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

Maybe she hadn’t recovered? She’d dated again, but never for long. She’d never married.

Now, suddenly everything was different.

He’d missed her.

He’d never forgotten her.

Memories of her, and their relationship, had ruined his marriage.

Shock—and something else—unfurled deep inside her.

Was this why he cut off their renewed affair four years ago? Because it had meant more to him than he was willing to admit?

Questions raced around Celia’s mind. Questions about a Salim who’d been hidden from her.

A Salim who’d missed her and who still loved her and who might.

“Let’s go.” Salim swept up from the table without waiting for her reaction.

Celia rose, accidentally clattering her knife against her plate and almost knocking over her chair. Her heart pounded beneath her elegant silk dress and her pulse skittered beneath her bangles as she took his arm and swept out of the room on a tide of fierce and unexpected emotion.

Guests glanced up at them, curious, but she couldn’t summon even a polite smile to greet them. She couldn’t do anything except manage—just barely—to put one foot in front of the other.

They flew across the sparkling atrium and out through a dark arch toward the beach. Salim marched with such speed and concentration that no one even dared approach him, let alone speak. It was all Celia could do to keep up in her rustling dress and delicate slippers.

They stepped through the archway and walked down some steps to the sand. Warm evening air brushed her face like a breath. They hadn’t even left the pool of light flooding from the atrium when Salim turned, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with furious passion.

Celia melted into his kiss, rushed into it, her whole body cleaving to his, pressing against him from head to toe. Her hands fisted into his shirt and her nipples hardened against his powerful chest.

Salim’s urgent fingers roamed into her elaborate hairstyle as he pulled her face to his and kissed her with breathless abandon.

“Oh, Celia,” he murmured, when their lips finally parted for a second. “I tried to push you out of my mind.” His words rang with pain, and tailed off as he crushed his mouth over hers again, a groan of relief shuddering through him.

Tears sprang to Celia’s eyes. Fierce emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “Me, too,” she breathed into his ear, while he layered hot kisses along her neck.

She’d fallen so easily into his arms four years ago, despite how he’d hurt her. She couldn’t help it. The connection between them was too strong to resist.

He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.” He led her down to the beach, where she pulled off her hard-to-run-in slippers and let the cool sand welcome her toes. “My private apartment.” He gestured to a small peninsula jutting out into the ocean’s gentle waves. An elegant white building with typical Omani crenelations along the roofline—like a medieval castle in miniature—perched just over the rippling surf. Light illuminated a narrow arched window.

He ran so fast she could barely keep up.

Celia didn’t protest. She couldn’t even think, let alone talk.

He pushed open a carved door and ushered her inside. A lamp glowed in a corner, illuminating a simple, masculine space with bare white walls and a smooth stone floor. An ornate silver coffeepot glowed on a shelf, the only decoration besides the high arched windows shaded by carved wood screens.

Celia drank in the details, maybe because she’d been starved of information about Salim for so long. She’d wondered where he lived, and how, without her all this time.

He led her through a polished door in the far wall into what was obviously his bedroom.

A large white bed filled the center of the octagonal room. Tall windows punctuated each wall, providing slivers of ocean view where the moon danced over shimmering black water. Otherwise the space was ascetic as a monk’s cell.

The space of a man who lived alone, with no woman in his life.

Salim closed the door behind her and slid his arms around her, muscles shuddering with urgency. His fingers roved over her back through the thin silk of her dress. He kissed her again and again, until her fingers plucked at his shirt buttons in thoughtless desperation.

“I missed you,” his breath was hot on her neck. “Seeing you again four years ago only made it worse. I’ve craved you, wished for you.”

Salim’s blood hummed with tension so thick he felt he might explode.

He never forgot her. Not for want of trying. He’d done everything he could think of to expunge her from his body and soul.

He’d poured himself into his work, spent his time building an empire and filling it with people as passionate as himself.

But he never forgot Celia.

He’d had to try all over again after their fateful meeting in Manhattan. The very last person he’d thought to see there, she almost knocked him flat with her beauty and poise. He’d been helpless in the glow of her smile, and the warm greeting she’d offered, letting him know the past was gone and forgotten.

