The Sheikh's Stubborn Lover (The Adjalane Sheikhs Series Book 2) (7 page)

Michelle glanced at her watch again. The town car that Adilan had said he was sending had shown up, and had brought her to the palace. Hassan had shown her to the same morning room she’d been in on her last visit. She’d spend ten minutes sitting on one of the lovely chairs, then she’d spend ten minutes pacing. She’d give him another ten minutes and then she was leaving.

What was going on? Had he changed his mind about meeting her? Or had his father found out about them and forbidden the meeting? But if that was the case, why wasn’t she being thrown out? Had something happened to Adilan?

She walked to the French doors that overlooked the inner courtyard. Today, the fountain and greenery didn’t sooth. She pulled out her cell phone and texted him again.

“Michelle?”

She spun around and gasped. Adilan stood in the doorway, his face cut and with purple bruises.

“What happened to you?” She rushed to his side and lifted a hand that hovered over him. She didn’t know where to touch that wouldn’t cause pain.

Limping into the room, he sank down on a chair with a sigh. And he grinned. “Malid and I…we spar sometimes.”

“Yeah, and UFC guys just trade a few friendly punches. I hope he looks worse.”

“He does.” He put up a hand, touched his cheek and winced. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She came over and sat down next to him. “Are you still up for lunch? Do you want to…lie down?”

He took her hand. “The waters at the Zia oasis will help heal me.”

She wasn’t sure she believed that, but when he stood, she helped him to the door. Hassan held the front door for them, and discreetly handed Michelle a small bag. Once they were in the town car, she glanced inside and saw salve, arnica and some aspirin. It seemed Hassan was used to someone in the palace coming home looking like they’d gone one round too many.

The car started out for the Zia oasis where they’d been yesterday, but Adilan gave order to change direction and head to Al-Hilah. “It’s more private,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“And what about lunch?” Michelle asked.

Adilan waved at the driver. “He has a picnic in the trunk.”

“You think of everything.”

He winced. “I wish I did sometimes.”

She wanted to start doctoring him at once, but she waited until they’d made it into Al-Hilah and had settled on the greenery under the palms. The driver had brought the picnic basket and had spread out a blanket, and then he’d returned to the car. Except for the birds overhead, they were utterly alone, sheltered by the sandstone mountains.

The rivers babbled pleasantly, the air caressed her skin, and Michelle pulled out the salve to tend to the worst of the bruises. Adilan hissed and winced as she dapped at his face. She pulled back and told him, “What about the parts I can’t see?” He pulled off his shirt. His ribs were coming up in purple and yellow. She frowned at him. “And the rest of you?”

Standing, he stripped off his shoes and trousers. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and Michelle could feel her face warming. Even though they’d been intimate yesterday, she wasn’t used to sitting outside with a naked man.

Adilan lay down on the blanket as if naked wasn’t just a great look for him but was also the one he liked the best. She started dabbing arnica on the bruises.

Grabbing her wrist, Adilan shook his head. “You are wearing too much.”

Smiling, she sat back. “Really? And here I was thinking you were underdressed.” She put down the first aid kit and stood. She kicked off her shoes and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. She’d worn a white silk shirt—it was about the only sexy thing she owned. Her trousers were khaki. She let them fall. Her underwear was clean and cotton. She pulled it off as fast as she could—no sense even trying to make it look sexy.

Adilan just kept smiling at her, his green eyes darkening in a way that somehow made her feel like Mata Hari

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down to lie on the blanket with him. “This is new for me.”

She choked back a laugh. “Being with a woman? I don’t think so.”

“No, this.” He touched her cheek and let his fingers trail down to her breasts. “I have always been the brother with the most beautiful girl in the room hanging on my arm. It was the one area where I could compete with my brothers and win. But with you…I want to keep you to myself. I don’t need to show you off—I want your beauty for myself.”

The possessive tone in his voice sent a shiver through Michelle. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me.”

“Are the men in America all blind?”

She managed a smile. “I had a…my last relationship, he always said I was sensible.” Taking up the salve, she started to rub it on his skin again.

He shook his head. “I don’t need…”

She put a finger over his lips. “Yes, you do. Because I am sensible, and you…I’m not sure you really are.” Pressing on his shoulders she made him lay down.

Reaching up, he put his hands on her breast. “You feel amazing.”

She bit back a moan and stuttered, “I’m supposed…to be…dealing with your injuries.”

He grabbed her hand and put her fingers on his cock. “This would make me feel better.”

