A Sheikh for Christmas Read online

  “Oh.” She picked up one yellow square and squinted at his illegible scrawl before he snatched it away from her.

  “Please, don’t touch anything. These are all very important.”

  “Right.” She’d never been big on lists or organization herself. Her mother had always had a social secretary to take care of most things for her and when that failed, then Melody preferred to “wing it.” For her life was all about spontaneity, but then again, given how this whole situation with Jefferson Hanks had turned out, maybe planning and consideration was the way to go. While Daveed said nothing more, scowling down at his notes again, she studied him more. Honestly, she really didn’t know the guy very well. From what Heath had told her, Daveed Rafik had served alongside him and their other friend, Murphy Coen, in the Middle East. Melody had always thought of Daveed as a sort of Arabic James Bond type from the way Heath had bragged about the guy. He graduated Yale at the top of his class, spoke five languages fluently, and thwarted terrorists in a single bound, all without firing a single weapon.

  Now, however, as he wrote furiously, his dark brows knit in concentration, she took her first real look at the guy. She noticed when he’d first answered the door that he was tall and well-muscled. As she sat beside him at the table, his dark brown hair curled above the collar of his white button-down shirt and reflected hints of gold beneath the lights. Yep. He was gorgeous, no doubt about it. If you went for the romance-novel cover sheikh type. Which she didn’t, at least not up to this point.

  “I’ll be done in a moment,” he said, his tone distracted. “You’d be more comfortable on the sofa, I’d imagine. If you need more water, there’s bottles in the fridge.”

  Somewhat surprised to find she didn’t want to leave, Melody blinked at the top of his downturned head. What she really wanted was to know more about this super-spy-turned-list-maker. “I have to admit that I was jealous of you.”

  That got his attention, finally. He looked up at her, gaze narrowed, his expression confused. “What? Why would you be jealous of me? You barely know me.”

  She shrugged. “You and Murphy both, actually. And I wasn’t jealous of you personally, more the idea of you, I guess. Both of you guys sure got more of Heath’s attention when we were together than I ever did.”

  “Hmm.” Daveed tapped the end of his pen on the glass tabletop. “Well, since we’re admitting things, I have to ask. How in the world did you and Heath end up together?” He chuckled. “Not that you’re not a gorgeous woman, but you two have so little in common.”

  Once her brain moved past the fact that he thought she was gorgeous and the answering shimmer of awareness zinged through her body, she swallowed hard. “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “Being with Heath, engaged to him, was convenient.”

  “How romantic,” Daveed said, followed by a derisive snort.

  “Hey, sometimes hearts and flowers aren’t everything. Wearing that engagement ring kept my parents from bugging me about getting married. Honestly, I always figured Heath would call it off at some point. But then my mother got involved and insisted we set a date and suddenly the altar loomed ahead. And you’re right. Heath and I barely knew each other. How could we with him off running around the Middle East with you and Murphy for the last five years?”

  Melody watched closely for a reaction, but got none. There was that damned military stoicism. They must teach them that in basic training or something. Heath had that ability too, probably Murphy as well. They could all turn their emotions on or off at the drop of a hat, and frankly it drove her batty. She was tempted to kick Daveed in the shin, just to get some kind of reaction from him, but refrained. From what Heath had told her, the guy had the reflexes of a trained assassin and wasn’t afraid to use them if necessary.

  The only hint she got that she might have gotten under his smooth, tanned skin a bit was the slight growl in his voice as he said, “We were not ‘running around’, as you put it. We were saving lives and defending democracy. A bit more important than some mock society wedding, wouldn’t you say?”

  This time, it was her turn to snort. “Tell that to the tabloid gossip pages.”

  “He’s helping Murphy with a family problem.”

  “Huh?” She stared at all the papers and lists again. “Sorry. Not following.”

  Daveed pushed his notepad away and put his pen down. “You asked me earlier where Heath was and I’ve told you. He’s helping Murphy.”

  “Figures.” She rolled her eyes, more out of habit than true frustration. Yes, she was still a bit pissed about the way Heath had all but ignored her during their engagement, but now that she was warm and dry and safe with Daveed, those other slights fell by the wayside. “Care to share?”

  “Share what?” Daveed asked, sitting back, his white cotton shirt stretching taut over his cut torso. She wasn’t sure where he worked out, but from the looks of his flat, washboard stomach through that shirt, he didn’t have an ounce of extra fat on his body.

  “Murphy’s issue,” Melody said.

  His bland look faltered slightly, replaced by a frown as he looked away. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know. Besides, I’d be out there helping them now if you hadn’t shown up. Murph’s sister has gone missing.”

  “Oh, no.” Melody gasped, leaning in a bit closer to Daveed, her eyes wide with horror. “You don’t think anything horrible has happened to her, do you?”

  “Don’t know.” His voice took on a frustrated edge. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Aileen’s not the type to just drop off the radar. So yeah, Murph’s justifiably concerned.”

