JOE COLTON’S JOURNAL

Between worrying about my missing foster daughter, Emily, and trying to keep my wits about me in the face of danger, I don’t remember the last time I’ve had a decent night’s sleep. And don’t get me started about the rift that gets wider each day between me and my wife. But it looks like I’m not the only one who is in dire straits. My honorary son, Sheik Ali El-Etra, seems to be in way over his head. He’s heir to the throne and under pressure by his family to choose a bride. He’s finally gotten serious about someone…but it’s the last woman on earth I would have expected. Just between you and me, Ali thinks he’s God’s gift to women. And his feisty computer consultant-turned-girlfriend, Faith Martin, is hardly the type to bend to a man’s will. Those two are like oil and water! Perhaps my troubles with Meredith have made me a cynic…. Who knows, maybe Ali’s bachelor days are finally numbered.

About the Author

SHARON DE VITA,

a former adjunct professor of communications and a newlywed with three grown children, is also an award-winning, USA Today bestselling author of over twenty-four books of fiction and nonfiction with more than two million copies in print and translations in thirteen foreign languages. Sharon admits, “I was both thrilled and honored to be asked to author one of the books in Silhouette’s new continuity series, THE COLTONS. This series has everything a reader could want—fabulous characters, a wicked mystery and, of course, incredible romance. I think this series is destined to become one of readers’ favorites.”

I Married a Sheik
Sharon De Vita

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Meet the Coltons—a California dynasty with a legacy of privilege and power.

Ali El-Etra: The powerful sheik. Accustomed to having his minions scurry to do his bidding, this sultan is shocked—and infinitely intrigued—by his new consultant’s irreverence. Has he just met his match?

Faith Martin: The plain Jane. Wary of high-handed “princely” types like Ali, she’d like to take the sheik down a notch or two—and then keep him in her loving arms forever!

Meredith Colton: The misplaced matriarch. With no memory of her true identity, the real “Meredith” has been having recurrent dreams about a little redheaded girl crying out for her help—a child that she instinctively knows is her own daughter!

Emily Blair: A woman in jeopardy. With little cash and a heart full of fear, the Coltons’ foster daughter hitches a ride to Wyoming when she suspects she is the target in a botched murder attempt.

I suppose a woman who writes romances should believe in love at first sight, but it took a very special man to make a believer out of me. As I was deep in preparations for my oldest daughter’s wedding, a kind, loving, wonderful man—a widower—walked into my life, uninvited and certainly unexpected, and proceeded to turn it upside down.

And I will forever be grateful!

This one’s for that very special man, who has brought love, laughter, and especially joy back into my life—and my heart. Thank you, sweetheart. This one’s for you!

—Colonel Frank Noland Cushing (Ret)

Acknowledgment

The author gratefully acknowledges the technical help and assistance of the following computer wizards who answered numerous questions with infinite patience and never laughed at this self-confessed computer moron!

Any errors are my own.

My heartfelt thanks to:

Dennis Liby, Gay Wescott, Jason Arden, Dave Pede.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

One

San Diego

F aith Martin was fuming.

Ignoring Mr. Kadid, the dark, elderly male assistant who had been keeping her company for the past hour and a half, Faith expelled an exasperated breath, sidestepped the man and made a beeline for the closed double mahogany doors.

“Wait. Miss Martin, you—you can’t go in there.” The words came out of his mouth on a near gasp. He was right on her heels, clucking his tongue in dismay.

But it was too late. Unwilling to be denied, she threw open the double doors and came to a stunned halt, staring at the unbelievable opulence.

“Good Lord.” The words slipped from her mouth as her gaze quickly traveled around the elaborate office suite. She’d been in a lot of offices since she’d started her own computer consulting business seven years ago, many belonging to some of the wealthiest entrepreneurs in California, but nothing had ever compared to the decadent luxury of this one.

The enormous suite was breathtaking.

Done in subtle, masculine shades of navy and maroon, the room contained a collection of exquisite art she had no doubt was genuine. The walls were papered in elegant white silk with hand-carved mahogany chair and ceiling moldings.

In the middle of the room, backlit by a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sprawling city, was a large elegant cherry desk that looked hand-crafted. In front of the desk sat two overstuffed navy leather club chairs, each with its own matching ottoman.

On the walls hundreds of books were shelved, some of which appeared to be rare first editions, giving the room a homey, comfortable feeling. In the farthest corner of the room, in front of another row of floor-to-ceiling windows, sat a long carved conference table with matching navy leather armchairs. A soaring marble fireplace with an intricate coat of arms above the mantel was nestled in another corner.

Placed around the room was an assortment of Waterford vases displaying floral sprays in an array of beautiful fall colors, permeating the room with a sweet, almost sinful aroma.

The late afternoon sun danced through the windows, shimmering off the beautiful pieces and heightening their beauty.

Faith shifted her gaze. In the middle of this opulence, behind the desk, sat a large dark-haired man engrossed in a telephone conversation, totally oblivious to her.

He didn’t even bother to glance up.

“Mr. El-Etra,” she said, storming across the plush navy-blue carpeting to plant her tennis shoes squarely in front of his desk. “Mr. El-Etra,” she repeated, more firmly this time. She was close enough now to see the family crest of gold inlaid in the top of the magnificent desk. It was a remarkable piece of work and almost had her gaping again at such decadent extravagance.

The man’s custom-tailored suit in a subtle gray pin-stripe probably cost more than her annual rent. If you added the custom-tailored monogrammed white shirt, it could probably cover her grocery budget for a time as well.

Terrific, she thought sourly, letting her gaze slip around the room again.

Annoyingly rude, unbelievably rich, and no doubt irresponsibly spoiled. Her three least favorite things about a man, let alone a client.

She planted her hands on his desk. “Mr. El-Etra, I appreciate that your investment firm is an important and integral part of the business community. However, you need to understand that my time is no less important or valuable.” Faith paused to take a breath, vividly aware that the dark-haired man was not in the least bit aware of her.

Or her tirade.

He was so engrossed in his telephone conversation, she could have been an ant on the floor for all the attention he’d given her.

However, the rather nervous assistant now hovering at her elbow seemed about to swallow his tongue—if the bulging of his eyes and the nervous tic in his cheek were any indication.

Faith took a step closer to the gleaming cherry desk, her temper inching upward by the second as she glared at the man. It wasn’t enough that he had kept her waiting for almost two hours, now he had the audacity to ignore her!

“Mr. El-Etra!” She rapped on his desk with her knuckles. He never even flinched. “Your managing director called me this morning and insisted I come immediately, that your computer problems were of an urgent nature, but it certainly can’t be that urgent if you’ve kept me cooling my heels in your waiting room for almost an hour and a half.”

“Uh…Miss Martin…” The assistant held a finger in the air. “It’s—it’s not Mr. El-Etra,” he corrected softly.

Faith blinked at him and felt a momentary skitter of alarm. Good Lord, had she stormed into the wrong office? She almost groaned. That would be a perfect end to a perfectly dreadful day.

She took a careful breath. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sheik El-Etra.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve wasted almost two hours of my valuable time and now you’re going to get picky about titles?” Her voice rose as she took a step closer to him, forcing him to take a self-protective step back.

In addition to cooling her heels in the outer office, she’d missed lunch and had sat for nearly two hours in rush-hour traffic in order to keep this blasted appointment.

She’d been unusually nervous and excited when she’d received the call, well aware of the prominence of the El-Etra Investment Firm, and what having its name on her client list could do for her successful, but still not-over-the-hump computer consulting business.

Nerves, however, had finally given way to an inexplicable bout of temper. She was successful, in demand, and had garnered an impeccable reputation in the business community and was not accustomed to being treated like a bad-tempered stepchild.

