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  She thanked the girl and just about pushed her out of the room. The place was more Arabian Nights—the hanging over the bed was almost tent-like; lots of gold and plenty of marble, and Eden wished she had more time to appreciate all of it, but she didn’t want to leave Adyan talking her out of a job.

  She washed up fast, brushed out her hair and changed into loose, black trousers and an even looser, long-sleeved white and black patterned top. She also put on her highest heels, grabbed her computer and slipped back out of her room.

  Heading back downstairs, she listened for low, masculine voices—dodged what had to be the hurried steps of the folks who really kept this palace running—and decided she had a better way to find Adyan and the sheikh. She headed into the main courtyard.

  A fountain was bubbling there. It was cool and shaded and green, and an instant relief—the palace didn’t seem to have air conditioning. And then she heard the voices. With a grin, she followed them to French doors that stood open. A tremor went through her—she was about to face a man who ruled a country. She stiffened her back—her daddy hadn’t raised him any cowards.

  Stepping through the open doors, she put on a bright smile. The fast flow of Arabic that had been rumbling around stopped and two men turned to look at her. She saw the resemblance at once—strong, hawk-like noses, black eyes, and high cheekbones. The older man had to be Sheikh Ahmadi—the younger one was definitely a pissed-off Adyan. At least the sheikh took to Western clothing, so maybe he was fine with the Western idea of women doing more than cooking meals—something she was horrible at—and raising kids—something she had yet to find out if she could do.

  “Sorry…hope I’m not buttin’ in, but I stepped into the garden to get a breath and heard you two talking. Sheikh Ahmadi?” she asked. “A pleasure, sir. Now tell me, what’s the proper way to greet a sheikh. Do I bow? Curtsy? Or maybe give a salaam or something?”

  Chapter 3

  Adyan wanted to slap a palm to his face—or to grab Eden’s arm and hustle her out of the room. How dare she address the Sheikh of Scaran in such a familiar fashion? But before he could do more than glare at her, his father burst out with a sudden laugh. Adyan turned to stare at his father, who was still grinning.

  “Ah, you must be Eden Abbey—Adyan was just getting around to telling me of you. I think we shall skip any salaams. Now, my son tells me your father suffered a stroke. This is sad news.”

  Eden stuck out her hand. Adyan saw his father blink once, then smoothly take the grip as if he shook hands with women every day. She also shot Adyan a sideways glance that was as good as a verbal warning for him to back off. Folding his arms, Adyan lifted his eyebrows—he wasn’t going anywhere. And he would now watch her dig her own grave.

  He had come prepared to smooth the way for her—she was right, they needed the expertise of the Abbey Company, even if it came from Thomas Abbey through his daughter by phone and emails. And while his father might wish everyone to think of him as a very forward-looking man with views that fit Western habits, as the Sheikh of Scaran he was trusted with maintaining many traditions along with looking after the welfare of his country. Adyan braced for an instant dismissal of Abbey Construction and Eden’s forward ways. That could prove to be a fatal blow to the building of the complex, but Adyan could see no way of preventing her from offending his father.

  However, Eden was smiling that glowing smile of hers and telling his father about herself, spinning a story that would tug on any man’s heart. “Now you just call me Ed…or Eden. And think of me as your connection to my daddy. I’ll just be here to be his eyes and ears on the ground, but don’t you worry a mite. I’ll have his help if it’s needed, and I’ve certainly worked on bigger projects. Just think of me as being here to help you get this thing done and done right.”

  Ahmadi gave a low laugh. “Call you Ed? I think not. But I will be most happy to have use of your first name.”

  Her grin widened, and a sharp jolt went through Adyan. She was smiling at his father, working her charm on him. She was a witch, that’s what she was, to enslave his father with this story of hers. She took her hand from his father’s grip and slipped past to stop at the large desk that held the model of the complex Zafar had built.

  “Is that it?” she asked. She turned to Ahmadi. “Several buildings—a tent-like entrance. Nice lines. You sure do know how to set a challenge for a girl.”

