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.

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.

“I am not Muslim, for your information. I am Christian. My family has been since the fifth century AD.” He finished off his milk, then set his empty cup aside. “Anything else you’d like to know about me?”

She swallowed hard and stared down into her mug, her blond brows knitted. “Heath mentioned to me once that you were a prince or something. Is that true?”

Heath needed to keep his mouth shut, Daveed thought, but saw no harm in responding to what she already knew. “My family rules a small island kingdom off the coast of Saudi Arabia called Al Dar Nasrani. The country is currently a sheikhdom and I am the oldest son, so yes, I would stand to inherit the throne and the title of Sheikh should something happen to my father.” He looked away. “However, my two younger brothers have been doing their best to convince my father to abdicate the sheikhdom and adopt parliamentary rule for the people of Al Dar Nasrani. A true democracy. I would like this as well.”

Melody tilted her head slightly. “You don’t want to be Sheikh?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to be free to live my own life, make my own choices.”

“Like choosing your own bride?” Melody asked. “You mentioned your arranged marriage earlier.”

“Exactly.” Even now, twenty-five years later, resentment still burned hot in his chest. How could a parent, any parent, do that to a ten-year-old child? Shackle them to a marriage that they neither wanted nor understood? And after they’d promised him they wouldn’t too. It was unthinkable, unforgettable, unforgiveable. In truth, that was the main reason he’d left his island home behind and moved to the US right after high school. Of course, his scholarship to Yale had helped in that decision as well. He’d entered their international law program and never looked back. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, well. Doesn’t matter now anyway. That’s all water under the bridge. I haven’t seen my family in years and doubt they’d even recognize me now.”

“What about the girl you were engaged to?” she asked, leaning a bit closer to him, her fascination with his story apparent in her relaxed movements and rapt stare. And damn if her interest and attention didn’t make him feel more like a king than he ever had back home near his father’s throne.

Daveed chuckled and stretched out his long legs in front of him. “Shayma, you mean? Oh, I suppose she’s doing just fine these days. She always was a tough cookie, even at six-years-old. Truth is, I did kind of like her back then, but once our parents forced it upon us I wanted nothing to do with her anymore.”

“Was she pretty? Have you seen her since then? Does she still live in the Middle East?”

Her rapid-fire questions made him smile. “She was very pretty, still is. I saw her briefly at my high school graduation. One of her older brothers was in my class. At that time she looked a lot like that new actress. The one in the Wonder Woman movie.”

“Gal Gadot?” Melody said, giving him an astonished look. “Man, she must be gorgeous then.”

“Yes, she was quite striking. And no, I do not know where she is now.”

“Wow.” Melody sat back, her expression turning pensive. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Your decision not to marry her? To give up your title and throne?”

“No. Never.”

“I wish I could be so certain of my choices in life,” she said, her tone wistful. “Most days I feel like I have no clue which way to turn.”

“Hmm.” Daveed crossed his legs, his ankle resting atop his knee and settled into his seat. “Tell me more about this Jefferson Hanks idiot. Help me understand why the hell you’d run away with him halfway across the globe without a second thought for the man you were engaged to.”

* * *

Melody pulled her legs in a bit tighter beneath her and clutched her mug of hot milk tighter. It wasn’t the question that made her unsettled, though it was certainly direct. Nope. It was the fact that Daveed was sitting across from her without a shirt and… damn. She’d never really paid much attention to his looks before, but the man was seriously gorgeous—all tanned smooth skin and rippling muscle. And those eyes of his, startlingly light brown and intense and far too knowing for her comfort.

She shook off her errant urge to reach out and touch his skin so see if it felt as warm and soft as it looked and instead tried to focus on answering his question as best she could. For some reason she really wanted Daveed to understand why she’d done what she’d done. Maybe it was because he’d been nice to her tonight when she’d had nowhere else to turn. Maybe it was because for once she wanted someone to see beyond her tabloid reputation and her parents’ wealth and see the real Melody beneath. Or maybe it was just that sitting so close to him in the semi-darkness, with a lovely light snow falling outside the windows and the twinkling lights of Christmas all around them, created a sense of intimacy that had her yearning for more.

“Honestly,” she said, shrugging slightly and staring out into the wintery New York night. “I think I loved the idea of being engaged to Heath more than I actually wanted to marry him. Does that make sense?”

