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  “Rude, loud, and oblivious to any hints?” Belle asked.

  Zafar nodded. “Can you do it?”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’ll flatten that man with a ton of charm and ask him not only to show me around but the price of everything. I’ll also hint I’m looking for more work.”

  Touching the back of her hand, Zafar said, “Just be careful. Fahid will stick close by. If you scream, he will come for you. Give me fifteen minutes, then you can leave.”

  “Where are you going to be?” Belle asked.

  “Fahid tells me there is a window that is always left open in the kitchen. Daheer believes he is smarter than anyone, so I think he will have left the designs in his office. He would never think we would come for them. And that will be his second mistake.”

  Belle frowned. “What was his first?”

  “Thinking he could steal from my family and get away with it,” Zafar said.

  Tugging down her skirt, Belle said, “What happens after we find our stuff? Or if you don’t find it? Or if you’re discovered? You know I really hate not having backup plans. Sometimes ideas just don’t work out.”

  Glancing back from the driver’s seat, Fahid said, “I will be keeping watch. I will create a distraction if needed.”

  She let out a breath. “Guess that’ll have to do.”

  “It will. We are here.” Zafar crouched down on the back floor. Belle started to follow him, but he waved her to stay put. It was early enough that he was counting on the Daheer house still being half asleep. But he was also counting on Belle being such an unwelcome guest that Daheer would be consumed with trying to get her to leave.

  Fahid swung the car into a curve. He slowed, and Zafar heard the gates swing open. Moments later the car turned again, and Fahid said, “Here is where you leave us, Sheikh.”

  Zafar glanced up at Belle, then turned, opened the door and rolled from the moving car. He landed in bushes and lay still, waiting for someone to grab his shoulders. No one did. Slowly, he stood and glanced over the bushes

  The car had stopped in front of the main doors. Belle had already gotten out of the car and glanced around her, twirling on her heels. “Well, isn’t this pretty. ‘Course I’ve seen nicer back home. Why, there’s a nice country home that the Texas senator has that’s a lot bigger than this, and this isn’t as nice as what you might find in New York. But it’s kind of quaint.”

  Zafar’s mouth twitched. Daheer might see Belle and immediately want to keep her with him, but five minutes with her and he would be wishing her anywhere else but in his company.

  He made for the back of the structure, to the kitchen—and the open window. His heart was beating a little too fast, so he took a deep breath. It only took him a minute to reach the window. He smiled when he saw it was indeed wide open. He pulled off the screen and slipped inside.

  Once in, he paused. The room was unlit—it looked a storage room with shelves of packaged food. Heading into the hallway, he made for Daheer’s study. From what Fahid had said, the study should be down the hall and to the left. He slipped into the room and immediately spotted the designs on the desk. He swept up the papers, but he needed Belle’s tablet.

  Pulling open drawers, he began searching the desk then moved to the bookcases. His pulse was beating hard now. He took a breath. He could hear Belle now, her voice loud and high—unnaturally so—as she started to ask about the price of the statues and how much Daheer had spent on his suit. He couldn’t hear Daheer’s answer, but he doubted Daheer would be pleased with such an interrogation. Belle then started to compare everything with ‘back home’ and finding everything here a little lacking. Zafar smiled—Daheer would like that even less.

  He gave up on the bookcases and spotted a briefcase. There was a tablet inside, but Zafar had to make certain it was Belle’s. He switched it on. A moment later, the table came on. It took another moment to verify it had the files they needed.

  Pausing at the doorway, he could hear Belle’s voice going higher—and louder. “What—don’t you folks believe in a nice strong Bloody Mary in the morning? I tell you, I can’t get started without a shot or two. What about beer? Got any beer around? I could take a sip of Bud.” He heard Daheer protest that such things were not allowed.

