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

Instead, he was taking her back to her hotel room—and…and what? Giving up on her? No, that could not be right.

Michelle Reynolds had just come into his life, and he did not want to let her leave so easily. But how could he keep her? Could he drag out this land swap? Or perhaps he would take her to yet another property tomorrow—and another after that? How long could he delay her departure.

Getting into the Hummer, he got the engine stared. Michelle came out of the tent, dressed and smiling. It was all he could do not to carry her back inside.

The storm had blown over and the moon was starting to rise. The desert at night was one of his most favorite places to be, but would she feel that way. There was so much he had to learn of her. Was this what had happened to his father? Had his father fallen in love so fast with a beautiful American woman?

Smiling, Michelle took her seat. She had brought the last of the dates with her and she ate them—and fed a few to Adilan as he drove. At the hotel, she climbed from the Hummer and leaned into the open door. “Call me tomorrow. We can…talk business.”

“I would rather have breakfast with you after staying the night.”

She gave a laugh and shook her head. Closing the door, she headed into the hotel. He watched the sway of her hips and thought of how her legs had felt wrapped around him. Shaking his head, he forced his stare elsewhere, to the city his father and grandfather had helped to build. Al-Sarid’s capital was booming, but it could easily fade. So much depended on tourists, on providing comforts and fine restaurants. He frowned at the lights coming on in the city, at the bustle of people. He knew his father did not think him steady—he had shifted too easily from one passion to the next, even from one girl to another. And Malid…Malid thought himself the smart one of the family, the man who could best guide the company head.

But Malid thought only of profit, of making his mark—he was too driven, Adilan thought. Just as I am not.

Glancing back at the hotel where Michelle had disappeared, he rubbed a hand over his face. What did she think of him? Would she go for the trade? If not, he must think of something else. He must also be wary, for Malid would soon find out the taxes had been paid—and Malid would not give up the contest between them so easily.

He sat in the Hummer for some time, thinking of Michelle, and of the competition between himself and his oldest brother, Malid. Pulling out his cell phone, he speed dialed Thomas Jenkins’ private line.

Jenkins ran a private security firm, and his team was expert at ferreting out information. The Adjalane family had used the firm for a number of tasks, and the ties went deep. Even though it was evening, Thomas Jenkins answered at once. “Sheikh Adilan, how’s the weather?”

Adilan skipped past the pleasantry. “Have you heard from Malid lately with any tasks?”

“Should I have?” Jenkins sounded wary now.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Adilan said, “I think he will contact you tomorrow. I’m dealing with a situation that has Malid and I competing for the same thing.”

“Let me guess—you did an end run around your brother and he’ll now try a plan B, which may involve me? I’m not sure I want to be put in the middle between you two.”

Adilan smiled. “Don’t worry. I just want to know if he contacts you—that’s all. And to perhaps keep you out of the middle. Malid…well, you know how much he hates to lose.”

“Uh, more than you do and not as much as Nassir? Does this have anything to do with Michelle Reynolds being in Al-Sarid? I understand she looks a lot like her mother—are you thinking she’s cut from the same cloth?”

Staring at the hotel, Adilan wished he was still with her. He shook his head. Jenkins’ question was a good one. Was Michelle really as much a seductress as her mother? Had she given into passion at the Zia oasis only to distract him so she could get what she wanted? It was a valid question, one he had not considered, and now he forced himself to think with his brain and not his body. “Why do you ask?”

“Just like to know. Your families have a lot of history. Watch your step with her.”

Adilan frowned. Again, it was good advice and not anything he wanted to consider. He wanted to think of Michelle as a sweet and straightforward person—but too much was at stake. Besides, she would not stay in Al-Sarid, and he was not leaving. This was a means to an end—a way to get the land back to prove to his father that he was fit to run the company. He must remember that. He cleared his throat and said, “Just let me know if you hear from Malid. Now, have you thought of taking a vacation?”

“You mean stay out of this by staying way out? I’d need to take the entire team with me.”

“And that is a problem how? I would be happy to pay for your time. I also understand the island of Trinidad is most relaxing, and has remote jungles where your team could get in some training.”

“Uh huh,” Jenkins sounded cautious now. “Please tell me this latest Reynolds isn’t getting to you? If she is and your father hears of it—”

“I know,” Adilan said. He had to push out the words. He did not want to speak of his feelings for Michelle—whatever they were. This was not a matter of the heart, but a matter of winning over Malid. That was all. Irritated now, he said, “I’ll talk to you next week.”

He disconnected and sat staring at Michelle’s hotel. Why should he not go in and invite her to dinner again. But he knew why not. She had gotten to him. He could not stop thinking of her pale skin, of her sweet curves, of how her face relaxed in his arms. They had sparked something between them. But he could just picture his father’s face if he thought to have any kind of relationship with Deborah Reynolds’ daughter. His father was likely to have a heart attack on the spot.

He answered a few emails on his phone, but he needed to do something to get his mind off Michelle Reynolds. He kept seeing her blue eyes, reliving the moment when they had drifted closed and she had shivered in his arms.

With a muttered curse, he called his brother, Nassir. “I need to hit something. Want to volunteer?” Adilan asked.

Nassir was the brother who had somehow managed to slip away from their father’s shadow. He had started his own company, which kept him busy, but he was also the brother who usually settled any family arguments. His voice came over the line, and Adilan could hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “If you want to meet me at the gym I might humor you for a round or two.”

“I’ll see you in half an hour.” Adilan started up the Hummer.

The gym was not at the palace, but a building Nassir had bought and converted. Adilan would go workout and try a few rounds with Nassir and then he would be able to at least sleep tonight. Or that was what he hoped. He had a feeling he would end up dreaming about Michelle and their time at the Zia oasis.