One Hot Desert Night. KRISTI GOLD

long has it been since you have been with a woman, Rayad?”

      Too long to admit to any other man. “I have been infiltrating several insurgent encampments for the past eight months, or do you not recall giving that directive?”

      Rafiq released a rough sigh. “Perhaps you should take this opportunity and use it to locate a suitable mate.”

      He had heard the same suggestions from his parents, as if they expected him to discard the pain and remorse. Clearly, no one understood that he only wanted to sate his natural desire, not settle into an ordinary life. “Even if I consented to wed as you and my father suggest, suitable brides in Bajul are rare, Rafiq. Most are married or too young.”

      Rafiq scowled. “Must you make this so difficult? You are free to travel to another region if necessary. I am certain your father can locate prospects in Dubai.”

      In an effort to quell the subject, Rayad returned to the window where he glimpsed the official armored limousine arriving at the entrance. When the driver rounded the car and opened the door, a lithe woman exited the vehicle, the afternoon sun glinting off her long blond hair. Her clothing was somewhat conservative and nondescript, yet she moved with the grace of a gazelle. As she removed the sunshades covering her eyes and glanced up at the window where he now stood, Rayad was struck by her beauty, and immediately reminded of his unwelcome abstinence.

      Forcing his gaze away, he regarded Rafiq over one shoulder. “Are you expecting a guest? Specifically a female guest?”

      “That is accurate,” Rafiq said. “She will be staying here for an indeterminate amount of time.”

      He thrust his hands in his pockets and slowly began to pace the area. “Is she wed?”

      The king presented his best scowl. “No, she is not, but I caution you to stay away from her, Rayad.”

      He paused midstride and turned toward his suddenly irritable cousin. “Why? Are you interested in bedding her?”

      “Of course not,” Rafiq said. “If you recall, I have a bride.”

      He could not resist the urge to bait the king. “This is true, but perhaps you have decided to reinstate ancient customs and populate a harem.”

      Rafiq’s venomous look revealed he did not appreciate the conjecture. “The woman is Adan’s sister-in-law. Should you trifle with her, you will have to answer to him, your commander in chief, as well as Piper, his wife.”

      That did not deter Rayad from exploring all possibilities. “Does this woman have a name?”

      “Sunny McAdams. She is an international correspondent, and I highly doubt she would be interested in engaging in a temporary affair with you, if that is what you are considering. It is my understanding she has recently dissolved a relationship with a colleague.”

      What better way to temporarily move past loss than with mutual passion? Of course, she would have to be willing. He had never taken from a woman what she refused to give. He never would. “I appreciate your counsel, cousin,” he said as he backed toward the door. “I assure you I will take your concerns into consideration.” And promptly ignore them.

      “That would be wise, Rayad, and I suggest...”

      Rayad closed the door on the king before he had a chance to finish his lecture. At the moment, he intended to give the palace guest an appropriate greeting.

      He thrived on the chase, lived for the challenge in all aspects of his life and at times yearned for a respite from his mission of revenge. Erotic fantasy was his specialty, sex his second calling. When he set his sights on a conquest, he ignored all obstacles that stood in the way of achieving his goal. Yet one goal he had never achieved...

      Refusing to relive the regrets, Rayad decided the woman with the golden hair would be worth his best efforts to know her, if only for a brief time. If they decided they did not suit each other, so be it. Yet if they did, then the world was rife with possibilities, including a journey into pure pleasure...and a brief escape from the sins of his past.

      * * *

      Although the mountainous terrain qualified as breathtaking, and the majestic palace looming before her storybook-worthy, Sunny McAdams didn’t have the presence of mind to appreciate the enchanting scenery. She sought only solace, a refuge in which to reclaim her courage and return to the woman she once had been.

      A few months ago, she’d come to this obscure Middle Eastern country called Bajul to visit her beloved fraternal twin sister, Piper, who’d married a bona-fide Arabian prince. That day, she had been happy with life, secure in her job as a journalist and comfortably settled into a casual relationship with a really good guy. Two weeks later, everything had fallen apart. Now she felt terribly sad and a whole lot alone. Beaten down, but not broken. No one could ever break her, even those who had tried.

      Yet for some reason, she felt as if someone might be watching her. Then again, her paranoia had grown by leaps and bounds since the kidnapping. Lately everyone appeared to be the enemy, from cab drivers to convenience-store workers.

      As much as she hated to admit it, she needed family now, Piper in particular. Their personality differences had never interfered when it came to sensing each other’s emotional needs. And that connection had led to her sister’s invitation to visit for however long it took for Sunny to regroup.

      As she stood by the car and waited for further instruction, she didn’t possess enough energy to insist that she was quite capable of opening her own door and carrying her own luggage. Luggage was definitely an overstatement when describing the lone duffel bag and small carry-on case now in the hands of an attendant all decked out in white muslin. She’d learned to travel light and pack very little in the course of her work. Covering breaking news in some of the most obscure places on earth required only minimal supplies. At least today she’d exchanged the khakis and T-shirts for black slacks and a white, tailored, buttoned-up blouse, as dressed up as she’d been in quite a while.

      When the driver gestured toward the entry, two beefy guards opened the heavy, wooden double doors, allowing her access to the ornate Mehdi palace. And after she stepped inside, her footsteps echoed in the three-story foyer as she followed the man with her bag, passing several golden statuettes and exquisite artwork.

      The attendant paused before the towering staircase, turned and set the duffel onto the polished stone floor near Sunny’s feet. “If you will kindly wait here, I will summon your sister,” he said, his tone thick with a Middle Eastern accent.

      “Of course,” she replied politely, although she wasn’t sure why she had to wait. She couldn’t imagine Piper had forgotten she was due to arrive at this hour. Then again, considering her sibling had stepped into the role of mother to the sheikh’s infant son, she could have been detained by a wet diaper.

      As the minutes ticked off, Sunny passed the time studying several portraits of regal-looking royals lining the stone walls, including the current king, the stoic and darkly handsome Rafiq Mehdi and his debonair brother, Zain. She then paused at the painting depicting the lighter-haired Adan, the youngest Mehdi son, and her new brother-in-law. She had to admit Piper had landed herself one good-looking pilot-prince, and the person who’d painted this picture had nailed every detail, right down to the guy’s dimples.

      After Sunny leaned over to better see the artist’s signature, she immediately straightened from shock when she noted her twin’s familiar handwriting. She then backtracked and checked every painting to find that Piper had created each and every one, and she’d done a darn good job. Finally, her sister had realized her overdue dream of becoming an artist. And she’d become a princess in the process. Amazing.

      “Not too shabby at all,” she muttered aloud. “It’s about time you were wrested from our grandfather’s clutches.”

      “Parental influences can be a challenge.”

      Sunny’s hand automatically went to her throat as she spun around in search of the owner of the darkly masculine voice...and contacted the most intense near-black eyes she’d