Читать книгу The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition - Jennifer Lewis - Страница 11

Celia couldn’t stop laughing. A bright-eyed toddler was attempting to bury her feet in the sand, and the combination of sun and splashing seawater made her feel downright giddy.

Sailboats scudded on the sapphire horizon and, behind her, the elegant white buildings of the hotel reflected the magical afternoon sun.

Salim sat on the fine sand a few feet from her, his long white garment crisp and elegant in stark contrast to everyone else’s swimsuits. He showered lavish praise on his young nephew Ben’s elaborate sand castle, and smiled indulgently when nine-month-old Hannah tugged at the hem of his robe and sprinkled sand on his feet.

Unlike his brother Elan, he showed no inclination to run in the surf with them under his arm.

Elan’s wife, Sara, was athletic, outspoken and almost as blond as Celia herself.

Hah. So much for the Al Mansur men being pledged from birth to marry a handpicked local bride. She couldn’t help gloating a little, under the circumstances.

How different things might have been if Salim hadn’t broken off their long-ago romance to marry the bride his father chose.

“I hear you’re one of the top landscape architects in the world today.” Sara’s comment pulled Celia out of her reflection.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve just had the good fortune to be offered some interesting projects.”

“She’s too modest,” Salim cut in. “Her innovative approach has earned her an excellent reputation. I wouldn’t have hired her otherwise.”

“I’m impressed that you hired a woman,” said Sara, looking straight at Salim. “Elan’s told me the country is very traditional. I wasn’t sure I’d see women in positions of influence.”

“I wouldn’t cheat my business of the skills and talents of half the population.” Salim shifted position. “I’ve raised some eyebrows with my hiring practices over the years, but no one’s laughing at the results.”

“That’s good to hear.” Sara smiled. “Though I’ve noticed that even a man who believes in equality in the boardroom can be quite the knuckle-dragger when it comes to his private life.” She shot a mischievous look at her husband. “Elan took a while to catch onto the idea of the emancipated woman.”

“Really?” Celia couldn’t disguise her fascination.

“It’s true,” said Elan ruefully. “I was all in favor of women in the workplace, until it came to my own wife.”

“And this after I’d already worked with him for several months. Somehow, once the ring was on my finger I was expected to lie around eating bonbons all day.”

Elan shrugged. “I guess I still had all those old-fashioned traditions etched somewhere in my brain, even though I’d rejected them a long time ago. Almost losing Sara made me wake up.”

“Lucky thing he came to his senses. I’d have missed him.” Sara winked. “And we wouldn’t have Hannah.” She looked fondly at the baby, who sat on Elan’s knee sucking on a sandy finger.

Elan stretched. “We Al Mansur men come with some baggage, but trust me, we’re worth the trouble.” He shot a glance at his brother.

Celia’s eyes darted from one man to the next. Had his comment been intended for her?

Surely Salim hadn’t told his brother about their long-ago relationship? With his hints about the past, he seemed to be trying to start something.

Salim sat, straight backed on the sand, brows lowered. Obviously the whole discussion made him uncomfortable.

As well it might.

Her breathing grew shallow. Elan had no idea of the bombshell she was about to lob at Salim.

“Salim,” Elan flicked a bug from his baby daughter’s arm. “Did I tell you Sara and I are eating out with one of my clients tonight? I hope you weren’t counting on us for dinner.”

Salim frowned. “I thought you wanted to eat that giant fish you caught this morning in the harbor. You should enjoy it while it’s still fresh.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot all about Old Yellow.” He glanced up at Celia, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s a yellowfin tuna. Maybe you two could share it?”

Celia gulped.

What was Salim’s brother up to?

A cautious glance at Salim revealed his brow lowered in distaste.

“Goodness, I wouldn’t dream of imposing,” she blurted, anxious to dispel the tension. “I’m sure Salim is busy since he’s been away so long. A lot has happened at the site.”

“Yes, I need to visit it this afternoon.” Salim’s face was expressionless. “Perhaps you could accompany me and fill me in on the details.”

