Desert Rogues Part 1

Prince was not the word Dora would have used to describe the man, but he had given her a ride. “What computer program are you in?” she asked.

He glared suspiciously, then told her.

She shifted to the aisle seat and held out her hand for the computer. “Trust me,” she said when he hesitated. “If you don’t like my work, you can always personally escort me off the plane.”

He gave her both the laptop and a slight smile. He was amazingly good-looking, she thought, staring into deep, dark eyes. She didn’t know if it was genetics or sun that had darkened his skin, but it didn’t matter. The color suited him. Even the thin scar on his left cheek added to his appeal.

His chiseled features—straight nose, strong jaw, high cheekbones—made him look like an ancient statue come to life. He wore a gray suit that she guessed cost more than she’d made the entire previous quarter. With his broad shoulders and narrow hips, he was a walking, breathing cliché. She had to admit, she kind of liked that in a man.

Then she reminded herself that she was thirty, not pretty, and that every single one of the extra twenty pounds she carried were firmly planted below her waist. She was, to be slightly euphemistic, pear-shaped. Men like him did not notice women like her. Or to be a little more honest, no man noticed a woman like her. Except Gerald…and she’d discovered that morning that he’d just been pretending. It was all too much to think about right now.

She moved the cursor to the top of the spreadsheet and saw what Khalil was trying to do. “Where’s the raw data?” she asked as she realigned columns.

He reached for a manila folder, then motioned for her to slide back to the window seat. He sat next to her and pulled out several sheets. “I’m doing a comparison. We’re considering purchasing one of two companies. I want to do several cost analyses, then pull apart their income statements.”

Dora glanced over the pages he held, then nodded. She could have done the work in her sleep. “Do you want gross sales to be net of returns or do you want to analyze returns separately?”

Dark eyebrows rose slightly, then he answered her question.

Two hours later, Dora pushed the built-in printer back between the seats and handed Khalil his report. “There are two copies there,” she told him. “And you have the disk.”

Bambi still sat in the front of the cabin. She flipped through a fashion magazine, apparently unconcerned about her loss of a job. Dora wished she could be as blasé about her own circumstances.

The pilot came on over the intercom and informed them they’d been cleared to land. Dora took her seat at the rear of the plane and fastened her seat belt. She glanced at her watch and stifled a moan of dismay. It was after seven in the evening, which meant it was four in Los Angeles. How was she supposed to speak to someone at her bank now? She bit her lower lip. If she’d been thinking, she could have called from the plane, catching someone before the bank closed. But she hadn’t been thinking. It looked as if she was going to spend the night at the airport, sleeping on a bench. What a perfect end to her hideous day.

After they’d landed, she took her time standing up and leaving the plane. There was something especially humiliating about walking around in a wedding dress that didn’t fasten up the back, and she preferred to be humiliated in private. But when she walked down the narrow staircase, onto the field, she found Khalil and Bambi still standing by the jet.

“I said you were fired,” Khalil was saying.

Bambi smiled. “I know. Thank you, Khalil. It was so difficult working for you. Not just because your business stuff is, you know, so complicated, but because I could barely hold myself back.” She pressed her impressive body close to his. “I want you.”

Despite herself, Dora slowed to listen. She thought the only ongoing soap opera had occurred in her life. Apparently other people suffered from the same problem.

“Ms. Anderson, I have no interest in you, personally or otherwise. You are fired. Get out of my sight.”

Bambi pouted. Her lips were a perfect rosebud of bloodred. “You don’t mean that. You’re rich and I’m beautiful. We belong together.”

He stiffened, as if insulted. “I am Prince Khalil Khan of El Bahar. You will not question my word.”

Dora felt her mouth drop open. Bambi hadn’t been kidding. He was a prince. A real prince. She frantically searched her memory for some information on El Bahar. Not much came to her, except a vague recollection that the country was somewhere on the Saudi peninsula, was ruled by a king with three sons and had long been neutral in political issues.

“But Khalil,” Bambi wailed. “I was Miss July.”

Dora’s gaze settled on Bambi’s body and didn’t doubt the young woman’s statement. She was incredible enough to be a centerfold. While Khalil showed admirable restraint and good taste, they would have made an impressive couple.

Khalil looked at Dora. “I don’t know your name.”

“That’s because you didn’t ask me,” Dora said, stepping toward him and holding out her hand. “I’m Dora Nelson.”

