Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Read online

  “Absolutely,” she teased. Though she wasn’t sure. Did she really like everything cut and dried? Probably. That’s why she had an easier time with buildings than people. You knew where you stood with a building. People were constantly changing and harder to figure out.

  “I’m curious, though. I thought we’d agreed that you’d come to Ubar to discuss building my palace—which is a ridiculous word, can we call it my residence?—so I was surprised when you didn’t respond to my calls.”

  She shifted in her seat. “As soon as I got back, I was invited to submit a design for the library commission. I’ve been flat out at work on it ever since. And I have several other projects in various stages of construction that I need to consult on, as well.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, which had a disturbing effect on her insides. “You could have told me you were busy. Instead you decided to pretend I didn’t exist.”

  Ronnie gulped. “After what happened between us…” She paused, not sure what to think, let alone say.

  “We kissed. We made love.” His gaze grew hotter and more intense, or at least that was how it felt to her. “Something happened between us. Did that scare you?”

  “Yes.” It was a relief to admit it. “Everything happened so fast. Honestly, I didn’t even know how to speak to you after that. I could hardly just call and tell you I was busy after the intimacy we’d shared.”

  “So you decided to blow me off instead?” His gaze was both penetrating and amused.

  She bit her lip. Nodded. “I’m not good at expressing myself. Except in design drawings.”

  “You’re shy.”

  “Yes. People often think I’m rude.”

  He tilted his head. “You are rude.”

  Heat flooded her face. “I know. That was very unkind of me not to respond at all. I didn’t know what to say so I suppose I decided to say nothing. I truly apologize.” It wasn’t like her to do something so unprofessional. She’d assumed that since he lived on the other side of the world and she wasn’t likely to see him again, that her failure to handle the situation wouldn’t come back to haunt her.

  “You’ll have to make it up to me.”

  Uh-oh. He did want revenge. Anxiety trickled through her.

  “Don’t look so scared! I didn’t bring you here to punish you. You won’t regret coming, I promise.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. “I suppose I figured you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Very perceptive. You were right of course.”

  “And since I knew I wouldn’t have time to do your design, I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.”

  “A thorny dilemma indeed.” His confident expression suggested that he fully expected her to design his residence. He was wrong. The presidential library was already competing for her time with a university building in Texas and an art museum in Northern California. “Did you know I turned down your friend Najib’s commission?” They’d been flying to Najib’s wedding when their plane crashed. Najib had brought her there to discuss a sprawling modernist compound on the beach, budget unlimited, but she’d been too busy to take it on.

  “Yes. He won’t let me hear the end of it. Keeps insisting I change your mind. He believes—wrongly, of course—that I have some kind of influence over you.”

  “Since you saved my life.” She drew in a breath. He’d landed the plane safely despite an empty fuel tank and menacing dunes in every direction.

  Zadir shrugged. “I told him that you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  Gosh, she felt terrible. “I really am sorry. I just felt overwhelmed. I truly am grateful for everything you did. Well, except….”

  “Drawing you into unwelcome intimacy.” He lifted a brow slightly.

  “Except that. Yes.” The situation had made her keenly aware of her personal failings. She didn’t know how to handle people. She knew she couldn’t—shouldn’t—pursue a relationship with Zadir, and she had no idea how to handle the situation gracefully.

  “I won’t belabor the subject. Suffice to say that I’m glad to have finally regained your companionship, even if I had to buy it.” The humor in his eyes reassured her that he wasn’t angry. “And I suggest that we both get some sleep.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” Ronnie lay her head back against the soft leather seat, and adjusted it into a reclined position. It wasn’t likely she’d be able to get any actual shut-eye with Zadir Al Kilanjar only a few feet away, but at least this would take the pressure off her to make—unbelievably awkward!—conversation.

  And tomorrow she’d see Ubar. And find out exactly what Zadir had in mind when he planned this expensive abduction scenario….

  CHAPTER THREE

  Between the long flight and the time change it was afternoon in Ubar when they arrived. The airfield was a strip of tarmac in the desert—no control tower, no hangar, no staff. Nothing but a single black Mercedes parked nearby.

  Zadir unbuckled his seat belt. “It’s a private airstrip. We’re avoiding commercial flights and airports for now after what happened to you and me.”

  “Seems sensible.” If you have that kind of money, which obviously he did. Ronnie stretched and peered out the window toward a range of brown-and-purple mountains.

  The pilot opened the door and conjured some folding stairs while Zadir grabbed her bag and his own, and led the way to the door. The landscape that greeted them was a flat, almost treeless plain that swept to the foothills of the mountains. Austere and breathtaking, like the best architecture. She blinked in the bright sunlight as she made her way down the flimsy metal stairs.

  The driver of the Mercedes rushed toward them, dressed in a long robe with subtle stripes, his hair covered in a dark head wrap. Very old world. Ronnie had a feeling she was about to step back into another time. Zadir greeted him in a language she didn’t understand. It wasn’t Arabic, which she’d studied in recent months in preparation for her recent business trip to the gulf.

  One more reason she was at Zadir’s mercy right now.