  “Wow.” Melody glanced up to find Daveed watching her closely with those warm brown eyes of his. They were the color of pale coffee and infinitely intriguing and— she shook off her errant urge to stare into them all night and instead folded her hands in her lap. “Well, if anyone has the contacts to find her, it would be Heath.”

  Heath had contacts in the CIA and all the other major intelligence agencies too.

  “Yep.” Daveed continued to study her with his too-perceptive gaze, causing a fresh surge of heat through her bloodstream at his slow perusal. “It’s how he knew you were back in the country before it exploded in the media. Why he asked me to keep you away from him as well.”

  At her startled look, he gave her a sexy little half grin. “Look, the last thing Heath needs to deal with right now is another scandal, courtesy of you. So, he asked me to handle you. That’s why I’m staying in the condo, in case you showed up.”

  The words caused her knees to wobble slightly. Or maybe it was the man across from her.

  Or both.

  Her naughty mind began to conjure all the ways Daveed might “deal” with her. Maybe take her hard and fast up against the wall. Or slow and sweet on the rug in front of the fireplace. Or there was always the bedroom…

  “…do with you,” Daveed said, jarring her back to reality.

  Melody hoped her cheeks weren’t as flaming red as they felt. “I’m sorry?”

  “I said I’m not sure what to do with you now.” He stood and walked back into the living room. “I don’t want to kick you out on the street, but I really need to concentrate on helping Murphy find his sister.”

  “I understand.” She stood too, hesitating for a minute before heading over to where her coat still lay drying on the living room floor. “I didn’t mean to cause problems or be a burden.”

  Melody blinked hard against the sting of tears. Why she was crying again, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she and Daveed were close, and what had she expected? Him to roll out the welcome mat when they barely knew each other? He was a busy guy. He had things to deal with in his own life. He didn’t need her hanging around, causing issues, just like he’d said. As she pulled on her damp coat and slid her feet into her now-ruined pumps, she swiped her hand under her nose and sniffled, squaring her shoulders before heading for the door with her suitcase rolling behind her. “I’m just going to go
now. Thanks again for letting me dry out for an hour or so.”

  Where exactly she’d go, she didn’t know. She’d volunteered one time for a charity ball at a local homeless shelter. Perhaps she’d bed down there for the night, except she couldn’t remember now where it was or if they accepted women at that particular establishment. One of the other gals volunteering that night had said only certain ones took women and children.

  Her hand was on the doorknob when a sharp male curse echoed from behind her. “Wait.”

  Breath held, Melody stopped and turned slowly to face Daveed.

  “Where will you stay tonight?” he asked, his annoyance plain in his tone.

  She didn’t have an answer for that so she didn’t give one.

  “Shit.” He raked a hand through his thick dark hair and shook his head. “This goes against every instinct I have, but I don’t see another option.” Before she could react, he’d taken the suitcase from her hand and was carrying it down the hall toward the back of the condo. He stopped halfway and looked over his shoulder at her. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

  As if in a daze, Melody followed him to a tiny guest room next door to his master suite. The room was clean and tidy, with a full-sized bed and a dresser and not much else inside.

  “You can stay here tonight. It’s the opposite of fancy, but it’s clean and safe. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Daveed set her suitcase on the floor then headed for the door again. “You get showered and changed into something clean and dry while I text Heath and tell him to stay the hell away from the condo for the time being.”

  2

  Daveed stared at his glowing phone screen and rubbed his scratchy eyes. It was the middle of the night—three-twenty according to the flashing digital clock at his bedside—but he was having trouble sleeping. Again. Unfortunately, insomnia had become his regular partner since his days running intelligence in the Middle East with Heath and Murphy. He’d thought it was getting better, but now having Melody as his uninvited house guest didn’t help either.

  On his phone screen was Heath’s response to the text Daveed had sent earlier to warn the guy to stay away from the condo until further notice. The message did little to calm the knots of tension still tightening his gut.

  Be careful. Melody will make your life crazy.

  Believe me, I know.

  Well, shit. That was exactly what Daveed didn’t need right now. More insanity in his life. He had enough of that with trying to help the guys find Murph’s missing sister. Or not. His guilt and frustration over not aiding the search efforts more than he had today forced him out of bed. Lying around not sleeping wouldn’t help anyone, so he headed for the bathroom then decided maybe a snack would help him sleep.

  But as he padded down the hall toward the kitchen, he noticed Melody’s bedroom door open and a pale shaft of light slicing across the hardwood floor ahead. Great. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with insomnia trouble.

  Rounding the corner from the hallway and into the kitchen, Daveed stopped short. Melody was busy at the stove with her back to him, humming softly as she stirred something in a pan. She’d showered and changed since he’d last seen her and looked more like her old self, or at least the girl he remembered from the two times he’d met her with Heath.

  She had on some silly-looking pink cotton stretch pants covered with what appeared to be poodles wearing tiaras and a loose white T-shirt that still managed to cling to her curves in all the right places. Daveed crossed his arms over his bare chest against the sudden rush of unwanted heat that zinged through him at the sight of her. He wished he would’ve grabbed a shirt before coming out here, feeling far more exposed now than he liked. But he hadn’t been expecting to see anyone in the kitchen either. At least he’d worn sweats to bed tonight. Usually he slept in the nude, and wouldn’t that just make for an interesting moment with his guest.