And he’d been forced to start over from scratch, trying to forget her again.

“It feels like heaven being here with you.”

His words echoed off the walls, painfully true, as he touched her. She was so perfect, so precious, so totally unchanged, like time had captured her in amber and saved her for him, despite all his mistakes.

He lifted her diaphanous dress over her head in a swift movement and groaned at the sight of her breasts in their simple white bra.

Celia’s hands gripped his upper arms with force as he lowered his mouth to her breasts, giving in to whatever primal forces drove him. He didn’t fight the instincts he’d tried so hard to crush out of existence.

His lips brushed the cotton, tasting the shape of her thickened nipples through the soft fabric. Sensation kicked through him, firing his muscles and making his heart pound.

He unhooked her bra and slid her panties down her slender, muscled legs.

Celia laughed, a magical sound that filled his ears and echoed in his chest.

Laughter had been missing from his life for far too long. He’d tried so hard to do the right thing, to be the dutiful son and the upstanding businessman, when what he really wanted was … Celia.

Her hands tugged at his shirt and he realized that she’d undone all the buttons and was trying to remove it. Laughing again, he helped her, shrugging out of it and struggling with the fly of his pants.

Her face glowed in the soft moonlight, eyes closed and an expression of joy lighting her lovely features.

“You’re perfect.”

He said the words aloud right as he felt them, holding nothing back. Freed of his clothes, he pressed his skin to hers, enjoying the sweet, soft warmth of her in his arms.

His arousal was intense, agonizing, and if they didn’t make love right now, he wasn’t sure what would happen. He did still have the presence of mind to don a condom. The last thing he wanted was for her to get pregnant.

He lowered her gently onto the bed, where a shaft of moonlight danced over the sheets and her soft skin.

Celia let out a little cry as he entered her. He opened his eyes, worried that he’d hurt her. Her face soothed his fears. A smile lit her features and her golden lashes fluttered as she writhed under him, clutching him closer.

Salim moved gingerly inside her—easing into a rhythm, then pulling back—wringing every second of sweet pleasure from the closeness he’d craved for so long. He ran his hands over her skin, pressed his fingers into her back and through the silk of her hair.

Years ago he might have rushed, eager to take his pleasure like a child with a bowl of candy. Back then, there was always more candy, maybe even sweeter, waiting for him tomorrow.

Now he was wiser and knew that life’s sweetest moments must be savored, for that single perfect moment would never come again.

Her cheek, hot against his, felt so familiar. Her body, moving under him in quickening rhythm, was different and more delicious than ever. Her breasts seemed fuller and her belly softer. Her hips had more of a curve to them, as they lifted to meet his. Celia’s slim, girlish body had ripened and filled out into delightful feminine perfection. He could swear her body had changed even since he’d last seen her.

“Your curves are fuller,” he breathed.

Her breath caught for a second.

“It’s a compliment,” he reassured her. He’d forgotten Americans praised slimness above all else. “You become more lovely with each passing year.”

“Or your sight gets dimmer with each year,” she teased.

He released a ragged sigh as her long fingers dragged a trail of passion along his back.

“I’m not using my sight.” He caressed her soft and seductive backside with his fingers. Pleasure rippled through him. “Even if I was blind, my other senses wouldn’t lie to me.”

He opened his eyes as if to reassure himself that the madness of his desire for Celia hadn’t deprived him of his senses. In the dim light of the lamp he saw her delicate features, glowing gold, her lips parted in breathy moans.

He slowed the rhythm, layering kisses along her collarbone until her eyes opened. In the semidarkness they were blue as the night-dark sea outside.

A smile tilted her sensual mouth. “You’ve filled out, too. All muscle.” She squeezed his bicep between her long fingers. “It seems cruel that you should get even more handsome as you get older.”

“I could say the same for you, but I’d rather enjoy your beauty.” He kissed her cheeks and her mouth, slow and gentle, relishing each brush of their skin. Her scent was intoxicating, like wild honey discovered just where you least expect it, filling the senses to the point of madness.

