I Married A Sheikh

“Absolutely,” Faith responded before the assistant could. “I am the best computer consultant in the business.”

“Modest, too, I can see,” Ali said, with a cautious smile of relief. Plain, but feisty, he decided with a hint of amusement. An interesting combination.

“No, Mr. El-Etra, not modest, just honest.” Her chin lifted. “Honest, and the best, but my time is valuable, and I don’t appreciate having it wasted.”

There was anger, he noted, and something else radiating from her, something he couldn’t quite place.

“Nor do I, Ms. Martin,” he said, making it clear that he considered her little temper tantrum a waste of his time. “If you are the best, then I trust you’ll be able to fix this insidious problem. Immediately.” It was a clear challenge, one Faith couldn’t ignore.

“Well, I don’t know about your idea of immediate, but once I find out what the problem is, I’m sure I can fix it. I can’t tell you how long it will take, though, until I know exactly what we’re dealing with.” She met his gaze head-on. “Some things take time whether we like it or not.” And she was not about to be rushed. Sensing he was going to issue another order or command that would no doubt only tick her off more, she rushed on. “Now, if you can give me an idea of just what the problem is, it might help. I have to start somewhere. I’m good, but I’m not a mind reader.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, stung once again by her sarcasm. He drew himself upward, slipping his hands in the pockets of his pants. “We are a full-scale investment firm, Ms. Martin, and once a month an assortment of checks are issued to each and every client, checks of different denominations for different purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” She wished he’d stop staring at her. He was making her…itchy.

Ali blew out an exasperated breath. “A few days ago, on the first of the month, when the first batch of checks were distributed, the system began spitting out checks in the wrong denominations. In addition, we discovered that it was also crediting deposits to the wrong accounts and in the wrong amounts. Both new funds, interest, as well as divestitures were misappropriated to the wrong accounts.”

With a shake of his head, Ali glanced down at the neat sheaf of papers on his desk. He’d spent hours going over paperwork, trying to fix this problem, then more hours on the phone, soothing investors. He felt as if he hadn’t left his office in weeks.

“As a result, chaos has reigned. My accountants did not discover the errors until after the first checks had been mailed and the first irate calls started coming in.” His brows drew together as he remembered the flurried panic among his staff that morning.

“Our in-house computer experts were at a loss as well. They began searching for the problem—”

“Immediately,” she injected with a nod of her head, causing him to stop and stare at her for a long moment. Obviously this was a man not used to being interrupted, judging from the look on his face.

“Yes,” he said slowly, still watching her carefully. “But alas, they came up empty. They tried various things, unfortunately, nothing worked. As a result, we had to completely shut down our entire computer system simply because it is set up to distribute and print checks automatically. I have been deluged with calls from angry investors who have either not received the proper funds or have not received any funds at all. Now, unfortunately, they have begun to question the integrity as well as the security of my firm.” He sounded as if he was surprised by this.

“Well, that would do it for me.” She slipped her hands in the pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “If I’d invested my life savings in a firm and found out they’d screwed up and sent my money to someone else, I’d be a tad annoyed as well.”

“Screwed up?” His dark eyes narrowed and she could hear Mr. Kadid sigh from behind her. Apparently telling the sheik he’d screwed up wasn’t part of the proper protocol. “This cannot continue, Ms. Martin,” he said in clipped tones. “So as you can see, this is of an urgent nature and must be attended to. Immediately.”

Perhaps if he hadn’t sounded like he was issuing a command, she might have softened at his plight.

“Situations happen whether we allow them or not. And as for urgent and immediate, I’m not the fire department,” she clarified, watching his face darken. The assistant was apparently back to sighing again as well. “Clearly you’ve got a problem with your accounting program,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

He stiffened and his eyes went cold at the perceived insult. “I can assure you, Ms. Martin, that my staff is more than qualified to handle almost any situation that arises—”

“But apparently not this one. If they were, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her words hung in the air for a long moment, and Faith wondered if perhaps she’d gone too far. But the man was just so…downright arrogant, she couldn’t help but goad him a bit.

“Touché.” He nodded, as if he was gracing her with some great gift, and allowed a small smile to touch his lips. “But of course you are right. This was one problem my own people have not been able to solve.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “El-Etra Investments prides itself on its impeccable reputation. As I’m sure you can understand, when someone trusts you with their money, any hint of impropriety can have devastating effects, not just on your actual business, but also on your reputation. And in this business, your reputation is everything.” He took a slow, deep breath. His gaze never left hers. “I have assured my investors that this problem would be solved immediately, and although I have ample insurance to cover such an occurrence, it is my name on the firm, and I have vowed to personally make good on every single penny invested and due. We’re in the process of personally distributing checks now to every investor to cover any losses, differences or discrepancies.”