  Ahmadi let out a sigh. “That is just the issue that could be problematic. Come join us for some afternoon refreshment.”

  She shot Adyan another glance, eyes narrowed—so she was thinking she had won here, was she? She had her smile back in place as she followed Adyan’s father out to the garden courtyard, where she allowed Ahmadi to seat her next to him. Adyan remained standing, his arms still folded. Eden ignored him as if he was just another rose bush. “I have to thank you for allowing me to stay here. This place is nothing less than amazing.”

  Ahmadi smiled and poured mint tea into a glass for her. “I am pleased you approve.”

  Jaw set, Adyan only just held back from saying it had been his idea for Eden to stay at the palace.

  Eden sipped her tea and asked, “Now, just what all did you mean by me bringing up a problem? You worried that my being female may ruffle some feathers?”

  Adyan was starting to become accustomed to Eden simply saying whatever she thought—the woman was like a wrecking ball, he thought. He caught a glance from his father—a plea for help to smooth over what should be a delicate situation. Dropping his hands to his side, he stepped forward and addressed Eden with the same bluntness she used on others. “Women in Scaran do not work in the construction industry.”

  Eden crossed one leg over the other. How did a woman so small dominate a conversation, Adyan wondered. She gave one glance to Adyan and then faced his father. “Sir, I’ve seen that model for what you’re building—you need Abbey Construction. We’ve got the experience to get this done on time and that’s the key, isn’t it? Now, there’s an easy answer here—and that’s Adyan.” She waved a hand at him.

  Sheikh Ahmadi glanced from her to Adyan, and Adyan shrugged. He had no idea what Eden was speaking of now.

  She went on as if she was the ruler here. “I can see your son is a lot like you, and I can bet he has things under control. So I’ll just be here to help him out. It’ll be him supervising the work and the workers, and me tagging along at his side. Anyone says anything, I’ll just turn and bat my eyes at him like I’m under Adyan’s spell.” She did just that—turned and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  Adyan’s stomach knotted. His mouth dried and his pulse hammered hard. He shook himself to break her spell and glanced at his father. “Father, this is—”

  “Brilliant!” Sheikh Ahmadi sat up. “Everyone will think she is your new girlfriend and you are just trying to impress her.”

  Eden smiled. “Why of course. And I may ask one or two tiny questions—just to know a little more. But Adyan will be the man doing all the supervising, and you’ll still have me as your connection to Abbey Construction.”

  Staring at Eden, Adyan started to tell her this was impossible. She was mad to even speak of this idea. But a treacherous voice whispered to him that it could work.

  She was not his usual type—he had dated models from all over the world, stunningly beautiful women, but usually those without two thoughts in their head. They were…simple. Eden would seem…a complication. However, she was charming. And lovely. And quite possibly utterly demanding. He did not want to seem to be a man led by the nose. But this deception could work. The workers—if they thought she was his girlfriend—would not dare to offer her any insult. They would not question her presence. And, yes, she offered a connection to the experience that Abbey Construction brought to this project. That could make the difference between failure and success.

  Eden sipped her tea, that wide mouth of hers curved in such a way that Adyan almost wanted to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her senseless—she would soon learn
this deception must be one that anyone would believe.

  Standing, the sheikh came over to Adyan and slapped his arm. “This is excellent. With Abbey Construction involved, the complex must be built on time. Now, I will leave you two to start plans—there is no time to waste.” He slapped Adyan’s arm again and headed back to his study.

  Sitting down next to Eden, Adyan poured his own glass of mint tea. “A toast—to our working together. Or should I say to your new position as my…girlfriend.”

  Eden’s smile slipped. “It’s only for show. If I’m going to help out, I need to be on site to see what’s going on, check materials, make sure we’re hitting our dates, and so I can keep an eye on the budget.”