“Ms. Martin.” The assistant’s lashes fluttered nervously. “I’m certain—”

“No, Mr. Kadid, I’m certain that your boss’s title is of the utmost importance to you.” Planting her hands on her slender jean-clad hips, she turned to glare at the man still engrossed in his telephone conversation. “But trust me on this, I couldn’t care less what you call him, although I’m quite certain I could come up with a few names on my own.” She gave her head an arrogant toss.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really don’t have time for this nonsense. Give my regrets to the sheik,” she snapped, deliberately giving his title a great deal more emphasis than necessary as she turned and marched toward the doors. “Tell him when he gets serious about his business to give me a call. Until then, don’t bother wasting my time.” Muttering under her breath, Faith stormed back toward the still-open double doors, muttering imprecations under her breath.

“Miss Martin.” The very deep, slightly accented voice caught Faith off guard, stopping her in her tracks. She hesitated for a moment as that voice seemed to reverberate along her nerve endings like an unwelcome caress. A shiver raced over her and she turned on her heel in curiosity to stare at the man that voice belonged to.

He’d hung up the phone, and was now standing, drawn to his full, elegant height, and Faith resisted the urge to take a step back. She had to tilt her head to take in the full length of him.

Magnetic was the first and only word that came to mind, crowding everything else out. With his proud, regal bearing, and dark good looks, his presence was forceful, incredibly masculine and magnetic.

Magnificent was the second word that popped into her mind. He was, she decided, one incredibly magnificent-looking male.

At the moment, however, he was also apparently annoyed, judging from the stormy look in those dark, smoldering eyes. Her chin rose a notch.

Too bad.

So was she.

Unwilling to be intimidated by his looks or his posture, Faith took a step closer.

She’d been too irritated to pay much attention to his features before, but now she could see he was, in a word, incredible. Much more elegant and handsome than in the silly society photos where he was usually photographed with some bubbling, beautiful airhead clinging to his arm like sticky flypaper.

Burnished olive skin, deeply etched features, a thin, elegant mouth, large dark eyes and a head of thick black hair made him like look a renegade pirate from another age. An unconscious shiver raced over her as she felt the full force of that masculine pull.

That was until she reminded herself of his reputation as a playboy who went through women faster than a termite through rotted wood. She pretty much knew this was not a man she was going to have much in common with.

He reminded her too much of her father. Another handsome, irresponsible playboy who’d cared little for those who’d cared for him, less for the broken hearts he left behind.

Faith almost shivered. She’d made it a practice to steer clear of this type of man. Thank God she didn’t have to deal with him on a personal level. She didn’t have much patience for immature male nonsense, and what little she’d had her father had worn out years ago.

Having to deal with this man professionally was going to be more than enough, judging from this first encounter.

“Ms. Martin.” There was a hint of annoyance in his tone and Faith took a step closer, wondering what the heck he had to be annoyed about.

“I believe we have an appointment?” One dark brow lifted in an imperious manner, only further annoying her. Impenetrable dark eyes stared levelly at her, as if taking her measure.

“Had,” she corrected, marching back toward him, feeling as if his twin nearly black eyes could see through her. “Had an appointment, Mr…. Sheik El-Etra.” She tapped the face of her no-nonsense sports watch. It matched the rest of her no-nonsense outfit. “Almost two hours ago.”

“It’s Ali,” he said quietly.

Faith blinked again, trying to shake off the shivers that deeply masculine voice had caused. It was an exotic blend, deep, smooth, with just a hint of an accent. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Ali.” He tilted his head, and she thought she saw a small smile curve the corner of that elegantly sculptured mouth. “My name, it is Ali.”

His smile bloomed, transforming his face into something breathtaking. Faith felt her own breath wither in her throat. Her heartbeat sped up, and she resisted the urge to take a self-protective step back, to put some distance between them.

“Although I’m sure you’ve thought of other things you’d like to call me.” Amused, his dark eyes twinkled, and Faith flushed, embarrassed that she’d allowed her temper to overrule her professionalism, and embarrassed that she was allowing herself to have such a strong physical reaction to him.

Her flush deepened. “I’m not accustomed to being kept waiting,” she said defensively, meeting his gaze. “My time is at a premium—”

“As is all of ours,” he countered, looking at her curiously. He was not accustomed to having a woman look at him as if he’d just slithered from between a crack in the flooring, and he was absolutely certain he didn’t care for that cold look of suspicion she was aiming at him, as if she’d examined and found him lacking.

It was most unusual, and hardly the reaction most women had to him.

He spread his hands in supplication. “I apologize, but this delay could not be helped. I have been dealing with just one of many crises today. We will, of course, compensate you for your time, Ms. Martin.”

“It’s not merely a question of money,” Faith snapped, irritated that he apparently thought money was her only concern. “Some things are more important than money.”

One brow lifted again. “Really?”

It figured he would think money was the only important thing. Something else he had in common with her father. Looking at him, looking into those dark eyes, she had the strangest feeling he was mocking her. Faith stiffened.

“To some people money isn’t the be all and end all. It’s a question of time and priorities. I have other clients who were in dire straits today and needed my assistance, clients I put off because your needs seemed to have been the most urgent. Apparently that’s not the case.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Martin. My needs are most urgent.” The tone of his voice had changed, softened, making her think of other needs, more primal needs, and she felt an unfamiliar heat flare through her.

“And contrary to your initial statement, Ms. Martin, I take my business very, very seriously.”

Fascinated, Ali studied her. She was, he decided, too plain to be considered beautiful, but there was something about her, even in her drab clothing, that was elementally interesting.

The khaki slacks fit snugly at her waist and flared over hips that were elegantly curved in a way that would keep a man’s head turning.

The plain cotton T-shirt was baggy, yet didn’t hide the lush curve of her breasts or her slender, almost elegant shoulders.

Her hair, although pulled tightly from her face and left to hang down her back in some intricate braid, was a beautiful honeyed-auburn with every color of red woven in. He’d bet his next foal it was all natural, and complemented her ivory complexion in an extremely appealing way.

Her face was an interesting, feminine mix of angles with enormous green eyes, high cheekbones and full lips that were made for kissing and kissing well. Although judging by the looks of her, she probably hadn’t been kissed very often.

She was not generally the type of woman a man pursued or fantasized over. She was far too plain. Her face was devoid of any cosmetics, yet her lashes were dark, long and full, shadowing her eyes and giving her a rather exotic look.

Ali found himself curiously intrigued and could not imagine why.

He gave a quiet sigh. Perhaps he’d been working too hard. An extremely sensuous man by nature who found everything about a woman, from her looks, to her scent, to the gentlest curve of her hip, gloriously fascinating and arousing, he had perhaps been too busy fending off the females his parents kept foisting on him to seek out a woman that could truly please and appreciate the most sensuous part of his nature.

Although he wanted—desired—the company of an intelligent female companion, one who was more than an advertisement for the latest designer, and who could respond honestly to his passionate nature, he had no wish or desire for love. It was simply not something he would ever allow in his life again.

Most of the women in his universe were either perfect models or beautiful debutantes who wouldn’t dare go anywhere without being decked out in their finest designer apparel.

Their facades of beauty, minds of cobwebs and hearts of stone, which allowed little for true passion of any kind, had left him cold.

And a cold woman was the curse of a man’s life. A fate worse than death, he believed.

In his experience a woman who was so preoccupied with how she looked rarely took the time to examine what she could feel, and a woman who could not accept, enjoy and appreciate the feelings of passion a woman was capable of was truly not a woman.

Ali cocked his head to examine the woman before him more closely, feeling a heated arousal of interest just from the angry passion radiating from her.

This was clearly a woman who allowed herself to feel all of life’s emotions.

And he found her both interesting and intriguing.

It was just a shame she was so sullen and surly.

He was not accustomed to having anyone, let alone a woman, speak to him in such a disdainful manner. Women generally were falling all over themselves in an effort to impress him.

It had become truly annoying, simply because he didn’t want to be impressed by beauty or clothing or jewels; he wanted a woman to impress him with her essence, her honesty, her being.

And so far, he had not yet met such a woman.