Madness. This must be madness. Wasn’t he trying to cure himself of Celia?

Their tryst was having the very opposite effect.

A flare of anger—mixed inexorably with pure lust—flashed through him.

How did this woman have so much power over him?

Almost as if she heard his unspoken question, Celia angled one of her long legs over his, and deftly flipped their positions until she was on top.

Triumph flared in her eyes as she took him deep.

Salim moaned as pleasure cascaded through him. He’d always adored her sexual confidence—which they’d found and nurtured together—and the way she loved to take charge.

Her nipples hovered over him in the dim light, darker and fuller than he remembered, tempting his thumbs to strum their peaks. Celia sighed as he stroked her breasts, and she moved in a hypnotic rhythm, like a belly dancer, drawing him deeper and deeper.

She was taking him into a world where none of his senses functioned properly. A strange yet familiar place where his nerves were alive and tingling with pleasure so intense it felt like pain.

Celia bent and kissed him on the mouth, bold and beautiful, claiming him.

He kissed back, unable to stop himself. Lust and mischief soon had them clawing and nipping at each other. He was tempted to suck hard enough to brand her with the mark of his desire.

But he didn’t. He was a gentleman, even in this moment of unbearable and delicious torture.

With a movement faster than her own, he grabbed hold of her thighs and maneuvered them both into a sitting position. Legs wrapped around each other, they sat face to face, with him still buried deep—and active—inside her.

She laughed. He’d picked one of the familiar positions from ancient India they’d studied and enjoyed all those years ago.

“It’s a classic,” he murmured, enjoying the face-to-face contact the position allowed. He kissed her on the mouth hard, then pulled back.

“It always slows things right down, doesn’t it?” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Her tongue flicked over her lips, tantalizing.

“Sometimes it’s good to slow things down.”

“When you’re about to lose control?”

“I never lose control,” he growled.

“Now that’s an outright lie.” Celia leaned forward, and brushed his chest with the aroused tips of her nipples.

“Okay,” he rasped. “Only sometimes.”

“Like when you’re with me.” She brushed her thumb over the curve of his mouth, daring him to argue.

“When I’m with you,” he echoed. He seized her, flipping them again until he was on top, and sinking deeper into her hot and enticing depths.

Celia let out a long, shivering sigh and clutched him close.

Her muscles contracted around him when her climax seized her. In an instant he lost control.

He let out a tortured groan and clutched her to him while sensation rocked him like an earthquake. Colors and patterns burst in front of his eyes, and he clung to Celia as his whole world shook and shuddered and threatened to crumble.

He didn’t want to let Celia go.

And that in itself was a big problem.

* * *

If Celia could stay right here, in Salim’s warm, strong arms, she’d be fine. She was sure of it.

She could hear the sea outside the window, waves lapping against the soft white sand. The tide going in, or out, whichever it was, just as it did every day and night since the beginning of time.

If only she could stop the clock and hold them both here in this magical place where nothing else mattered but that they were together. But already, prying fingers of light crept around the blinds, ready to tug her back into real life.

She sat up with a start. Was it seven o’clock yet? She’d pledged to call Kira every day at 7:00 a.m. Salalah time, which was four in the afternoon in Connecticut, soon after Kira got home from daycare.

Salim stirred and his eyes opened a crack. His dark gaze sent a lightning bolt of guilt to her core.

She still hadn’t told him.

And now she’d slept with him.

“I’ve got to go.” She slid to the side of the bed, afraid he’d stretch out a muscled arm and pull her back into his embrace.

Salim lay sprawled on the pillows, broad chest bared, his seductive trail of black hair leading beneath the white sheet that barely covered his hips. “So soon? I think you should sleep in today. I’ll talk to the boss.” His mouth tilted into a sly smile.

A curl of fresh, hot desire unfolded in Celia’s stomach. Which only deepened her sense of guilt. How could she do this to Kira, let alone Salim? Did she have no self-control at all?

Apparently not, at least as far as Salim was concerned.