“Absolutely. I’d be glad to.” She met his poker face with one of her own.

Was that a grin of triumph spreading across Elan’s rather arrogant features?

He’d be grinning out of the other side of his mouth if he knew the truth about her. He had no idea he was trying to set his brother up with a woman who kept his own child a secret from him.

She bit her lip as dread crept through her.

The excursion would present a perfect opportunity to tell Salim about Kira.

Now that they were working together, every day she didn’t tell him made the secret weigh heavier. It was time to bite the proverbial bullet—or dagger, in this case—and face the consequences.

Salim chose a chauffeured car to drive Celia and himself to the site so there could be no suspicion of impropriety. His brother’s bizarre hints made it sound as if he actually expected him to form a relationship with Celia.

Where would he get such an idea?

His unfortunate reunion liaison with Celia was entirely secret. He hadn’t told a soul, and never would. He had no intentions toward her now, except to extinguish all thoughts of her from his heart and mind.

Celia stepped out of the car, her faded jeans giving away far too much information about her shapely legs. He glanced at his driver, but the man had tactfully averted his eyes.

“Guide me through the site as if it were built,” he commanded. He cleared his throat as she walked past, determined not to be distracted by the tasteless and provocative way her pale pink T-shirt draped over her rather pert breasts.

Really, a mature woman should dress more modestly in a business situation.

It was entirely her fault that images of her snuck into his dreams and hung around his brain, ready to spear him with unexpected and unwelcome sensations.

It was annoying that his body responded so predictably to such simple and obvious stimuli.

She wore construction boots, too. Was there no limit to her desire to flaunt the expectations of feminine dress?

The boots were practical though, he couldn’t argue with that. They picked their way across the rocky site until they reached an area where carved stone and mud-brick walls rose out of the soil.

“This will be the main entrance.” Celia spread her arms, which had acquired a slight tan. “The road will be paved with stones to match those found at the site, and the drive lined with native plants like simr that need little water and provide nectar for honeybees. The original site appears to have been fortified, so the design incorporates a low wall and a wide, wooden gate, which will remain open.”

“Unless invaders attack.”

She glanced at him, surprised. A smile flickered across her shell-pink lips. “Always best to be prepared.”

She strode ahead, long limbs covering the uneven ground with ease. “This open space will be the reception area of the hotel, and we’ve conceived it as the “marketplace.” The various desks will be arranged like luxurious market stalls, and will in fact have handcrafted, traditional objects available for purchase.”

The vision she conjured formed in Salim’s mind. “A marketplace. I like it. We must have food available here, too. Coffee and dates.”

“Date palms, bananas and coconut palms will be planted throughout the property. Of course they’re not native, and will require irrigation, but it’s likely they would have been grown here.”

“Has the aquifer been tapped yet?”

“Come this way.” Her mysterious smile intrigued him. He quickened his pace to keep up with her enthusiastic stride.

She paused at a circular section of wall, partially excavated from the surrounding ground. “The old well. And look inside.”

Salim leaned over the edge of the wall. He inhaled deeply as the unmistakable, indescribable scent of pure, fresh water tickled his nostrils. It glittered below, just visible in the shadowed depths of the well. “Beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Excitement sparkled in her eyes. “I can imagine people sitting around this well a thousand years ago.”

“People probably sat around this well three thousand years ago. Maybe even ten thousand years.”

“Your ancestors.” She peered into the depths.

Salim stiffened. The ancestors he’d let down by failing to sire an heir. But once he purged Celia from his mind he’d take a new wife and accomplish that, too.

“Perhaps they’re all around us right now, invisible.” Her soft voice drifted in the warm air.

“Ghosts?” His skin prickled.

“Or something like that. Can’t you feel all the energy here?” She lifted her shoulders as if sensation trickled down her spine. The movement brought her pink T-shirt tight over her round breasts and drew his eye to where the nipple peaked beneath the soft fabric.

Heat flashed through him and a long-lost memory surfaced: Celia naked in his bed, sleepy-eyed and smiling.

