Susan Stephens - In The Sheikh's Service

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.