zahkim had first discovered oil and the riches it could bring in the modern world. After his father had died, Tarek had had the office modernized and expanded. Tarek had wanted to impress visiting ambassadors and heads of state, as well as the businessmen who came here with an interest in Zahkim's oil. Another update had been necessary to incorporate modern technology—a huge, hidden screen for video conferences, a long table for meetings. A small blue-and-white-mosaic fountain gave off a peaceful trickle of water, and a thick carpet covered most of the stone floor.
Sprawling into one of the high-backed chairs set in front of Tarek's mahogany desk, Arif listened to Tarek give orders to his assistant Farid as to how matters were to be handled while he was away. Arif thought Tarek already sounded reluctant, as if he wished he had not given in to the lovely Tess for time away from Zahkim for just the two of them.
Finishing his orders, Tarek turned to Arif. "You and Nasim will have to manage without me for almost a month. Do you think you can?"
Arif grinned. "You mean without starting a coup to overthrow you? I can't speak for Nasim, but I have plans for the next few weeks."
Heading over to a sideboard built into the wall, Tarek poured two glasses of water into heavy, crystal glasses. He came over to Arif and handed him one glass.
"Yes, Tess mentioned you couldn't pull yourself away from her friend's side last night. I warn you, Tess may not be so much of an angel if you play with her friend and hurt the girl's feelings."
Arif leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and held the crystal glass between his palms. "This is the one, Tarek."
Pausing with his glass halfway to his mouth, Tarek studied his cousin. "The one? As in you mean—?"