The next morning, Mila closed her eyes and inhaled the rich aroma of her coffee as she leaned against the counter.

Sahaar was already elbow-deep in a bowl of batter. She studied Mila quietly but didn’t ask her what was wrong.

Mila wasn’t even sure what to say. She really hadn’t processed Rashid’s ridiculous offer. After leaving the conference center at the sport complex, she’d worked a shift at her soon-to-be former workplace, and the lounge had been so busy that she could barely breathe, let alone reflect. She’d been bone-tired when she went to bed, but now his offer was going around and around in her head.

She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then exhaled and sipped the hot liquid. Moving to the table, she sat down and frowned at the open folder there. “Sahaar, what’s this?”

“The Foreign Exchange Student agency contacted me a couple of weeks ago to see if I was interested in housing another young woman. I agreed to look over her profile.” Sahaar frowned at the bowl of batter and reached across the counter to grab a measuring cup before filling it part-way with water and pouring it in. “I looked it over this morning. This student wants to finish her art history studies here in Dubai. She seems like a bright and capable young woman.”

And downright gorgeous. She had dark, Middle-Eastern skin along with the most gorgeous locks of flaming-red hair and striking amber-colored eyes. “Is this her undergraduate degree? She’s a little old, isn’t she?” Twenty-five wasn’t exactly old, and these days, all kinds of people were finishing a degree. “A little old to join the foreign exchange student program, I mean?”

Sahaar shook her head. “I don’t know her background, but I know that she’s already been accepted to work here, as well. Someone has high hopes for her.”

At least someone had a job. Mila closed the folder and leaned back. In less than two weeks, she’d be out of a job, and there was no way she’d be able to work for the resort or the sports complex now, not after Rashid’s display. She could always ask the manager if she could stay on a little longer, but that would be humiliating, and she didn’t think she could stand to work with Fatima for another second past her two-weeks’ notice.

“Is there something on your mind? You haven’t said a word about your interview yesterday.” Sahaar pulled the dough from the bowl and slapped it on the board. Sprinkling some flour on it, she started to knead it.

“My interview was not for a waitressing position,” Mila said sourly. Now that she was talking about it, anger slowly rose in her. “Apparently, Rashid wants to follow in his older brother’s footsteps.”

Sahaar’s head jerked up from her kneading. “What do you mean by that?”

“He wants to buy me for his wife.” Mila narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “I mean, the gall of it. I am not for sale. The fact that he would even see me as property means that he has no respect for women!”

“Easy, Mila,” Sahaar warned. “That might be true in Rashid’s case, but Asad did the same thing, and he and Liyah are now very happy.”

“True, but if I had known what was happening earlier in the relationship, I would have put a stop to it!”

“And denied her a happy ending?” Sahaar asked her softly.

Mila couldn’t deny that Liyah and Asad were very much in love and indeed living out their happily-ever-after. It was almost sickening to be around them. “Okay, but Asad is a whole different creature from Rashid. He’s mature and responsible. Rashid is a womanizer and thrives on competition. I would not consider him to be husband material. In fact, if I were to say how I really feel about Rashid, I would say that—“

Before she could finish speaking, there was a sharp knock on the door. Putting her coffee down, she lifted a restraining finger. “Hold that thought.”

Exiting the kitchen, she had shuffled across the carpet before she realized that she was still in her sweat pants and a t-shirt. She hadn’t even bothered to put a bra on yet. Grumbling about early guests, she raked her hands through her hair in an attempt to untangle it before she yanked the door open.

The warm greeting died in her throat as she beheld the smiling face on the other side of the screen door. “Leave,” she growled. “You are not welcome here!”

“Come, now,” Rashid coaxed. “I’ve come to apologize for my rude behavior yesterday.”

“I’ll tell you what you can do with your behavior. You can stick it right up your—“

“Mila!” Sahaar gasped as she came around the corner from the kitchen. “You will be polite to the guests in my home!”