Salim cursed the tricks of his brain. What would his ancestors think of that little vision? “The guest quarters?”

“This way.” She walked on, aglow with confidence she’d enjoyed even back in college. “They’re arranged along the patterns of the ancient streets. They were thoroughly excavated and all artifacts removed for study. As you can see, we’ve started rebuilding using the existing remains as the foundation where possible. It’s moving to see the lost city rise from the sands again.”

Salim nodded. Maybe that was why his flesh tingled with unfamiliar sensation. Whole lives had unfolded here, only to disappear again into the dust.

“I’ve chosen plants that were indigenous at the time, or that could have been brought here by traders. Nothing from the Americas.”

“Except yourself.”

“Luckily I won’t be a permanent feature.” She kept her face turned from him.

“I’m sure you’d be a delightful addition, should you decide to install yourself.” The words seemed to slip from his tongue. They both knew he didn’t mean them.

Didn’t they?

He saw her shoulders tighten. “I don’t think I’d match the décor.”

“I imagine that a desert oasis of this kind attracted travelers and merchants from all over the world. Perhaps even tall, blonde princesses from afar.”

“I don’t think anyone would accuse me of being a princess.”

“If I recall correctly, you can be a little headstrong and demanding.” He’d loved her effortless self-assurance and the way she always expected the world to come to its senses and see things her way.

“Oh, I still am.” She flashed a smile. “That’s how I get things done, especially with a crew of fifty to supervise. I’m impressed with the workers, by the way. They really are a diverse group. I have men from India, Africa, Saudi Arabia. They all have different skills and talents. You weren’t kidding about this place attracting people from everywhere.”

He shrugged. “People go where the work is.”

Like her. He’d made it impossible for her to refuse this job. Not because he couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected by her. Because she was the best person for the job.

And because he had unfinished business with her.

Celia marched forward, her construction boots striking the soil with determination. “Each guest will have their own house, arranged along the original streets and built in the traditional style. Each guest house will have a courtyard with a recirculating fountain.”

“Perfect.”

“I admit I’m nervous about how quickly we’re forging ahead.” She shoved a lock of hair off her face. “I know the archaeologists have been thorough, but there could well be more stuff down there.”

“Then let it remain. This oasis probably has several layers of civilizations, each built on top of its predecessor. I wish for the tradition to continue, not for a lost way of life to be preserved in amber.”

She smiled. “I think it’s exciting that you’re not afraid to embrace change and bring the oasis back to life. As you can see we’re reusing a lot of the original building materials.” She beckoned with her fingers. “The pool area is this way.”

Salim let his gaze follow her for a moment before he started to walk. Her graceful stride revealed the power contained within her slim body. He knew all too well the energy and affectionate enthusiasm she was capable of.

Not that he’d fully appreciated it at the time. Perhaps he’d thought all women were such bewitching creatures in the intimacy of a bedroom.

Their regrettable meeting four years ago only reminded him too vividly of all he’d missed in the intervening years.

“An open body of water would have been pretty unlikely in the old settlement, so we racked our brains about whether to go for a natural free-form shape, or a more traditional rectangular form like a courtyard fountain. Right now we’re thinking that a perfectly round pool would be an interesting combination of the two. Formal in its geometry, yet soft and natural in its outline so people can gather around it like a natural lake.”

She marched briskly around its imagined shores. “It will be zero entry on one side so that small children can splash in the shallow water and the other side will have a gentle waterfall to circulate the water and provide filtration.”

The setting sun made the rocky sand glow like candlelit amber. The workers had vanished for the day, leaving their excavator baking in the sun, and the oasis hung suspended in time. Celia stood on the shores of her imaginary lake, golden hair burnished by the rich light.

Salim cursed the ripple of thick sensation that surged through his body.

He was in control here.

It irked him that Celia could be so cool and businesslike.

He’d brought her here in the first place to remind him that she was just an ordinary woman, not the goddess of his fevered imagination.

Unfortunately, spending time with her had further unearthed the past he hoped to bury. Surely he wasn’t the only one suddenly pricked by shards of memory?