“Ms. Martin, if these computer problems are not solved, and solved quickly, it will jeopardize the entire operation of El-Etra Investments, something I cannot allow. I have a responsibility to my clients. They have entrusted me with their funds, some with their life savings, and I don’t intend to cause a panic among my investors because of a silly problem with a machine.”

“Silly problem with a machine,” Faith echoed in disbelief, blowing out a soft breath. “Mr. El-Etra, if it wasn’t for that silly machine, I sincerely doubt you’d be in business. That machine has no doubt improved your productivity and saved time, not to mention money.”

“Are you scolding me, Ms. Martin?”

His words hung in the air for a moment, still soft, still polite, but with an underlying hint of power. Faith had a flash of awareness that perhaps she’d gone too far, but she wasn’t about to back down. To anyone.

“Just stating facts, Mr. El-Etra,” she replied coolly. She refused to use his first name or his title, which would put this situation on a more personal level and she intended to keep this strictly business. “So exactly what is the problem?” she asked, determined to get on with the business at hand.

He smiled. “If I knew, Ms. Martin, trust me, I would have fixed it myself, or had my staff of computer experts attend to it. I’m afraid that we are at a complete loss to understand this confounded system.”

She tried to place the accent, but couldn’t. There were definitely hints of English, probably Oxford, she surmised, but there was also a hint of whatever his native language was still detectable in his impeccable speech patterns. It was an enticing blend of something foreign, exotic and slightly…erotic.

He dragged a hand through his dark hair. “All I know is that this problem has disrupted my entire operation, and it simply cannot go on or be tolerated. I must have the problem fixed immediately.”

“Immediately,” she repeated with an irritated nod of her head. Obviously this was a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. Spoiled, she thought again, realizing she’d been right about him.

Her eyes flashed. “Well, if I hadn’t been cooling my heels in your waiting room, perhaps I’d have a clue what the problem is and be well on my way to solving it.”

“Perhaps.” Apparently, she was not about to forgive him so easily. “I understand that you are considered the best computer consultant in the business?”

“Considered?” One auburn brow rose and Faith felt the stung of his subtle doubt. Fists clenched in frustration at his high-handed arrogance, she took a step closer to his desk. “Well, you’ve apparently been misinformed.”

It was his turn to look surprised. His glance shifted from her to his elderly assistant who was still quietly hovering in the background. “Kadid? What is this?” He glanced at Faith, his dark brows drawn together, then back at his assistant. “Have I been misinformed?”

The carefully chosen words sounded like a threat, almost making Faith shiver. The guy gave a whole new meaning to the word arrogant.

“Absolutely,” Faith responded before the assistant could. “I am the best computer consultant in the business.”

“Modest, too, I can see,” Ali said, with a cautious smile of relief. Plain, but feisty, he decided with a hint of amusement. An interesting combination.

“No, Mr. El-Etra, not modest, just honest.” Her chin lifted. “Honest, and the best, but my time is valuable, and I don’t appreciate having it wasted.”

There was anger, he noted, and something else radiating from her, something he couldn’t quite place.

“Nor do I, Ms. Martin,” he said, making it clear that he considered her little temper tantrum a waste of his time. “If you are the best, then I trust you’ll be able to fix this insidious problem. Immediately.” It was a clear challenge, one Faith couldn’t ignore.

“Well, I don’t know about your idea of immediate, but once I find out what the problem is, I’m sure I can fix it. I can’t tell you how long it will take, though, until I know exactly what we’re dealing with.” She met his gaze head-on. “Some things take time whether we like it or not.” And she was not about to be rushed. Sensing he was going to issue another order or command that would no doubt only tick her off more, she rushed on. “Now, if you can give me an idea of just what the problem is, it might help. I have to start somewhere. I’m good, but I’m not a mind reader.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, stung once again by her sarcasm. He drew himself upward, slipping his hands in the pockets of his pants. “We are a full-scale investment firm, Ms. Martin, and once a month an assortment of checks are issued to each and every client, checks of different denominations for different purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” She wished he’d stop staring at her. He was making her…itchy.

Ali blew out an exasperated breath. “A few days ago, on the first of the month, when the first batch of checks were distributed, the system began spitting out checks in the wrong denominations. In addition, we discovered that it was also crediting deposits to the wrong accounts and in the wrong amounts. Both new funds, interest, as well as divestitures were misappropriated to the wrong accounts.”

With a shake of his head, Ali glanced down at the neat sheaf of papers on his desk. He’d spent hours going over paperwork, trying to fix this problem, then more hours on the phone, soothing investors. He felt as if he hadn’t left his office in weeks.

“As a result, chaos has reigned. My accountants did not discover the errors until after the first checks had been mailed and the first irate calls started coming in.” His brows drew together as he remembered the flurried panic among his staff that morning.

“Our in-house computer experts were at a loss as well. They began searching for the problem—”

“Immediately,” she injected with a nod of her head, causing him to stop and stare at her for a long moment. Obviously this was a man not used to being interrupted, judging from the look on his face.

“Yes,” he said slowly, still watching her carefully. “But alas, they came up empty. They tried various things, unfortunately, nothing worked. As a result, we had to completely shut down our entire computer system simply because it is set up to distribute and print checks automatically. I have been deluged with calls from angry investors who have either not received the proper funds or have not received any funds at all. Now, unfortunately, they have begun to question the integrity as well as the security of my firm.” He sounded as if he was surprised by this.

“Well, that would do it for me.” She slipped her hands in the pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “If I’d invested my life savings in a firm and found out they’d screwed up and sent my money to someone else, I’d be a tad annoyed as well.”

“Screwed up?” His dark eyes narrowed and she could hear Mr. Kadid sigh from behind her. Apparently telling the sheik he’d screwed up wasn’t part of the proper protocol. “This cannot continue, Ms. Martin,” he said in clipped tones. “So as you can see, this is of an urgent nature and must be attended to. Immediately.”

Perhaps if he hadn’t sounded like he was issuing a command, she might have softened at his plight.

“Situations happen whether we allow them or not. And as for urgent and immediate, I’m not the fire department,” she clarified, watching his face darken. The assistant was apparently back to sighing again as well. “Clearly you’ve got a problem with your accounting program,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

He stiffened and his eyes went cold at the perceived insult. “I can assure you, Ms. Martin, that my staff is more than qualified to handle almost any situation that arises—”

“But apparently not this one. If they were, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her words hung in the air for a long moment, and Faith wondered if perhaps she’d gone too far. But the man was just so…downright arrogant, she couldn’t help but goad him a bit.

“Touché.” He nodded, as if he was gracing her with some great gift, and allowed a small smile to touch his lips. “But of course you are right. This was one problem my own people have not been able to solve.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “El-Etra Investments prides itself on its impeccable reputation. As I’m sure you can understand, when someone trusts you with their money, any hint of impropriety can have devastating effects, not just on your actual business, but also on your reputation. And in this business, your reputation is everything.” He took a slow, deep breath. His gaze never left hers. “I have assured my investors that this problem would be solved immediately, and although I have ample insurance to cover such an occurrence, it is my name on the firm, and I have vowed to personally make good on every single penny invested and due. We’re in the process of personally distributing checks now to every investor to cover any losses, differences or discrepancies.”

“You have that kind of money?” The question popped out before she could stop it. She glanced around. This was no mom-and-pop store, but a big-league operation that no doubt had millions of dollars invested in it.

The mere idea of having that kind of indeterminable wealth almost stopped her heart.

For someone who had struggled, pinched pennies, worked two jobs just to put herself through school, and had gone deeply in debt just to start her own fledging computer consulting business and had worked like a dog for seven years to make a go of it, the thought of endless funds seemed like nirvana.

And this man discussed it without so much as a blip in his voice.

“But of course,” he said simply, as if they were talking about pocket change. “Why, are you planning on raising your rates?”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it before, but now, I just might consider it.”

“Ms. Martin, I am Sheik Ali El-Etra.” The way he said it made her wonder if she was supposed to bow or something.

“So I’ve heard, since everyone around here keeps telling me, although I can’t possibly imagine why.” Apparently she was supposed to be impressed.

