In The Sheikh's Service

‘I’ll take it,’ she added to Chrissie, grabbing the cardboard tray that was waiting to be loaded with coffee.

‘Knowing your luck, the Sheikh will be there,’ Chrissie complained, pulling a comic face. ‘I can just see the drama unfolding now: the fast-food flirt and the autocratic Sheikh. That should be a fun ride, shouldn’t it?’

‘After last night?’ Isla grimaced. ‘I’m all for the quiet life. I don’t want any more hunter-gatherers pushing me over the threshold from safe to insanity.’

‘It wasn’t so bad,’ Chrissie pointed out. ‘You met a great guy—’

‘I said, I met a guy—’

‘Don’t tinker with the detail. Main thing is, we got paid a fortune.’

‘Danger money.’ Isla laughed, hiding the fact that it had taken more than Chrissie would ever know for her to shed her clothes in front of a room full of men. The fact that Isla’s brush with the sickening danger of a sexual assault had happened years ago had left her no less wary. ‘And I’m not a flirt. I’m just friendly,’ she teased before Chrissie could see the shadow of that memory in her eyes.

‘Whatever,’ Chrissie intoned with a wry look. ‘You get bigger tips than me, that’s all I know.’

‘Which I share,’ Isla reminded her friend with a laugh. ‘And, as for the Sheikh—I doubt we’ll ever see him. If he comes to cut the ribbon when his new building is opened, I’ll be surpri—’

‘Will you girls stop gossiping and get back to work?’ Charlie rapped impatiently.

Exchanging glances, both girls quickly returned to their duties. Chrissie busied herself with the orders on hand, while Isla reluctantly shoved all thoughts of the exciting projects and sheikhs to one side so she could concentrate on finishing the coffee order for the building site.

‘Isn’t your shift almost over?’ she asked Chrissie as they bustled past each other.

‘Yes, Mum,’ Chrissie teased with a wink. ‘But I’m happy to stay on while there’s a rush and you’re taking that outside. I can’t afford to lose this job.’

‘I can’t afford to lose any of my jobs,’ Isla agreed.

They shared a rueful grin. Juggling studies and holding down multiple jobs wasn’t easy for either girl, though, while Chrissie had the looks and figure to strut her stuff for loads of money at the pole-dancing club, Isla’s second job was working quietly in the university library. That was when she wasn’t working her third job, teaching basic gymnastics to keen youngsters in the gym. Not that she was complaining. She loved the quiet of the library, where she could snatch a study break along with her lunch, while the children in the after-school gym club kept her fit and motivated with their enthusiasm—

‘Isla!’

‘Yes, boss!’ Conscious that Charlie was watching her, she quickly loaded the last of the coffees. ‘The site order is ready to go.’

‘Then, get it out there before the coffee gets cold,’ Charlie grumbled, doing his best to look as if he’d just sucked on a lemon.

Glancing at the rain battering the windows, Isla grabbed her jacket and tugged it on. ‘Yes, boss—’

‘This is a coffee shop, not gossip central,’ Charlie grouched, deepening his frown as she walked past him.

She countered Charlie’s bad mood with one of her usual cheery smiles. ‘You know you love me, really.’

‘The only reason I employ you is for that smile,’ Charlie grudgingly admitted.

‘That man,’ Chrissie exploded. ‘Who does he think we are? Smiling puppets?’

‘Employees?’ Isla suggested with her usual good humour. ‘We need this job, Chrissie,’ she discreetly reminded her hot-headed friend.

‘You’re going to get soaked,’ Chrissie objected, brow wrinkling thunderously as she stared out of the window.

‘Yes,’ Isla agreed, ‘but, the sooner I get out there, the sooner I get back.’

‘Okay, Ms Capability—say hi to the Sheikh, if you see him.’

‘Like I’m going to get close.’

‘If he’s there he’ll have security surrounding him,’ Chrissie agreed. ‘Oh, well, you can still drop a few hints to his team that you’re a star student at the university, and you’ll be over in Q’Aqabi very soon, when you’ll be only too glad to offer your services—’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Isla acted shocked.

‘Okay, Miss Prim—you know what I’m talking about. Get out there before the coffee goes cold. And don’t forget to drop that hint,’ Chrissie called after her.

