A Sheikh for Christmas Page 5

  “Sounds perfect.” She took a seat on one of the stools while he called in their order. Man, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had food from his homeland. The restaurant they were ordering from wasn’t far from the condo and was supposed to be one of the best Middle Eastern restaurants in the city, with a high rating from Zagats. But Daveed had been so busy helping Heath and Murph lately that he just hadn’t gotten around to getting down there yet. After he hung up the phone, he put the menus back. “They said half an hour.”

  “Cool.” Melody looked around. “So, how long have you been staying here?”

  “Since I got back to the States two months ago. I don’t really have a place in New York to crash and Heath offered the condo, so here I am.”

  “Hmm. Doesn’t look like you’ve added any personal touches of your own around here.”

  “Why would I?” He gave her a confused look. “I’m not planning on staying here long term.”

  Melody met his eyes at last, her pretty blue gaze making him feel far more vulnerable than he liked. “Don’t you get lonely? Being so far away from your homeland? Don’t you ever long for a piece of it, even if it’s just tiny or temporary?”

  Suddenly, her choice of dinner menu made a lot more sense. “Is that why you wanted Middle Eastern food? Because you thought it would make me feel better?”

  Her little shrug caused a fresh wave of warmth inside him. The fact she’d cared at all about his feelings touched him. Most people never gave him two thoughts, or if they did, he kept them firmly at bay using his barriers of politeness and reserve. But somehow, this kooky, kind, surprisingly thoughtful woman had managed to breech all his defenses and see inside to the real him.

  “Maybe. But I really did want to try the food though too,” she said at last, flashing him a guilty smile. “I’ve heard that moussaka and tahdig are really delicious.”

  Daveed chuckled. “Moussaka is Greek and tahdig is Persian crunchy fried rice, not at all related to my country’s food. But yes, they are both quite tasty.”

  Pink color suffused her cheeks and he had the insane urge to reach out and stroke her velvety-looking skin, to the feel the heat of her, to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. He even went so far as to reach across the bar toward her before he caught himself and pulled his hand back. Shocked, he turned back toward the kitchen and began to pull out plates and silverware for them.

  By the time the food arrived, he’d almost gotten his thudding heart rate back under control. Almost. They set their dinner out on the breakfast bar, then sat side by side to fill their plates.

  “Sorry, but you’ll have to tell me what everything is because I have no idea. It all smells amazing though.”

  “Yes, it does.” He pointed to the shawarma first. “Okay, so this is basically like a Greek gyro, but with Middle Eastern spices. The meat is thin-sliced rotisserie roasted lamb and it’s served with veggies and tahini sauce wrapped in warm pita bread.”

  “Sounds yummy.” She grabbed half of the sandwich and put it on her plate. “What’s next?”

  “Next we have the falafel balls.” Daveed put one on each of their plates. “These are made from ground chickpeas, onions, garlic, parsley and spices then rolled into a ball and deep fried. You can eat them inside pita bread too or just on their own.”

  “Awesome.” She pointed to the bowl of hummus. “And that’s dip?”

  “Yep. This is made with chickpeas also, mixed with spices and garlic, tahini, olive oil, lemon juice and salt. Typically, in my homeland, people dip wedges of pita bread into it and eat it like salsa and chips.” To demonstrate, he took a wedge of bread and dipped it into the bowl then shoved it into his mouth. The vibrant flavors of the spices and beans filled his mouth and reminded him of home. She’d been right. He had missed this. Not that he’d tell her that though. “Now you try.”

  “Okay.” She did the same as him, her eyes widening as she got her first taste of his homeland. “Wow! That’s incredible. I love it.”

  “I’m glad.” He smiled as they started eating. After several bites, he got up and grabbed them each an ale from the fridge, opening them both before setting one in front of her. She’d given him a piece of his life back that he hadn’t even known he missed and he wanted to give her something in return. “You did very well today. With deciphering those notes. Thank you.”

  Her blush returned and she avoided his gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’m sure anybody could’ve done it.”

  Curious, he didn’t let the matter drop, even though it was obvious that was what she wanted. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?” she asked around a bite of shawarma.

  “Brush off compliments about your intelligence.” He swallowed a bite of falafel and washed it down with a swig of ale before continuing. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it felt important for him to know more about her, about what had made her into the woman she was today. She truly had impressed him. From what she’d told him, her educational history wasn’t anything to write home about, yet she was smart and she was a fast learner—both important qualities in his line of work. “Tell me why you can’t accept nice things said about you.”

  She gave another small shrug. “I don’t know.” She pushed a corner of pita bread around in the hummus on her plate and frowned. “I guess maybe it stems from when I was a kid and my mom told me that I didn’t have to be smart because I was pretty. That my looks would take me a lot farther than my brain ever would in life.” She gave a sad little laugh. “Of course, I idolized her back then, so I took her words to heart. It’s funny, in a twisted sort of way. Before we had that conversation, I always wanted to be a marine biologist.”

  “Really?” he watched her over the rim of his bottle. “What made you choose that?”