  Adyan waved that last comment away. “Money is not a factor. It is time that is our enemy.” He leaned closer to her. Her eyes widened, but she did not back away from him. It was a start. “You should know, my father doesn’t tolerate failure.”

  “And mine does?” She bit her lower lip as if the words had slipped out, and clearly she had not meant to allow them an escape.

  His stare slipped to her mouth again. She had a wide, lush mouth, one that almost seemed too large for her face. He dragged his eyes from her lips to meet her steady gaze. Reaching out, he touched one finger to the back of her hand. “This…this pose of yours, it will mean we must be close.”

  Her mouth curved. She leaned even closer to him and a hint of her scent—something sweet and musky teased him. “Hon, you just do your best to keep up with me.” Lifting her hand, she pressed a fingertip to her lips and then touched that finger to his cheek.

  His skin burned and his pulse quickened again. This was going to be an interesting few months. “So…where do we begin with our plans?” he asked. He heard the thickness in his voice and gave a small cough to clear it away.

  Her voice sounded slightly breathy as she said, “Where else—with the dang blueprints, hon. You got them somewhere on a computer so as I can grab a copy, or are you doing everything old school around here with blueline?”

  Chapter 4

  Eden watched the supply trucks pull into the yard at the project site. Adyan was there, supervising while the supplies were unloaded by the men he’d hired. The crew was a mix of locals and a crew she’d brought over from Abbey Construction. So far, everyone was playing nice, but they were only just starting to get to work.

  Two translators were on site, one of them a guy named Malik, who not only spoke Arabic and English but he actually knew something about construction, too.

  The site had been cleared, the parking structure dug out, pre-poured concrete pillars had been brought in, and they were ready to start putting up steel. She sat under a small tent without sides that had been set up next to the main trailer. So far, they were sticking to the schedule, but they didn’t have so much as a day to waste. They had concrete yet to pour, and she was just hoping the weather would cooperate—so far, they’d had nothing but hot blue skies, and that suited her.

  Heading over to Adyan’s side, she found him frowning at the rebar and steel I-beams that had been delivered. He turned to her and keeping his voice low, said, “These beams are not what we ordered. The welds are substandard.”

  She glanced at the truckload of steel beams—it was obvious the sloppy welds were not up to code. She could glimpse sky through some of them. “Where’d these come from?” she demanded, her smile gone.

  “The same supplier as the last load,” he told her. Eden muttered a curse. Adyan’s eyebrows lifted high. He had on a loose white shirt and pants and looked more like one of the construction workers instead of the man running the show. But no one would make that mistake—not given his size and the air of authority he carried with him. “I’ll get them on the phone and tell them I want the entire shipment replaced by tomorrow morning or we’ll find another supplier.”

  She shook her head. “If they’ll send us one bad load, they’ll send another. I’ll make a few calls. Daddy can pull a few strings for us. There’s a hotel going up in Dubai, and I bet we can borrow from them—they’re not on anything like such a tight deadline.”

  His eyebrows lifted even higher, but she only grinned and strode back to the construction trailer. A quick conversation with headquarters back home set up a secondary—and a third—supply line. She wasn’t taking chances. By the time she’d hung up, Adyan had stepped into the trailer and told her, “They are sending out another truck today, and applying a ten percent discount for our delay.”

  Eden nodded. “Good. I’ve set up two other suppliers as well. We can’t afford problems like that. Now, how about a tour—I need to look impressed with your work, and you need to look like you’re showing off to your girlfriend.”

  He held the door open for her and she stepped from the air-conditioned trailer out into the desert heat. It hit her like always—in a blast that took her breath. She wondered if she’d ever get used to that. Adyan pressed a hand to the small of her back, and the heat of the day wasn’t the only thing she was thinking about.

  She glanced up at him, but he was already looking ahead, off to where the complex would soon start to rise. “We will start with the main stadium,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

  Eden clenched her teeth and tried for a smile. “Really—how amazing.”

  He gave her a sideways look, and she knew she’d been a little too heavy on sarcasm. Adyan acted as her tour-guide. The tour was useful because she could scan the men to see who knew what he was doing.