Was she wrong to hope that, if the Sheikh had chosen to visit his billion-dollar building site, the white-chocolate mocha with the extra caramel shot and a double squirt of cream wasn’t destined for him? Isla smiled as Charlie opened the door for her. A girl had to have her fantasies, and Isla’s involved real tough-guy sheikhs—impossibly handsome, riding imperious white stallions... The Sheikh would be clad in flowing robes, and he would live in a Bedouin tent that billowed gently in the warm desert breeze—

‘You’re lucky I don’t dock you girls’ dreaming time from your wages,’ Charlie rapped as she went past him. ‘If you don’t watch out, I’ll charge you for breakfast.’

Charlie was a kind old thing really, with a bark that was far worse than his bite. And no way was she going to lose out on breakfast, when it was her one decent meal of the day.

Head down, she speed-walked through the driving rain to the mud bath next door. There was no easy way to walk across a building site other than to do it as fast as she could without spilling the coffee.

‘Stop!’

She stopped dead and almost dropped the tray. She had reached a steel mesh gate manned by an unsmiling security guard, but, as the gate was open, she had walked straight through.

‘You’re not allowed on the site,’ the guard informed her brusquely.

‘But I have instructions to be here,’ she tried to explain.

‘No one is allowed on the site without protective clothing. And I have to check your identity—’

As the guard reached towards her she flinched. An instinctive reaction. Just one of the many leftover side effects from the attempted assault... It made her creep to have any man touch her, with the exception of Charlie, who was like a grumpy old uncle, and the man in the club last night—

‘I’ll take over here.’

She jerked alert as a second man spoke. Oh, no! Shoot me and bury me now. ‘It’s you,’ she said lamely, recognising the man from the club.

‘Quite a surprise,’ he agreed drily, and with maximum understatement. ‘I’ll see to this,’ he said, dismissing the guard.

The guard’s reaction was impressive. He practically stood to attention and saluted. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, taking a giant step back.

Before she had chance to say anything, two strong arms had snapped around her waist.

‘What are you doing?’ was about all she could manage as the air shot from her lungs. She had to concentrate on balancing the coffee as the giant of a man led her away. And, for the second time, strangely, there was no fear, no creeps, just quite a lot of affront that the people on the site were making it so hard for her to deliver coffee.

‘I’ll drop the tray if you don’t slow down.’

Not that it would do him any harm in his steel-capped boots. Gone were the black silk socks and highly polished shoes and in their place was a hard hat and a high-vis’ jacket. If he’d seemed big last night, he was positively enormous now. And he didn’t look the type to yowl if hot coffee should happen to land on his naked skin.

His naked skin...

Stop that now!

She had never known anything like it. Her mind was permanently closed to all thoughts of men’s physical attributes—or so she’d thought up to last night. And now she had enough to do, balancing a tray of red-hot coffee while keeping up with the man’s ground-eating stride. By the time they reached one of several mobile homes on the site, she was well and truly rattled, and when he angled his chin towards the door she stopped dead and refused to go a step further.

Reaching in front of her, he opened the door. Jerking his chin, he indicated that she should go first.

‘Everyone on the site has to wear proper clothing and carry a security pass,’ he explained. ‘Health and safety,’ he added brusquely.

She stalled, playing for time. She didn’t feel uncomfortable with him, as she had with other men, but going into a building where she would be alone with him was a step too far. ‘I’ve never encountered a problem before,’ she protested with some justification. ‘Like most of the people at the university, I use the building site as a cut-through when I’m walking between the campus and the café.’

‘That doesn’t make it right,’ he said flatly with a stare that ripped through her like a shot of adrenaline. Since he’d arrived, things had obviously been tightened up. She’d spread the word.

The sooner she left the coffee, the sooner she was out of here, but she couldn’t deny that the all-embracing warmth inside the mobile building was welcome. The man called Shaz had started rifling through a rail of high-vis’ jackets. Blowing on her hands, she wondered if he felt the cold. As part of the Sheikh’s team, she guessed he didn’t have to suffer it for too much of the year.

‘Here—try this one,’ he said, holding out a jacket.

