Stealing From The Sheikh (The Sheikh's American Love 2)

What’s going on at the set? The most she’d been able to give him was gossip about one of the actors possibly flirting with a member of the crew—and even that she hadn’t been sure of anything. Wouldn’t it be great to have sold my career and integrity and then find out that I can’t even come through on my promise?

Riley carefully scratched the end of her nose as she continued to peruse the catering selections, trying to keep one ear open in case she might overhear something that she could actually pass on to Alex; but the chatter around her had nothing at all to do with the production. Everyone was talking about what they wanted to do with the weekend, or just making small talk. If I don’t come up with something to tell him soon, Alex is going to… Riley didn’t want to imagine what Alex might do if she couldn’t find a piece of information that would let him do his job; he’d take the offer back, of course—but would he try and punish her as well?

A tap on her shoulder jerked Riley out of her morose thoughts and she started, almost colliding with the table in front of her. Taking a quick breath to collect herself, she turned around to see who was trying to get her attention, hoping against hope that it wasn’t the floor manager who had berated her on the first day.

Mercifully, instead of the irritable man with the clipboard, Riley’s gaze fell on the handsome, dark-skinned crewmember she’d seen at her audition. Up close he was even more gorgeous than her brief moment of eye contact with him had prepared her for: his irises had a golden ring around the hazel, and his clothes—unpretentious jeans and a tee shirt once again—fit his broad, toned frame perfectly.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” the man said, smiling warmly. He had a faint Middle-Eastern accent, and a deep, baritone voice that sent shivers down her spine.

“Oh hey! I’m surprised you recognized me,” Riley said, gesturing to her costume and makeup. “Or maybe you’re mistaking me for someone else?”

The man’s smile broadened. “Oh no—I couldn’t mistake you anywhere,” he told her. “You’ve got a really distinctive look.”

“It’s the hair,” Riley suggested, gesturing to the complicated coiffure the makeup and costume techs had given her. “Everyone notices a redhead.”

“There’s something in your face too,” the man said, peering a little closer and somehow managing to do it without leering at her.

“My face isn’t even my face right now!” Riley grinned. “It’s more latex than skin at the moment.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” the man pointed out. “I mean—do you think anyone is going to be able to recognize half the lead actors?”

“Well, they’ll know what to look for,” Riley said with a shrug. “It’s easier to make out someone’s face if you know you’re going to see them.”

“I’m sure the production company will be pleased to hear that,” the man told her.

“I’m Riley, by the way, what’s your name?”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Mansour,” the man replied. He extended a hand and Riley shook it. “I work in production.”

“I figured as much, seeing you at the casting,” Riley said, smiling shyly. “What brings you over to this side of the set?” She pointed to where the production team was seated, having lunch in a tight cluster.

“Change of scenery,” Mansour told her with a shrug. “I like to check on how the actors are doing, make sure everyone has what they need to do their job.” Riley nodded, and guessed that Mansour was some kind of liaison—maybe not highly placed, but almost certainly making more money than she was. “Besides,” Mansour added, leaning in a little bit closer, “sometimes it gets really boring listening to people talk about budgets and expenditures all day long.”

Riley laughed, momentarily forgetting her irritation at the slow, grueling process.

“So is the food better over on that side of the world, or are you looking to make sure the extras like me aren’t pilfering silverware?”

Mansour chuckled. “Everyone’s getting fed the same, I can assure you,” he said. “I guess maybe some of the higher ups go out for their meals, but everyone who eats here gets the same.”

Riley was surprised at how comfortable she felt, talking to Mansour, even though they’d only just met. After asking about her hair and makeup experiences, and suggesting the seafood entrée instead of the pasta one, Mansour glanced around briefly and then leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any plans for this evening?”

“I hadn’t made any beyond go home, take a shower, and watch TV,” Riley admitted. “This first week has kind of wiped me out.”

“Ah,” Mansour looked almost disappointed.

“I mean—I’m not like, against making plans or anything; I just haven’t made any,” she told him quickly.

“Would you like some company for dinner? We might knock off early, since everyone seems to want to make the most of the weekend.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?” Riley said, looking Mansour up and down speculatively.

“I am at that,” Mansour said, smiling. “What do you say?”

“Sure!” Riley tingled from the top of her skull to the tips of her toes, her heart beating faster. “What time did you want to meet?”

“I’ll pick you up,” Mansour suggested. “Can I get your address?” Riley hesitated for a moment and then told herself that if he balked at dating her because she lived in a cheap apartment building, he wasn’t worth trying to impress. She gave him her address and watched him type it into his phone. “Can I get your phone number too? Just in case I get stuck in traffic—I’d hate for you to think I’m standing you up.” Riley gave him that detail as well, and Mansour gave her hand another quick shake before glancing at the tables full of production crewmembers with a grimace. “I’d better go back,” he said, smiling ruefully.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Riley told him, smiling more warmly.

“Absolutely.”

Riley took Mansour’s advice and got the seafood entrée, along with some crusty bread and a big iced green tea to wash it down with. She snagged a tiny plate with a brownie on it and strode towards the tables taken by the minor cast; about half had already finished their meals, and everyone was relaxed, chatting amiably.

She took one of the only open seats, next to another bit player named Jessica. Riley had gotten to know the woman a little bit over sessions in the hair and makeup trailer over the course of the week, though she wouldn’t exactly have called Jessica a friend just yet. The blonde had a slightly larger role—though she had spent almost as much time hanging around waiting as Riley had—and she was full of gossip and information about their fellow cast members.

As Riley sat down, Jessica stared at her in abject shock, shaking her head.

“What? Is the seafood bad or something?”

“Girl—don’t you know who you were just talking to?”

Riley shrugged. “His name’s Mansour,” she replied. “He said he works in production.”

“I’ll say he does,” Jessica said sharply. She shook her head again and laughed out loud.

“What? I figured he was some kind of talent liaison or something.”

“Didn’t you do your research at all?” Jessica’s eyes widened as she looked at Riley. “That was Sheikh Mansour bin Shariq.”