Desert Rogues Part 1

Dora gave a little smile, although she kept any note of triumph out of her voice. “I’ll be sure to inform him of your cooperation. The final count is thirty-five for dinner.”

“But you’re closing my restaurant, and we can easily accommodate twice that many. The price I quoted you was for seventy-five dinners.”

“I understand. However, privacy is of the utmost importance to the prince. You’ll be paid for seventy-five dinners, but you need only prepare thirty-five. Is that a problem?” She could practically hear the man tapping on his calculator keys. He was about to make a small fortune for very little work.

“Of course not,” Mr. Boulier said, his voice quivering slightly. “We’ll be ready.”

“Thank you so much for your help. See you tomorrow evening.”

She hung up the phone, then picked it up when it rang immediately. The man identified himself. Dora checked his name against a long list, then accessed the scheduling program on her computer, made an appointment, and hung up again. Before the phone could ring a third time, she flipped the switch that sent calls to voice mail and rose from her desk. On her way out, she grabbed the waiting fax, three folders and her notebook.

Khalil’s office was next to hers. He left the door open and had told her to feel free to interrupt with information or questions. In the past five days, they’d developed a rhythm in their working style, with her giving him updates once in the morning, then again in the afternoon.

She crossed the Oriental rug and took a seat in front of his desk. He gave her an acknowledging nod. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said.

“No problem.”

She let her gaze move to the open windows behind him, through which she could see south, across the city. It was a clear but cold January morning, and from this many stories up, the city was beautiful. She’d never been a fan of New York, but the past few days had changed her mind. There was so much to do. When her temporary job with Khalil ended, she just might spend a few days here on her own…in a slightly less expensive hotel, of course, she thought with a smile.

Khalil continued to type, staring at his screen with fierce concentration. As usual, he wore a well-tailored suit that emphasized the animal strength and grace of his body. Looking there for too long was a dangerous occupation, so she moved her gaze higher. His dark hair hung to the edge of his collar. He wore it brushed straight back, and the thick strands seemed inclined to obey his wishes. She rarely saw a hair out of place.

He had a commanding profile, all sharp edges and lines. When he at last turned to face her, she took in the uncompromising set of his mouth, the faintly stern expression that drew his eyebrows together, the narrow, pale scar on his left cheek.

Occasionally she was able to forget that she was currently employed by royalty, but most of the time it was easy to remember. Khalil held himself slightly apart. He didn’t encourage familiarity and rarely responded to her humor. His keen intelligence kept her from dismissing him as pompous, and his incredible good looks gave her heart a regular workout. He was in many ways, the most complex person she’d ever met.

“How was your morning?” he asked politely as he gave her his full attention.

Dora knew him well enough to know that the question was a courtesy, not a request for information.

“Things are going well,” she said, handing him the fax. “Here’s the update on the new computer chips.”

She paused while he scanned the document. His eyes were large and dark brown. Sometimes she would swear that he could see all the way to her soul, which was ridiculous and wishful thinking on her part. The man barely noticed she was alive. To him, she was efficient office equipment. A robot disguised as a woman.

She brushed her hand against the soft wool of her skirt and smiled at the feel of the supple fabric. As it had that first night, her new wardrobe continued to be a marvel. Today she wore a dark brown straight skirt and a fawn-colored, cropped, boxy cardigan. She would never have thought to put the two different silhouettes together, but they worked perfectly. The dark skirt created the illusion of long, lean lines, while the square-shaped sweater balanced her hips. Last Friday she’d ducked out early and had gone shopping, treating herself to a pair of riding-style boots that completed the ensemble. For the first time in her life, Dora felt vaguely attractive.

Khalil put down the fax. “What else?”

She told him about his new appointment with the scientists working on water reclamation. Khalil turned to his computer and touched a few keys, bringing up his schedule for the next day. Dora’s recent entry was highlighted.

“Very good,” he told her. “As a desert nation, we are especially concerned with providing enough water for our growing population and for irrigation. It is my belief that we will eventually reclaim the desert, although I’m sure she’s going to be most reluctant to be tamed.”

“I didn’t realize the desert was considered female.”

“Most definitely. All things unpredictable have that designation. Boats, planes, Mother Nature.”

She wondered if he had trouble with the women in his life. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t had any more company since the first night they’d arrived. Did the prince have someone special in his life? For all she knew, he was married.

