The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition. Jennifer Lewis
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He shrugged. “People go where the work is.”
Like her. He’d made it impossible for her to refuse this job. Not because he couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected by her. Because she was the best person for the job.
And because he had unfinished business with her.
Celia marched forward, her construction boots striking the soil with determination. “Each guest will have their own house, arranged along the original streets and built in the traditional style. Each guest house will have a courtyard with a recirculating fountain.”
“Perfect.”
“I admit I’m nervous about how quickly we’re forging ahead.” She shoved a lock of hair off her face. “I know the archaeologists have been thorough, but there could well be more stuff down there.”
“Then let it remain. This oasis probably has several layers of civilizations, each built on top of its predecessor. I wish for the tradition to continue, not for a lost way of life to be preserved in amber.”
She smiled. “I think it’s exciting that you’re not afraid to embrace change and bring the oasis back to life. As you can see we’re reusing a lot of the original building materials.” She beckoned with her fingers. “The pool area is this way.”
Salim let his gaze follow her for a moment before he started to walk. Her graceful stride revealed the power contained within her slim body. He knew all too well the energy and affectionate enthusiasm she was capable of.
Not that he’d fully appreciated it at the time. Perhaps he’d thought all women were such bewitching creatures in the intimacy of a bedroom.
Their regrettable meeting four years ago only reminded him too vividly of all he’d missed in the intervening years.
“An open body of water would have been pretty unlikely in the old settlement, so we racked our brains about whether to go for a natural free-form shape, or a more traditional rectangular form like a courtyard fountain. Right now we’re thinking that a perfectly round pool would be an interesting combination of the two. Formal in its geometry, yet soft and natural in its outline so people can gather around it like a natural lake.”
She marched briskly around its imagined shores. “It will be zero entry on one side so that small children can splash in the shallow water and the other side will have a gentle waterfall to circulate the water and provide filtration.”
The setting sun made the rocky sand glow like candlelit amber. The workers had vanished for the day, leaving their excavator baking in the sun, and the oasis hung suspended in time. Celia stood on the shores of her imaginary lake, golden hair burnished by the rich light.
Salim cursed the ripple of thick sensation that surged through his body.
He was in control here.
It irked him that Celia could be so cool and businesslike.
He’d brought her here in the first place to remind him that she was just an ordinary woman, not the goddess of his fevered imagination.
Unfortunately, spending time with her had further unearthed the past he hoped to bury. Surely he wasn’t the only one suddenly pricked by shards of memory?
“We must leave before it gets dark.” His gruff tone seemed to startle her out of deep reverie. “You will have dinner with me.”
* * *
Celia hovered in front of the mirror for a second.
Yes, it was her. She still had that little freckle next to her nose. Otherwise she might not have been so sure.
Her hair lay coiled about her neck in shimmering gold ringlets, arranged in her room by one of the hotel’s hairdressers.
Her usual T-shirt had been replaced by a fitted tunic of peacock-blue silk, shot through with emerald-green.
She looked quite silly, but she hadn’t wanted to be rude. She was now fit to be seen in the hotel’s most exclusive dining room—at least according to the friendly staff member who’d bedecked her. Apparently, she and Salim were going to eat Elan’s yellowfin tuna there, under the prying eyes of the hotel’s wealthiest and snootiest guests.
Fun.
Especially since she still hadn’t told Salim about Kira.
It seemed wrong to interrupt their work at the lost city with the news. The driver had invaded their privacy all the way back to the hotel. Now she had to smile and fake her way through a formal dinner, with the secret throbbing inside her like Edgar Allan Poe’s telltale heart.
Her shoulders shook a little under the peacock silk covering. The dress was modest, Omani style, with embroidered gold trim at the neckline and cuffs, and matching pants underneath. The thick bangles on her wrists looked disturbingly like pure twenty-four-carat gold.
Naturally, she’d return them right after dinner.
She jumped when the phone on the bedside table beeped. She shuffled across the floor in her gold-and-blue slippers and snatched up the receiver.
“I’m on my way to your room.” Salim’s bold tones sent a surge of adrenaline to her embroidered toes.
“Great. I’m all ready.”
She plastered on her best fake smile.
Maybe tonight would present the perfect time to tell him.
Kira was the center of her universe. She spoke to her every day on the phone, sometimes several times. Twice now Kira had wondered aloud where her “Dada” was. She’d noticed that other kids in day care had one, and she didn’t.
Celia was painfully reminded that two people who were father and daughter weren’t even aware of each other’s existence. The entire future of their relationship, possibly the whole direction of the rest of their lives, lay on her shoulders.
The door flung open and Salim stood framed in the soft glow from the hallway. His strong features had an expression of strange intensity, which deepened as he stared at her.
“Where did you get those clothes?”
“Aliyah brought them for me. From the gift shop. She said you’d …”
“I told her to find you whatever you needed. I didn’t tell her to dress you up like an Omani.” He himself had changed into Western clothes. A white shirt open at the collar and crisp dark pants.
Celia laughed, mostly out of nerves. “Kind of funny, isn’t it? I look Omani and you look American.”
Salim’s gaze swept over her, heating her skin under the elaborate dress. A frown furrowed his forehead.
He hated it.
Her bangles jangled as she reached up to brush an imagined hair from her rapidly heating face. “If you think I should change I’m sure I can find something in my closet.”
“No. You’re fine. Let’s eat.”
He hesitated in the doorway then thrust his arm out for her to take.
Her stomach leaped as she slipped her arm in his. His thick muscle held rigid, unyielding, like he was steeling himself against something.
Celia drew a deep breath down into her lungs and tried not to trip over her embroidered slippers.
“Your work at the site,” said Salim gruffly. “I’m very pleased with it.”
“I’m amazed at how well it’s coming together. Your team are magicians. I tell them what I want and they wave their magic wands overnight and make it happen.”
“I’ve built and opened a lot of hotels.”
She struggled to keep up as he strode along the hotel corridor, polished marble shimmering under their feet and lights glimmering in arched alcoves along the walls.
“Do