Michelle hid a smiled, but tightened her fingers. “I think that part of your anatomy might need a more thorough examination.” Leaning down, she pressed a light kiss to his hip, then to his flat stomach. She smiled at him. “There’s still one area of your body I haven’t examined yet for injury.” She trailed her finger tips over his ribs.

He gave a small wince. “Touch any part but there.”

“Adilan,” she said and shook her head. She stretched out beside him, wrapping her hands around his cock. Leaning over, she took him in her mouth.

He arched and gave a groan. She liked the salty taste of him, the feel of soft skin over his hard length. Closing her eyes, she let herself feast on him. The sun drifted down between the palm fronds, warming her back, her buttocks, and her legs. The birds sang, and the smell of the desert—and of Adilan’s arousal—washed over her.

Sitting up, she straddled his hips, brushing the wetness gathering between her legs over him. She closed her eyes and let the small spikes of pleasure slip over her skin. Adilan moaned again. Opening her eyes, she impaled herself on his hard length and pushed down.

Once she was fully seated on him, Adilan put his hands on her hips and gave another groan. “You are finding new bruises.”

She put her hands on his shoulders. “Lie back and relax.”

“Not yet.” He gripped her hips with his hands. She lifted up and sank down again, loving the feel of him inside her, filling her. She felt his body tighten and twisted her hips. He shivered, whispered her name and thrusts hard up into her. Pleasure swept over her—warm and relaxed this time, shivers racing down her spin. She pressed herself against Adilan’s warm, solid chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

Slowly easing off him, she lay on her side, one hand on his chest. The sky overhead seemed impossibly blue. She let out a breath. “I’m not sure how I can ever let this place go. Your oasis, the Zia—don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely. But this place, Al-Hilah…it really is special.”

He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Then let us make it the paradise you wish it to be—I only ask you not spoil the natural beauty.”

She glanced at him and lifted up on one elbow. “Are you serious? You’d help me?”

“Tell me of your problems—is it like with Mr. Bishara?”

She twisted her mouth into an almost smile. “That times two. Not only do I not have an architect, meaning no plans and no approvals or permits, I also can’t find a construction company willing to do the work.”

He trailed a finger down her back, making her shiver. “Will you allow me to help you?”

She turned to look at him. “What happened to wanting to get the land back to your father?”

He thought for a moment. “Will you trust me?”

She didn’t know what to answer. She wanted to say yes, but she barely knew this man. She sat up and headed to the picnic basket. “I’m starving. Are you?” He’d tossed his pants over the basket, so she picked them up.

Photos fell out of his pocket. Bending over, she picked them up and saw herself naked at the Zia oasis. She turned to Adilan. “Okay—what the hell is this?”

Adilan sat up. “I am hungry.”

Michelle came over and stood in front of him. She looked like some angry, female jinn with those blue eyes of hers almost shooting sparks, and her skin pale and gleaming in the sun. She smelled of sex and of the desert and he wanted her again.

One hand on her hip, the other holding out the photos, she said, “Let me guess—Malid. Is this what the fight was about? You two were fighting over me?”

“No, we fought over the photos. I won them back.” He waved a hand at his pants. “There is a flash drive, too. You may keep them all.”

She gave him a sideways look. “And what were you going to do with them? I can bet Malid planned some blackmail, but you? What were your plans?”

“Does it matter? Would you believe me?”

She knelt in the sand next to him. “Adilan, you don’t get it. I want to believe you. And you were the guy who turned his back. Besides, if you had someone taking photos, you could have gotten a lot juicer stuff inside the tent.” Her cheeks pinked as she spoke. “This is why you wanted to come here today instead, isn’t it?”

He put a hand over hers, covering the photos. “I ask again—will you trust me, Michelle?”

She looked at the photos and then at Adilan. A smile curved her lips. “I think it’s about time we put our families’ feud to rest, don’t you?”

***

The next three weeks passed with a whirlwind of activity for Michelle. She spent her days with Adilan at Al-Hilah, making plans. She still wasn’t certain there wasn’t some catch, but Adilan helped her find a new architect—one that specialized in low impact, green construction. His plans were brilliant for realizing building at the site that would be all with local artisans and traditional construction that would not only realize a sanctuary but preserve the natural beauty. They were shifting to mud construction with lime glazes that would blend into the mountains, keeping the oasis utterly pristine. The architect promised help getting permits cleared, and he would work with hiring local craftsmen to do the work.

She spent her nights with Adilan—with him showing her around Al-Sarid, going dancing or to dinner, or up in her hotel room with room service and heavenly nights in his arm.

It was starting to seem too good to be true—and it was.