“You have that kind of money?” The question popped out before she could stop it. She glanced around. This was no mom-and-pop store, but a big-league operation that no doubt had millions of dollars invested in it.

The mere idea of having that kind of indeterminable wealth almost stopped her heart.

For someone who had struggled, pinched pennies, worked two jobs just to put herself through school, and had gone deeply in debt just to start her own fledging computer consulting business and had worked like a dog for seven years to make a go of it, the thought of endless funds seemed like nirvana.

And this man discussed it without so much as a blip in his voice.

“But of course,” he said simply, as if they were talking about pocket change. “Why, are you planning on raising your rates?”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it before, but now, I just might consider it.”

“Ms. Martin, I am Sheik Ali El-Etra.” The way he said it made her wonder if she was supposed to bow or something.

“So I’ve heard, since everyone around here keeps telling me, although I can’t possibly imagine why.” Apparently she was supposed to be impressed.

She wasn’t.

“It means nothing to you?” For a moment he didn’t know if he should be annoyed or amused. Most women he encountered had all but done a Dunn and Bradstreet check on him before he ever met them.

“I don’t have a clue what your title means or why it should be important to anyone but you.”

He couldn’t help the little stab to his ego. “My title, Ms. Martin, merely means that I am of royal blood.”

“Royal blood?” One brow rose suspiciously. “Right.” This time the sigh from behind her was louder, and laced with just a bit of…panic, she thought. “Royal blood?” she repeated with a frown, considering. “You mean like a king or queen or something.”

“Or something,” he admitted with a slow nod.

“And of course no one thought it was important to mention this little tidbit to me?” she asked, feeling just a tad embarrassed by her own behavior. He was a client, and just because he’d been rude, didn’t mean she had to be.

He just annoyed her so with his arrogant, high-handed orders and demands. As if the world revolved around him.

“Would it have changed your behavior if you had known?” Or your viperous tongue, he wondered.

“Probably not,” she admitted honestly. “Unless you have the power to have someone beheaded.”

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich as it rumbled around the room. “I’m afraid, Ms. Martin, that we no longer behead people.” He flashed her a brilliant smile. Faith felt as if the temperature in the office rose twenty degrees. “Too messy.”

“Well, I’m grateful for small favors.”

Cocking his head, he studied her. “And would it have mattered anyway?”

“The beheading?”

He shook his head, amused. “No, my bloodlines.”

“Not unless you plan on running in the Kentucky Derby.” She shrugged. “Otherwise, your bloodlines don’t matter one whit to me.”

He laughed again. It had been a very long time since anyone had dared to speak to him so freely. Not since his beloved grandmother. But this woman certainly did not remind him of his grandmother.

On the contrary, she was young and vibrant, with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. And he found himself suddenly both irritated and amused by her.

A woman who was not impressed by his title, his bloodlines or apparently his money. A novelty, for sure.

“My title, it is, as you said, perhaps, of no real importance,” he admitted, “except to those who are impressed by such things.” He smiled and she realized anew just how incredibly attractive he was. “And you apparently are not one of those people.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t care less if you’re the King of Siam.”

“Wrong country, wrong continent.” He pointed to a large, full-scale color map framed and anchored to one wall. “The land of my birth is Kuwait, Ms. Martin.”

Faith glanced across the room to where he was pointing. The details of the map were so precise, so vivid, it actually looked hand-painted. Probably was, she decided. He probably had his minions paint the little trinket just to decorate his office. Why, she wondered, did the mere thought annoy her?

Faith shifted her gaze back to his. Kuwait. So that explained the faint accent, the inlaid family crest on his desk, above the fireplace. It explained a lot of things about him.

She’d been right; he was spoiled and rich and, on top of it, a royal. Terrific.

“You are frowning again, Ms. Martin. Have I said something to annoy you?” Apparently, he’d been saying and doing a lot that annoyed her.

“You can call me Faith,” she said absently. If the man had royal blood, she supposed he could use her first name. “So what is a man of royal blood from Kuwait doing in California?”

“What all normal men do, I suppose. Conducting business.” He cast another scathing look at the computer on his desk. “Or trying to.” He didn’t know why it was important to explain, but for some reason he did. “Many years ago my father and his partner, Joe Colton, who happens to live in Prosperino, California, went into business together. It was the perfect merger of two like-minded men, two countries and cultures.”

“I’ve heard of the Coltons,” she said with a quiet nod.

The Coltons were California’s version of royalty—well-connected, well-respected, and with a sterling reputation in the business, political and social community.

She’d always admired the vast family from afar, eagerly reading about them in the paper, envying them for their closeness, their love, their incredible devotion to one another. The Coltons were, in her mind, what the definition of what a true family was, the kind she’d never had.

