The Sheikh’s American Fiancée: Desert Sheikhs Book Three Read online

  And all this sweat had her imagining what it might feel like to have Dakaric’s body on top of her. Making her sweat for different reasons.

  Dakaric’s voice drifted from the next room, where he was peeling off his work clothes. They’d been sharing a big bed in one of the suites, while Tirsa slept in a room across the hall. Being so close to her was a buzzkill, but she couldn’t blame the lack of sex on Tirsa.

  No, it was pure exhaustion that kept the two of them from moving further. Each night, they spooned and kissed, but invariably one of them would drift off within minutes. So that was a lesson to take home with her: in the future, do not initiate romances in the middle of helping rebuild a third-world village.

  Christina sighed, doing the math to calculate what time it was back home in eastern Maryland. She’d only texted her sister a couple times over the past week, and she was overdue for a phone call. She nibbled on her lip as she considered the story she’d tell. If it was one p.m. here, then it was six a.m. back home. Kasha would definitely be up—she’d always gotten up at an ungodly early hour.

  “I’m calling my sister,” Christina announced as she pulled up her Favorites list and tapped Kasha’s number. “Please, try not to give away the fact that I’m in the Middle East instead of Albuquerque right now,” she said, shooting a grin Dakaric’s way through the open door.

  He grunted as he tugged his boot off. He was down to his shorts and no shirt. She almost hung up and went to investigate further, but the phone started ringing before she could act. Kasha picked up after the second ring.

  “Christina?” Her sister’s voice didn’t betray the fact that it was six a.m.

  “Good morning, sister!” Christina sprang to her feet, pacing the far wall as she spoke. Outside the corridor of the breeze, sweat droplets dotted her upper lip. “I missed you, so I wanted to call. How is everyone?”

  “Well, I suppose we’re doing fine.” Kasha’s light laughter made Christina smile. “Isn’t it like, four a.m. in New Mexico right now? Why are you calling so early?”

  Realization thundered through her. Shit. “Oh, I uh…” She offered a weak laugh as her mind scrambled to think of a response. “I actually decided not to let my body adjust to the western time zone. I know it sounds silly, I just think it’d be harder to adjust once I fly back. You know?”

  Kasha snorted. “So, what, are you going to bed at eight every night?”

  Christina grimaced. God, she hoped this didn’t give her away. “Yeah, more or less. So, how’s Hope? What’s new?”

  Kasha let the time zone oddity go and launched into a vivid recap of the past week’s happenings: Hope had a high fever, but it was gone now. She’d made more progress on the house with her husband, so that was good. Baby was kicking a lot now and keeping Kasha up at night.

  As Kasha updated Christina about the latest news, a pang of sadness tremored through her, reminding her of the sad reality: she was halfway across the world and no closer to finding a potential donor for her little jellybean Hope.

  Anxiety became a tight fist around her heart until finally Christina feigned a room-service breakfast arrival and bid her sister farewell. After making Kasha promise to deliver a thousand kisses to Hope, Christina hung up and stared out the large bay window overlooking the endless sandy horizon.

  Time was of the essence. A fact she’d seemingly forgotten while lost in this bizarre La-La Land in Al Qalb.

  Christina heaved a sigh, pocketing her phone. She needed to return to Kattahar. Four days ago, it had seemed like a good idea to take this jaunt into Al Qalb, see a new country, help Dakaric with his kingdom. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She had her own kingdom to save—that of her family, back in Maryland. And this was a traitorous detour that might very well jeopardize Hope’s chance at recovery.

  But it was more than that. Her pacing picked up as a new thought emerged. She needed to leave because she liked it too much here. At Dakaric’s side. Helping with his village. Getting to know the warmhearted, beautiful people who were his subjects.

  It felt a little bit too good to be his pretend fiancée. It was a role that part of her was desperate to fill. And she didn’t like that thought, not one bit. Her home was in Maryland. She repeated this to herself a few times before spinning on her heels to tell Dakaric she was ready to go back to Kattahar.