Seeing her difficulty, he took the tray of coffee, brushing his hand against her frozen skin as he did so. ‘It should be better,’ he murmured, holding her gaze a disturbing beat too long. ‘This one is smaller.’

He put the tray down and then came back to help her out of her wet coat. This time his hand brushed her neck. She had just moved her wet hair out of the way, leaving her skin exposed. It was an accident, she told herself firmly. It had to be an accident.

Leaving her to fasten the jacket, he started work on her security pass.

‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked politely.

He raised his head and stared at her. ‘Should there be anything else?’

The expression in his eyes pinned her. He was definitely interested—no doubt about it—and he was curious about her, which made her skin prickle. He had the most incredible eyes, and it wasn’t just the fact that they were dark, and heavily fringed with jet-black lashes—they were quite simply the most expressive eyes she’d ever seen...and right now, they were warming as he stared at her.

‘A pastry, perhaps?’ she suggested with a gulp.

With a faintly amused look, he turned back to his work. ‘I’ll need a photograph,’ he said, coming to stand between her and the door.

He fixed her printed image inside the pass. ‘You’ll need this next time you visit the site,’ he explained, pressing it into her hand. The brief moment of connection between them sent a sizzle up her arm.

Closing her hand around the pass, she stepped back. ‘It might not be me bringing out the coffee for you next time,’ she felt it only fair to point out.

‘It will be you,’ he stated. His face grew grim. ‘I have no intention of equipping every member of staff at the café with a pass and protective clothing.’

‘So I drew the lucky straw,’ she commented ruefully.

‘Seems so,’ he agreed. His expression softened minutely.

‘Thank you, anyway.’ She slung the lanyard holding the pass around her neck.

‘Wear it every time you visit the site,’ he said, standing up to tower over her.

‘I will.’ If she ever visited the site again. By now her curiosity was well and truly piqued. Who was he? He was obviously important enough to be in overall command of the site—an architect, perhaps, though his hands were a little rough for that. He was no stranger to manual work. She liked that idea. She had this irrational belief that a down-to-earth man would be safer and, though he certainly looked tough enough to handle a team of men, he didn’t strike her as a man who would ever resort to bullying tactics.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said as she turned to go.

She flinched back, then realised that he was only stepping forward so he could reach out and turn her badge around, so her details were facing outwards.

He raised a brow at her overreaction. ‘Protective clothing,’ he reminded her. ‘Wear it every time you come to the site.’

Her heart thundered a tattoo at the instruction. She guessed he was the type of man who would be accustomed to provoking a reaction in susceptible females. It was just that she had never thought herself a susceptible female before. She was more the plain, forthright variety...

‘Boots might be a problem,’ he said, bringing her back down to earth with a bump.

‘I’m only walking through the mud, not laying bricks,’ she said, frowning as she followed his stare to her feet.

His expression instantly hardened, as if no one argued with him.

‘Honestly,’ she added, softening her comment with a smile, ‘I think you can safely forget about boots. And hats,’ she added as his stare switched to the row of yellow hard hats lined up on a shelf. ‘I’m sure there must be something in your rule book that allows visitors a certain leeway...?’

He turned to stare at her with real interest in his eyes—interest that sent shock waves rolling through her, but then he curved the suspicion of a smile as if his affront at her rebellion had turned to grudging admiration. ‘You do have tiny feet,’ he allowed, ‘and a lot of very long hair to fit comfortably beneath the hat.’ He paused a moment, while she got used to the idea that he had given her a pretty thorough once-over, and was remembering her long hair from the club last night, as it was currently screwed up in a work-appropriate do on top of her head. ‘Though the high-vis’ jacket will keep you warm if it’s raining when you come out here again.’

And he cared.

She shuddered in a breath as he took the sides of the jacket in both hands and settled it properly on her shoulders. It was as if he were touching her naked skin, rather than the heavy waterproof jacket. He was so careful with her, and yet his touch was firm and sure.

‘You are tiny,’ he said.

She frowned a little at that. No one in their right mind would call her tiny. Though, compared to him...