Daveed gave a small nod, his gaze narrowed. “Still doesn’t explain you running off to Tahiti though.”

“Right.” Her self-deprecating laugh sounded far too loud in the quiet condo. Melody lowered her head and stared into her near-empty mug. “I’m such an idiot. Guess the tabloids were right on that one, huh? Truth is, I fell hard for Jefferson Hanks the night I met him backstage after seeing him in Lawrence. And yeah, I know it’s been out forever and I’m behind the times, but I’ve been busy.”

“Lawrence?” Daveed frowned. “As in Lawrence of Arabia?”

“Yeah.” She looked over at him and smiled. “From the confused look on your face it seems like I’m not the only one behind the times.”

He sniffed and looked away, as if he could care less about some Broadway musical. “I’ve been busy too.”

Yeah, busy keeping Heath from seeing me, she wanted to say, but bit the words back. It was all water under the bridge now anyway, given her midnight run to the South Pacific with Jefferson. Melody sighed then continued. “To answer your question, yes. Lawrence is a musical adaptation of the beloved story of Lawrence of Arabia. Or as Jefferson liked to point out, it’s the longest-running hit on Broadway.”

Daveed gave a derisive snort. “Whatever. So you fell into insta-lust with this man and ran off across the globe with him? Doesn’t speak very highly for your judgment skills.”

His words hit her like a sucker punch to the chest, but she took them in stride. After all, he was right. She hadn’t been thinking when she’d taken off with Jefferson. If she had, she might’ve seen the warning signs much sooner. “Jefferson is quiet a schmoozer. He’s good-looking and charming and pretty dazzling when you first meet him. Those things cover up a lot of faults underneath. With me feeling neglected by Heath and lonely, I guess it wasn’t hard for Jefferson to sweep me off my feet. It wasn’t until we landed in Tahiti that I realized I’d made a mistake. Believe me, under full sunlight, the guy’s a lot skinnier and balder. And don’t even get me started on his vanity. All he ever talked about was himself. In third-person, no less. Like he was some deposed ruler of the kingdom. The Royal We.” She rolled her eyes and Daveed chuckled. “The worst part though was when we finally got settled in our private beach house and got ready for bed. I figured at least I’d get a little snuggle time out of all this mess for my trouble, but no. Jefferson promptly informed that he’s gay and he refused to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Melody took a deep breath and gave a sad, slow smile. “See? Warning signs. If only I’d paid attention, I’d have picked all this up before I’d left the States and maybe avoided destroying my life. But no. I raced headlong into bad-decision-land just like I always do. Jefferson told me then that the only reason he brought me to the island was for the publicity I could garner for him. So, I turned around and headed back to the airport that same night and caught the first available flight back home, after I pawned my ring, of course.” She blinked down at her bare hand, the sting of unexpected tears at the back of her eyes. “I never meant to hurt anyone, least of all Heath. But when I got back home my family basically disowned me. They won’t even talk to me. My dad’s attorney called me and said my access to all my credit cards has been denied and he’s cut off my monthly allowance from my trust fund. When I asked him why my dad would do such a thing, knowing that was the only means for me to support myself, the attorney said my father blamed me for leaving my mother unable to function over the loss of the ‘wedding of the year’.” She used air quotes for emphasis on the last part. “With no other choice, I came here, hoping maybe Heath could see his way to at least letting me sleep on his floor for the night so I didn’t have to camp out on a bench in Central Park.”

Daveed sat back, the taut muscles of his chest and stomach moving beneath his golden-brown skin in a hypnotic way that Melody found herself unable to stop watching. She frowned, thinking maybe the hot milk was kicking in sooner than expected if she was getting this woozy over a man she barely knew.

“So you have nothing then?” he said.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice, as she forced herself to look away from him. “Nope. No money. No work experience. Nowhere to turn but Heath for help. And now you.”

For a moment, he seemed quite startled by her inclusion of him in that statement, as if he’d not really considered helping her any more than he already had. But she was desperate and desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

“Well,” he said at last. “This will require a plan then.”

“A plan?” she frowned. “What kind of a plan?”

“A plan to tame your impulsive nature and get your life back on track.” He reached over and snatched her empty mug from her hand then stood to take their cups into the kitchen. “I suggest you get a good night’s sleep tonight. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”