She wasn’t.

“It means nothing to you?” For a moment he didn’t know if he should be annoyed or amused. Most women he encountered had all but done a Dunn and Bradstreet check on him before he ever met them.

“I don’t have a clue what your title means or why it should be important to anyone but you.”

He couldn’t help the little stab to his ego. “My title, Ms. Martin, merely means that I am of royal blood.”

“Royal blood?” One brow rose suspiciously. “Right.” This time the sigh from behind her was louder, and laced with just a bit of…panic, she thought. “Royal blood?” she repeated with a frown, considering. “You mean like a king or queen or something.”

“Or something,” he admitted with a slow nod.

“And of course no one thought it was important to mention this little tidbit to me?” she asked, feeling just a tad embarrassed by her own behavior. He was a client, and just because he’d been rude, didn’t mean she had to be.

He just annoyed her so with his arrogant, high-handed orders and demands. As if the world revolved around him.

“Would it have changed your behavior if you had known?” Or your viperous tongue, he wondered.

“Probably not,” she admitted honestly. “Unless you have the power to have someone beheaded.”

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich as it rumbled around the room. “I’m afraid, Ms. Martin, that we no longer behead people.” He flashed her a brilliant smile. Faith felt as if the temperature in the office rose twenty degrees. “Too messy.”

“Well, I’m grateful for small favors.”

Cocking his head, he studied her. “And would it have mattered anyway?”

“The beheading?”

He shook his head, amused. “No, my bloodlines.”

“Not unless you plan on running in the Kentucky Derby.” She shrugged. “Otherwise, your bloodlines don’t matter one whit to me.”

He laughed again. It had been a very long time since anyone had dared to speak to him so freely. Not since his beloved grandmother. But this woman certainly did not remind him of his grandmother.

On the contrary, she was young and vibrant, with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. And he found himself suddenly both irritated and amused by her.

A woman who was not impressed by his title, his bloodlines or apparently his money. A novelty, for sure.

“My title, it is, as you said, perhaps, of no real importance,” he admitted, “except to those who are impressed by such things.” He smiled and she realized anew just how incredibly attractive he was. “And you apparently are not one of those people.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t care less if you’re the King of Siam.”

“Wrong country, wrong continent.” He pointed to a large, full-scale color map framed and anchored to one wall. “The land of my birth is Kuwait, Ms. Martin.”

Faith glanced across the room to where he was pointing. The details of the map were so precise, so vivid, it actually looked hand-painted. Probably was, she decided. He probably had his minions paint the little trinket just to decorate his office. Why, she wondered, did the mere thought annoy her?

Faith shifted her gaze back to his. Kuwait. So that explained the faint accent, the inlaid family crest on his desk, above the fireplace. It explained a lot of things about him.

She’d been right; he was spoiled and rich and, on top of it, a royal. Terrific.

“You are frowning again, Ms. Martin. Have I said something to annoy you?” Apparently, he’d been saying and doing a lot that annoyed her.

“You can call me Faith,” she said absently. If the man had royal blood, she supposed he could use her first name. “So what is a man of royal blood from Kuwait doing in California?”

“What all normal men do, I suppose. Conducting business.” He cast another scathing look at the computer on his desk. “Or trying to.” He didn’t know why it was important to explain, but for some reason he did. “Many years ago my father and his partner, Joe Colton, who happens to live in Prosperino, California, went into business together. It was the perfect merger of two like-minded men, two countries and cultures.”

“I’ve heard of the Coltons,” she said with a quiet nod.

The Coltons were California’s version of royalty—well-connected, well-respected, and with a sterling reputation in the business, political and social community.

She’d always admired the vast family from afar, eagerly reading about them in the paper, envying them for their closeness, their love, their incredible devotion to one another. The Coltons were, in her mind, what the definition of what a true family was, the kind she’d never had.

But her affection for the Coltons went far deeper than what she’d read in the society pages. The Coltons were a philanthropic family, giving to a great deal of needy causes. They had, in fact, funded the Hopechest Ranch, where she’d spent some of her teen years. Without the ranch, she would have probably ended up on the streets, just another lost kid.

She owed a lot to the Hopechest Ranch and, ultimately, the Coltons for making such a place possible for children who either had nowhere to go or had no one who wanted them.

She’d been just such a child. But she wasn’t about to tell this man any such thing. Someone like Ali El-Etra would never understand what it was like to be alone in the world, never knowing where your next meal was coming from, never knowing if you’d have a roof over your head.

He had minions who did nothing but hand-paint maps for him. Obviously he’d never understand where she came from.

Ali continued. “My father is a descendant of the Kuwaiti royal family, and our family is the largest land-holder in our country, land that is rich with oil. Oil my country was not even aware of so many years ago, nor did they have any experience extracting that oil from the land. Joe Colton, on the other hand, had equipment, experience and an oil-rigging company.” Ali shrugged, not mentioning how close the El-Etras and the Coltons had become over the years. They’d been like a surrogate family to him, particularly during the years of unrest in his country, when his father, fearing for his safety, had sent him to America, to the Coltons, to live.

It was a painful time for Ali, a time when he’d been separated from his family, and when he’d lost his beloved Jalila.

Ali shook away the memories, preferring not to think of them. They were still far too painful.

“Together, Joe Colton and my father became not just partners and very close friends, but very, very successful men.” He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving beneath the custom-tailored suit. “It has worked out quite well for all concerned.”

Faith glanced around at the room. “Apparently,” she said with a nod and a smile. Her initial assessment of him had been accurate. He was an impossibly spoiled man who had no idea what it meant to work. A man who’d been handed everything in life. A man she could never relate to or understand.

She was proud of all that she’d worked for and accomplished on her own, without any help from anyone.

But then again there’d never been anyone to help her, she thought. She had no choice but to do everything on her own.

She shifted her gaze back to him. “So it’s daddy’s money you’re pledging to cover your investors.” She nodded thoughtfully, trying not to feel envious. “Now I understand.” Cocking her head, she met his gaze. “I imagine it’s easy playing at being successful when someone else is footing the bills.”

“My father’s money?” The words boomed out of his mouth. His face darkened, and an unrecognizable emotion swept through his eyes as he shot to his feet like a cannon.

“On the contrary, Ms. Martin. It is my money,” he corrected firmly, coming around the desk to stand in front of her. He was so close she caught a hint of his aftershave. It was something discreet, masculine, and absolutely intoxicating.

At a distance, he was impressive; standing so close, his presence was nearly overwhelming. She could see the tiny pinpoints of annoyance glinting from his dark eyes, eyes that were nearly hypnotizing. She could see the way his mouth tightened, thinned.

“Ms. Martin, I came to America and started El-Etra Investments on my own nearly ten years ago, without any assistance from my father or my family, financial or otherwise.” Feeling defensive, Ali glanced around the spacious room. “The only assistance my father has provided to me has been advice and counsel, something I value tremendously since he is not only successful, but a man of quality and integrity.”

He paused to level her with a gaze that almost had her quaking in her shoes. “My father was one of my very first clients, but make no mistake, Ms. Martin, my father is not a fool. He would never have entrusted or invested part of the family fortune in this firm if it was not a viable business enterprise.”

Faith watched him warily, the way she would eye a hungry rabid dog she’d suddenly stumbled upon.

Apparently she’d hit a nerve, one that was particularly sensitive. He was fairly quaking with anger, and his dark, fathomless eyes were hot enough to singe the hair on her head.

Apparently she’d really put her foot in her mouth this time.

Faith wanted to sigh as regret swept over her. She realized she needed to pull back, get some distance, emotionally and physically, and apologize.

She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this job. Not because he was of royal blood, or rich. Neither meant a hill of beans to her.

But his business did.

She needed it in order to secure the bank loan that would help her expand into larger offices and hire a few more consultants. But none of that was possible if she ticked off El-Etra and lost this account.