The police arrived at Michelle’s hotel on the next Monday morning. She’d spend the night alone—the first since she and Adilan had been seeing each other. He had said he had to attend a family dinner at the palace. She’d been both relieved not to have to go, but also a little upset he hadn’t asked her to attend. She’d tried to tell herself that he just wanted to spare her the ordeal of a huge family dinner—but she had started to wonder if he was just a little ashamed of her.

He had no problems taking her places—to the beach, to the desert, or to nightclubs. They’d gone riding again on camels, and had visited several museums. But he had not bothered to introduce her to any of his friends—or his family. She told herself she was not his girlfriend—this was a fling for both of them. A romance. But she dreaded facing the idea that someday she would go home and Adilan would stay.

She was thinking of that as she stepped into the lobby and saw the police officers.

Her face went cold and she stopped just outside of the elevators. Two men in uniforms and one in an ill-fitting suit headed straight for her and panic settled into her chest. Had something happened to Adilan?

“Michelle Reynolds, you are under arrest for bribery of a government official.”

She blinked. Her face chilled and her voice cracked. “What are you talking about?”

The man in the suit lifted a dark eyebrow. “You deny giving eight thousand dollars to a Mr. Massad?”

“That was…was for back taxes and maintenance fines on a property my mother owns.”

The man in the bad suit frowned as if he had heard better lies. “You’ll will come with us and surrender your passport.”

The uniformed officer took her arm. She held back against his pull. “What about a phone call? A lawyer? Will you at least let Adilan Adjalane know about this?”

The man shrugged. “He no doubt knows. After all, Sheikh Malid Adjalane brought this bribery to our attention. Now, do you come peacefully?”

***

Right after breakfast, Adilan’s cell phone rang. He saw Thomas Jenkins’ number on the caller ID and answered, saying, “I thought you were still on vacation?”

Jenkins did not sound amused by the joke. “That doesn’t mean dead or disconnected. I take it you haven’t heard about Michelle Reynolds’ arrest yet?”

Adilan stilled, his hand tightening around his phone. “I will handle this from here.” He hung up and headed for the garage and the fastest sports car at the palace.

In the drive, he found Malid just starting to get into his chauffeur-driven limo. Adilan lunged for him, catching him from behind, swinging him around and pushing him up against the side of the limo. He wrapped one hand around his brother’s silk tie. “What have you done?”

Malid stiffened and his eyes darkened. “You should thank me. I stopped you from being an idiot—much as our father was. I know how you have been spending your days and nights. Be easy, brother, Michelle Reynolds will be tried and fined, and it will be sad she must sell her mother’s land to regain her freedom. She will go home wiser about trusting the wrong person.”

“I will have your hide,” Adilan said, grinding out the words.

Malid smiled. “Will you? And what will you tell Father then? Think better, brother. You would have Father know how you spend your days and nights with this American woman? How hard you work, not to return his land, but to do her bidding? What do you think that will do to a weak, old man when he hears of your love for the daughter of the woman who betrayed him?”

Mouth hanging open, Adilan stared at Malid. Love? He wanted to deny the emotion, to say this was…was passion only. He couldn’t. His face flushed hot, and still the lie—the denial—would not come to his lips. He shoved Malid aside. “You bastard.”

Malid straightened his tie. “No, I am my father’s son. You may be the one who repeats Father’s mistakes, but I am the one who avenges the wrong done our family. I will have back what is ours. Now go say good-bye to your little American.”

Drawing back his fist, Adilan grabbed Malid again by his coat lapels. But Nassir came out of the palace and stepped between them. “Why are you two brawling again, this time like street thugs?”

Adilan lowered his fist and let go. Smoothing his suit, Malid stepped back. Adilan glanced at Nassir, then stabbed a finger at Malid. “Keep him away from me.”

Turning, Adilan strode toward the garage. Malid called out after him, “We don’t need to be swayed by emotions right now. We need to be a strong family.”

Adilan slammed into the garage and headed to the red Tesla. He got in and forced himself to take a breath. But Malid’s words haunted him.

He had to face the fact that he had been hiding Michelle from his father—and now he had to choose. Michelle or his father.

Malid was right. His father wouldn’t be happy to hear how Adilan had been spending his time—had been helping Michelle. Father would see Adilan as weak. He might even fly into a rage that would lead to a fatal apoplexy.

But how could Adilan leave Michelle to an unfair fate?

He saw now that he had been putting off this moment, hoping it never would come. Now he not only had to make a choice, he had to do something to save Michelle. Even if it meant she would never speak to him again.