Khalil seemed momentarily startled by her forwardness, then took her hand in his. She’d had a split-second premonition, a voice in her mind calling out a warning, so she was nearly prepared for the jolt of pure heat that slammed through her when they touched. It was all she could do not to jump back. Khalil, of course, was completely unaffected. He released her hand and gave a slight nod.

The perfect ending to a perfect day, she thought, wishing she could laugh, or at least not break down sobbing.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice. “You’re a real prince.” She paused, pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I’m a little tired. But I am grateful.” She turned to go.

“Wait! Ms. Nelson, I would like to speak to you. I am temporarily without an assistant. As I’m in your country for the next two weeks, I wondered if you would consider working for me until I leave.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bambi said, stamping her high-heel-shod foot. “I’m beautiful. She’s not. In fact, she’s—”

Dora winced and braced herself for the insult, but it wasn’t forthcoming. She realized that Khalil had motioned to two men standing by the entrance to the terminal. She hadn’t noticed them before, but they came over and took Bambi by the arms.

“Stop,” the blonde called as she was led away. “You can’t do this to me. Khalil, I know you want me. We’ll be great together. Khalil, no. You’re so rich and I—”

The glass door cut her off in midsentence. Dora breathed a sigh of relief. Khalil did the same.

“A most distressing woman,” he said. “As I was saying, would you consider a temporary job? The pay is generous. Five thousand a week.”

She blinked. “Dollars?”

“Yes, of course.”

It was more than she made in a month back in Los Angeles.

She looked around the airport. Khalil’s job was a gift from heaven, and miracles had been in short supply lately. She nodded. “Sure. I’ll do it, on the condition that I can have an advance so I can buy myself some clothes.”

He took his wallet out of his inside jacket pocket and peeled off several hundred-dollar bills. “Here.” He handed her the money. “This is for you. As far as the clothes, we’ll call from the car, and you can have what you need delivered to the hotel.” He flashed her a smile. “Consider it a signing bonus.”

Dora felt all the blood rush out of her head. It wasn’t the sight of the money or the fact that her problems had been, at least temporarily, solved. It was the impact of his smile. The contrast of dark skin against white teeth, the way his lips had curved up at the corners. He’d been transformed from terrifically handsome to absolutely irresistible.

Just then, a long, dark limo pulled up next to the jet. The two men returned from their escort duties in time to hold the rear door open for Khalil and herself.

In her career as an executive secretary, Dora had found herself traveling in style a time or two, but never before in the company of a prince. She slid across the smooth leather seat to the far side of the vehicle. One of the suited men stepped in next and sat facing her. Khalil settled onto the bench seat next to her. The last suited guy—was he a bodyguard?—got in next to the driver.

They pulled away in a matter of seconds. Dora found herself fighting a smile and then laughter. Just that morning she’d been in her own apartment in Los Angeles, planning her day, expecting to be married at the end of the month. Now she was in New York, in a limo with an El Baharian prince. She’d lost her purse, her fiancé and her dignity. Yet all she wanted to do was laugh. Was it hysterics or simply relief that she wasn’t going to be spending the night on a bench at the airport?

Khalil popped open the top of the armrest he’d lowered between them and pulled out a cellular phone. “Here’s where we’re staying,” he said, handing her both the phone and a gold-embossed business card. “Phone the hotel, and ask them to recommend a boutique that can deliver clothing to you this evening, then get in touch with them, and order what you need. Have them bill my room at the hotel.”

He gave her a second card that proclaimed him as Khalil Khan, minister of resource development, El Bahar. She supposed the small crown in the top, center of the card made it clear he was a member of the royal family.

She glanced around the interior of the limo. The suited man stared out the rear window, but he could obviously hear everything that was being said. As could Khalil, not to mention the two men sitting up front. She swallowed. Oh, joy. She was going to have to order a week’s worth of clothes, not to mention lingerie in front of four strange men. It seemed as if her good fortune was never going to end.

Chapter Two

The lobby of the elegant hotel stretched up at least three stories. Dora tried not to gawk as she took in the fine furniture, the expensive rugs, and the chandeliers that sparkled like cut crystal…which they probably were.

She’d never been part of an entourage before, and the sensation was slightly disconcerting. Or maybe the attention they received had more to do with her attire than Khalil’s wealth. Dora attempted to look casual as they crossed the marble floor and headed to the registration area, but it was tough.

They were interrupted before they could reach the clerk waiting there. A small, well-dressed man bowed low before Khalil, then introduced himself as the night manager of the hotel. They were instantly whisked into the elevator, where the manager inserted a key before pushing a button for the top floor.