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

It wasn’t just his force of personality—it was that small smile he would give her, as if he was including her in on some private joke. It was the way he grinned and brought fun to almost everything. It was also the heady joy of having a good looking man waiting on her, doing his best to please her.

When she came out in the clothes he’d had the staff bring her, she liked how his eyes lit up. He came over to her and took her hand. The differences in their height was more pronounced when he stood so close—the top of her head only barely reached the bottom o

f his chin. She stared up at him, caught by those green eyes of his, a sizzling awareness of him tingling on her skin.

She felt his body tighten. She knew he was attracted to her—and she was to him. But he didn’t act on it. He kissed the top of her head and stepped back. “We should go before the heat of the day becomes too much.”

Now they stepped from the town car back at Adjalane Palace, and Adilan pulled Michelle with him to a garage that looked more like another wing of the palace. He pointed to a tan Hummer. All the time he’d been talking about the property he wanted to show her, telling her about its ideal location, its views, and the beauty of the spot. “I promise, it’s worth the drive.”

She smiled at him. He sounded so enthusiastic. But she kept thinking—it’s not the oasis. What would her mother think of a trade? Faced with the choice, would she be the sensible business Deborah Reynolds, or the sentimental Deborah Reynolds? Mother could go either way.

But Michelle had only agreed to look at this other property—and consider the idea. That was it. She got into the Hummer. Adilan reached over and fastened her seatbelt for her. He was being very bold with all the touches he kept sneaking in, but why not sit back and enjoy the day. She had the pressure off her for right now, and it was nice to have someone else running the show for a change.

Just keep your head.

As if she could.

He took off at high speed, followed a curving road out of the palace and then headed off the road and up over a sand dune. Michelle gave a squeak. He grinned at her. “You definitely never want to venture out into the desert without a GPS and a good idea of where you’re going.”

Hanging onto the dash, she glanced at him. “I’m not sure I want to venture out at all. Do people get lost out here?”

“Sometimes. Usually foreigners who haven’t paid attention to the warning signs posted at the edges of town.”

She frowned. Was Adilan paying attention to warning signs? “Why do you need warning signs? What are they a warning of?”

Adilan pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. “The desert is an ocean of sand. It shifts and changes with each new wind. It’s also very unforgiving. The warnings are of the heat—and the lack of help that can be expected.”

She gave a nod and a wince as Adilan crested yet another sand dune. “I watch a lot of travel documentaries and I always wondered if the sandstorm that can bury a small town are real or just exaggerations.”

Adilan grinned. “Oh, they are very real and fatal if one is caught out in one without the benefit of shelter.”

She shivered. “That sounds like a horrible way to die.” Leaning to the side, she glanced at the sky. “I hope we’re not expecting any storms.”

He slowed the vehicle as he neared the top of another dune. “Close your eyes.” She glanced at him, but dutifully closed her eyes. She could feel the Hummer as it slowed even more and came to a stop. Adilan’s voice whispered near her ear. “Open your eyes now.”

Michelle did so and gasped. Unlike Al-Hilah, this one was not hemmed in by Rocky Mountains. Palms clustered around not just one spring, but several, forming four pools of green. Between them camels stood near a white tent. Several people in traditional white robes moved between the springs, but she couldn’t tell if they were men or women. The location was quite a bit larger than the other oasis—and lovely. She glanced to the right and could see the thin, shimmer of ocean in the distance. The mountains rose up as a backdrop. Michelle shook her head. “It is beautiful,” she said. But a small voice whispered in her head, ‘It’s not Mother’s oasis.’

“Father gave me this land when I turned twenty-one. It is called the Zia oasis.”

Surprised, she glanced at him. “Why would you make this part of the deal? How could you possibly think to give this up?”

Adilan smiled and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Perhaps I am hoping I will have a standing invitation to visit your sanctuary once it is built.”

“Getting a little ahead of yourself—I haven’t agreed to anything.”

His smile widened to a grin. “You agreed to lunch.” He headed down to the oasis.

Michelle wanted to stare at everything—the carpets spread out before the tent, the camels, which smelled terrible, the people who sent cautious glances her way. Adilan leaped from the Hummer and came around to her side. She’d barely gotten her seatbelt off and the door open when the swept her out, spinning her around before putting her on feet. “Welcome to my tent.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Overdoing the sheikh just a little?”

“Impossible,” he said. At the entrance to the tent, he slipped off his shoes. Her boots took more effort, but she got them off and followed him inside. It was like stepping into an illustration—or a dream.

Incense burners and lamps set with colored glass hung from the wooden tent frame. Fabrics draped the walls and carpets turned the sand into colorful flooring. Everywhere she looked she could see cushions in vivid silks—purples, reds, oranges. A huge brass table sat on a low wooden stand. Adilan glanced at her from where he sat beside the table. He swept out a hand. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She came over and sat down on the pillows—they seemed to enfold her. A woman brought in a pitcher, a bright blue bowl and towels. The woman poured the water and Michelle washed her hands in the cool liquid.

And then the food began to appear—carried in on large platters. She thought she recognized the smooth paste that almost everyone in the Middle East ate—hummus, or ground up chick peas. Flat bread, still warm from baking came in, along with a bowl of figs and bright red pomegranate seeds. Meat of some kind on skewers was served, with a honey dipping sauce. Salad, olives, sliced cucumbers, and then Michelle lost track of the dishes. She wanted to taste everything.