“We must leave before it gets dark.” His gruff tone seemed to startle her out of deep reverie. “You will have dinner with me.”

* * *

Celia hovered in front of the mirror for a second.

Yes, it was her. She still had that little freckle next to her nose. Otherwise she might not have been so sure.

Her hair lay coiled about her neck in shimmering gold ringlets, arranged in her room by one of the hotel’s hairdressers.

Her usual T-shirt had been replaced by a fitted tunic of peacock-blue silk, shot through with emerald-green.

She looked quite silly, but she hadn’t wanted to be rude. She was now fit to be seen in the hotel’s most exclusive dining room—at least according to the friendly staff member who’d bedecked her. Apparently, she and Salim were going to eat Elan’s yellowfin tuna there, under the prying eyes of the hotel’s wealthiest and snootiest guests.

Fun.

Especially since she still hadn’t told Salim about Kira.

It seemed wrong to interrupt their work at the lost city with the news. The driver had invaded their privacy all the way back to the hotel. Now she had to smile and fake her way through a formal dinner, with the secret throbbing inside her like Edgar Allan Poe’s telltale heart.

Her shoulders shook a little under the peacock silk covering. The dress was modest, Omani style, with embroidered gold trim at the neckline and cuffs, and matching pants underneath. The thick bangles on her wrists looked disturbingly like pure twenty-four-carat gold.

Naturally, she’d return them right after dinner.

She jumped when the phone on the bedside table beeped. She shuffled across the floor in her gold-and-blue slippers and snatched up the receiver.

“I’m on my way to your room.” Salim’s bold tones sent a surge of adrenaline to her embroidered toes.

“Great. I’m all ready.”

She plastered on her best fake smile.

Maybe tonight would present the perfect time to tell him.

Kira was the center of her universe. She spoke to her every day on the phone, sometimes several times. Twice now Kira had wondered aloud where her “Dada” was. She’d noticed that other kids in day care had one, and she didn’t.

Celia was painfully reminded that two people who were father and daughter weren’t even aware of each other’s existence. The entire future of their relationship, possibly the whole direction of the rest of their lives, lay on her shoulders.

The door flung open and Salim stood framed in the soft glow from the hallway. His strong features had an expression of strange intensity, which deepened as he stared at her.

“Where did you get those clothes?”

“Aliyah brought them for me. From the gift shop. She said you’d …”

“I told her to find you whatever you needed. I didn’t tell her to dress you up like an Omani.” He himself had changed into Western clothes. A white shirt open at the collar and crisp dark pants.

Celia laughed, mostly out of nerves. “Kind of funny, isn’t it? I look Omani and you look American.”

Salim’s gaze swept over her, heating her skin under the elaborate dress. A frown furrowed his forehead.

He hated it.

Her bangles jangled as she reached up to brush an imagined hair from her rapidly heating face. “If you think I should change I’m sure I can find something in my closet.”

“No. You’re fine. Let’s eat.”

He hesitated in the doorway then thrust his arm out for her to take.

Her stomach leaped as she slipped her arm in his. His thick muscle held rigid, unyielding, like he was steeling himself against something.

Celia drew a deep breath down into her lungs and tried not to trip over her embroidered slippers.

“Your work at the site,” said Salim gruffly. “I’m very pleased with it.”

“I’m amazed at how well it’s coming together. Your team are magicians. I tell them what I want and they wave their magic wands overnight and make it happen.”

“I’ve built and opened a lot of hotels.”

She struggled to keep up as he strode along the hotel corridor, polished marble shimmering under their feet and lights glimmering in arched alcoves along the walls.

“Do you have a favorite, or is each new one the best and brightest?”

Salim frowned and his stride hesitated. “They’re like children to me. I value each one for different reasons.”

Celia faltered, tripping over her own feet as terror froze her blood at the word children.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m not used to wearing such a long dress,” she stammered. “I spend too much time in jeans.”

“You look different dressed up.” His dark gaze flickered over her face and body, leaving a trail of heat like a comet’s tail.