Her cheeks flushed red as he stood back. His gaze lingered on her face, and for a moment she didn’t know what to say or do. She sucked in a swift breath as he reached out to brush some damp straggles of hair from her face. She had not expected that and, for once in her life, found herself wishing she were beautiful. Usually she didn’t care one way or the other about her looks, or lack of them, but for once it would have been nice to have a man brush wet hair from her face because he wanted to take a better look at her, rather than simply keeping her hair out of her eyes. If she had been beautiful, maybe she could have progressed a fantasy into a moment of pure romance: the chance meeting, love at first sight, and with a man who wouldn’t be rough with her—

‘That’s it,’ he said with finality.

His sharp tone brought her back to reality. Checking the fastening on the jacket, she raised the hood, ready to step out into the rain.

‘Excellent,’ he approved in a tone that suggested he had also sprung back into work mode.

She had definitely overstayed her welcome. But as she hurried to the door she managed to trip over a table—or would have done if he hadn’t reached out whip-fast to catch her. She rested for a moment, startled in his arms, and only realised when he settled her back on her feet that she hadn’t felt threatened by him at all.

CHAPTER THREE

A GREY DAY in London had taken on a rosy hue, thanks to the unexpected reappearance of a woman who had intrigued him from the first moment he saw her. From pole-dancer to barista was quite a journey. Whether the rush of blood to Isla’s cheeks was awareness of him and how close they were standing, or pique that she had only been doing as his office had requested, delivering coffee, when he had ordered her off site for a breach of Health and Safety regs—

Health and Safety regs?

Was that why his hands had expertly skimmed her body? He already knew what lay beneath the bulky safety jacket. Her fuller figure was his ideal. The temptation to back her against the door and strip her down to last night’s curves was overwhelming—fortunately, there wasn’t time and he had more sense. The one thing that did amuse him was the thought that if Isla had known who he was, he doubted it would have made a jot of difference. This was not a woman to be wooed with status and wealth. She liked you or she didn’t. And right now, she didn’t.

‘Do you mind?’ she said, pushing him away.

That in itself was an intriguing first for him. For such a self-possessed woman—and he had to remind himself that this was the same woman who had conducted herself with such dignity in the undignified surroundings of the club—she was surprisingly jumpy, acting almost like an innocent now that they were one to one.

Yes. He’d stopped her falling; Isla allowed with an appropriate amount of gratitude as she brushed herself down. But, let’s not get carried away. He couldn’t hold onto her until her bones turned to jelly, and she had no more sense in her head than a moth flying into a flame. She flashed a warning stare—and had to acknowledge that he was a gentleman, as he’d let her go. And fate had dealt him a more than generous hand. Douse any other man in a rainstorm, and they would look like a drowned rat. Douse this man and he still looked spectacular. His thick black hair glistened with raindrops, while her hair was plastered to her face—and she probably had panda eyes from knuckling rainwater out of them.

‘Here, Isla...take it.’

She stared at the money in his hand.

‘It’s the least I can do,’ he insisted, thrusting a wad of notes towards her.

‘There’s no need for that. I’m just doing my job.’

The job you want to keep?

‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she added. ‘If you would like to leave some money at the end of the week for everyone at the café to share, that would be great.’

What was she doing? Could she afford to turn down such a generous tip?

No. Absolutely not, but something felt wrong about accepting such a large tip from a man she hardly knew—and particularly from this man. It was too much, and after last night at the club when she suspected he had doubled Chrissie’s pay, she couldn’t take any more from him.

Cut him some slack, Isla’s inner voice intoned wearily. No doubt everyone who works for the fabulously wealthy Sheikh has more money than they know what to do with.

Maybe. But that wasn’t the point. A small show of gratitude was acceptable, but flashing a twenty? She wasn’t comfortable with that.

‘Thanks anyway...’ She shot him a thin smile and left it at that before braving the icy wind with the memory of his fleeting touches branded onto her mind.

Knocking mud off her boots, she walked with relief into the steamy heat of the busy café. It was good to be back on familiar ground. She felt safe from conflicting feelings here. The customers liked her and she liked them. Charlie said she invited confidences with her easy manner. The truth was Isla needed company as much as anyone else. Since losing her mother and paying off all their debts, she had lived alone in one room above a shop, and she loved the contrast of her busy life at the café. All that company and chat, with breakfast thrown in? What was not to love?

