The Sheikh's Stubborn Lover (The Adjalane Sheikhs 2)

The valley had to be only a few miles long and half that in width. She was high enough up to see clear, blue water pooling in the center of a green swath of land. Date palms hugged the edges of the river that wandered from the spring that must be feeding the small lake.

She could hear birds and a small deer of some kind looked up from the river’s edge, poised for flight. This wasn’t just an oasis—it was a hidden jewel. Set against the sandstone mountains that rose up around it, the blues and lush greens of the oasis were stunning. The river curved like a crescent moon and she could see how the oasis had gotten its name.

For a second, a mad urge to pull off her shoes and wade into the river swept into her. But she was here for business, not pleasure. She stepped forward, eyes still shaded—and then she saw she wasn’t alone. She was glad now she’d kept her shoes.

Near the date palms, the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life stood with his back to her. She had the impression of white clothing, dark hair worn shaggy and curling around his neck, lean height and broad shoulders. He seemed to sense her presence, for he turned, and Michelle’s heartbeat skidded into overdrive.

His face riveted her attention. It was a strong face, with regular features, high cheekbones, two slashes of dark eyebrows and a barely-there, black beard that gave him a hint of danger. The dark eyebrows rode flat over green eyes that almost matched the lush grass at his feet.

For an instant, the breath caught in her chest. Here was a man who could live up to any woman’s fantasy of a sheikh at a desert oasis—he just needed the flowing burnoose.

Then she blinked, and it was simply a man headed her way in white linen trousers and a white button-up shirt that he wore open enough to show tan skin at his throat and loose enough to leave him looking cool even in this heat.

Thankfully, he had a voice to match the good looks—low and deep. “You must be Michelle Reynolds?”

She gave a nod and stuck out her hand, babbling to cover her nerves. “Yes, I am. This place is more amazing in person than my mother said. Have you had a chance to look over the plans I emailed you? I’m a little concerned about the getting equipment here, but if it can be done, this place is going to be better than an absolute paradise. Not that it isn’t now.” She pulled back her hand and put a fist on her hip. “Well, Mr. Bashira? I assume you must be Mr. Bashira. What do you think?”

Chapter 2

Adilan’s mouth twitched, but he held back the smile. His fingers still tingled from the handshake she’d given him—a hard one, as if to prove she could out-shake any man’s hand. He took a moment to study her. Michelle Reynolds was not what he had expected.

It was only recently that his father had admitted that, in a moment of passion, the land had been given to a woman. An American at that. The topic might not have come up, except now the daughter wanted to build on this spot—a place that had been in the family for centuries. Adilan suspected that his father was now regretted his romantic gesture of years ago—and there was also the pressure from Malid, his eldest brother.

They were both competing to replace Father as the head of the Adjalane Real Estate and Land Development Group. Nassir, the middle brother, wanted nothing to do with this, but Malid had already announced that he would get Al-Hilah back into the family, which would prove he was best suited to lead the company.

Adilan hated to lose, particularly to Malid. And Father had already said one of his sons must get back the land by any means necessary. Since Nassir had bowed out of this trial, Adilan had decided he must be the one who took action.

But Michelle Reynolds…she did not look the spoilt American rich girl he had expected.

She had classic features—a very straight nose, wide-spaced eyes, and the olive complexion of a woman from his own country. However, her electric blue eyes, rimmed with thick dark lashes that matched her almost black, straight hair, left her exotic looking to him.

Her linen suit hugged firm breasts, and the short hem of her skirt revealed smooth, bare legs that begged to be touched and caressed. He could imagine himself stripping her bare, leading her to the cool water, and…

Shaking his head, he pulled his mind out of the fantasy and focused on the reason he was even standing in the middle of the desert with a strange woman watching him. His carefully laid plans to buy the property for a fraction of its costs evaporated. This woman looked far too intelligent to believe a story about this being an impossible building site, worth nothing. And the stubborn chin left him certain that if he tried to dissuade her, he might instead only make her more determined to hang onto the land.

“Ms. Reynolds, I am Adilan Adjalane.” That determined chin lifted. He smiled, “Ah, I see you recognize the name.”

“Adjalane? In this country who wouldn’t?” She turned and walked a few steps away. Turning back, she tipped her head to one side. “My mother warned me to stay away from your family.”

“Because she knows this land belongs in our family’s hands? I should tell you I, too, was warned that if you are your mother’s daughter, you are a woman who revels in the breaking of man’s heart.”

She gave a snort. Her blue eyes flashed both fire and ice in his direction. He was instantly intrigued. “Can we not have dinner and talk business? I am prepared to purchase the property for a reasonable sum—say, five hundred thousand US dollars?”

She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. “My mom said your family would try something like this. And we’re not interested.”

“And what if I tell you that building on the property will be denied to you by our government? You are an American—and unfamiliar with what is required in Al-Sarid. Take the cash as a conciliation to your mother, and I shall be happy to escort you back to the airport. You return home a wealthier young woman and your mother’s memories of her time in Al-Sarid will fade as does the spring season under the summer sun.”

Michelle Reynolds crossed her arms. “Try two million and I’ll still turn you down.”

Adilan frowned. This was going to be a harder battle than he had anticipated. He heard a scrabble of rock and turned to see a short, bald man walk through the opening in the mountain, his tie pulled lose, his suit wrinkled, and carrying a briefcase.

Ms. Reynolds turned with a smile. “Ah, Mr. Bashira, I presume. Better late than never.

Wiping his brow and bald head with a handkerchief, Mr. Bashira put down his briefcase. He glanced from Mrs. Reynolds to Adilan. “Mr. Adjalane! I wasn’t aware you were going to be part of this project.”

Adilan smiled. “That remains to be see

n.”