  Zafar headed back down the hall and out the window. He took a few extra seconds to replace the window screen—let Daheer wonder what had happened. Back in the bushes, he waited for the car to slip past. What was keeping Fahid and Belle? Time seemed to pass far too slowly. Sweat trickled down Zafar’s back. And then he heard Belle, loud and rude. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve been a guest of the President of the United States, and he offered me a drink. You folks just don’t know how to live, do you, wearing dish towels on your heads, eating nothing but lamb like it was good beef, and drinking tea. Thanks for nothing, Mr. Daheer!”

  He heard a car door slam. The engine purred to life and slowed as it passed. A door popped open and Zafar threw himself onto the floor. Leaning over, Belle pulled the door closed and pasted on a fake smile for the guards as she muttered. “Did you get everything?”

  Zafar held up her tablet and the drawings. “Now we just need to get my father to think these were worth a risk such as we just took.”

  Chapter 12

  At the palace, Belle couldn’t help but keep looking over her shoulder. Zafar had said the palace was now secure, but she wasn’t going to trust anyone—she’d sleep with her tablet and make sure she had backup files in several places.

  She didn’t bother to change but went straight to the workroom. While Zafar finished up the drawings, she checked over the details for the main building. She’d already made changes to the pool to allow for a divider. She went over the schematics once more and noticed some of the specifications for the steel beam weren’t what she’d put down.

  Looking up, she asked, “Zafar, did you make any changes to the support specs?”

  He looked up from the drawing table. He hadn’t changed, either, and he looked not only sexy in black, but a touch dangerous. Belle tried not to get distracted by the tan, muscular forearms now braced on the drawing table. He shook his head, and she told him, “Well, someone did. This steel won’t support the load we’re planning on. The metal grade is also not to spec. Someone messed with the engineering.

  Zafar frowned. “Daheer knows nothing of buildings or construction.”

  “He wouldn’t need to if he was just altering some numbers. Or maybe he’s got more than just Fahid to help him?”

  Zafar came over to her side. He leaned down and looked over her shoulder. That was even more distracting. Belle swallowed. She was remembering what his hands had felt like on her skin last night. And Zafar wasn’t helping—he kept glancing at her bare legs and now she wished she had changed. They were going to end up back in bed and they just didn’t have time for that right now. “Can you find out all the changes? Or revert to an older file?”

  Belle nodded and tried to focus only on the table. Why did Zafar have to smell so damned good? “My brothers had the software designed to keep four versions back—just in case.” She had to go back the full four versions. Glancing up at Zafar, she said, “You do know, if just one change makes its way into the final schematics, it could be a disaster.”

  Zafar shook his head. “We’ll go over the numbers several times, and there is both an engineering review as well as a review for the approval of the building permits. Any flaws will jump out. This was simply Daheer trying to delay us. But I can think of one individual who is a known supporter of Daheer, who might have tried to slip a fatal design flaw into the plans—even a few weeks to correct the schematics could cost us dearly.”

  She nodded and chewed on a fingernail. “Do you think your father will approve the design?”

  Zafar straightened and smiled. “He will—he must. But let us be positive and also give the building a name.”

  “How about Gift of the Desert? I don’t know how to say that in Arabic, but this facility is going to be a gift
to everyone privileged to use it and it sits on the lip of the desert.”

  Zafar glanced at her. “That is a very traditional way of naming things.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not bowing to tradition—but if the name fits, why not?”

  “Ihsan min al Badiya,” he said, his voice low and soft.

  Belle shivered. That was the voice he’d used on her last night. She smiled up at him. “That has a nice sound to it.” Letting out a breath, she stood, her tablet clutched to her chest. “And now I’m going to change and make back-up files.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her. For a moment, she clung to him, but then she pushed back. “Let’s save the celebration for later.”

  Letting go of her, he shook his head. “I was right about the first time I saw you—far too American. Always thinking of business first.”

  “Yes, and aren’t you glad I can do this or we’d both be showing your dad a lot of half-assed drawings.” She kissed a fingertip and pressed her finger to his lips. He grabbed for her wrist, but she slipped past him. He did manage to get a swat in to her ass.