  She had to admit that Adyan had come up with a good, local crew. They’d also shown up with their own tents and had set up a camp to the west of the site. The place looked a cross between a construction site and a desert oasis camp. Stopping, she noticed a group of workers standing around the spot where the main entrance would go. Malik was there, saying something to the group in rapid Arabic. She glanced up at Adyan. “What’s going on?”

  “Let us find out.”

  Adyan dropped his hand and strode toward the group. She had to hurry to keep up. The men parted for Adyan, and Malik and Adyan swapped a rapid flow of Arabic. Her Arabic was good, but not that good, and she had a feeling they’d dropped into some local dialect. She caught enough, however, to know that something had stopped work—and then she caught something about sacred and burial.

  Malik gestured to the ground, and Eden glanced down to see a metal box with Arabic lettering sticking from the ground.

  Next to her Adyan huffed out a breath and turned to address the men. This time, she caught more of what he was telling the crew. “Was this here yesterday? No, but this morning it is visible? So you think the sands shifted during the night?”

  Some of the men swapped hangdog expressions. When Adyan put it like that, it sounded dumb to her, too.

  Adyan reached for the box. A gasp went up, but he straightened and told them. “Would I disturb the bones or the dust of any of my ancestors? This is a trick—nothing more. You know there are those who want to delay this building. You know there are enemies of the Tadros family who would stop at nothing—will you be their fools, or will you be the men who build the greatest structure ever to rise in Scaran?”

  A murmur went around the group. Eden caught a hint of resentment, but the mood shifted to approval—Adyan had won this round. Malik dove in next, chiding the men, telling them they were children to be fooled, offering a bonus if the team caught up with the schedule. The men went back to work, and Eden turned to Adyan. She waved at the box. “I’m betting that box isn’t really as old as it’s supposed to look.”

  Adyan glanced at her and then at the box. “I will take this back to the palace and have it dealt with. And if this box contains the remains of a Tadros ancestor, then I am not a Tadros myself.”

  She gave a nod. “So what do you think it does hold? I’m betting on trouble.” He glanced at her. She pasted on a smile and folded her arms. “I’m also thinking we need to have a talk about just who would have put it here. And exactly what did you mean when you said you’
ve got enemies out to sink this project? I don’t seem to recall any word of that before now.”

  Chapter 5

  Adyan wanted to curse, or to haul Eden back to the palace and leave her there. Neither option would accomplish much. The curse would just fly away on the wind, and Eden was not a woman to ever stay put. He had learned that much in a week with her. So far, as well, this display of her acting as if she was his girlfriend was not much of an act.

  On the site, she tried to stay back—he saw that much at least. But she was always pushing into things, and some talk had come back to him that he was not able to control his woman. He had a chance now to prove others wrong, so he simply swept Eden up in his arms and started walking with her toward his sports car.

  Eden stiffened. She was smaller than he had thought, but with more curves that he expected. However, instead of fighting him, she twisted and her breast pressed into his chest, and he almost forgot to breath. “You’re paying for this later,” she whispered to him.

  He gave her a tight smile. “It will be worth it.” Plopping her into the passenger seat, he tossed the box in the small luggage area behind the seats and climbed into the car. The engine started with a roar, and he took off, heading back to the palace.

  Eden was out of the car almost before he had stopped—perhaps wanting to avoid him picking her up again. He smiled. He had enjoyed the feel of her in his arms and it had been an effective way to make her do what he wished. He would need to remember that. He followed her inside the palace and found Zafar and Belle in the foyer.

  Zafar looked up, and Belle blushed—and Adyan could guess they had almost been caught kissing. Eden had not yet met them, so Adyan stepped forward. “Eden Abbey, this is—”

  “Belle Mooney.” Eden darted forward, catching Belle’s hand and pumping it. “Of Mooney and Family—I’ve been wanting to work on one of your firm’s designs for years.”