She tugged her gaze from his dark, sleepy eyes and tousled hair and cleared her throat. “I wish I could, but I have a meeting at the job site. I don’t want to mess up other people’s plans.”

“You’re very devoted to your work.” His low, seductive voice seemed to suggest that was a bad thing. He shifted onto his side, giving her an eyeful of his sculpted chest and hard biceps.

“Isn’t that why you hired me?”

Something glittered in his dark eyes. “Not really.”

Celia’s belly tightened. Had he truly brought her here because he wanted … her?

He wouldn’t have done that if he knew she’d concealed his own daughter from him.

Adrenaline propelled her from the bed. “I’ve got to get moving.” She bit her lip at the sight of her crumpled blue finery. “I’m going to look pretty silly sprinting across the hotel complex in this.”

“I’ll call and have some of your clothes brought here.” Salim stretched again, bronzed muscle pressing against the soft mattress.

“Are you crazy? Then everyone will know.”

He shrugged. Maybe he did this sort of thing all the time.

Celia drew in a long, fortifying breath. “No thanks, I’ll take my chances. It’s still early. I’ll sneak around past the tennis courts.”

Salim laughed. “You have no need to ‘sneak.’ You’re not married, and neither am I. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She gulped. “I’m sure that’s true in an ideal world, but in this one I still need to be able to give instructions to the landscapers without them all falling around laughing because they’re picturing me in bed with the boss.”

He tilted his head back and surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “It’s a pretty picture.”

Her nipples stung with unwelcome arousal. In fact, her whole body still hummed with the memory of his touch. She needed to get out of here … now.

She shrugged into the blue dress and stepped into the sequined slippers.

“Come, kiss me before you go.” He lay stretched on the bed like a sultan, sheets wound around his sturdy thighs. Celia’s stomach flip-flopped.

She climbed onto the bed and leaned down to brush her lips to his. Salim captured her in his arms and claimed her mouth with a forceful kiss.

Desire surged through Celia, powerful and invincible. Her skin heated and her limbs trembled with arousal as she kissed him back. A low groan rose from Salim’s chest, calling to a dark, sensual part of her that only he’d ever awakened.

Then the thought of Kira—possibly waiting by the phone—cracked in her mind like a whip.

She pulled her mouth from his with considerable effort. “I have to go.”

“Shame.” He lolled back into the fine sheets, propping muscled arms behind his head. “Since the project’s going so smoothly I’m afraid I may lose you before we have time to become properly reacquainted. I find myself wanting to hinder your progress.”

His words were a splash of icy water on Celia’s lust heated skin. He spoke so easily of “losing her.” No doubt if she didn’t get lost by herself, he’d give her a neat shove out of his life again.

She stumbled for the door and pushed out into the sunlight, raking a hand through her long, tangled hair.

Why did she let this happen?

She came here to participate in an interesting project, earn good money … and tell him about Kira.

She certainly hadn’t come here to sleep with him at the first opportunity.

Common sense deserted her entirely when Salim was around. She knew that. So why had she let herself be tempted into his bed?

Salim clearly saw this as an opportunity to enjoy her body and revel in the warm light of old memories, before he left her behind—yet again—and got on with his own life. Which, as she knew from long, painful experience, did not include her.

Or Kira.

How could she do anything so stupid? Had she thought that suddenly everything was different and he loved her?

A hard blast of air escaped her lungs. What an idiot she was!

She hurried along a neat brick walkway under a row of lush palms, keeping her eyes down so as not to make contact with any of the gardeners pulling dead fronds from the trees and sweeping the paths.

And what was her excuse now for not telling him about his daughter? They’d been alone all night in bed and she could have blurted the truth at any moment.

But the moment never seemed right.

Dammit, the moment would never be right.

She lowered her eyes as two hotel managers passed her on the path, with a hushed glance at her rumpled finery. Shadows slashed like knives across the path, as sun crept through the palms.

Oh, how he’d hate her if he knew the magnitude of the secret she still kept hidden while she lay naked in his arms.