  “Change into something that won’t shock my father,” he said.

  She headed upstairs and quickly changed into a tunic and loose trousers, all in a dark blue. Her stomach was jumping—what if the sheikh didn’t like the design? What if…?

  She cut off the thought. She and Zafar had come up with something both innovative and striking. Sure, she might wish she could call her parents to run the ideas past them, but that was what she’d come here to avoid. She was trying to do something on her own—except this wasn’t on her own.

  Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she realized she’d had fun working with Zafar. He didn’t always like her ideas, but he listened to her. He argued with her like she was an equal. That was…well, it was better than working on her own. Too often she got mired in details, but Zafar forced her to be better than she was. He made her look at the overall design—he’d challenged her concepts, and that had forced her into better solutions.

  I’m going to miss that when I go home.

  Home…already that seemed a different world. She was having trouble even remembering what her apartment was like, other than cold and sterile. It’d always been more of a place to sleep, and little else. And her parents’ house—well, that was a showcase for their work. Her room had already been done over as guest quarters. She’d been almost a nomad—but here, well, how was it in just a few days she could feel like she belonged?

  Pushing out a breath, she touched up her makeup, smoothed the tunic and settled on silver earrings to set off the outfit. She also took a few minutes to email her files to her phone and send them up to the Cloud—she was done being casual about these files.

  Heading downstairs, she found Zafar in the workroom. He’d changed into the loose white trousers and tunic that he seemed to prefer. He was standing over the drawing table, making last minute adjustments, and Belle stopped in the doorway. The breath caught in her chest. Sunlight framed a halo around his head, setting off his dark hair. For an instant, she wondered what it would be like to live here, work here, and be in Zafar’s bed every night.

  Wasn’t that the fantasy? Become a princess in a palace—loved and respected and sheltered?

  She shook her head—it was a dream. But Zafar had probably just wanted sex with her—probably figured a brash American like her wouldn’t get emotionally tangled. That, however, was just what she’d done.

  One night with him, and she wanted more.

  She couldn’t let herself think about that now, however. They had a sales job to do with his dad. Pasting on a smile, she stepped into the workroom. “Ready to face your father?”

  He glanced up. His face softened at once from the frown he’d had while focused on the drawings. He came to her and took her hand. “You will amaze him.”

  She shook her head. “No—we’re going to knock his socks off.”

  Zafar smiled. “My father doesn’t usually wear socks.” Heading back to the drawing table, he rolled up the papers. They strode through the palace. Belle’s heart was hammering now, and sweat slicked her palms. She tried to tell herself this was no big deal, but after disappointing Sheikh Ahmadi once, she found she didn’t want to repeat the experience.

  She also realized she loved this building.

  She adored the mix of the tent-like side buildings and the towers that made the main structure seem like a city from the Arabian Nights. She loved the clever touches, and how the traditional elements were woven in, almost like Easter eggs to be discovered. This was a building that would make her name—her and Zafar’s. If only Sheikh Ahmadi liked it.

  The door to the sheikh’s study stood open, but Zafar knocked on the heavy, carved door and then said, “Are you ready for us?”

  Sheikh Ahmadi looked up from his desk. He’d been working on a small laptop, but he closed the cover and stood, smiling at them. He was dressed similar to how she’d seen him before—a silk shirt, this one in a pale blue, that was open at the collar, charcoal trousers, and Italian loafers. He looked very much the relaxed Western executive. Waving them in, he said, “Come, come. I can’t wait to see what two brilliant minds have created.”

  Face heating, Belle wet her lips. She swapped a glance with Zafar—he smiled back at her, so she straightened and said, “We wanted to bring you only the best of our ideas.”

  “Good. Let’s see.” He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets.

