The Sheikh's Forced Bride (Sharjah Sheikhs 1) - Page 13

She wrinkled her nose. The black letters stared back at her on the white screen. While she agreed with the statement, it sounded trite and wasn’t a great lead line.

She deleted the sentence and stared at the blank screen again.

Her mind drifted back to Khalid’s kiss. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her like that—her lips were still tingling. So were other body parts. If things had been different, she might enjoy spending time with him. But there was always the specter of his reputation—he was a man who would be great for a few nights, but that was probably it.

And Casey knew she was too much a Midwestern girl at heart.

She’d tried the casual dating scene in New York and had been awful at it—she keeps looking for the happy ever after instead of the happy for just right now.

Shaking her head, Casey reminded herself she was here for a story on how women were nothing more than a possession in this country. But she was also starting to wonder if Khalid really felt like that. He’d gone out of his way tonight to treat her to something special tonight—and he’d seemed….well, different. Maybe he was as trapped in his role as any woman was.

Squaring her shoulders, she started typing up more notes. General impressions. Descriptions. She got a page done, and then sent an email to Luke to let him know she was scheduling interviews tomorrow. She needed those interviews—that was where the story lay. Not in these wandering notes. She needed Fadiyah’s perspective. And she needed to understand Khalid’s father—so far he was just an imposing figure. A man who took his role as sultan almost too seriously.

So what did that make Khalid? A son rebelling? A man who didn’t know his role because his father was trying to keep him in the shadow of the sultan?

.

She touched a hand to her lips. Khalid had experience—she had to give him that. He kissed like an expert. But there had been something else in that kiss. Something gentle and coaxing in them—something passionate and not at all calculated.

Glancing down at her laptop, she knew a Sheikh’s kiss wasn’t anything she could use in any story.

She closed her laptop. She needed those interviews—and she needed to get to know Sheikh Khalid a little better. There was more going on here than a country—and a family—struggling with the duality of maintaining tradition while stepping into the modern world.

“You’re too close to it,” she told herself. The thought settled in her gut. Was it true? While being on the inside had seemed like a good way to get the information she wanted, was it starting to sabotage her ability to tell the story objectively?

Heading to bed, she lay there for a long time, thinking of Khalid. Thinking of him naked in the bathhouse, beautiful and sleek. Thinking of his kiss. Thinking of how far she was willing to let this pretense of an engagement go. And almost—just almost—regretting not inviting Khalid into her bed.

7

Khalid stood when Casey walked into the palace gardens. The sun had been up for hours and so had Khalid, trying to figure out a way to get Casey her interviews. His father was not pleased, and that meant when Khalid had approached him early in the day about such an interview the sultan had simply told Khalid, “Attend to your bride. You have a wedding to plan. I have business to occupy me, and your brothers will be busy soothing any feathers you ruffled last night with your inconsiderate behavior.”

That remark had stung, and Khalid had been tempted to lash back at his father—the lack of responsibilities, of trust rankled. However, he had a better to

ol at hand to strike back. So he had sent Casey a note, asking him to meet her in the gardens for a late breakfast.

Casey stepped from the palace, lifting one hand to shield her eyes from the already burning sun. This was one reason Khalid rose early, to work before the heat of the day made it wise to see out cool shade. She had dressed for heat in a pair of shorts that came almost to her knees, a loose shirt, boots and ankle socks. Khalid’s mouth twitched. He was quite certain word would get back to his father of her attire—nothing a Sharjah woman would wear. But she was not bound by tradition, and her long, smooth legs were a delight. He wanted to run his fingers over her pale skin, but for now he settled for a bow and a wave at the table set up under the shade of a palm.. “Coffee or would you care to try our mint tea?”

She smiled and said, “Sabah el kheer.”Khalid pulled out a chair for her. “There is no need to impress me, and my father is immersed in business.”

Sitting down, she glanced up at him. “Meaning no interview?”

“Meaning we need to impress him today—I am very much afraid I set back your cause but advanced my own of his not caring much to have an American become a daughter to him.”

Instead of anger, Casey shrugged and poured herself coffee from the silver pot on the table. It came out thick, black and steaming. “Well, then, you’ll just have to work first on getting me an interview with Fadiyah, or with her father.”

Khalid choked down a laugh and sat. “That would be a feat. Just now Mehmood is unhappy with both me and my family.”

“Yes, but he needs the connections your family has to American businesses. He’s trying to diversify from simply oil holdings, getting into other energy options and for that he need either a German connection and Euros for investment into wind turbines or geothermal, or he needs American companies. Your family brings him the latter without any effort on his part, and from everything I’ve read, I’m betting he’s more than a little lazy.”

He selected a few pieces of fruit for and a honey pastry and passed her the plate. “You have been busy.”

She ate a date and sipped her coffee, and then said, “It’s all background stuff. How can you know the right questions to ask if you don’t know anything about the interview subject.”

“You think to get Mehmood talking of business and then ask him why he would force his daughter into an arranged marriage?”

Over the rim of her coffee cup, she grinned. “It isn’t going to be that much of an ambush, but that is the general idea. Once someone starts talking, it’s often hard for them to stop.”

“I will warn you now, you will need a more sophisticated approach to my father. You…ambush him in such a way and the interview will be over at once. On the other hand, this engagement may also be over at once so perhaps I should turn you loose on my father.”

Tags: Leslie North Sharjah Sheikhs Billionaire Romance
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