In spite of her own apparent disdain for the man and his lifestyle, she needed to remain emotionally uninvolved, not let her own personal feelings about his life, his reputation or his wealth affect her business sense.

Detached. Completely and totally detached. She had to remember that. Looking at him, she had a sinking feeling it was going to be easier said than done because he represented all the things she detested in a man.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, vividly aware that he was still standing just a few inches from her, far too close for comfort. Close enough for his male scent to tantalize and tease her senses. Close enough for her to see how attractive he really was. It was totally unnerving. “I didn’t mean to insult you or your family.”

“Family is a very sacred thing to me, Ms. Martin,” he said quietly, sincerely. Still, it sounded like a warning.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Faith said with a nod.

“Please do.” His eyes had cleared and his face had softened into a small smile. The man was far too gorgeous to be allowed to smile in public.

He looked at her carefully, as if studying her. “It would be a pity if I had to reconsider my position on beheading, don’t you think?”

Two

“T he thing I don’t understand, Ali, is how you’ve managed to stay in business this long?” Shaking her head, Faith took a sip of her soft drink and glanced across the conference table at him.

She’d been working on his systems nearly round-the-clock for the past three days, trying to navigate her way through the problems.

Lack of sleep, lack of food, and a headache had left her hot, tired and more than slightly irritable, but patience wasn’t her strong suit even on her best day.

She hoped this meeting didn’t take too long. The man still made her nervous, with his dark good looks and his impossible smile. Several times during the past few days she’d found her thoughts drifting back to their initial meeting.

The fact that she also found herself scouring the society pages each morning to see if his picture was there—invariably it was, with a different beautiful woman each day—had become a mild irritant, something she didn’t understand.

She was not the type of woman to spend her time mooning over a man. But she consoled herself with the thought that it was only natural for her to be curious about a man who held her financial future in his hands.

The pictures each morning only confirmed and emphasized their differences and her rather jaded opinion of him.

He apparently had a different date every night. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a date. By choice. She much preferred machines to men—machines didn’t lie, they didn’t leave you and they couldn’t hurt you.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a frown.

Faith sighed, realizing she’d been staring at him. The sun coming through the windows glinted against his facial features, highlighting the plane of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw, already dark with an early afternoon stubble. The total effect was irresistibly sexy. No wonder women swooned at his feet, obeyed his every command and begged to do his bidding.

Annoyed by her own train of thought, Faith shook her head, averted her gaze, then glanced back down at her notes, trying to get her mind back on business.

“Okay, Ali, let me explain what I’ve discovered so far.” She struggled to concentrate, took a breath so her voice would be calm. “First and foremost you need a new server. The one you have is not only hopelessly outdated, but not nearly adequate for your needs. I’m surprised you haven’t had a serious problem before this.” Carelessly, she flipped through her notes with a frown, then glanced up at him, surprised to find him watching her intently.

The way the man focused his total attention on you made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. It was unnerving, and a bit annoying.

She wasn’t accustomed to being scrutinized so closely by a male, particularly such a potent male. It was definitely having an effect on her, and only increasing her nervousness and irritability.

“Second, you need a completely new operating system, something you’ll be able to use not just today, but in the future as well. In addition, each workstation needs new, updated monitors, keyboards and programs that will complement the new operating system.” She stopped, rubbed the throbbing in her forehead, then sighed, wishing she could read her own handwriting.

“And above all, Ali, you have to install anti-virus programs on each and every workstation. With the proliferation of viruses out there, you’re far too vulnerable without it. I think that’s what happened to your system. I think you picked up a virus somewhere, probably in an e-mail attachment from someone, the kind that sics itself onto your hard drive, and then begins eating your files.” She sipped her warm soft drink, wishing for a hot sandwich and a colder drink.

She shrugged her slender shoulders. “That’s the only thing I can figure out right now. It’s the only explanation I can find. I’ve checked and rechecked everything else.” And she had the headache to prove it.

He leaned forward in his chair, his concentration total. “Do you mean that perhaps someone has done this deliberately?” Concern etched his words and she sought to soothe his worry.

“Deliberately?” She considered. “No. Not necessarily. Certain software is particularly vulnerable to this type of virus. Hackers think it’s cute to send viruses out that disrupt businesses and destroy data.”

“This type of thing is done for fun?” He looked so shocked, she laughed.

“Believe it or not, yes.” She cocked her head. “Guess you’re not in Kansas anymore.” At his frown, she realized he didn’t have a clue what she was referring to. She laughed. “Never mind, it’s just an expression.”

“An expression?” He continued to frown. “What does Kansas have to do with my computer system in California?”

Amused, Faith realized she was going to have to give him a crash-course in American pop culture. “Did you ever see the movie The Wizard of Oz?”

He looked both suspicious and skeptical. “No. Should I?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and leaned her arms on the table. “It’s a great flick. Anyway, ‘you’re not in Kansas anymore’ is merely an expression, a takeoff on the movie’s theme. It just means someone’s being particularly naive about something.”

“And am I being naive?” he asked carefully, wondering if she was once again making fun of him.

Uh-oh, she had a feeling she was about to put her foot in her mouth again.

She chose her words carefully, not wanting to insult him further. She rather liked having her head where it sat.

“Ali, I know it’s hard to believe, but some people do deliberately try to disrupt businesses and destroy data merely for their own pleasure.”

“That is a very sad state of affairs.”

“I agree.”

“But because of them, you have a job, correct? Then perhaps you should show some appreciation?” The amusement glinting in his eyes made her realize that he was teasing her. It took her by surprise.

“You’ve got a point there,” she admitted with a smile.

“But if you think or even suspect this was deliberately done to disrupt my business, I shall need to get my security people on it.”

The way he said it made her think he was about ready to call out the royal national guard.

“Now wait a minute, Ali, don’t get your shorts in a crimp. I don’t think this was deliberate. I think someone was just careless.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “Not necessarily one of your employees.” She didn’t even want to go there, fearing his reaction. She certainly didn’t want to be the cause of someone losing his job. “Sometimes you pick up a virus and you don’t even realize it until your system is affected. So for the time being, I think you’ll need to be very, very careful. I’d instruct all of your employees not to open any e-mails from anyone who is not known to them.”

“Okay.” He nodded slowly as if deep in thought. “I shall have Kadid attend to it immediately.”

“Good.” At least the man was taking her advice, something she was certain he had difficulty doing normally. She wasn’t certain if it was because she was a woman, or simply because he was a royal. In either case, she had a feeling Ali was more accustomed to issuing orders than to taking them.

“Now, once I install the anti-virus software, it will run automatically every time the system is booted up, and every time one of the workstations is turned on. It’s not foolproof, but about as close as you can get. Once that’s done, about once a month, you should have your systems people do a sweep for viruses of the entire system. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ali?” He looked blank as a blackboard.

Ali shook his dark head, his eyes bemused. “Viruses. Servers. Systems. Boots.” He held up a hand. “I do not understand all this technical jargon.” He watched her, entranced by the intensity in her vivid green eyes.

Faith was a woman, he’d discovered in the past few days, who appeared to be passionate about everything. There was so much about her that was different from the women in his life. She was proving to be a refreshing change. And a challenge.

With her back against the windows, sun spilled into the room and over her, glinting off her hair, making the reddish gold strands shimmer like spun gold.

He found himself wondering if her hair was as soft, as silky as it looked. He laced his hands together on the table to prevent himself from finding out.

Today, she was once again dressed in her beloved T-shirt, well-worn jeans and tennis shoes.

Instead of a braid, though, her hair was caught up atop her head in a knot, but some tendrils had escaped and now framed her face in a riot of red and gold. She had the most incredible skin, like the tip of a rose before the first bloom.

He sighed, trying to get his thoughts under control. “You will have to explain what I need to do in a language I can understand. Preferably English or Arabic.”

“Arabic’s definitely out,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “I’ll stick with English. In layman’s terms your system is having a…” She searched for a term he could understand. “A techie tirade.”

His brows slowly drew together over confused dark eyes. “A tirade?”

