Raheem walked the new arrival back to the main encampment, taking the opportunity to study her as they walked side by side through the cool sand. Frazzled though she was, he had to admit she was lovely. With all that red hair tightly bound and straining to escape and those wide green eyes, Raheem found himself wondering what it would be like to bed such a woman.

His culture had a much more realistic view of sex than many of the Western countries, though he’d long ago left the harems behind. They were fine for a randy young man, just starting out and wanting to learn all the secrets of pleasure, but Raheem was twenty-eight now. These days, when he took a lover to his bed it was because he saw a possible future with her, because he liked and respected her and wanted the chance to find out if there might be something more between them, something real and lasting and true.

Given the touch-me-not attitude of Miss Bliss, he doubted he’d ever find out anything more about this woman than what he already knew. But what he knew had him intrigued. As a man whose mind was always working, the moment Raheem had heard her mention working for the film production company his brother Feraz had allowed into Djeva, the wheels of his imagination had begun to turn.

He’d told Jess that he needed a ringer—an outsider with no ulterior motives for wanting access to his family’s wealth and power—to bring onboard his project to form the wildlife preserve. Miss Bliss, with her American sensibilities and ideas, a newcomer to his country with connection to much-needed media coverage, might be just what he’d been looking for—from a strictly professional standpoint, of course.

They walked into the main courtyard area and she stopped abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” Raheem asked, frowning.

“Uh, nothing.” She gazed around, her expression shocked. “I just didn’t imagine all this… luxury in the middle of nowhere.”

“You thought perhaps we lived like the Bedouins of old?” Raheem chuckled. Most people really had no clue how they lived in this part of the world. All the media ever reported were the bad things. They never showed the other side—the food, the culture, the art, the beauty and riches. The centuries-old traditions that still lived on in the people of Djeva’s lives every day. It was one of the things Raheem loved most about his homeland. “Sorry, no camel dung huts or smelly, rough wool blankets here.”

He led her across the thick Persian rugs and past the still-blazing fire at the center of the courtyard, past Jess—who openly gawked at the newcomer—and Feraz who was still on his phone and paid them no mind at all, until they reached his own personal accommodations. He held the flap for the huge, four-person tent open for her then followed her inside. Dividers were set up to cordon off the sleeping areas from the main open space at the center of the tent. More Persian rugs lined the floors and yet another buffet table had been set up for him filled with all his favorite snacks and desserts and fresh bottled water. One of the servants had even laid out a hookah pipe and two tins of both tobacco and hashish, though he rarely partook anymore. Again, he was a grown man with responsibilities and goals. Those were follies of the much younger and wilder set. Twenty-eight was hardly ancient, but some days Raheem felt as old as the hills.

“Wow. So this is how the other half lives.” Miss Bliss wandered over to the buffet table.

“Please, help yourself to whatever you like.” He watched carefully as she bypassed everything but the dark chocolate truffles. Good choice. Those were his favorite too. He walked over to the largest sleeping area in the back corner of the tent and pulled the flap aside. “You may sleep here tonight.”

At his words, she nearly choked on her truffle. After opening a bottle of water and taking a hearty swig, she shook her head. “Um, no. I need to get back to my hotel tonight. I’m sure the production company is already wondering where I am.”

Raheem studied her for a moment. He’d considered this, and honestly, she was right. Her team probably would be looking for her soon and there really was no reason one of the camp guards couldn’t drive her back to their capital city, Al-Qusta, tonight. Except he needed more time with her, time to get a better read on who she was and if she’d indeed be a good fit for his project. So, he came up with a convenient lie. “Unfortunately, that’s quite impossible I’m afraid. The desert trails are too dangerous to travel at night. You’ll have to wait until morning, Miss Bliss.”

“Dangerous how?” she asked, her tone skeptical. “I saw those big SUVs parked along the perimeter of the camp near the guards’ station. My guess is they could face down a tank and be okay.”

Damn. She had a point.

“They’re not working,” he said, cringing inwardly. It sounded ridiculous to his own ears, but it was too late. He’d already put it out there so he needed to go with it now. “Sand in the fuel lines. The mechanics are working on them tonight, but they won’t be running again until morning.”

Miss Bliss seemed to contemplate this for a moment, her autumn-colored brows drawn together in a frown. For a crazy second, Raheem had the insane urge to smooth those lines away and ease her tensions, before he shoved such thoughts away. She was here because he needed her here for his project, no other reason.

Then she pulled out her phone, only to groan dejectedly. “My battery’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.” He bowed again and pointed to a charging station in the corner. “The generators here will do the job, but again, it will be much slower than in the city. Could take hours and it’s already late.”

“You said you had burner phones here, phones I could use. Let me call out on one of those. The production company can have a car here in an hour, tops.”

Frustration welled inside Raheem. Normally, women fell all over themselves to be in his presence. This one seemed determined to get away from him as fast as humanly possible. His lies had failed, and Raheem wasn’t ready to reveal all of his cards yet, but perhaps a vague half-truth might succeed. “I am interested in your views on my country.”