  The man carried their bags to the car, and Zadir opened a rear door for her. He was beaming, obviously overjoyed that his plan to bring her here had worked. It touched her that he cared so much. Or maybe he was the competitive type who liked to win.

  She buckled herself in, pulse racing as she contemplated what a strange and vulnerable position she was in. Zadir settled beside her in the backseat, larger than life and twice as handsome. His smile was infectious and she felt it spread across her face.

  “Your first sight of Ubar.”

  “It’s beautiful. The perfect landscape for a minimalist.”

  “You don’t find the mountains too busy?” he teased.

  “If they were covered in gaudy pine trees, or capped with picturesque snow, they might be. I couldn’t have designed it better.”

  “I knew you’d like it here.”

  The driver guided the car on a dirt track across austere terrain with no landmark that wasn’t built by the forces of nature. Zadir gave her a brief survey of the history of Ubar—which seemed to be a series of bloody cavalry battles—and she began to wonder if there were any live humans left here. After a few minutes they passed through a ravine and she was relieved to see an actual road and the distant outline of a high stone wall with crenellations on the top, like a medieval castle.

  “Is that a city?”

  “It’s the royal residence. We’re all living there now, until my brother Amahd and I build our own compounds.”

  “It looks big enough to house ten thousand people.”

  “Maybe one thousand,” he grinned. “But there are less than a hundred there now, including staff. My brothers and I don’t require all the fan bearers and concubines and singing eunuchs that our forbears enjoyed. Most of the staff are security, in fact.”

  “Do you have to worry about people breaking in?”

  “Not common thieves. We have had trouble with saboteurs, as I told you in the desert. The palace is fully armed
with anti-aircraft and missile defenses.”

  “How reassuring. You didn’t say you lived in a war zone.”

  “There’s been no war in Ubar for four hundred years. The dissidents are merely insects buzzing in our ears. It’s only a matter of time before we flush out our enemies and…take care of them.”

  The stone walls grew taller and more imposing as they approached a big arched entryway and drove into the palace, where palm trees shaded a walled courtyard. They came to a halt and more robed men rushed forward to open the doors. Ronnie stepped out onto a beautiful stone mosaic floor, wearing pretty bronze sandals Zadir had brought for her.

  “I’ll show you to your room.” Zadir cupped her elbow softly, which made her skin sizzle. For a second she thought he’d do something more intimate, like threading his arm through hers, and her whole body tingled with anticipation and terror, but he pulled his hand back and led the way through a tall pointed archway to a hallway with doors on both sides.

  Bright mosaics danced on the walls and floors. “Your native culture is not very minimalist,” she observed.

  “Ubarites love color and sparkle.”

  “So what makes you want something more austere?”

  “I’m inspired by the landscape. The play of land and sky. I’d like my house to be more like a rock formation that’s habitable than a highly decorated jewel box.”

  “Interesting.” Zadir intrigued her. And she loved the way he thought. In her work she liked to strip away layer after layer of history and culture and expectation until you arrived at the harsh intersection of form and function. “And how many people do you see living there?”

  “My immediate family. My wife and children.” His blue gaze stole her breath. In an instant she was jealous of his future wife. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like she wanted to marry him.

  “How many children?”

  He smiled. “However many we decide.”

  When you say we, do you mean…? She kept the question to herself. Why did she feel he was talking about her? She must be delusional. Just because she was infatuated with him did not mean he felt the same way. She could see in his eyes that he was attracted to her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to make her his wife.

  “What about staff?” Would a man like Zadir want hot and cold running servants on tap?

  “I’d prefer to have the staff live away from the palace. I enjoy my privacy.”

  “Me too.” Did she really say that? He hadn’t asked about her preferences. Flustered, she kept going. “My mom always had people around to cook and clean and run errands for her. To take care of me, even. If she’d had to actually get up out of bed and do stuff for herself, her life would have been a lot better.”

  Ouch! Once again she had revealed far too much about her life to Zadir. Worse yet, she didn’t stop. “I like to cook, and arranging and organizing is a passion of mine. I suppose it has to be if you enjoy minimalist architecture. The only thing I outsource is cleaning.”

  “I’m an excellent cook myself.” That tantalizing dimple appeared near his mouth. “I took a Cordon Bleu cooking course in Paris. French food is my favorite.”

  “I love rich sauces too. It’s terrible.” Now here she was giggling! And he was a gourmet cook? This man was way too much for her. Thankfully, he opened a heavy wood door and stepped aside to let her pass before she rambled on any further.

  The room he led her into had white plaster walls, a floor of tiny black and white tiles arranged in a checkerboard pattern, and a cobalt blue ceiling. The bed was a flurry white cloud of duvet and pillows. “I minimalized it as much as possible. At least the bedding doesn’t have tiny mirrors sewn to it.”

  “It’s beautiful. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.” One of the servants brought her bag and placed it on a low octagonal table, then bowed and left.

  “I suspect you prefer to unpack for yourself.”

