“Or I’ll just fly off back to the states, and you can be the wounded guy left at the altar by the flighty American.”
Khalid frowned. For some reason, that did not sound all that appealing. Was it just because his pride would be wounded to be left by a woman? He glanced at Casey. He had spent most of the week with her, but that seemed far too little time. Yet, he had gone through other girlfriends even faster. So far, he had never felt bored with Casey. He was enjoying himself with her, he had to admit.
And he also had to admit, he wanted her in his bed.
That must be it—he did not want her to be the woman who escaped him before he had enjoyed a night with her.
Well, a trip to the reserve might be just the thing to help her gain a new story and help him seduce her.
It took an hour to reach the reserve, and Khalid told her how his father had set family land aside to create the reserve. “It’s an amazing place, and my father has been pleased that it both protects the land and animals and has been a boon to tourism. It is my father’s hope he can expand the reserve to do more to breed endangered species. And these are the gates into the reserve.”
8
Casey had to admit the Sharjah Desert Reserve was more than impressive. Once they entered the reserve, she rolled down the window and pulled out her cell phone to get photos. Arabian Oryx, with their long horns, grazed in the distance on scrub grass. Falcons soared overhead. It was late enough in the day that the scorching heat had passed, and the desert breeze had a touch of cooling nip.
From her background research, she’d read that the sultan ruled with an iron fist, leaving his sons to be irresponsible party animals. But this showed another side to the family—it seemed as if they took their responsibilities to their county seriously.
She also had to admit that the people of Sharjah loved Khalid.
She had seen respect in the eyes of those she had met in the street, and she was well aware that no one would have answered her questions if Khalid had not been with her, urging those she met to treat her with respect. He’d given her amazing access to his culture. But that still wasn’t a story that would please her editor and break a story that needed to be told about the dark side of this world’s repression of women.
The road widened and Khalid pulled up in front of an imposing square building made from the rose-colored desert stone. A sign noted it was the Sharjah Natural History Museum. Another sign pointed to a wildlife center.
Shutting off the engine, Khalid asked, “Where would you care to start?”
“How about you pick?”
Khalid laughed. “For once, you allow me to lead—and at a time when I would rather you pick.”
“Fine. Wildlife first—it’s getting dark, then museum.”
“Ah, but many of the wild animals wake at night.”
Rolling her eyes, Casey lifted her hands. “Okay, then museum first. Is this how you end up getting your way so often.”
His smile warmed. “Having my way with you is an easy thing to desire.”
Cheeks warming, Casey wondered if there was something else under his words. She ducked out of the vehicle and headed up to the museum, trying to ignore that flash of heat—and her body’s interest.
So far she’d done great at keeping Khalid at arm’s length. If he kissed her again, she wasn’t going to bet on her being able to say no to him—and she wasn’t so sure she was going to get out of this pretend engagement with her heart intact. Khalid was charming, handsome—and a sultan’s son. There was no way he was ever really settling down with a Midwestern girl like her. She didn’t fit into his world, and he…well, she was just going to keep telling herself that he wasn’t her type.
But she kept thinking about having a wild fling with him.
Khalid seemed to know the place quite well. He led her on a tour of the museum that lasted a couple of hours and covered every kind of animal to be found in Sharjah, including reptiles and insects she’d just as soon avoid to the birds, fish and elegant Oryx.
“It is my father’s pride that we have a large heard of Oryx—they were hunted almost to extinction, much like your American bison.”
Leading the way into an aviary—a lush garden area, Khalid asked, “Are you hungry?”
She hadn’t thought about it, but realized now that she hadn’t eaten all day. “I could eat,” she replied.
Taking her hand, he led her out to a patio area under the stars. Lanterns lit the area, and awnings flapped in the cool desert breeze. Thick, red pillows had been placed around a low table, which was set with candles and plates. “Tonight, we dine in the traditional way.”
Khalid led her to one of the pillows and gestured for her to sit. He sat on the pillow next to her, his legs tucked to one side. Waiters in robes came out with basins, towels and urns of water so they could wash their hands. From somewhere, she heard a band tuning up the traditional instruments—flue of some kind, drums and a stringed instrument. They began to play a slow, haunting melody.
As the food began to arrive, Khalid explained the dishes—ouzi, a baked lamb with rice and lqeimat, a sweat bread smothered in chopped dates and honey—and spoke of how his father was using this place to demonstrate how Sharjah could become more sustainable by planting an organic garden and using advanced irrigation and ways to pull water from the dew in the air.
“I wish him to build a desalination plant, but my father insists that is too expensive.”