  “Too many Flipper reruns on cable, I think.” She laughed and the sound shimmered through the air around him like sunshine. “Anyway, once my mom told me that, I let my studies slide. After a while, I gave up on that dream altogether, figuring my grades wouldn’t be good enough anyway, so why even try? At that point my parents started talking about how they’d marry me off to a nice rich boy someday.” Melody took a long gulp of her ale then shook her head. “Heath came into the picture a few years later and the rest is history. You know, I think my parents were way more devastated by my running off to Tahiti than I was. After all, they always loved Heath more than they loved me.”

  “Nonsense,” Daveed scoffed, his stomach full at last and the alcohol taking the edge off nicely. “You are their child, their flesh and blood. Of course they loved you more.”

  She slid off her stool to help him clear the bar and put away their leftovers. “Maybe. Doesn’t really matter now anyway. What I’m most worried about is Heath hating me for what I did. I never meant to hurt him or embarrass him at all. That was never my intention. It was just that he was gone so much, being in the Navy and all.” She straightened from setting the bowl of hummus in the fridge and her arm brushed Daveed’s. Sparks ignited in his blood stream like a match to gasoline and he clenched his hands at his sides to keep from pulling her into his arms. It was the sad look on her face. He’d always been a sucker for women needing comfort. That had to be it. She continued talking, as if completely unaware of the sizzling chemistry between them. “Then when Heath kept re-enlisting, even when he didn’t have to, I figured he was doing it to get away from me. Not exactly a confidence booster. So, one night a girlfriend invited me to go with her to see one of Jefferson’s plays and later we went backstage to meet him, and well, you know the rest.”

  “I’m sorry you were feeling unloved,” he said, his gruff words startling him as much as her, if her shocked expression was any indication. He’d not meant to say that out loud. Maybe the alcohol was hitting him harder than he’d thought tonight. Daveed cleared his throat and moved away from her, putting some distance between them. “And I’m sure having it all play out in the tabloids didn’t help either.”

  * * *

  “No,
it didn’t,” Melody said, rubbing her arms as she exhaled. “Didn’t help my public persona either. Now everyone sees me as nothing but a crazy ditz who runs off with virtual strangers in the middle of the night.”

  “Nah,” Daveed said, frowning. “I’m sure they don’t think that.”

  She gave him a flat look.

  “Okay, fine. Maybe they do.”

  “You did.”

  At least he had the decency to cringe a bit at her candor. The fact he owned up to his biases about her only made her like him more for some insane reason. Daveed looked away and ran a hand through his thick brown hair. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders of his beneath that soft flannel shirt and she dug her fingers into her biceps to keep from reaching out and sliding her hands beneath the material to feel every ripple and sinew of his body. Daveed cleared his throat and gave her a self-effacing smile. “I admit that when you first showed up, all I could think was here’s that flakey rich chick from the tabloids who dumped my best friend.”

  “And now?” she asked, leaning against the counter across from him. “What do you think of me?”

  “Well.” He gave her a slow head-to-toe appraisal that curled her toes against the hardwood floor. “Other than your lack of common sense and your appalling housekeeping and cooking skills, I’d say you’re all right.”

  “Just all right?”

  “Good. You’re good.” His slow smile caused a warm tingle in her core. “Better than good, actually. I mean you have helped me figure out those words from Aileen’s notes, which is the first clue that we’ve gotten in a while. And now I have an address to check out tomorrow.”

  “You mean we have an address to check out. I know that building. It’s an office high-rise. My father’s law firm is in there, and there’s a couple of other global corporations with headquarters on a couple of the floors. One’s a financial firm, I think, and the other’s some energy technology development company.”

  “I’m going alone.” He shook his head and straightened. “I might appreciate your ‘creative’ approach to life, but I don’t want you tagging along and getting in the way of my investigation.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” she said, following him out of the kitchen and back into the living room. “Going as a couple will look a lot less obvious, even to an office building. We can make up some excuse about getting lost while we were Christmas shopping or something. If worse comes to worse, I can say I’m there to check on something for my father.” When he didn’t say anything, just walked around the room shutting off the lights, her whine grew. “C’mon. You can’t leave me here by myself. What if Heath shows up? What if I decide to cook again and burn the whole place down? What if—”

  He faced her at last, standing so close she could feel the heat of him penetrating her shirt. “Fine. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Don’t be late, and don’t make me regret my decision.”

  She did her best not to and at nine sharp the next morning they stood outside the sleek metal and glass building at 124 West 52nd Street. Melody squinted up at the brass number above the glass revolving doors, her nerves on edge. “Will Heath and Murphy be here too?”

  “No,” Daveed said, turning up the collar of his black wool coat against the stiff breeze gusting off the Hudson River. “I want to check this place out myself first to make sure it’s credible before bringing them in. Murph’s got enough on his mind right now, and Heath’s still doing damage control.”

  The edge in his voice reminded her that she wasn’t completely out of the woods yet where his trust was concerned. She shivered under his frosty stare. The forecast was for more snow later that day, and from the icy chill, Melody didn’t doubt it. Her tension eased a bit at the news she and Daveed would be alone for their search of the building. Not that she didn’t need to see Heath again, if only to explain what happened with Jefferson. But she wanted the meeting to take place on her terms so she could be as prepared as possible for what was sure to be an awkward as hell situation.