She nodded. “You know, a temper tantrum.” She smothered a chuckle at the look on his face. Obviously no one had ever thrown a tantrum on the sheik before. Well, there was a first time for everything. Faith sought to soothe him, instinctively reaching out to pat his hand. “But you don’t have to worry about it, Ali, or understand it. That’s what you’re paying me to do.”

And paying her well, she thought. His offer of a very generous bonus if she could get his new system up and operational within ten days was a challenge she simply couldn’t resist. It might prevent her from having to go to the bank, hat in hand, and beg for another operating loan.

The bonus would go a long way toward giving her the financial cushion she hadn’t hoped to have for at least another year. And when she added her regular fees on top of that, she’d be able to not only expand her offices and hire two consultants, but she might even be able to swing some new equipment as well.

The promise of the financial windfall had caused her to bury herself in her work, barely leaving this building except to stagger home for a few hours of sleep. All in all this was turning out to be a dream job.

Now all she had to do was control her mouth and her temper, not to mention her inbred annoyance at what this man represented to her.

She probably should have considered a gag, Faith realized. It might have been easier.

Ali sighed. “I don’t know how much longer my staff can continue to work the enormous hours necessary to do everything by hand.” To say nothing of the hours he’d spent on the phone trying to soothe clients. “Can you complete all this in a week?”

“Once I go over all the financial concerns and get your permission to order the necessary equipment, I should have you up and operating at full speed in less than a week.” That was with her working nearly round the clock, but she was counting on that bonus. She frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve been testing the system this morning, so it’s up right now, but I don’t suggest you use it for anything important, at least not until all the new equipment is ordered and installed.”

Ali nodded, listening to her. He shifted his weight, then loosened his tie. In spite of the fact that it was late September, someone had apparently forgotten to tell Mother Nature, for the temperatures were still hovering near the 90s. In spite of the excellent air-conditioning system, it was getting warmer by the minute in his office.

“It’s not necessary to go over the finances, Faith.” He waved away her concern. “Purchase anything you need. Kadid will take care of all the necessary paperwork.” Ali got up, went to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Kadid, could you come in please?”

Faith had learned that the elderly assistant had been with Ali since his birth. She and Kadid had become fast friends.

In the past few days, she’d found Kadid to be helpful and cooperative, not to mention exceedingly kind and totally devoted to Ali, which, she had to admit, she found surprising.

Kadid readily kept her supplied with cold colas during the day while she worked; something she considered fuel to keep her going. And she praised him regularly for it.

Yesterday, Kadid had even sat for a moment and shared a cola with her, no doubt breaking some sort of royal protocol.

A moment later the double doors opened and Kadid came in. “Ms. Martin.” Smiling, he gave a slight bow in a way she found totally charming.

While Ali dressed in Western business clothing, Kadid dressed in traditional garb. Flowing cotton pants, shirt, loose moccasin-type shoes, and a long, almost floor-length sleeveless robe all in a sedate shade of beige.

She smiled in genuine warmth. “Hello, Kadid.”

“Kadid, Faith will be purchasing some computer equipment for the company. Please see to it that she has the clearance to spend whatever amount necessary.”

Kadid nodded. “Of course,” he said, turning to Faith with another smile. “I shall take care of it immediately, Ms. Martin.” In spite of her insistence that he call her Faith, he retained his thoroughly formal manner.

Looking hesitant, Kadid took a step closer to Ali to speak privately. “I beg your pardon, Sheik El-Etra, but Mrs. Jourdan’s in the waiting room. She does not have an appointment, but she is…concerned about a matter and asked if she could wait to see you.”

“Maureen is here?” Ali frowned, then walked around to the front of his desk. “Please show her in.” He turned to Faith. “You do not mind? This should only take a moment. Maureen is a very old and very dear friend, not to mention a client.” He straightened his tie, smoothed down his collar. “If she’s upset I need to see her.”

“Not at all.” Faith leaned back in her chair, oddly surprised that a man like Ali would take the time to personally soothe the concerns of one client. She would think he’d leave the day-to-day business to his staff.

“Show her in immediately, Kadid.”

A few moments later, Kadid led a woman of about seventy into the room. Smartly dressed, she wore a sapphire-blue suit that seemed to match her eyes, and carried a wolf’s-head cane that she leaned on heavily. Her shock of silver hair was cropped close, but elegantly styled.

“Maureen.” With a look of pure adoration that transformed his arrogant face into something almost breathtaking, Ali went to her, took her free hand in his and kissed it gallantly, making the woman smile. “It is good to see you.” He kissed her hand again, and Faith could see the genuine affection radiating from him. Curious, she couldn’t help but watch. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Ali.” She kissed his cheek in return. “And you’re as much of a charming rascal as ever,” she said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.

“I saw your parents at Joe Colton’s birthday party last night. It was good to see them again.” The woman’s brows drew into a frown. “You heard about the attempt on Joe’s life?”

Ali nodded. “Yes, I did. I spoke with my father late last night and he told me about it.” The attempt on Joe Colton’s life, in his own home, at his own birthday party was simply beyond comprehension.

“I can’t possibly imagine why anyone would want to hurt Joe Colton.”

“Neither can I,” Ali concurred with a nod. “But I’m afraid there are some very sick, irrational people in this world.” Ali shrugged. “I’m certain the police are doing everything they can to find the culprit.”

“Mmm…I hope so.” The woman glanced around, then spotted Faith. One elegant brow lifted as she turned back to Ali with a mischievous smile. “Well, well, well, I’d say your parents’ taste in women is finally improving.”

He laughed. “No, Maureen. You misunderstand.” He glanced at Faith. Their eyes met, held, and Faith felt a sting of heat arc and sizzle between them. Stunned, she tried to shift her gaze, but found she couldn’t. It was as if his magnetism had taken hold of her and refused to let go.

There was warmth and humor in his eyes that softened his arrogant facade and almost took her breath away. He seemed much more human this way—and so much more dangerously attractive.

“Maureen, this is Faith Martin, a computer consultant I’ve hired to handle this ridiculous problem we’re having.”

Maureen looked at Faith again, then sighed. “Pity. She’s lovely.”

“Yes, I agree.” As Ali glanced at Faith again, their eyes met, clashed, clung, and she flushed, stunned by his comment and the look in his eyes.

She was entirely certain no man had ever called her lovely before. Nor could she recall a man looking at her quite the way Ali had just looked at her. It made her skin flush, and her heart skip a beat.

Still smiling he turned back to the older woman. “So tell me, to what do I owe the great pleasure of your company? It’s been too long, you know. You promised to have dinner with me last month.” Ali held her hand as she lowered herself into the club chair, setting her cane next to her. Ali sat on the ottoman in front of her, giving her his full attention.

“I’m fine, Ali, truly.” She sighed and adjusted herself more comfortably in the chair. “I know I promised to have dinner with you, but I don’t like to leave Alfred alone in the evenings if I can help it.” She smiled up at him. “You know how much he enjoys company.” She reached out and took Ali’s hand, holding it like a lifeline. “The staff told me you stopped to play bridge with him one afternoon last week.”

“And he beat me soundly.” Ali’s eyes twinkled. “But please do not let it get around that I was playing hooky.” He leaned close and dropped his voice to a scandalous whisper. “I was supposed to be at an investors’ meeting. If Kadid finds out I was playing hooky, heads will roll.”

“You devil.” She laughed, giving his hand another affectionate squeeze.

“So what brings you here?” There was concern on his face, in his eyes as he watched her. “You know all you have to do is call and I will come to you.” She looked so troubled, he laid a hand to her cheek. “Maureen, tell me, what is it that is troubling you?”

“You always could read me.” Her smile was tremulous. “Ali, I’ve brought something for you to look at.” With a frown, she dug an envelope out of her black leather handbag. “I received this notice from the rehabilitation center.” Ali took the envelope, removed the contents, then began reading.