  Dakaric was lounging on their bed, his ankles crossed as he perused a magazine. Something in Arabic with a man’s moody face on the cover. He glanced over at her when she came into the room.

  “Dakaric—” she began.

  “Hey, I forgot to tell you.” He sat up, the magazine falling to the side. His abs crinkled as he propped himself up with a palm against the bedspread. “Tonight we’re going to have a celebration. Al Qalbian style. You’re going to love it.”

  She stood, rooted to her spot, for what felt like an eternity. Just great. “A celebration?”

  “Yes. Everyone’s thrilled about the power being back, so a few of the villagers proposed a lamb, and then a few others offered to make the hummus, and…” He shrugged. “A celebration was born.”

  Every part of her wanted to say yes. She loved getting to know the people in the village. Loved making a real difference. Loved feeling useful. And now was the much-awaited chance to celebrate with these people who were beginning to feel like family. “I can’t.”

  Confusion moved across his face. “What do you mean? Do you have something else to do?”

  He meant it as a joke, which made her feel worse. “Actually, yes. I’ve decided I need to go back to Kattahar.” His face fell, and a long, tense silence emerged. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I think that there have been plenty of photo ops. Of us, I mean. So you shouldn’t need any more. I mean, you know.” She tucked some stray hair behind her ear. Why did it feel like they were breaking up? “I just can’t stay here any longer without doing something for Hope. I feel so horrible. I need to find Sabrina. I have to find Sabrina, actually.”

  Dakaric nodded, pushing the magazine away as he swung his legs off the side of the bed. He rested his forearms on his knees, his gaze raking over her. “Yeah. I get it.”

  “So…” Anxiety knotted her stomach. She should have just stayed in Kattahar. Suddenly, the weight of her poor decisions came crashing down on top of her. Made it hard to breathe. You’re failing Hope.

  “I can’t convince you to stay for the party?” He lifted a brow.

  “I should go. I should have left yesterday.” She started pacing the room. “I guess it’s easy to get swept up in…” She gestured to the air between them, wanting to say you but thinking better of it. “Helping out the village.”

  Dakaric nodded, his dark eyes scorching over her. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. Part of her wanted him to get upset, ask her how she could consider leaving.

  But that would be absurd.

  This was no romance novel. This was real life.

  And her real life was waiting for her six thousand miles away.

  11

  Disappointment shuddered through him in waves. He knew it was silly, but part of him had gotten used to the idea of Christina sticking around. Even though that had never been the plan, a secret area of his heart had opened and gobbled her up. Completely absorbed Christina and her life.

  Hope’s suffering was now his. And he couldn’t detain Christina if she was on a mission to save Hope.

  Dakaric dialed Zatar’s number to give him a heads-up while Christina packed. He watched her fold her pants into neat little squares. He smiled, but he sobered once Zatar answered.

  “Dakaric,” Zatar boomed. “Are you on your way back already?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. There’s still some work to do here in the village. Christina, however, will be on her way.”

  Zatar gave a speculative hum. “Is she tired of Al Qalb? Or maybe you’ve scared her off.”

  “She wants to get back to her search for Sabra. Have your men found anything?”

  “Nothing yet, b
ut I assure you, they’re close. It shouldn’t be much longer now,” Zatar said.

  “Good. Can she stay with you for the rest of her trip?” The words made his heart twist. She had one more week, and then she’d be gone. Forever. It didn’t seem right. He should be by her side for every last second she was in the Middle East. But he couldn’t turn his back on his country right now.

  “Of course. Just tell her she can’t kiss my feet again.”

  Dakaric laughed into his fist, thankful that Christina didn’t overhear that. “Right. Well, she’ll be leaving for the airport soon. I’d expect her by dinner.”

  Dakaric ended the call, and then turned to watch Christina finish packing. She didn’t have much, but each item was meticulously folded and placed inside her luggage. He worked his jaw back and forth, trying to figure out what to say to her.