  “Right.” She twined her arm through his and pasted on a wide, fake smile. They’d settled on a happy couple lost while doing their holiday shopping and she intended to look the part. She’d even brought along a couple of shopping bags from Saks and Bergdorf’s full of things from her suitcase to complete the ruse. “Let’s do this then.”

  Inside the lobby, weak sunshine filtered through the glass ceiling of the soaring atrium and people in business attire milled about. A quite hum of conversation rode atop the low thrum of carols from the overhead sound system. Four huge Christmas trees bedecked in tasteful garlands and ornaments of gold and silver sat in each corner of the enormous space and four escalators ran up and down from the center. Before them sat a huge security desk, which luckily appeared to be empty at the moment.

  “C’mon,” she said, tugging him toward the escalators. “Before they stop us.”

  Daveed gave her a side glance then followed her toward the bottom of the escalators. They passed by a large sign declaring that all visitors past that point must register at the security desk, but there still wasn’t a guard in sight, so they hurried up to the second floor amidst a crowd of other patrons. Once on the mezzanine, they wandered over to a large directory. Melody adjusted the large red picture hat on her head and searched the names of the companies. She’d wanted to hide her identity as much as possible while here, but still look sophisticated and chic. The hat perfectly matched her red Louboutin pumps and the Vuitton bag over her arm.

  Daveed cursed low and adjusted the plaid Burberry scarf she’d insisted he wear around his neck. If she was going to play the part of bumbling heiress, then he needed to look like her doting fiancé. She could feel the tension in his body through the sleeve of his coat. “There’s too many companies in here to search before we get caught,” he said. “Aileen could’ve been investigating any of them. If I was alone, I could slip into the stairwell and move more freely.”

  “If you were alone, you wouldn’t have even made it this far.” She cocked her chin toward the downstairs atrium, where the missing guards were now amassed around a single man in a plain trench coat who apparently had tried the same route around the security desk that they had. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been as lucky as Melody and Daveed. A uniformed officer promptly showed the man the door. “See, aren’t you glad you brought me, honey?”

  He harrumphed and scowled at the directory. “Okay. Let’s start with the most likely culprits and work our way to the least. Which law office is your father’s?”

  “That one.” She pointed a red-gloved finger toward the small brass plaque reading Baines, Monroe, and Walford. “Do you want to start there?”

  “No. I’m saving that in case we get caught.” He took her hand and pulled her over to a wall of elevators. “We’ll start with the energy company first, since they take up the top floors, and work our way down.”

  Two hours later, however, their snooping had turned up nothing. No one had seen or heard from Aileen. Melody had even used some of the acting skills she’d garnered during her time in the drama club at Vassar to pull attention away from Daveed so he could slip past the receptionist desk of the financial firm on the sixth floor and do a little checking through their computer appointment records to see if Aileen had ever been there. No sign of her within the last six months.

  It was all rather disheartening, really. Shoulders slumped, Melody followed Daveed downstairs and past the security desk where the guards even wished them a merry Christmas. While they were waiting at the corner on the sidewalk outside to cross, Daveed’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out and cursed softly again.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her breath now frosting on the air. “Bad news?”

  “I suppose it’s in how you look at it.” He showed her the screen. “It’s from Heath. He’s at a pub about a block from here and wants to meet me for a briefing.”

  “Oh.” All her nerves and stress from earlier rushed back like a tsunami,
threatening to engulf her. Yes, she needed to see Heath and mend fences with him, if she could. But was she ready? From her shaking hands and tight chest, it didn’t feel like it. “I can catch a cab back to the condo then.”

  “With what? Your good looks?” he asked, clicking off his phone and shoving it into his pocket before taking her hand again, the warm strength of his grip reassuring. “No. It’s time you face this matter with him and get it over with. If you explain what happened as you did to me, he won’t hate you.”

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked, stumbling forward as the light turned green and he tugged her beside him.

  “No. But I’ll be there with you, so no matter how things go, I’ve got your back, okay?”

  * * *

  They walked into Nessa’s thirty minutes later to find it still packed with people from the lunch crowd. Daveed scanned the crowd for his buddy, Heath. The place was a typical cozy Irish pub, with wood-lined walls and an array of draft beers and typical bar cuisine. The guys often hung here after work or to discuss some facet of this current mission in one of the dimly-lit, secluded back booths. It was in one of these that he spotted the top of Heath’s messy brown hair.

  He started to tug Melody forward through the crowd. He still had a hold of her hand, and he didn’t want them to get separated in the chaos of people. That’s the excuse he was going with anyway.

  “Wait,” she said from behind him, digging the stiletto heels of those expensive shoes of hers into the sticky hardwood floor and forcing him to stop and face her. With that big picture hat of hers and her matching red lips, she looked like some 1940s starlet who’d magically been transported to the modern day. Her forlorn expression was like a sucker punch to his heart.