Rashid’s smile only widened, and Mila bit the inside of her cheek. Her respect for Sahaar outweighed her disgust with the sheikh, so she stepped back and opened the door. “My apologies. Please, come in.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

Ass. She glared at him behind his retreating back.

Sahaar just sighed and shook her head. “Mila. Do you think you could offer our guest some coffee?”

Mila really didn’t think she could. Anything that prolonged Rashid’s unexpected visit would be intolerable. Forcing a smile that probably came out as more of a grimace, she swept her arms out in a dramatic fashion. “Would it please you, Sheikh Sharif, for a cup of coffee?”

Delight danced in his eyes. “It would, thank you.”

Wonderful. She barely resisted rolling her eyes as she stomped into the kitchen.

Sahaar followed her. “Mila, I know you are unhappy, but you have to remember that this is not America. We respect the powerful families here, so even if you are upset with him, I plead with you to hold your tongue while he is in my home.”

Mila’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, Sahaar. I didn’t think. Of course I’ll do my best.”

“I appreciate that.” There was something strange about the older woman’s expression, almost mischievous, as Sahaar went back to her dough.

Mila poured the cup of coffee and took it to Rashid. He’d made himself comfortable on Sahaar’s couch and spread his legs as he leaned back comfortably. He didn’t even bother to sit up straighter as she handed the hot liquid to him, and she wished that she could pour it right on his crotch.

“You’re too kind.” Rashid took a sip and grimaced.

Mila hadn’t bothered to sweeten it for him, and now she lifted her eyebrows as she waited for him to complain. He eyed her quietly before he took another sip, and she silently laughed.

“So you’ve come to apologize.” She sat in the armchair across the room from him, about as far away as she could get and still be in the same room, and curled her legs up under her. “Why don’t we just forget it ever happened?”

“I can’t do that. I am appalled that I have offended you. After all, we are like family, are we not? Liyah is a sister to me, and I know that you feel the same way. Please allow me the opportunity to make it up to you.”

Mila glanced through the doorway into the kitchen. Sahaar hadn’t rejoined them, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t listening. “How gallant,” she said dryly. “What did you have in mind?”

“I propose the opportunity that we get to know each other a little better. I’d love to escort you through the marketplace today.”

The words kiss my ass were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them. Instead, she pressed a hand to her chest over her heart and gave him her brightest smile. “You have no idea how much your offer means to me,” she simpered. “But I know that you are a busy man, and I couldn’t bear to take up any of your precious time. Please know that your offer is enough to smooth things over between us, and I look forward to seeing you at the next event at the palace.”

She heard Sahaar snort from the kitchen, and Rashid chuckled. “Oh, but I’m afraid that I must insist. Getting to know me a little better would be the polite thing to do, would it not?”

Mila dug her nails into the fabric of the chair and narrowed her eyes. Sucking in her cheeks, she took a deep breath. Finally, she shook her head and stood. “I’m still in my pajamas. Let me get dressed,” she grumbled, and turned and stomped out of the room.

Rashid’s laugh followed her all the way to her bedroom, and it took all of her self-control not to slam the door shut.

Knowing the type of women that Rashid liked to hang out with, Mila dressed in the frumpiest long-sleeve shirt that she owned, and the baggy pair of jeans that she still had from when she had been a murderous farmer at her Halloween gig a few years ago. She still didn’t know why she’d packed them in the first place. “For such a time as this,” she muttered under her breath. “I must be psychic.” She’d be hot as hell, but hopefully it would work to turn Rashid off.

When she returned, he took one look at her and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” she demanded. “Is there something wrong? Have you decided that maybe you’d like to go another time?”

“Not at all. I was just going to say that your shirt brings out the lovely color of your eyes.”

The word idiot was right on the tip of her tongue, but Sahaar was standing in the doorway, so Mila just forced a smile. “Aren’t you sweet,” she murmured. “My shift starts at four tonight.”

