The Sheikh’s Sham Engagement (The Safar Sheikhs 3)

She nodded.

“You’re going to freeze,” Nasser said, suddenly desperate to logically prove to her why he needed to accompany her. Even though the truly logical solution would be they stay elsewhere—probably together in a tent with the workers.

“There’s heat,” she said.

“You don’t even know if it works yet.”

“Well if it doesn’t, I brought a space heater,” she said.

“And if there’s a sandstorm?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine in the school. There’s walls and everything now.”

Nasser shook his head. “No, Willow. This isn’t safe. I’ll stay with you.”

She looked taken aback, but not like she disagreed with him. “I really don’t expect you to do that, Nasser. I—”

“It’s fine. I mean, this is my project too, right?” He tried to shrug it off, make it seem like this wasn’t exactly how he’d decided he wanted to spend his week. “I can’t have the project manager disappearing mysteriously because some sandstorm swept her away unexpectedly.”

She snorted, swatting at his shoulder as he passed. “I’m not that useless, you know.”

“Sure, but sandstorms respect me more than they do you,” he said. “I’m a sheikh. I have sway.”

She barked out a laugh. “Oh, so your royal status can influence meteorological events?”

He leaned in the doorframe, grinning over at her. The sun lit up her hair as she paused in a doorway. Looking back at him over her shoulder, she was equal parts angel and the stuff of his most erotic fantasies. He could already see her tugging that simple dress over her head and spreading her legs for him right here in the foyer.

“If you insist on staying, that’s fine. But you’ll be helping with the handiwork,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Fine by me. I’m handy.”

“Good.” She lifted a brow, urging him to follow. “Then let’s get started.”

Willow had come prepared for some serious interior designing. The storage closet off the front hallway was already stocked with paint cans and accessories, as well as brooms, mops, tape, and more.

“This was part of the plan,” she said, “that I would cover things like painting and decorating while the workers handled the bulk of the construction. I have a very specific vision for this school.” She tugged out two cans of paint—butterscotch yellow and alabaster white, judging by the color splotches on the lids.

The two of them got to work, wearing aprons that Willow had of course thought to pack ahead of time. Their first project was the foyer, a warm and welcoming yellow that Willow claimed would match nicely with the tiles to be installed the next day. They worked though the evening until their bellies rumbled. Nasser offered to prepare dinner from the supplies that Willow had brought so she could continue working as she wanted.

Her determination didn’t surprise him one bit. This was the Willow he’d always known—fiery and focused. Any project she handled would be completed to perfection. And really, he admired that about her. He’d forgotten how capable and thorough she was. It made him even more excited to see this project through, so that it could become the shining star of education that it surely would under her direction.

They ate their dinner piecemeal while painting and taping off parts of the wall. They talked and laughed on occasion, but for the most part just shared an intense focus. By the time Willow was ready to call it quits, Nasser could see she’d worked herself to exhaustion.

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up,” he said, only half joking. “Which room will we sleep in?”

“The closest classroom,” she said with a yawn. The bedding had been dropped off in there already, and Nasser unrolled the mattress—this time at least the size of a double—and prepared the linens while Willow washed her face. She came into the classroom in her pajamas—an oversized T-shirt from their university and soft, swishy pants.

“I didn’t pack anything,” Nasser mumbled, unable to look away from the sight of her breasts draped by the soft fabric of the shirt. Clearly she’d removed her bra—her nipples stood in two tight points beneath her shirt. “You don’t mind if I sleep in my underwear, do you?”

“At this point, I don’t mind anything.” She yawned again, collapsing onto the bed. Nasser went to the restroom, and by the time he returned, she’d already fallen asleep.

The next morning, he awoke with the sunlight, around seven a.m. It wasn’t his style to start the day so early, but clarity and motivation zipped through him. He was ready to work. And he already knew where to start.

While Willow snoozed, looking every inch the peaceful angel she was, Nasser prepared coffee, eggs, and toast in the kitchen. The smell of it must have roused Willow because she staggered into the kitchen just as he was plating the food. She rubbed at her eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked groggily.