That seemed to take her back a second. “My views?”

“Yes. You are a Westerner. Djeva has just recently become democratized and opened our doors to the outside world. We are always looking for ways to improve our guests’ experiences here in our land. I would like you to stay here in my quarters to discuss these things.”

More choking ensued and Raheem became alarmed. What the hell had he said wrong now?

“Wait a minute,” Miss Bliss sputtered when she caught her breath at last. “These are your private quarters?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Raheem straightened with affront.

“Hell yes, it’s a problem.” That delightful pink color had flooded her cheeks again and her green eyes sparkled like bright emeralds and Raheem knew those were the last things he should be paying attention to right now. She advanced on him like a charge of infidels, her expression furious. “How dare you try to keep me in here like your own personal harem girl and expect me to “discuss things” with you. I’m not some whore off the street. I’m an American citizen for fuck’s sake. I have rights. And if you so much as lay a finger on me, Sultan Sexy Boy, I will bring the US State Department down on you so fast, it’ll make your head spin!”

Taken aback, Raheem merely blinked at her a moment. He supposed he could see how telling her up front about where he was taking her might have forestalled this situation, but how dare she jump to such conclusions about him. He was a sheikh, the third son of the ruling family of Djeva. He could have any woman in this country—hell, this region—that he wanted. For this ill-tempered, foul-mouthed, beautifully bewitching female to assume his decisions were made with his cock instead of his brain were beyond insulting.

Anger pulsed hot through his veins, along with a sizzling, unwanted awareness of the woman now standing so close to him that he could see the tiny pulse point thudding at the base of her neck, hear the hitch in her breath, smell the cinnamon-rose scent of her perfume. Despite his rage, Raheem’s traitorous cock twitched in response. Not good. Not good at all.

“For your information, Miss Bliss, I brought you here because my sleeping chamber has the only Western-style bed in the encampment. I thought it might be more comfortable for you than our more traditional arrangements, since you appear to be exhausted from hiking around the dunes all day. My intention was to let you have the bed, the entire bed, for yourself. I would sleep in the adjacent chamber, which has a comfortable divan and pillows. At no time had I planned to touch you in any way, no matter how tempting. I only wanted you here for your brains and ideas, not your delectable body. Do I make myself clear?”

It was her turn to blink up at him this time, surprise written all over her expression. Whatever response he’d been expecting her to give, it wasn’t, “You find me tempting and delectable?”

This took a bit of wind out of Raheem’s sails. While his libido continued to boil around her, he stepped back and straightened the white linen robe he’d chosen to wear tonight in place of his usual khaki shorts and T-shirt. At least the voluminous folds would help to hide his obvious arousal, he hoped. He glanced up and met her gaze. “You called me Sultan Sexy Boy.”

She bit her lip and his gaze was drawn to the tiny movement before he forced himself to look away. This was ridiculous. They were both grown adults. She was obviously not thinking right due to her tiredness and he ought to know better than to engage with such an exasperating female under duress. Besides, it had been far too long since he’d taken a lover to bed. That must explain his strange, nearly overwhelming reactions to her.

With a sigh, Miss Bliss stepped forward and extended her hand to him. “How about we start over. I’m Laura Bliss, assistant location scout. Please call me Laura.”

Raheem hesitated, remembering the sparks of connection he’d felt the first time they’d touched and fearing it would be all the more potent after their emotional outburst. He was right. Still, he tamped down the need growing inside him and instead bowed slightly at the waist. “And I am Sheik Raheem bin Haik al Nazdrani. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Laura. Please call me Raheem.”

Instead of merely shaking her hand, he bent farther and brushed his lips over the back of her hand. She gasped, a quiet sound he would’ve missed if he wasn’t so attuned to her. Luckily, she pulled her hand free and cradled it against her stomach as if she’d been burnt. She glanced around at the tent, then over at the entrance, where two servants entered to stand guard inside the tent. Before she could say anything more, a yawn escaped her and her shoulders slumped.

“Truthfully, I am pretty tired. I suppose staying here tonight wouldn’t be awful. I’ll need to leave first thing in the morning though.”

“We were planning to break camp at dawn anyway,” Raheem said, leading her over to a sitting area strewn with pillows. A table was set up in the middle and a gold bowl filled with fresh fruit decorated the center of it. They flopped down on the pillows, opposite each other, and Raheem waved to the servants to bring them fresh water to drink. “My brother Feraz must get back to his governing and my other brother Rehaj must tell him how to do it.”

Laura snorted at his sarcastic tone. “Do you have any other siblings?”

“Alas, yes.” He thanked the servants then dismissed them. “Four sisters, all extremely nosy. Beware.”

“Noted.” She pulled a small bunch of grapes from the bowl and began popping them in her mouth one by one. Raheem did his best not to notice her soft pink lips again. “So, you wanted to know my views on your country?”

“Most definitely.” He grabbed a handful of dried apricots. “Begin by telling me your first impressions, please. From the time you landed at our airport onward.”