  He shook his head as Heath’s words looped through his head again.

  Melody will make your life crazy…

  Given the awareness prickling through his body now, it seemed that prophecy was already coming to pass. He couldn’t be attracted to this woman, his best friend’s ex, could he?

  She continued to stir whatever was in that pot and seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence. Daveed wished he could say the same about his reaction to her. He couldn’t help noticing her hair had regained its usual bouncy curl and now hung loose down her back in a shimmering wave. He found his fingertips itchy to touch it, to discover if it felt as soft as it looked.

  Sighing loud, he cleared his throat and stepped forward, hoping to alert her that she was not alone and avoid scaring her half to death. “You’re up late,” he said quietly.

  No such luck.

  At the sound of his voice, Melody jumped about a foot in the air as she whirled to face him, the wooden spoon in her hand clattering to the floor as she gave a startled scream. “Oh, my God! You can’t sneak up on me like that! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  Daveed summoned every ounce of patience he possessed as he picked the spoon up off the floor and rinsed it in the sink for her before handing it back. “I cleared my throat before I spoke. I thought that would be enough warning. My apologies.”

  She snatched the spoon from him, frowning as she turned back toward the stove. “Make some noise, why don’t you? Bump into something like a normal person. Cause a ruckus, anything to let people know you’re there.”

  Like you? He wanted to say, but refrained. Arguing with her in the wee hours of the morning wouldn’t help either of them get some sleep. Instead, he leaned his hips against the edge of the countertop and peered into the pan on the stove. “What are you making?”

  “Warm milk,” she said, not looking at him. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty shade of pink, though whether it was from the heat of the stove or from the fright he’d given her, Daveed wasn’t sure. Despite his initial annoyance over her reaction, he felt bad about scaring her like that.

  “I’m sorry for frightening you,” he said, turning to grab two mugs from the cupboard behind him. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be up this time of night.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, so low he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. “Too much on my mind.”

  He held the cups while she poured the milk into them, then they walked into the living room to sit on the loveseat in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The dim light from the kitchen cast the room in a soft glow that didn’t detract from the glorious Manhattan skyline twinkling outside. In the distance, the colored lights of the huge Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center were just visible through the haze of light snow falling. No matter how many holidays he spent in the city, it was still a magical time of year.

  Melody sighed and snuggled into her corner of the loveseat, drawing his attention back to her again, not that it had ever gone far away. She kept glancing at him through her lashes, as if he wouldn’t notice, and that pink in her cheeks darkened.

  His masculine instincts all but purred. She was checking him out. And if her frequent glances and the slight hitch in her breath were any indication, she liked what she saw. Maybe going without a shirt hadn’t been such a bad idea at all.

  Daveed frowned and shoved those errant thoughts aside. Melody was off limits, for more reasons than one. She was Heath’s ex, a troublemaker, nothing but a spoiled little rich girl who’d been smacked upside the head by reality for the first time in her life. Common sense said he should steer well clear of her and her crazy.

  Except when they’d had dinner earlier, she hadn’t seemed spoiled at all. In fact, she’d seemed funny and smart and even self-deprecating during their conversation. And if what she’d said about her parents cutting her off was correct, she was no longer rich either. Far from the diva extraordinaire the tabloids portrayed.

  Perhaps he’d been guilty of stereotyping her. And given his situation—an Arab man in America during a contentious time overseas in the Middle East�
�he of all people should know the dangers of social profiling.

  “So, what do you do this time of year?” she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The holidays. What do you do for them? Muslims don’t celebrate Christmas, right?”

  Seemed he wasn’t the only one doing some stereotyping here. Daveed scrubbed a hand over his face and scooted in his seat to face her, stretching his arm across the back of the loveseat to rest his mug of hot milk atop the back. He’d had this conversation far too many times of late. “What makes you assume I’m Muslim?”

  She raised wide eyes to him, her expression conciliatory. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m sorry. I have a tendency to say things without thinking them through. My bad.” She closed her eyes and shook herself. The movement caused her breasts to sway interestingly beneath the fabric of her T-shirt and Daveed realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  That of course led to visions of her straddling his lap while he toyed with her taut nipples and he quickly slammed the door on those wicked thoughts. He shifted in his seat and did his best to ignore the twitch in his cock.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume things about people.” She gave a sad snort. “I hate it when people do that to me.”

  He gulped his milk and searched for his lost sanity. This close to her, he could smell the soap on her skin from her shower, the floral scent of the shampoo she’d used, plus the slight hint of exotic blossoms from that perfume she wore. All the things he shouldn’t think about right now if he wanted to keep his body under control.

  This was ridiculous. He was a grown man who had vast experience with women. There was no logical reason why he should be so turned on by this quirky socialite on the rocks. And yet, he was. He scooted farther back into his corner of the loveseat as well, to put as much distance between them as possible, and focused on her question.