The thought was vaguely disquieting. She pushed it to the back of her mind. “I’ve confirmed the arrangements for dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll have the wine shipped over in the morning.”

“How much did they protest at us bringing our own?”

She smiled. “Mr. Boulier squawked, but eventually he saw reason.”

“I’m sure you had something to do with that,” he said, then passed her three thick envelopes. “More invitations to charity functions. I only have time for one. Which would you recommend?”

She flipped through the elegant invitations, then shrugged. “It’s your call. Personally I would pick the one that funds Pediatric AIDS research, but there are likely to be more attractive young women at the fashion show to help the homeless.”

She glanced at him from under her lashes, but Khalil didn’t crack a smile. While she wasn’t expecting a knock-knock joke festival, didn’t the man have a sense of humor? Still, she refused to complain. In the past five days, she’d found herself becoming an important part of his team here in the United States. She didn’t just hand out papers or get coffee. Last night she’d dined with Khalil and two senators who had wanted to talk to the prince about the progress El Bahar had made in developing drought-resistant crops. While her official function had been to take notes and keep track of what information he agreed to send to the senators, when the meeting was over, Khalil had stayed up to talk with her for a few minutes, asking her opinion on the meeting.

A quiet knock at the open door broke through her thoughts. She glanced up and saw a waiter standing there with a room service cart. She and Khalil frequently shared a working lunch.

“The dining room, please,” she said.

She picked up the folders she’d brought with her. Khalil collected a few of his own, along with a legal pad. They walked down the long hallway to the dining room, where lunch was being set up.

“Accept the invitation to the Pediatric benefit,” he said. “Refuse the others.”

“Sure,” she said, a little surprised that he was doing as she’d suggested. But then, he frequently surprised her.

The first day, when he’d invited her to dine with him at lunch, she’d gotten all flustered and nervous. But Dora had quickly learned Khalil simply didn’t like to waste time. They had much to discuss, they had to eat—why not accomplish both tasks at the same time?

She pulled out a chair and took a seat. Khalil did the same, then opened his first folder. “About the embassy party,” he began.

Two hours later the table was clear, and she had enough work to keep her busy well into the night. However, she didn’t mind the long hours. If nothing else, they kept her from thinking about the mess she’d left behind. Unfortunately she couldn’t avoid it forever. When it was obvious their meeting was nearly over, she cleared her throat.

“Khalil, I need to take a little time off this afternoon.” She hesitated. “I think an hour should do it. I have several phone calls to make to Los Angeles. I don’t have a telephone credit card with me, of course. Perhaps you could deduct them…”

He was already waving away her offer. She figured he would, but she had to make the attempt.

“The calls are not an issue,” he said. “Are you having problems replacing the contents of your wallet?”

“Not really. A couple of credit cards have already been delivered. Someone I know at work has express-mailed my passport to me, so I have a picture ID and can fly home when the time comes. But it’s time for me to pick up the pieces of my personal life.”

Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to Khalil that his new assistant might have a personal life. She was so good at her job that he barely thought of her as a person. He frowned as he remembered the circumstances of their meeting—;the airport in Kansas, her wedding dress that didn’t button up the back, the lack of luggage.

“I assume this has something to do with why you were alone at the Salina airport.”

Dora flushed slightly. She folded her arms over her chest and tugged at the hem of her sweater. “Yes, well, it does of course.” She hesitated.

He was about to tell her that she was welcome to keep her private life to herself when he found himself wanting to know the details. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Dora looked startled. She had brown eyes, like many of the women in El Bahar, but the similarity ended there. Dora’s skin was pale, her face more round than angular. She had that undeniable quality that set American women apart from women in other countries.

“I’m not in trouble the way you mean it,” she said, then sighed. “The abridged version of this mess is that I was flying to Boston with my boss, who was also my fiancé. The wedding gown had been delivered that morning. I wanted to try it on and see how well it fit. Sometimes they need alterations.” She pressed her lips together. “Anyway, I went into the back to try it on and when I came out, Gerald—he’s my boss—had his hand up Glenda’s skirt, and they were about ready to do the wild thing right there on the plane.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but he could see the hurt in her brown eyes. “At least I found out before we were married.”

Khalil didn’t know what to address first, the fact that her fiancé had so dishonored his intended, that she’d been engaged to her employer, the identity of the mysterious Glenda, or Dora’s use of the phrase “the wild thing.”

He went with the most simple. “Who is Glenda?”