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

Celia had been deadly silent when he’d made it clear their renewed liaison had no future. She was a woman of reason. Surely she wouldn’t expect a man in his position to continue an affair that could never end in marriage?

He glanced sideways at her, taking in the unchanged elegance of her profile. “I expected you to refuse because of the challenging nature of the project. I imagine most sensible landscape architects would laugh in my face.”

Their encounter four years earlier was at a Manhattan conference on hotel design, so he knew she was in the landscape field. Still, he’d been surprised when his assistant had brought him her portfolio to consider as the landscape architect for this project.

The odd coincidence had presented an opportunity to face the past head-on—and push it from his mind forever.

“I enjoy taking on challenging projects.” She sounded defensive, but he wasn’t sure why. “And the location is a new one for me.”

“You must travel a lot.” He guided the car out of the hotel’s palm-lined drive and onto the road.

“Yes. Manhattan is my home base work-wise. I live nearby in Connecticut, but I’m on the road two weeks out of most months.”

Curiosity clawed at Salim. Or was it jealousy? “Your boyfriend doesn’t mind you being away so much?”

She blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She tucked a strand of escaped blond hair nervously behind her ear.

“I’m sorry.” Relief crept through his chest.

“Why should you be sorry? My life is very full.” She stared straight ahead, jaw stiff as she uttered the words.

Why had he offered a condolence? She’d told him four years ago that she’d never married. Perhaps he felt guilty that he’d ruined her for all other men?

No doubt he gave himself too much credit.

But he’d never forgotten her. In fact, he blamed her for the demise of his first marriage, though she’d been at least three thousand miles away the entire time.

Their whirlwind romance at the conference had only deepened her infuriating hold over him. How could he take a suitable wife and hope for a successful marriage if he was enthralled by another woman?

Banishing Celia Davidson from his heart and mind would obviously be a challenge, but it must be done. The future of the Al Mansur dynasty depended on it.

Salalah’s neat rows of boxy buildings gave way to plantations of palm trees. Celia couldn’t help staring. How did they water this emerald forest of lushness out here in the desert?

“Salalah is naturally fertile. We get more rainfall than the rest of the country.” Salim’s low voice penetrated her scattered thoughts.

“That must come in useful when you’re landscaping your hotels. How many do you have?”

Phew. She’d managed to get the conversation back on a semiprofessional track.

“Twelve, at last count.” He turned the steering wheel with a capable hand.

A big, leather-clad wheel, on what was obviously a very expensive car. Salim Al Mansur could probably buy and sell a few small nations with his pocket change.

“You must have bought quite a few palm trees.”

The side of his mouth nearest her hitched slightly. A smile or a scowl, she couldn’t be sure. “And I’ll buy a few more if fate allows.”

The palm trees receded behind them as the landscape opened up to the kind of bare, brown nothingness she’d expected. Some places were meant to be bare and brown, yet she could rarely persuade her clients of that. They’d rather install thousands of sprinkler heads in a quixotic attempt to create paradise in a place that was never meant to be one.

Celia squinted. Had the sun created a mirage, or was she staring straight ahead at a range of mountains?

“The Fog Mountains.” His low voice interrupted her disbelief. Salim must have noticed her staring.

“Wow,” was all she could manage.

A band of clouds hung low over the tree-cloaked crags, green as Vermont, like something out of a fairy tale.

She gulped.

She’d been so wrapped up in her personal angst about coming here that she’d totally neglected to research the region. Better keep quiet about that, too.

Salim had always told her his country was full of surprises. Once upon a time she’d assumed they’d discover them together, but not like this.

How odd to be sitting inches away from him after everything that had happened. His solid, masculine presence next to her was only too familiar.

His unique scent, warm and spicy, drew her back into the past. He shared her bed for two whole years. They’d grown from childhood to adulthood together, sharing intimacies and joys and … incredible sex.

Her face heated at the memory. She’d fully expected to spend the rest of her life with him.

Then he’d ended it all in the most horrible way imaginable.

They climbed the lush green heights in silence and descended back to the rumpled beige floor of the desert. Relentless in its bleakness, it stretched to the heat-blurred horizon, broken only by the occasional isolated building.

As they drove, Celia found herself waiting for something marvelous to happen, like palm trees or mountains appearing out of the dusty haze.

Isn’t that why she’d come here? Hoping for a miracle of some sort?

Salim turned off the main road and headed west on a dirt track to … nowhere.

After some minutes he pulled over, next to a dilapidated metal shed whose roof had fallen in, and climbed out in silence.

Confusion clouded Celia’s mind as he opened her door and ushered her out onto the hot, sandy ground.

“This is the place?” Her incredulity showed in her voice.

Salim’s face darkened. “It was beautiful, once.”

Hard to believe. An abandoned jeep with no seats or wheels lay tilted on its side just to the left of them. Strange wheel-topped objects hunkered here and there amongst the rocky sand.

“Those are wellheads. All capped. There’s an old pipeline running to the coast. It can all be removed. The oil is exhausted.”

Salim strode amongst the detritus, his elegant dark suit an almost humorous contrast to the shabby surroundings.

“You’re planning to build a hotel here?” Was this some kind of elaborate joke?

Beads of sweat broke out along her upper lip and she tried to dab them away gracefully.

“Come this way.” The land gathered here and there into little rubble-strewn rises. She followed him behind one, and around the rise, signs of activity surprised her. Piles of dirt indicated a fresh excavation. She peered past a mound into a wide, shallow hole. The chiseled edges of dressed stone stood in sharp contrast to the rocky sand around them. “Stone blocks? Where did those come from?”