Rashid shrugged. “I’ll speak to your manager. I’m sure we can work something out. Sahaar, it is always a pleasure to see you.” He opened the door and headed out to the car. Mila scrambled after him.

“Wait, you can’t just call my manager! I need to work tonight. I need money.” He didn’t even pause as the driver opened the door and he slid inside. “Are you listening?”

“I’m listening,” he said calmly as Mila scrambled in. “Do you suppose that your exchange-mother would bake me a loaf of bread with raisins and cranberries if I brought her some?”

“We both know that you’re not here to apologize, so why don’t you just tell me what’s on your agenda?” Mila said, ignoring his question.

“Are you always so suspicious? I have no agenda, my dear. I realized that I have offended you, and the best way to make up for that is by getting to know each other. I know so little about you except from what Liyah has said. You two are practically family.”

Mila mulled his words over as she sat back on the posh leather seat. As much as she wanted to continue to label him a chauvinistic pig, she couldn’t really fault him for what had happened. After all, Asad had offered Liyah the very same deal, and she’d jumped at the chance. Rashid probably didn’t mean to offend her, and he was right. Liyah was the closest thing that Mila had to a sister, and she did want to get to know Asad and his family a little better.

“So—friends?” she asked tentatively.

“It seems that I really did misjudge you,” he murmured quietly. “Yes. Friends.”

“In that case, the answer to your question is yes.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at her. “Yes?” he asked slowly. “You’ll be my bride?”

“Yes. If you get raisins and cranberries, Sahaar would probably love to bake you a special loaf of bread.”

A slow smile spread over his face and he shook his head. “Minx.”

After a surprisingly good time at the market, Rashid took Mila back home and even offered to drive her to work. She knew that her co-workers would ask too many questions if they saw the two of them together, so she declined his request and took a cab. Even though the thought loomed that in less than two weeks, she wouldn’t have a job, she was in a wonderful mood as she worked. Whistling and joking with the guests, she was light on her feet. Those few hours with the sheikh had put her in a good mood.

It wasn’t until Fatima confronted her with an ugly expression on her face that Mila’s mood plummeted. “You know, I used to admire you,” the woman spat. “I used to think that you were this independent woman, but you’re no better than that friend of yours. I guess instead of getting a job and working hard, you’d rather ensnare a wealthy man. Gold-digger.”

Mila paused from polishing a tray of silverware and stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know. It’s all over the television!” Fatima pointed to the screen in the corner, and Mila lifted her head and gasped.

There, for the restaurant to see, was a clear video of Rashid leaning over her in the marketplace. Even though she knew that he was just reaching for a necklace behind her, the picture looked surprisingly intimate.

As did the fact that when he straightened, he looked directly into the camera and put his hand on her back.

“It looks like love is in the air once again for the Sharif brothers, only this time, it’s Sheikh Rashid, the famous playboy, with an unknown beauty on his arm. Will this be another scandal for Sheikh Rashid, or is this one true love?” the news anchor asked.

Mila felt a wave of dread wash over her. The patrons at the bar all turned and stared at her. “It’s not like that,” she explained hurriedly. “We were just hanging out and getting to know each other as friends.”

“You do look real friendly,” one guest said with a wink. “Maybe we can be friends?”

Mila ignored him. What were the chances that Rashid had known that the camera was there? “Excuse me,” she muttered, and she made a mad dash to the back. Slipping out the back door to the alley behind the lounge, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number that he’d given her.

“Miss me already?” Rashid crooned when he picked up.

“Have you seen the news?” she demanded. “The press all but have us engaged to each other. Please tell me that you did not plan that.”

“You’re overreacting,” he said dismissively. “I’m in the news all the time. The public will forget all about it soon enough.”

He didn’t deny it. Mila couldn’t even begin to express her anger, so she did the one thing no one had probably ever done to him.

She hung up.