Celia swallowed. “I guess almost anything is an improvement.” She tried to walk gracefully, as the blue silk swished about her calves.

“I suppose that depends on the eye of the beholder.”

Heat snapped between them, heating her arm where it lay inside his. Her skin tingled and she could feel her face, flushed like a schoolgirl on her first date.

It’s not a date.

Why did it feel like one?

The hallway led into the hotel’s main lobby, a well-lit atrium framed on all sides by the curved white arches characteristic of Omani architecture. Inlaid floor tiles glittered at their feet and hotel staff moved silently about, working their magic.

Celia’s arm tingled inside Salim’s as he guided her toward the restaurant. Her hand rested on his wrist, which she noticed was dusted with fine black hairs. His hand was broad and strong, more so than she remembered, but no surprise given all those hands had accomplished in the last decade.

She kept expecting him to withdraw his arm and push her politely away as they entered the restaurant, but he kept a firm hold as he nodded to his maitre d’ and led her to the table.

Of course he probably behaved this way with business partners all the time. He was simply being polite. Nothing to get worked up about.

He pulled back her chair and she lowered herself into her seat as gracefully as possible. Glances darted to her from around the room, and she hoped it wasn’t because she looked foolish in her getup. At least Aliyah hadn’t suggested she wear a traditional gold headdress.

Salim frowned again. “You look beautiful.”

His unexpected compliment left her speechless. It seemed at odds with his harsh demeanor. Almost like he was mad at her for looking nice.

“Thanks, I think.” She grasped her water glass and took a sip. “You’re not so hard on the eyes, yourself.”

She wasn’t sure whether Salim looked more breathtaking in Western clothes or in the traditional dishdasha. The truth was, it didn’t matter what he wore. His strong features and proud bearing made any getup look downright majestic.

His stern expression only enhanced the handsome lines of his face. But he wasn’t the boy she’d once loved. Something was different, changed forever.

What was it? A playfulness she remembered. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

Every now and then she thought she saw a shadow of it, but maybe she was just imagining things.

Something had died in her, too, the day he’d told her their relationship was over—because he’d married another woman. Just like that, over Christmas break, while she was sitting at home penning dreamy letters and looking forward to seeing him again.

“How come you never married again?” The question formed in her mind and emerged from her mouth at the same time.

She regretted it instantly, and waited for his brow to lower. But it didn’t.

He picked up his glass and held it, clear liquid sparkling in the candlelight for a moment. “I never met anyone …”

“As wonderful as me?” She spoke it on a laugh, sure he’d respond with a jab.

But now he frowned. Stared at her with those impenetrable onyx eyes. “We did have something, you and I.”

Her belly contracted. “I thought so, at the time.” Her voice had gone strangely quiet, like the life force had been sucked out of her.

“The marriage wasn’t my idea, you know.” He put down his glass and wove his fingers together. “My father sprang the whole thing on me without warning.”

“You could have said no.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t.” That odd look in his eyes again. A flash of … something. “Not then, anyway. I was still the eldest son, the dutiful one, my father’s heir.”

“So you had to do what he said, regardless of what you wanted.” She frowned as a strange thought occurred to her. “Perhaps your marriage was doomed from the start because of the abrupt way you were forced into it.”

“You mean, because I hadn’t gotten over you?” Again, a gleam in those normally lightless depths.

What was she thinking? She’d never seen anyone so totally over her as the man who’d told her there would be no further contact between them—ever.

She waved her hand, dismissive. “Oh, I’m just rambling. As you said, you always knew your father would pick your bride, so it wasn’t a surprise to you.”

“You’re right, though.” His voice had an edge to it, almost as if his own thoughts took him by surprise. “I wasn’t over you. I had to end our … relationship …” The word seemed to stick in his throat. “The way one snaps the shoot off a growing plant. Maybe it stunted the way I grew after that. I couldn’t be the husband my wife needed.”

He leaned forward, frowning as he stared into her eyes with breath-stealing intensity. “Because I couldn’t forget you.”