“They’re raising their rates again, I’m afraid.” There was a small catch in her voice. “I thought I’d better bring it to you to look at.” She watched him as he read. “I’m very concerned. You know, Alfred has been doing so much better there. It’s the first place where he’s actually shown some improvement.” She bit her lower lip, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I really don’t want to have to move him, but I’m not certain I can afford to keep him there if they keep raising their rates. This is the second year in a row. I don’t know how much longer—”

“Maureen.” After folding the letter back in the envelope, Ali took both of her hands in his, kissing the fingertips. “I have told you before, do not concern yourself with these financial problems. Your investments are all solid and secure, and growing day by day. You have entrusted me with these financial matters and I would never let you down. I take my responsibilities seriously.”

She scooted forward. “Oh, Ali, I know, I wasn’t questioning—”

“Yes, I know, Maureen.” Patting her hand, he smiled at her. “You have more than enough to worry about now, and as I’ve said in the past, there is more than enough money to take care of whatever needs you or Alfred have now or in the future.”

Some of the worry left her face. “And you’re sure, Ali? I mean, I know how expensive all of Alfred’s care is—”

He touched her cheek again. “Please, Maureen. Trust me.”

“Oh Ali, you know I trust you. Truly. It’s not that…” Her smile was still shaky. “I know I’m being silly but—”

“You are never silly, Maureen. Tell me, what is it I can do to ease your mind?”

“Just to be on the safe side, just so I’ll feel better, could you just check my account? I know you’ve been having some problems with your computers, so if you could just check—”

“But of course.” Standing up, Ali glanced at Faith. “Is there a way you can get me into my computer so I can check a balance?”

Faith was so stunned by the affection between Ali and this woman, it took a moment for her to realize he was speaking to her.

“Faith?”

“I’m sorry.” She jumped to her feet. “Of course.” She crossed the room to his desk and booted up his computer. “Ali, can you put your password in?”

He came around the desk, stopping so close to her their bodies were touching. His masculine scent, his warmth seemed to radiate from him to her. Her pulse sped up and she felt a quick flash of heat, fire.

Her throat went dry while her palms grew damp. Absently, she wiped them down her jeans and shifted her weight away from him, so that they were no longer touching. She couldn’t seem to think when he was touching her.

Quickly, with great concentration, Ali tapped in a few letters, then glanced at her, his eyes dark, intent, as if he too had felt the flash of heat between them.

With nervous fingers, Faith plugged in the code that opened the correct accounting program, quickly bringing up the accounts. “I’m sorry, your last name is Jourdan?” She glanced at Maureen.

“Yes.”

Faith spelled it out to be certain she typed it in accurately. A screen popped up with Maureen and Alfred Jourdan’s names at the top. Faith didn’t want to look, or pry, but she would have had to have been blind not to see the amount of money in the account.

She glanced up at Ali. His face was cool, calm, serene. She glanced back at the screen. Something didn’t add up. Perhaps there was another account. She punched in another set of numbers, but no other files were found.

Concerned because she’d been privy to their conversation, Faith looked curiously at Ali once again. He met her gaze levelly, as if willing her not to speak. It was not her place, or her business, so she said nothing, stepping back so he could view the computer screen.

Ali retrieved a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and leaned down to examine the screen for a moment.

“There now, see?” With a delighted smile, he straightened, then hit the button that would close it before anyone else could view the figures. “There is more than enough money to cover whatever expenses you and Alfred have. I’m sorry you haven’t gotten a statement yet this month.”

“Posh, Ali, you know I can never read or understand those blasted things. That’s why I tell you to keep them and do it for me.”

“Yes, I know, dear.” He replaced his reading glasses in his pocket. “So now will you please stop worrying?” He chuckled. “Pretty soon you may have more money than me.”

The woman laughed in relief, putting a hand to her heart. “Thank you, Ali.” She expelled a deep breath. “I knew I’d feel better if I stopped to see you.” She smiled. “You do always calm me down.”

He went to her, helped her to her feet, then handed her her cane. “Now, if I promise to come to dinner next week, do you promise to stop worrying?”

She paused at the double door. “I promise.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek again. “Thank you, Ali. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably find another man to charm.” He lifted her hand for a kiss. “And you are most welcome.” He opened the double doors to walk her out. “Now, give my love to Alfred, tell him I’ll stop by on Friday for another game, but this time I intend to win.”

“Don’t count on it, Ali,” she said with a laugh. “In some things he hasn’t lost his touch.” There was a sad wistfulness in her voice.

Faith stood behind Ali’s desk, confused, concerned, waiting for him to return.

“You lied to her,” she accused the moment he closed the doors behind him.

If he was surprised by her accusation, he didn’t show it. “Yes, Faith, I did.” His voice was so calm, so complacent.

“But you said she was a dear friend.”

“That was not a lie, Faith.” He went to the windows to draw the drapes against the heat of the late afternoon sun. “She is a very dear friend.” He turned to her. “And a client.”

Faith cocked her head, anger simmering just below the surface. “Do you always lie to your clients?” The mere thought appalled her.

His eyes darkened dangerously as he turned to her. “No,” he said slowly, carefully. “Of course I do not.”

“Could have fooled me.” Fists clenched at her side, Faith shook her head, trying to comprehend his actions. It seemed to confirm her worst suspicions of him, and for some reason left her surprisingly disappointed. “You told her she had more than enough money when she barely has ten thousand dollars in her account.”

“No Faith, that is not what I said to her. You were not listening carefully.”

“I was right here, I heard what you told her.” Her voice edged upward in anger. “You said—”

“I said that there was more than enough money to take care of any needs she or Alfred might have.” His voice was deathly quiet, his eyes oddly intent on her, making her shiver.

Fury nearly had her shaking. “But you know darn well that was a lie. She hardly has enough money to get through a few months.” Faith couldn’t prevent the outrage in her voice. She couldn’t believe he could be so casually careless about something so important to someone he cared about.

It wasn’t just callous, it was cruel. And it infuriated her.

Her fists clenched at her side as she took another step closer. “Obviously Maureen Jourdan is someone you care a great deal about, and she obviously cares for you. Why and how could you lie to her?” Her simmering temper erupted into a full boil. “What kind of a man are you?”

Dark emotion swept over his face and he, too, stepped closer until they were nearly standing toe to toe.

Inches taller, he seemed to be looming over her with his powerful, dark presence.

Faith refused to back down, refused to take a step back, refused to allow him to get away with something so perfectly cruel, so inhumane, it brought tears to her eyes.

Perhaps because it hit too close to home and to her ever-fragile heart.

She knew from experience what it was like to have someone you loved, depended on, lie to you, tell you they would take care of you, tell you there was more than enough money for whatever your needs, and then find out that it was lies. All lies.

Devastation was a word that could barely cover the desperation such lies created.

Like her father, apparently Ali didn’t consider the consequences of his behavior, or his lies on others.

“Be careful, Faith,” Ali warned in a voice that made her shiver. Instinctively, Faith ran her hands up and down her chilled arms.

Tilting her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes blazed at him. “Why, because you don’t like to hear the truth? Because someone knows exactly what you are?” It wasn’t hard to recognize him; it was like looking at her father all over again.

“Be careful, Faith,” he warned again in a slow, low voice that almost made her take a protective step back. But Faith refused to back down, refused to cower. She’d been forced to do it once in her life; she’d not ever allow another man’s lies to reduce her to that again.

Ali took several slow, deep breaths in order to control the feelings swirling inside, ready to erupt. No one had ever dared speak to him in such a manner. Not ever. Nor had anyone ever accused him of such unspeakable behavior before, and he found that it caused a near volcanic eruption inside of him.

His father, in his ultimate wisdom, had taught him at an early age to control his temper, which could be a vicious thing if unleashed.

And right now the leash was straining.

“Son, a man who cannot control his temper can never be in control of himself, can never truly be a man.”

He heard his father’s words, but at the moment, they rang hollow and empty through his mind, his memory.

Looking at Faith, he realized what she thought of him, what she’d accused him of, and it angered him as nothing had in a long while.