But her affection for the Coltons went far deeper than what she’d read in the society pages. The Coltons were a philanthropic family, giving to a great deal of needy causes. They had, in fact, funded the Hopechest Ranch, where she’d spent some of her teen years. Without the ranch, she would have probably ended up on the streets, just another lost kid.

She owed a lot to the Hopechest Ranch and, ultimately, the Coltons for making such a place possible for children who either had nowhere to go or had no one who wanted them.

She’d been just such a child. But she wasn’t about to tell this man any such thing. Someone like Ali El-Etra would never understand what it was like to be alone in the world, never knowing where your next meal was coming from, never knowing if you’d have a roof over your head.

He had minions who did nothing but hand-paint maps for him. Obviously he’d never understand where she came from.

Ali continued. “My father is a descendant of the Kuwaiti royal family, and our family is the largest land-holder in our country, land that is rich with oil. Oil my country was not even aware of so many years ago, nor did they have any experience extracting that oil from the land. Joe Colton, on the other hand, had equipment, experience and an oil-rigging company.” Ali shrugged, not mentioning how close the El-Etras and the Coltons had become over the years. They’d been like a surrogate family to him, particularly during the years of unrest in his country, when his father, fearing for his safety, had sent him to America, to the Coltons, to live.

It was a painful time for Ali, a time when he’d been separated from his family, and when he’d lost his beloved Jalila.

Ali shook away the memories, preferring not to think of them. They were still far too painful.

“Together, Joe Colton and my father became not just partners and very close friends, but very, very successful men.” He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving beneath the custom-tailored suit. “It has worked out quite well for all concerned.”

Faith glanced around at the room. “Apparently,” she said with a nod and a smile. Her initial assessment of him had been accurate. He was an impossibly spoiled man who had no idea what it meant to work. A man who’d been handed everything in life. A man she could never relate to or understand.

She was proud of all that she’d worked for and accomplished on her own, without any help from anyone.

But then again there’d never been anyone to help her, she thought. She had no choice but to do everything on her own.

She shifted her gaze back to him. “So it’s daddy’s money you’re pledging to cover your investors.” She nodded thoughtfully, trying not to feel envious. “Now I understand.” Cocking her head, she met his gaze. “I imagine it’s easy playing at being successful when someone else is footing the bills.”

“My father’s money?” The words boomed out of his mouth. His face darkened, and an unrecognizable emotion swept through his eyes as he shot to his feet like a cannon.

“On the contrary, Ms. Martin. It is my money,” he corrected firmly, coming around the desk to stand in front of her. He was so close she caught a hint of his aftershave. It was something discreet, masculine, and absolutely intoxicating.

At a distance, he was impressive; standing so close, his presence was nearly overwhelming. She could see the tiny pinpoints of annoyance glinting from his dark eyes, eyes that were nearly hypnotizing. She could see the way his mouth tightened, thinned.

“Ms. Martin, I came to America and started El-Etra Investments on my own nearly ten years ago, without any assistance from my father or my family, financial or otherwise.” Feeling defensive, Ali glanced around the spacious room. “The only assistance my father has provided to me has been advice and counsel, something I value tremendously since he is not only successful, but a man of quality and integrity.”

He paused to level her with a gaze that almost had her quaking in her shoes. “My father was one of my very first clients, but make no mistake, Ms. Martin, my father is not a fool. He would never have entrusted or invested part of the family fortune in this firm if it was not a viable business enterprise.”

Faith watched him warily, the way she would eye a hungry rabid dog she’d suddenly stumbled upon.

Apparently she’d hit a nerve, one that was particularly sensitive. He was fairly quaking with anger, and his dark, fathomless eyes were hot enough to singe the hair on her head.

Apparently she’d really put her foot in her mouth this time.

Faith wanted to sigh as regret swept over her. She realized she needed to pull back, get some distance, emotionally and physically, and apologize.

She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this job. Not because he was of royal blood, or rich. Neither meant a hill of beans to her.

But his business did.

She needed it in order to secure the bank loan that would help her expand into larger offices and hire a few more consultants. But none of that was possible if she ticked off El-Etra and lost this account.

In spite of her own apparent disdain for the man and his lifestyle, she needed to remain emotionally uninvolved, not let her own personal feelings about his life, his reputation or his wealth affect her business sense.

Detached. Completely and totally detached. She had to remember that. Looking at him, she had a sinking feeling it was going to be easier said than done because he represented all the things she detested in a man.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, vividly aware that he was still standing just a few inches from her, far too close for comfort. Close enough for his male scent to tantalize and tease her senses. Close enough for her to see how attractive he really was. It was totally unnerving. “I didn’t mean to insult you or your family.”

“Family is a very sacred thing to me, Ms. Martin,” he said quietly, sincerely. Still, it sounded like a warning.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Faith said with a nod.

“Please do.” His eyes had cleared and his face had softened into a small smile. The man was far too gorgeous to be allowed to smile in public.