  “You’re right. Especially since I don’t even know what’s in my own bag. That would be illegal if we’d taken a commercial flight.” She’d pulled out something to change into—a pair of floaty, white linen pants and a white shift top—but hadn’t wanted to do a full inspection of the contents under his watchful eyes.

  She could tell he wanted to touch her. Energy danced between them, his body sending out signals and hers wanting to respond. It took all her focus to hold steady and act like nothing strange was happening.

  “Should I unpack now?” She needed to say something to break the spell. She hoped he wouldn’t stay to watch. What if his clothing choices appalled her?

  “Sure. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

  She made sure not to watch his broad shoulders or his narrow hips as he turned and left the room. Two days! Then she’d be on her way back to D.C. Surely she could manage not to do anything stupid for two whole days.

  I can keep this professional. She had to. That one night in the desert had haunted her imagination, and there was no way she could cope with trying to forget any more intimate encounters.

  She pulled the items he’d bought out of the bag one by one, and was pleased to see that they were almost what she would have chosen for herself—clean lines, everything black or white except the pair of bronze Roman-style sandals she had on and a dark silver pair with a slight heel. Apparently he didn’t want to dress her up as someone else, which was both reassuring and unsettling at the same time.

  There was a carefully packed box of Chanel toiletries and even some makeup, obviously put together by a professional. Her short hair was easy to maintain but he’d thoughtfully included some small bottles of conditioners and gels as well as shampoo and a gorgeous comb and brush.

  At the bottom of the bag was a white pajama set, a slinky camisole top and wide palazzo pants, which were completely see-through when she put her hand behind the delicate fabric. She certainly didn’t intend for him to get a look at her in them, though they were beautiful.

  She’d managed to hang everything in a handcarved wardrobe, when she heard a knock on the door. “Come in.” She cursed the way excitement flared in her chest as she turned. How did this man have such an effect on her? Usually she was immune to good looks and practiced charm. He looked unsettlingly gorgeous as usual in dark pants and an open-collared shirt.

  “My brothers are having tea in the dining room—a holdover from our days at school in England. Are you ready to meet them?”

  “I am.”

  Again she wondered if he was going to slip his arm around her, but he simply gestured for her to go through the door ahead of him. Her skin tingled as if he’d touched it anyway. She enjoyed the bold architecture of the hallway, with its geometric mosaics and high arches. Most of the buildings she’d seen in the gulf region were more muted and subtle—more her type of thing, truth be told—but Ubar’s exuberance excited her. Perhaps this visit would bring new depth to her work once she managed to get some distance and process it all.

  Zadir led her into a spacious dining room with a long table at the center, laid with platters of cookies and pastries. Punched lanterns filled the space with multicolored light, and sunlight poured through tall, arched windows. The overall effect was like walking into a jewel box and proved so intoxicating that she barely registered the people already gathered around the table.

  “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Veronica Baxter, also known as Ronnie. I’m honored that she’s come here to discuss designing my house and the infrastructure of my kingdom.” He guided her around the table, “This is Samantha, my brother Osman’s wife, who recently moved here from New York. She can help you acclimatize to Ubarite culture.”

  “I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” Tall, blonde and gorgeous, with an inviting smile, Sam shook her hand warmly. “And I suspect learning the language will be a lifetime’s work, but you couldn’t find a more welcoming place.”

  Veronica smiled and murmured something. It almost sounded as if Sam expected her to live here too! What had Zadir told these people about her? />
  “And this is my brother Osman, her husband.” Osman was even taller than Zadir and almost as handsome, with flashing green eyes. He wore a long white…whatever those man-dresses were called. He kissed her hand, and she tried to act like that was a perfectly normal greeting.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you, Veronica. Welcome to Ubar. Please make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you,” she stammered, before Zadir propelled her toward another tall and unnaturally handsome man with similarly bold features.

  “This is my baby brother, Amahd.” Amahd shot a scolding look at him, then he smiled and shook her hand firmly.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Veronica. We certainly need help building infrastructure here if we plan to bring full employment and education to our people. I look forward to working with you.” Amahd wore practical western attire—jeans and a shirt—and his demeanor was definitely the most businesslike of the three. She liked that about him.

  Zadir pulled out a carved wood chair for her, and she enjoyed the gentlemanly gesture. He sat next to her and offered her a platter of almond cookies, a flaky baklaa-like pastry, and some little tarts. They’d eaten on the airplane so she wasn’t starving, but they looked delicious and she took one of each.

  “Rosewater limeade,” he murmured as he filled a fluted glass edged with what was probably real gold. “Roses are a big part of our culture.” The drink was sweet and delicious, the scent of roses almost stronger than the subtle kick of lime.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “You’re surprised.” Amusement danced in his dark blue eyes. “I hope that Ubar will be full of such pleasant surprises.”

  “Is it okay if I call you Ronnie?” Sam called from across the table.

  “Sure.” She felt a twinge of anxiety, like some kind of future-in-laws inquisition was about to begin.

  “Zadir told us you flew in from D.C. Is that where you’re originally from?”

  “I’m from New York but I worked for an architectural firm in D.C. when I first graduated from school. When I went out on my own it made sense to stay. I love the city.”