  Zafar spread out the designs across his father’s desk, and started explaining the main concepts—how the structure would seem like a tent pitched next to a white city, but in fact, the buildings would be constructed around a core garden and fountains. Sheikh Ahmadi traced the paths that linked the structures, and Belle stepped in with her tablet to start with the details. Ways they would be able to handle the construction in stages, use of prefabricated materials to cut down on the schedule, and innovative uses of cutting-edge solar technology and water recycling.

  Her voice quivered at first, but as she got going, her love for the work took over. Zafar pointed out smaller features he had added, but Belle kept herself focused on the overall approach of creating a world-class facility. She couldn’t read the sheikh’s face—he’d make a great poker player. He didn’t nod, didn’t comment, but he asked a few questions—more like he was making sure they’d covered all the bases, she thought.

  At last he looked up and straightened. Belle’s heart jumped to her throat. She wanted to grab Zafar’s hand for reassurance. Instead, she held still, one hand clutching the edge of Sheikh Ahmadi’s desk.

  He looked from her face to Zafar and back. And he gave a single nod. “Excellent. Exactly what I wished.” He slapped a hand on Zafar’s shoulder. “You have made me proud to be your father.”

  A band tightened around Belle’s chest. How many times had she wished for such words from her dad—just one time she’d wanted him to compliment her work and not find ten things to tear apart? Her mother was even worse, always telling her she wasn’t living up to her potential, and her brothers just started redesigning everything she’d ever done.

  She watched a flush crawl up Zafar’s neck—by the looks of that, it was probably just as rare for him to get praise from his father. Zafar gave a small bow. “Thank you, sir. But I truly must say I could not have done this without Belle.”

  Sheikh Ahmadi gave Belle a sideways glance, calculation in his eyes. “But of course. I was also delighted to hear your early morning visit to Daheer was…well, shall we say productive?”

  Belle’s eyes widened. She started to ask how he knew, but Zafar laughed and said, “Not much gets by you, does it, Father?”

  Sheikh Ahmadi nodded. “You may trust I will deal with Daheer when the opportunity arises. Now, what is this that I hear—you told Fahid he will remain in my service?”

  Zafar raised an eyebrow. Belle wanted to jump in and defend the poor guy, but she wasn’t certain if Fahid deserved that. Yes
, he’d helped them this morning, but he’d also let Daheer into the palace in the first place. With a lift of one hand and one shoulder, Zafar said, “I was impressed that Fahid had the courage to tell me of his deceit. I believe he was misled by Daheer and has now come to realize the error of his ways. Besides, Fahid is now a known element—is there not value in keeping close those who may serve a specific purpose?”

  The sheikh frowned, and pulled a hand from his pocket to rub a thumb across his chin. “While I’m not happy Fahid allowed an enemy to enter my home, you do have a point. And if we fire him, Daheer will only seek to insert another into our midst.” Turning, he slapped a hand onto the drawings. “It is imperative construction begins at once.”

  Belle let out a breath, and Zafar nodded. “Adyan is meeting with a construction company he hopes to hire today. I promised him these drawings.”

  Sweeping up the drawings, Sheikh Ahmadi pushed them into Zafar’s arms. “Then go meet with him! I want to see a contract signed and a timeline in place.” He turned and smiled at Belle. “And you, Miss Reynolds, do you not have more work to do to finalize blueprints now? There are details now to concern you.”

  With that, he waved them from his study and shut the door. Blinking, Belle stared at Zafar. “We did it?” she asked.

  He glanced at her, swept up her hand and kissed her palm. “We are only just starting.”

  Chapter 13

  The next two weeks seemed to pass with a whirlwind of work. Zafar met with his brother and the construction company—a deal was struck and celebrated with a lavish dinner. And then Belle chained herself to the computer. The devil really was in the details—and she and Zafar argued a dozen times a day before reaching solutions to nail down the last elements of the complex. About the only breaks she had were the trips to select tile or carpets and tapestries and paint. Zafar argued for plasterwork in some parts of the building, but Belle couldn’t see how there would be time. They had to lock the plans.