The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition

“I’ll call and have some of your clothes brought here.” Salim stretched again, bronzed muscle pressing against the soft mattress.

“Are you crazy? Then everyone will know.”

He shrugged. Maybe he did this sort of thing all the time.

Celia drew in a long, fortifying breath. “No thanks, I’ll take my chances. It’s still early. I’ll sneak around past the tennis courts.”

Salim laughed. “You have no need to ‘sneak.’ You’re not married, and neither am I. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She gulped. “I’m sure that’s true in an ideal world, but in this one I still need to be able to give instructions to the landscapers without them all falling around laughing because they’re picturing me in bed with the boss.”

He tilted his head back and surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “It’s a pretty picture.”

Her nipples stung with unwelcome arousal. In fact, her whole body still hummed with the memory of his touch. She needed to get out of here … now.

She shrugged into the blue dress and stepped into the sequined slippers.

“Come, kiss me before you go.” He lay stretched on the bed like a sultan, sheets wound around his sturdy thighs. Celia’s stomach flip-flopped.

She climbed onto the bed and leaned down to brush her lips to his. Salim captured her in his arms and claimed her mouth with a forceful kiss.

Desire surged through Celia, powerful and invincible. Her skin heated and her limbs trembled with arousal as she kissed him back. A low groan rose from Salim’s chest, calling to a dark, sensual part of her that only he’d ever awakened.

Then the thought of Kira—possibly waiting by the phone—cracked in her mind like a whip.

She pulled her mouth from his with considerable effort. “I have to go.”

“Shame.” He lolled back into the fine sheets, propping muscled arms behind his head. “Since the project’s going so smoothly I’m afraid I may lose you before we have time to become properly reacquainted. I find myself wanting to hinder your progress.”

His words were a splash of icy water on Celia’s lust heated skin. He spoke so easily of “losing her.” No doubt if she didn’t get lost by herself, he’d give her a neat shove out of his life again.

She stumbled for the door and pushed out into the sunlight, raking a hand through her long, tangled hair.

Why did she let this happen?

She came here to participate in an interesting project, earn good money … and tell him about Kira.

She certainly hadn’t come here to sleep with him at the first opportunity.

Common sense deserted her entirely when Salim was around. She knew that. So why had she let herself be tempted into his bed?

Salim clearly saw this as an opportunity to enjoy her body and revel in the warm light of old memories, before he left her behind—yet again—and got on with his own life. Which, as she knew from long, painful experience, did not include her.

Or Kira.

How could she do anything so stupid? Had she thought that suddenly everything was different and he loved her?

A hard blast of air escaped her lungs. What an idiot she was!

She hurried along a neat brick walkway under a row of lush palms, keeping her eyes down so as not to make contact with any of the gardeners pulling dead fronds from the trees and sweeping the paths.

And what was her excuse now for not telling him about his daughter? They’d been alone all night in bed and she could have blurted the truth at any moment.

But the moment never seemed right.

Dammit, the moment would never be right.

She lowered her eyes as two hotel managers passed her on the path, with a hushed glance at her rumpled finery. Shadows slashed like knives across the path, as sun crept through the palms.

Oh, how he’d hate her if he knew the magnitude of the secret she still kept hidden while she lay naked in his arms.

How in the world would she ever tell him now?

Five

Salim’s chest filled with pride as they approached the gates of the lost city. He was driving the new seven-seater SUV he’d bought to accommodate his newly expanded family, and the children played cheerfully in the rear-facing backseat, while Elan and Sara exclaimed over their first sight of the new complex.

“It’s amazing the way it just rises up out of the sand,” Sara said as she leaned forward. “I love the crisp whiteness of the buildings here. Maybe we should paint our house white?” She turned to Elan. “I think you painted it the exact same color as the land around it so that no one could find you.”

Elan chuckled. “You’re probably right. I didn’t want anyone to find me, until you came along.”

Salim smiled. His brother was obviously very happy, despite his unconventional marriage. He hoped he’d soon feel as settled and content himself.

“How come Celia isn’t with us?” Sara’s question deflated his momentary joy.

Guilt pricked him.

Sleeping with Celia last night was wrong on so many levels.

“She’s here already. At least that’s what my assistant told me. She came to supervise a delivery of plants. I’m sure we’ll run into her.” Would he even be able to look her in the eye in front of his family?

He’d taken advantage of her, knowing full well that their relationship—as always—had no future.

Sometimes he cursed the fact that he was the eldest son. That the burden of tradition and the future of the Al Mansur family rested with him.

But it did. Simple as that.

He pulled up inside the open gates and helped everyone out.

“It’s loud.” Little Ben covered his ears with his hands. Salim didn’t usually notice such things, but there were quite a few pieces of machinery in motion.

“That’s the sound of progress,” Salim said as he bent down to pick him up. “You can’t make things beautiful without some noise. Haven’t you been to your dad’s work sites?”

“No!” Sara laughed. “He’s too young. And so far he’s looking more like an artist than an oilman.”

“You like to draw?” Salim peered into Ben’s bright eyes.

The child nodded. “And paint. And I like to make up stories, but I don’t know how to write them down yet.”