CHAPTER ONE

      LIVVY WAS HANGING mistletoe when the doorbell rang. Expensive, mocking mistletoe tied with ribbon the colour of blood. The sudden sound startled her because the heavy snow had made the world silent and she wasn’t expecting anyone until Christmas Eve.

      Go away, whoever you are, she thought as several white berries bounced onto the floor like miniature ping-pong balls. But the doorbell rang again—for much longer this time—because whoever was outside had decided to jam their thumb against the buzzer.

      Livvy wished the unwanted caller would vanish, because there was still so much to do before the guests arrived, and the snowfall meant that Stella, her part-time help, hadn’t turned up. But you couldn’t run a successful business and behave like a prima donna—even if it was only four days before Christmas and you didn’t have any room vacancies. She climbed down the ladder with a feeling of irritation that died the instant she opened the door.

      She was unprepared for the man who stood on her doorstep. A stranger, yet not quite a stranger—although it took a moment for her to place him. He was famous in the horse-racing world she’d once inhabited. Some might say infamous. He was certainly unforgettable with eyes like gleaming jet and rich olive skin that showcased his hawklike features. His hard body spoke of exercise and discipline, and he was the kind of man who would make you take a second glance and then maybe a third.

      But it wasn’t just his appearance or his undeniable charisma that made Livvy blink her eyes in disbelief—it was his lofty status. Because it wasn’t just any man who stood there surveying her so unsmilingly—it was Saladin Al Mektala, the king of Jazratan. A real-life desert sheikh standing on her doorstep.

      She wondered