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She snapped her gaze up to his, looking taken aback. “Oh?”

  “I know you have to.” He squeezed one hand into a fist. “But I don’t want you to.”

  Christina softened. Some of the golden hair at her temples had frizzed in the heat. He wanted to smooth it back, take her in his arms, give her one last parting gift that neither of them would ever forget.

  “Well, thanks.” She offered a small, sad smile. “I don’t really want to leave either. But I know it’s the right thing.”

  They shared a long look. Would he ever see her again? This couldn’t be the end. Urgency swelled in him. She zipped up her suitcase and set it upright.

  “I’ll come visit you before your flight leaves next week,” he said. “Just to say goodbye.”

  She nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Another silence. Dakaric’s heart throbbed between his ears. He looked down at the phone in his hands and pulled up the number for his driver. He told him to have the car ready within the next five minutes, not a hard task since the car was sitting just around the corner.

  “Let me help you with your bag.” He stood to grab her suitcase handle, brushing her hand in the process. Electricity snapped through him, reminding him of the desire that had pulsed just beneath the surface since the moment he’d met her. The desire that he couldn’t restrain a moment longer.

  Dakaric abandoned the luggage and cupped her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. He didn’t want her to leave; not now, possibly not ever. Was it possible to feel so much for someone after so little time? A week was nothing. Maybe he’d let the fake fiancée ruse go to his head.

  Christina melted into the kiss, her lips just as hungry and urgent as his. She made a soft noise as they kissed, one that told him he wasn’t the only one feeling this intense, pulsing desire. Her fingers knotted in the back of his hair, and he wrapped his arms around her, hoisting her into his arms.

  She fit against him like a puzzle piece as she wrapped her legs around his waist, their kiss never breaking. Her tongue pressed into his mouth, and he stumbled toward the far wall, pressing her up against it. The sound of their kissing was sloppy, uninhibited. He dug his fingers into the backs of her thighs, his cock pulsing. He’d take her right here, in the rapidly diminishing minutes before the car came to get her.

  But that wouldn’t be right. He couldn’t squeeze their lovemaking into a couple stolen minutes. No, he would need an entire day, possibly two, to explore Christina’s body the way he’d envisioned.

  Dakaric had his face buried in her neck when the car honked from the street. He groaned into her skin.

  “God dammit,” she breathed into his ear.

  Every cell of his being protested her leaving his inn right now. “Stay.”

  Her kiss-bitten lips tugged downward. She shook her head. “Dakaric, I can’t.”

  He sighed, pressing his forehead against hers. “Okay. Okay.” His low belly flinched as he resisted the urge to grind his hips into her. That would not help anything. He released his grip from her thighs and let her slide slowly to her feet. “You should go.”

  Indecision was written on her face as she looked up at him, then she nodded. “I should go.”

  Christina was the first to make the move to grab her suitcase. He’d thought by not helping, it might be another deterrent. He tugged a shirt on before carrying the suitcase down the staircase for her and loading it into the trunk of the car. She paused at the back door of the SUV, shielding her eyes to look up at him.

  “Thanks for everything, Dakaric.” She offered a hand.

  He eyed the proposed handshake, then took her face in his hands once more. He brushed his mouth against her velvety lips, relishing the jolt that quaked through him, the electricity that he was sure he’d never felt with anyone else.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, then she slipped into the backseat and shut the door before he could take it further and embarrass them both in public.

  Dakaric stood outside under the penetrating sun to watch the car drive off until he lost sight of it on the horizon. He felt like he could have stood there for the next week watching the horizon, hoping that she might change her mind and return.

  He tried to occupy himself now that she was gone. He wouldn’t go upstairs and mope or imagine the alternative ending to their make out session with his dick in his hand. No, he needed to get back to work. That was the only way to avoid the sadness and the horniness.