He was a man who prided himself on his integrity and character. He had been taught that integrity, character and a man’s name were the three most important assets a man could possess. Something no amount of money could buy, something to protect, treasure and value. He had worked hard his entire adult life to build and maintain all three.

He could not remember the last time someone had questioned his integrity. Especially a woman. No one would dare. No one but Faith.

It angered him, and yes, hurt just a bit because it mattered what she thought of him and he had no idea why.

“What kind of man do you think I am?” He parroted her question back to her, his voice filled with the emotion he was struggling to contain.

Faith merely blinked at him, trying not to respond to his closeness, his temper, his presence. In spite of her anger at him, he was a powerful man, and that blatant power radiated from him like sun off a sidewalk.

If she was a woman who could be intimidated, she’d be quaking in her shoes right now. A host of conflicting feelings battered her, but anger and disappointment ruled.

Ali nodded. “I see.” He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “I believe your eyes tell me all I need to know.” He hesitated, letting his gaze travel over her face, seeing the sadness, the tears in her eyes.

Though her words had been sharp, her face was pained. Something inside of him reacted instinctively.

She was angry, but she was also hurt. At the moment, she did not look strong and capable, but fragile and more than a little vulnerable. It tugged at something deep inside, making him want to comfort her, to ease whatever ache had put that pain in her eyes.

What had caused such despair in her, he wondered idly.

“I am sorry, Faith, that your opinion of me is so low.” His words softened and his gaze stayed on hers. “It is most regrettable.” He took a slow, deep breath. “But since you obviously have such a low opinion of me, perhaps you would prefer that I hire someone else to complete this job?”

Panic clutched her heart, sweeping away other emotions. She was counting on the funds this job would bring in, and cursed her tongue.

Mentally, she gave herself a shake. What Ali did and said to his friends and clients was none of her concern. If he wanted to lie until his nose grew so big he had to back into a room, that was his business. Not hers.

She was supposed to remain detached from him, and her own emotions.

But from the moment she’d laid eyes on him she knew he’d had an uncommon effect on her both physically and emotionally.

Who he was, what he represented to her had caused her to react emotionally in a way that was so unlike her.

The impact he had on her, the reaction he caused, the feelings and emotions he aroused on a totally different plane—on a man-to-woman level—terrified her in a way nothing had in a long, long time.

Perhaps that was why she had such a difficult time remaining detached.

She knew these things, and had hoped that she could simply ignore them and go about her business without letting them interfere.

She’d been wrong.

She’d promised herself she’d stay uninvolved and unemotional. She’d just broken her own rules, and now it might cost her this job.

“Are you firing me?” she asked carefully, cursing the small catch in her voice.

Consciously, she forced herself to take a deep breath and to relax, uncurling her fists. She was suddenly so tense, the muscles in her neck were cramped.

“I am not.” His gaze never left hers. She could not read the emotion that darkened his eyes. “I am merely asking if perhaps you would prefer not to work for me because I am obviously so…repugnant to you.”

Guilt washed over her like a steady rain, and Faith immediately felt contrite. “I’m sorry.” With a weary sigh, she pushed a few strands of hair off her cheek, struggling for control. “I don’t find you repugnant, Ali.” Her voice was soft and she realized she spoke the truth. “And I apologize if I gave you that impression. It’s really none of my concern how you run your business.”

“True.”

“It’s just…” She paused, at a loss to explain her feelings.

“Sometimes, Faith,” he said softly, unable to resist stroking a finger down her cheek, brushing aside a wayward strand of hair, “a lie is not necessarily a bad thing.”

The impact of his words, words she’d heard so many times as a child had her insides trembling.

So he admitted he didn’t think lying to someone he cared about was a bad thing. His words merely confirmed her worst fears about him.

Raw disappointment etched a place in her heart, right alongside the one her father had carved so many years ago.

It was none of her business, she reminded herself firmly. It was no concern of hers what he did or who he hurt or who he lied to. She needed this job, and she had no desire to anger him further.

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’d better get back to work.” She wanted to get away from him, to forget the scene she just witnessed. To put him and his damning words and deeds out of her mind.

Realizing that he could say nothing further on the subject, Ali nodded in agreement. “Thank you for bringing me up to date. I will have Kadid make certain you have everything you need in order to get started first thing in the morning.”

“Fine.” She stepped around him, went to the table and gathered her notes, then walked toward the doors. She didn’t look back at him, she couldn’t. She didn’t want him to see the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Three

“M s. Faith, I apologize for disturbing you.” Kadid stood in the doorway of the sprawling room that held the entire systems operations for El-Etra Investments.

The walls and floors were a rather utilitarian gray, computer towers, monitors and printers in various states of disarray dotted every square foot of desk space. The hum of machines filtered through the air.

“May I come in, please?” he asked politely.

Turning from the computer she was working on, Faith managed a smile at the tray he carried. There was a glass full of ice, several cans of cola and a sandwich. “Of course.”

“I took the liberty of having the chef prepare a little something for you.” He set the tray down on the desk next to her, nudging aside a keyboard she’d disconnected.

“Bless you.” She eyed the tray greedily.

“If it is not to your liking, I will be happy to have him prepare something else.”

“You have a chef here?” she asked, picking up one half of the delectable-looking sandwich and taking a bite. She nearly swooned. It was the first bit of food she’d had all day and it was way past the dinner hour.

“But of course,” he said with a smile. “May I?” At her nod, he lifted the can of cola and began to pour it over the glass of ice for her. “Sheik El-Etra brought him with him when he came to America. He has been with the family for almost two generations.” Kadid set the empty can down on the tray. “Sheik El-Etra is a very loyal man.”

The respectful tone of his voice and his careful words gave her the impression he was trying to tell her something.

“Loyal, huh?” She chewed thoughtfully. That wasn’t quite the word she’d have chosen for Ali after the scene they’d had yesterday afternoon. She leaned back against her chair, deciding to take a break. “Kadid, who is Mrs. Jourdan?”

He handed her the icy glass of cola, then clasped his hands together in front of him. “She is a very old and very dear friend of the sheik’s. He is not only greatly fond of her, but enormously grateful to her.”

Faith frowned. “Grateful?” This didn’t make sense. “Why is Ali grateful to her?”

Kadid was thoughtful. “When the sheik first came to America, he was only sixteen years old. There was political unrest in our country, and as an only son and heir and a descendant of the royal family, there was of course enormous concern for his safety, so his father sent him to America.”

“To live with the Coltons.”

“Yes,” Kadid said with a slow nod. “Although English is a required language for all school children, Ali’s English was not…shall we say, perfect.” His wrinkled face creased into a smile. “As you know, children, particularly children of that age, can be cruel to anyone who is not the same as they are.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The sheik was a foreigner, of royal blood, and not used to the language, customs or ways of your beautiful country.”

Intrigued, Faith reached for the other half of her sandwich. “Go on.”

“It was a…difficult time. He was at a very vulnerable age, an age when a boy is struggling to become a man, to show his strength, to develop his pride, and it was most difficult to be the object of cruelty.”

“People were cruel to Ali?”

Having been the butt of cruelty herself as a child, Faith had grown to abhor any hint of cruelty toward anyone.

Kadid nodded sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid so. The sheik has always kept his own counsel. As a member of the royal family, it is of course expected, accepted—”

“But you knew?”

His wrinkled face once again creased into a smile. “Yes. I have been with the sheik since his birth and perhaps know him as well as his father. It is the honor of my life.”

“So where does Mrs. Jourdan come in?”

“Mr. Colton was aware of the difficulties the sheik was having. Mrs. Jourdan was a teacher at the private school where the sheik had been enrolled. Mr. Colton had heard that Mrs. Jourdan did private tutoring. She was a much-beloved, much-respected member of the community, as well as an excellent teacher, kind, loving, nurturing. With Ali’s father’s permission, Mr. Colton made arrangements to hire Mrs. Jourdan to help the sheik with the language, as well as with the difficult cultural adjustment he was having.”

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