How in the world would she ever tell him now?

Five

Salim’s chest filled with pride as they approached the gates of the lost city. He was driving the new seven-seater SUV he’d bought to accommodate his newly expanded family, and the children played cheerfully in the rear-facing backseat, while Elan and Sara exclaimed over their first sight of the new complex.

“It’s amazing the way it just rises up out of the sand,” Sara said as she leaned forward. “I love the crisp whiteness of the buildings here. Maybe we should paint our house white?” She turned to Elan. “I think you painted it the exact same color as the land around it so that no one could find you.”

Elan chuckled. “You’re probably right. I didn’t want anyone to find me, until you came along.”

Salim smiled. His brother was obviously very happy, despite his unconventional marriage. He hoped he’d soon feel as settled and content himself.

“How come Celia isn’t with us?” Sara’s question deflated his momentary joy.

Guilt pricked him.

Sleeping with Celia last night was wrong on so many levels.

“She’s here already. At least that’s what my assistant told me. She came to supervise a delivery of plants. I’m sure we’ll run into her.” Would he even be able to look her in the eye in front of his family?

He’d taken advantage of her, knowing full well that their relationship—as always—had no future.

Sometimes he cursed the fact that he was the eldest son. That the burden of tradition and the future of the Al Mansur family rested with him.

But it did. Simple as that.

He pulled up inside the open gates and helped everyone out.

“It’s loud.” Little Ben covered his ears with his hands. Salim didn’t usually notice such things, but there were quite a few pieces of machinery in motion.

“That’s the sound of progress,” Salim said as he bent down to pick him up. “You can’t make things beautiful without some noise. Haven’t you been to your dad’s work sites?”

“No!” Sara laughed. “He’s too young. And so far he’s looking more like an artist than an oilman.”

“You like to draw?” Salim peered into Ben’s bright eyes.

The child nodded. “And paint. And I like to make up stories, but I don’t know how to write them down yet.”

“He’s a genius,” proclaimed Elan proudly.

Salim nodded. “He’ll be the next Leonardo da Vinci.” He stroked the boy’s soft cheek. “You’ll put the Al Mansur name on the map, won’t you?”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself,” said Elan.

Salim snorted. “A few hotels, nothing more. I hope to make this area a popular tourist destination. It’s good for our economy and provides work for the people.”

“It’s a lot more than that,” Sara gushed as she walked forward, wide-eyed. “This is incredible. It’s a whole city out in the middle of the desert.”

Warmth surged inside him. “I can’t take all the credit. The city was always here—we just found it and dusted it off again.”

“It’s breathtaking. Look at the artistry.” A ribbon of painted frieze ran along the wall of a building next to them, and turned the corner onto another crisp, cobbled street.

“My architect hired talented craftsmen. It’s been a joy to bring so much talent together in one place.”

“Speaking of which, there’s Celia. Goodness, look at those beautiful trees. What kind of bush is that?”

“I have no idea. Celia knows far more about Omani plants than I do at this point.” Her knowledge and expertise floored him. And the pleasure she took in her work made it a joy to behold.

Salim’s heart ached with trepidation as they approached. What a night they’d spent together. A taste of heaven in the one pair of arms he could never resist.

He cursed his own weakness.

His torment was worsened by the sight of those faded jeans she wore. They hugged her long, strong legs and cupped her firm backside. She was reaching up to prune a branch as they approached, and her pale yellow T-shirt lifted to reveal a sliver of slim waist.

Arousal flashed through him, heating his blood and bruising his ego.

Had he no self-control around this woman?

“Hello, Celia.” He managed the gruff greeting with a poker face. “Hard at work, as usual.”

He didn’t want the others to know about their tryst last night. Elan might tease him mercilessly, or worse, try to make more of it than it was.

She turned. Her face glowed with exertion, and he could swear her cheeks grew pinker at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

Her blue eyes glowed with excitement that only fanned his desire.

“What kind of question is that?” He tried to act casual. “It’s my newest resort, not to mention the home of my ancestors.” He attempted a smile. “This is where I should be.”