He looked at her carefully, as if studying her. “It would be a pity if I had to reconsider my position on beheading, don’t you think?”

Two

“T he thing I don’t understand, Ali, is how you’ve managed to stay in business this long?” Shaking her head, Faith took a sip of her soft drink and glanced across the conference table at him.

She’d been working on his systems nearly round-the-clock for the past three days, trying to navigate her way through the problems.

Lack of sleep, lack of food, and a headache had left her hot, tired and more than slightly irritable, but patience wasn’t her strong suit even on her best day.

She hoped this meeting didn’t take too long. The man still made her nervous, with his dark good looks and his impossible smile. Several times during the past few days she’d found her thoughts drifting back to their initial meeting.

The fact that she also found herself scouring the society pages each morning to see if his picture was there—invariably it was, with a different beautiful woman each day—had become a mild irritant, something she didn’t understand.

She was not the type of woman to spend her time mooning over a man. But she consoled herself with the thought that it was only natural for her to be curious about a man who held her financial future in his hands.

The pictures each morning only confirmed and emphasized their differences and her rather jaded opinion of him.

He apparently had a different date every night. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a date. By choice. She much preferred machines to men—machines didn’t lie, they didn’t leave you and they couldn’t hurt you.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a frown.

Faith sighed, realizing she’d been staring at him. The sun coming through the windows glinted against his facial features, highlighting the plane of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw, already dark with an early afternoon stubble. The total effect was irresistibly sexy. No wonder women swooned at his feet, obeyed his every command and begged to do his bidding.

Annoyed by her own train of thought, Faith shook her head, averted her gaze, then glanced back down at her notes, trying to get her mind back on business.

“Okay, Ali, let me explain what I’ve discovered so far.” She struggled to concentrate, took a breath so her voice would be calm. “First and foremost you need a new server. The one you have is not only hopelessly outdated, but not nearly adequate for your needs. I’m surprised you haven’t had a serious problem before this.” Carelessly, she flipped through her notes with a frown, then glanced up at him, surprised to find him watching her intently.

The way the man focused his total attention on you made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. It was unnerving, and a bit annoying.

She wasn’t accustomed to being scrutinized so closely by a male, particularly such a potent male. It was definitely having an effect on her, and only increasing her nervousness and irritability.

“Second, you need a completely new operating system, something you’ll be able to use not just today, but in the future as well. In addition, each workstation needs new, updated monitors, keyboards and programs that will complement the new operating system.” She stopped, rubbed the throbbing in her forehead, then sighed, wishing she could read her own handwriting.

“And above all, Ali, you have to install anti-virus programs on each and every workstation. With the proliferation of viruses out there, you’re far too vulnerable without it. I think that’s what happened to your system. I think you picked up a virus somewhere, probably in an e-mail attachment from someone, the kind that sics itself onto your hard drive, and then begins eating your files.” She sipped her warm soft drink, wishing for a hot sandwich and a colder drink.

She shrugged her slender shoulders. “That’s the only thing I can figure out right now. It’s the only explanation I can find. I’ve checked and rechecked everything else.” And she had the headache to prove it.

He leaned forward in his chair, his concentration total. “Do you mean that perhaps someone has done this deliberately?” Concern etched his words and she sought to soothe his worry.

“Deliberately?” She considered. “No. Not necessarily. Certain software is particularly vulnerable to this type of virus. Hackers think it’s cute to send viruses out that disrupt businesses and destroy data.”

“This type of thing is done for fun?” He looked so shocked, she laughed.

“Believe it or not, yes.” She cocked her head. “Guess you’re not in Kansas anymore.” At his frown, she realized he didn’t have a clue what she was referring to. She laughed. “Never mind, it’s just an expression.”

“An expression?” He continued to frown. “What does Kansas have to do with my computer system in California?”

Amused, Faith realized she was going to have to give him a crash-course in American pop culture. “Did you ever see the movie The Wizard of Oz?”

He looked both suspicious and skeptical. “No. Should I?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and leaned her arms on the table. “It’s a great flick. Anyway, ‘you’re not in Kansas anymore’ is merely an expression, a takeoff on the movie’s theme. It just means someone’s being particularly naive about something.”

“And am I being naive?” he asked carefully, wondering if she was once again making fun of him.

Uh-oh, she had a feeling she was about to put her foot in her mouth again.

She chose her words carefully, not wanting to insult him further. She rather liked having her head where it sat.

“Ali, I know it’s hard to believe, but some people do deliberately try to disrupt businesses and destroy data merely for their own pleasure.”

“That is a very sad state of affairs.”

“I agree.”

“But because of them, you have a job, correct? Then perhaps you should show some appreciation?” The amusement glinting in his eyes made her realize that he was teasing her. It took her by surprise.

“You’ve got a point there,” she admitted with a smile.