Customers that shook her up, like the man from the building site?

She should forget him. He’d probably be gone by tomorrow.

Forget him?

Maybe not, but she would do her best to keep her mind on the job.

The aromatic air inside the café made Isla’s mouth water. Charlie was a good cook and he fed his staff well. No wonder she was smiling, when she had such a great day to look forward to. Once she finished her shift here, she was due at the university gym. Gymnastics had been one of Isla’s childhood passions in the days before her father walked out and her mother got sick, and now she was grateful to make money out of her skill. She worked every hour she could to fulfil her mother’s dying wish and make her proud.

‘My shift is nearly over,’ Chrissie carolled happily as she joined Isla at the counter.

‘Mine too,’ Isla said with a grin.

After the gymnastics classes she could look forward to a long, peaceful evening. That might involve wearing every jumper she possessed with her feet drawn up as close as she dared to her three-bar electric fire, but at least she had a home to go to. A quick glance at Charlie to let him know that she was back was repaid by a hard stare. Understandably. She’d been gone a long time. But once Charlie took in her new outfit, he began to smile. Charlie wasn’t the only one. She was so wet, and it was so hot in the café that her clothes were starting to steam. Tipping Charlie a wry look, she explained what had kept her so long. ‘I’m to be the Sheikh’s team’s regular gofer. I think they’re going to need lots of coffee while they’re here.’

Charlie was pleased to hear it. ‘Well done for encouraging business.’

‘And look out for the Sheikh when you go back next time,’ Chrissie called out.

‘Of course I will,’ Isla teased Chrissie. Privately, Isla doubted that the Sheikh would be seen until His Royal Sereneness turned up to cut the ribbon on his new buildings and declare them open. In her imagination, the Sheikh of Q’Aqabi was as hard as nails, as rich as Croesus, and as tall, dark and sinister as could be—but compulsively enthralling, all the same.

Realistically, Isla reflected as she got back to her work, the Sheikh was probably shrivelled, pot-bellied, and grumpier than Charlie.

* * *

Young. Challenging. Proud. Interesting. But too innocent for him, and he didn’t have time to waste on challenges. Interesting? Isla was certainly interesting.

Would he pursue his interest in her further?

Stuffing the twenty away in the back pocket of his jeans, he stared after her. She was proud, and he got that. She’d been offended by money. How would she react if he offered more? Money could buy most things in his world...

But could it buy him everything he wanted?

He doubted that any amount of money could buy Isla. Her grey eyes had flashed fire when she’d seen the twenty. She’d no doubt guessed he was responsible for padding her wages last night. She was resourceful and adaptable. She was also an innocent who had trespassed unwittingly into his dark, sensual world. He wondered about her past experience with men. She was attractive, so there must have been some, though her air of innocence suggested that none had breached either the defences of her body or her heart. He should know better than to play games with a girl like that, but she attracted him. Mild on the outside, she reminded him of a volcano about to erupt, and he wanted to be there when that happened.

He found her beautiful, with that particular peach-like complexion so common in this part of the world. Her hair was rain-soaked, but he remembered it from the club, when it had been long and unruly, and had glittered gold beneath the lights. Her eyes were grey and expressive. Small and lush, she warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a long time, and her strength of character warned there would never be a dull moment. He liked that idea. As a mistress, she showed definite potential, but could he take her innocence and then discard her when he’d had enough?

A casual affair was unthinkable for him. He had everything to prove to his country. His reckless youth, and the tragedy that had detonated, would take a lifetime to repay. He would do nothing to rattle the sound foundations he was building in Q’Aqabi. His duty was to find a suitable bride. He did not have time to waste thinking about a new mistress. He must harden his heart to Isla, even as another part of him hardened in lust.

He summoned his colleagues in the hope that work would distract him, but, however many lectures he gave himself on the subject of forgetting Isla, he couldn’t help but anticipate the next coffee break, and another encounter with the spirited barista.

* * *

She didn’t go back to the building site. She came up with another plan. Coffee could be left with the security guard, and he could deliver it. Charlie readily agreed to this. They were so busy, he couldn’t spare his staff for any more lengthy visits.