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

Now that they were working together, every day she didn’t tell him made the secret weigh heavier. It was time to bite the proverbial bullet—or dagger, in this case—and face the consequences.

Salim chose a chauffeured car to drive Celia and himself to the site so there could be no suspicion of impropriety. His brother’s bizarre hints made it sound as if he actually expected him to form a relationship with Celia.

Where would he get such an idea?

His unfortunate reunion liaison with Celia was entirely secret. He hadn’t told a soul, and never would. He had no intentions toward her now, except to extinguish all thoughts of her from his heart and mind.

Celia stepped out of the car, her faded jeans giving away far too much information about her shapely legs. He glanced at his driver, but the man had tactfully averted his eyes.

“Guide me through the site as if it were built,” he commanded. He cleared his throat as she walked past, determined not to be distracted by the tasteless and provocative way her pale pink T-shirt draped over her rather pert breasts.

Really, a mature woman should dress more modestly in a business situation.

It was entirely her fault that images of her snuck into his dreams and hung around his brain, ready to spear him with unexpected and unwelcome sensations.

It was annoying that his body responded so predictably to such simple and obvious stimuli.

She wore construction boots, too. Was there no limit to her desire to flaunt the expectations of feminine dress?

The boots were practical though, he couldn’t argue with that. They picked their way across the rocky site until they reached an area where carved stone and mud-brick walls rose out of the soil.

“This will be the main entrance.” Celia spread her arms, which had acquired a slight tan. “The road will be paved with stones to match those found at the site, and the drive lined with native plants like simr that need little water and provide nectar for honeybees. The original site appears to have been fortified, so the design incorporates a low wall and a wide, wooden gate, which will remain open.”

“Unless invaders attack.”

She glanced at him, surprised. A smile flickered across her shell-pink lips. “Always best to be prepared.”

She strode ahead, long limbs covering the uneven ground with ease. “This open space will be the reception area of the hotel, and we’ve conceived it as the “marketplace.” The various desks will be arranged like luxurious market stalls, and will in fact have handcrafted, traditional objects available for purchase.”

The vision she conjured formed in Salim’s mind. “A marketplace. I like it. We must have food available here, too. Coffee and dates.”

“Date palms, bananas and coconut palms will be planted throughout the property. Of course they’re not native, and will require irrigation, but it’s likely they would have been grown here.”

“Has the aquifer been tapped yet?”

“Come this way.” Her mysterious smile intrigued him. He quickened his pace to keep up with her enthusiastic stride.

She paused at a circular section of wall, partially excavated from the surrounding ground. “The old well. And look inside.”

Salim leaned over the edge of the wall. He inhaled deeply as the unmistakable, indescribable scent of pure, fresh water tickled his nostrils. It glittered below, just visible in the shadowed depths of the well. “Beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Excitement sparkled in her eyes. “I can imagine people sitting around this well a thousand years ago.”

“People probably sat around this well three thousand years ago. Maybe even ten thousand years.”

“Your ancestors.” She peered into the depths.

Salim stiffened. The ancestors he’d let down by failing to sire an heir. But once he purged Celia from his mind he’d take a new wife and accomplish that, too.

“Perhaps they’re all around us right now, invisible.” Her soft voice drifted in the warm air.

“Ghosts?” His skin prickled.

“Or something like that. Can’t you feel all the energy here?” She lifted her shoulders as if sensation trickled down her spine. The movement brought her pink T-shirt tight over her round breasts and drew his eye to where the nipple peaked beneath the soft fabric.

Heat flashed through him and a long-lost memory surfaced: Celia naked in his bed, sleepy-eyed and smiling.

Salim cursed the tricks of his brain. What would his ancestors think of that little vision? “The guest quarters?”

“This way.” She walked on, aglow with confidence she’d enjoyed even back in college. “They’re arranged along the patterns of the ancient streets. They were thoroughly excavated and all artifacts removed for study. As you can see, we’ve started rebuilding using the existing remains as the foundation where possible. It’s moving to see the lost city rise from the sands again.”

Salim nodded. Maybe that was why his flesh tingled with unfamiliar sensation. Whole lives had unfolded here, only to disappear again into the dust.

“I’ve chosen plants that were indigenous at the time, or that could have been brought here by traders. Nothing from the Americas.”

“Except yourself.”

“Luckily I won’t be a permanent feature.” She kept her face turned from him.

“I’m sure you’d be a delightful addition, should you decide to install yourself.” The words seemed to slip from his tongue. They both knew he didn’t mean them.

Didn’t they?

He saw her shoulders tighten. “I don’t think I’d match the décor.”

“I imagine that a desert oasis of this kind attracted travelers and merchants from all over the world. Perhaps even tall, blonde princesses from afar.”

“I don’t think anyone would accuse me of being a princess.”

“If I recall correctly, you can be a little headstrong and demanding.” He’d loved her effortless self-assurance and the way she always expected the world to come to its senses and see things her way.

“Oh, I still am.” She flashed a smile. “That’s how I get things done, especially with a crew of fifty to supervise. I’m impressed with the workers, by the way. They really are a diverse group. I have men from India, Africa, Saudi Arabia. They all have different skills and talents. You weren’t kidding about this place attracting people from everywhere.”

He shrugged. “People go where the work is.”

Like her. He’d made it impossible for her to refuse this job. Not because he couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected by her. Because she was the best person for the job.

And because he had unfinished business with her.

Celia marched forward, her construction boots striking the soil with determination. “Each guest will have their own house, arranged along the original streets and built in the traditional style. Each guest house will have a courtyard with a recirculating fountain.”

“Perfect.”

“I admit I’m nervous about how quickly we’re forging ahead.” She shoved a lock of hair off her face. “I know the archaeologists have been thorough, but there could well be more stuff down there.”

“Then let it remain. This oasis probably has several layers of civilizations, each built on top of its predecessor. I wish for the tradition to continue, not for a lost way of life to be preserved in amber.”

She smiled. “I think it’s exciting that you’re not afraid to embrace change and bring the oasis back to life. As you can see we’re reusing a lot of the original building materials.” She beckoned with her fingers. “The pool area is this way.”