  But one thing was certain: he wasn’t done with Christina. She might have to return to the US, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t keep in touch. His mind worked overtime imagining solutions to the distance: he could fly to America every six weeks, while she flew to Al Qalb or Kattahar twice a year. That seemed a fair compromise. Except the kingdom needed him—how would that fit in?

  Texting and calls seemed a viable option. But how long would that last until the attraction fizzled?

  By the time dusk was setting, casting the village in a gauzy golden glow worthy of a postcard, Dakaric was aching and ready to relax. The villagers had been preparing the town center for the celebration. Paper lanterns were strung between buildings and across the plaza. Candles lined the streets, while a few ladies set up a table for food and drinks. Off to the side, a man named Jeri was setting up the hookah. The scent of lamb filled the air.

  This was the type of thing Christina would have loved to see. His chest tightened, and he sank onto the edge of a low wall.

  Tirsa sidled up to him, more excitement on her face than he’d seen possibly ever. “Are you ready for the party?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He heaved a sigh. His feet ached, and his entire body was coated with sweat. He wanted a shower. He wanted Christina.

  “Well, your hard work is paying off.” She sat on the ledge next to him, resting her hands on her knees. She sent him a winning smile, one that was worthy of a magazine.

  Her beauty didn’t faze him. She was pretty in a way that bored him. Like he’d seen it a million times before.

  “Where’s your little girl at?” Tirsa flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I haven’t seen her all afternoon.”

  He clenched his fists. “She’s not a little girl.” Dakaric sniffed, watching the assembling villagers. As night fell, the number of people on the streets multiplied. From somewhere, the haunting twangs of a sitar pierced the air. “She needed to get back to Kattahar for something before she flies back home.”

  “Oh.” The sympathy in her voice sounded forced. Tirsa patted his knee. “Well, it’s for the best. And perhaps even better if she doesn’t come back.”

  Dakaric pulled back, sending a sharp look her way. “Why do you say that?”

  “She can’t help you rule,” Tirsa said, adjusting the black shawl around her shoulders. “She doesn’t understand our country or what’s best for the people.”

  Dakaric flattened his lips, knowing where this was leading. “And is there someone who does?”

  “Of course.” Tirsa leaned in, her smile practically ear to ear. “Me.”

  He rolled his eyes,
but she went on. “You and I have been able to achieve so much in so little time. Look back over these past two months. Tell me you see it. Think about all the good we could continue to do.”

  Dakaric sighed, pushing to his feet. “You want me to marry you?”

  The hope on her face was impossible to ignore. She’d probably been after that the whole time, even with his great-uncle’s late son, Dakaric’s cousin. Maybe it had never just been a job for her.

  “Are you asking me? Because I know my answer.” She batted her eyelashes.

  “Tirsa, you’re not going to be my queen.” Her face fell, but he didn’t care. Let her hopes be dashed. He wasn’t going to marry someone just because they looked good on paper. “If that’s what you’re after, just give it up. You’re great where you are. My PR advisor, and nothing else.”

  Tirsa looked like she wanted to protest, but his attention was yanked away by someone new joining the crowd.

  A fair-skinned newcomer with honey-brown hair and an emerald shawl over her shoulder.

  Christina was heading his way, a smile a mile wide on her face.

  His mouth fell open before he whooped with excitement.

  12

  Christina wound through the dense crowd, every part of her body buzzing with anticipation as she neared Dakaric.

  She’d been determined to make the best of bad news. When outgoing flights from the private airport in Al Qalb’s capital were cancelled due to high winds and a potential sandstorm, she knew exactly what Plan B was.

  What Plan A would have been, should have been all along.

  Dakaric raced up to her, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. His laughter was rich and real; it echoed through her. She’d never felt so warm and safe in somebody’s arms.

  “How is this possible? Did you really come back? I might be dreaming right now.” He set her down gently, his white teeth glinting under the soft light of the lanterns. “I was very sad when you left, so maybe this is just a dream.”