The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition. Jennifer Lewis

propping muscled arms behind his head. “Since the project’s going so smoothly I’m afraid I may lose you before we have time to become properly reacquainted. I find myself wanting to hinder your progress.”

      His words were a splash of icy water on Celia’s lust heated skin. He spoke so easily of “losing her.” No doubt if she didn’t get lost by herself, he’d give her a neat shove out of his life again.

      She stumbled for the door and pushed out into the sunlight, raking a hand through her long, tangled hair.

      Why did she let this happen?

      She came here to participate in an interesting project, earn good money … and tell him about Kira.

      She certainly hadn’t come here to sleep with him at the first opportunity.

      Common sense deserted her entirely when Salim was around. She knew that. So why had she let herself be tempted into his bed?

      Salim clearly saw this as an opportunity to enjoy her body and revel in the warm light of old memories, before he left her behind—yet again—and got on with his own life. Which, as she knew from long, painful experience, did not include her.

      Or Kira.

      How could she do anything so stupid? Had she thought that suddenly everything was different and he loved her?

      A hard blast of air escaped her lungs. What an idiot she was!

      She hurried along a neat brick walkway under a row of lush palms, keeping her eyes down so as not to make contact with any of the gardeners pulling dead fronds from the trees and sweeping the paths.

      And what was her excuse now for not telling him about his daughter? They’d been alone all night in bed and she could have blurted the truth at any moment.

      But the moment never seemed right.

      Dammit, the moment would never be right.

      She lowered her eyes as two hotel managers passed her on the path, with a hushed glance at her rumpled finery. Shadows slashed like knives across the path, as sun crept through the palms.

      Oh, how he’d hate her if he knew the magnitude of the secret she still kept hidden while she lay naked in his arms.

      How in the world would she ever tell him now?

      Five

      Salim’s chest filled with pride as they approached the gates of the lost city. He was driving the new seven-seater SUV he’d bought to accommodate his newly expanded family, and the children played cheerfully in the rear-facing backseat, while Elan and Sara exclaimed over their first sight of the new complex.

      “It’s amazing the way it just rises up out of the sand,” Sara said as she leaned forward. “I love the crisp whiteness of the buildings here. Maybe we should paint our house white?” She turned to Elan. “I think you painted it the exact same color as the land around it so that no one could find you.”

      Elan chuckled. “You’re probably right. I didn’t want anyone to find me, until you came along.”

      Salim smiled. His brother was obviously very happy, despite his unconventional marriage. He hoped he’d soon feel as settled and content himself.

      “How come Celia isn’t with us?” Sara’s question deflated his momentary joy.

      Guilt pricked him.

      Sleeping with Celia last night was wrong on so many levels.

      “She’s here already. At least that’s what my assistant told me. She came to supervise a delivery of plants. I’m sure we’ll run into her.” Would he even be able to look her in the eye in front of his family?

      He’d taken advantage of her, knowing full well that their relationship—as always—had no future.

      Sometimes he cursed the fact that he was the eldest son. That the burden of tradition and the future of the Al Mansur family rested with him.

      But it did. Simple as that.

      He pulled up inside the open gates and helped everyone out.

      “It’s loud.” Little Ben covered his ears with his hands. Salim didn’t usually notice such things, but there were quite a few pieces of machinery in motion.

      “That’s the sound of progress,” Salim said as he bent down to pick him up. “You can’t make things beautiful without some noise. Haven’t you been to your dad’s work sites?”

      “No!” Sara laughed. “He’s too young. And so far he’s looking more like an artist than an oilman.”

      “You like to draw?” Salim peered into Ben’s bright eyes.

      The child nodded. “And paint. And I like to make up stories, but I don’t know how to write them down yet.”

      “He’s a genius,” proclaimed Elan proudly.

      Salim nodded. “He’ll be the next Leonardo da Vinci.” He stroked the boy’s soft cheek. “You’ll put the Al Mansur name on the map, won’t you?”

      “I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself,” said Elan.

      Salim snorted. “A few hotels, nothing more. I hope to make this area a popular tourist destination. It’s good for our economy and provides work for the people.”

      “It’s a lot more than that,” Sara gushed as she walked forward, wide-eyed. “This is incredible. It’s a whole city out in the middle of the desert.”

      Warmth surged inside him. “I can’t take all the credit. The city was always here—we just found it and dusted it off again.”

      “It’s breathtaking. Look at the artistry.” A ribbon of painted frieze ran along the wall of a building next to them, and turned the corner onto another crisp, cobbled street.

      “My architect hired talented craftsmen. It’s been a joy to bring so much talent together in one place.”

      “Speaking of which, there’s Celia. Goodness, look at those beautiful trees. What kind of bush is that?”

      “I have no idea. Celia knows far more about Omani plants than I do at this point.” Her knowledge and expertise floored him. And the pleasure she took in her work made it a joy to behold.

      Salim’s heart ached with trepidation as they approached. What a night they’d spent together. A taste of heaven in the one pair of arms he could never resist.

      He cursed his own weakness.

      His torment was worsened by the sight of those faded jeans she wore. They hugged her long, strong legs and cupped her firm backside. She was reaching up to prune a branch as they approached, and her pale yellow T-shirt lifted to reveal a sliver of slim waist.

      Arousal flashed through him, heating his blood and bruising his ego.

      Had he no self-control around this woman?

      “Hello, Celia.” He managed the gruff greeting with a poker face. “Hard at work, as usual.”

      He didn’t want the others to know about their tryst last night. Elan might tease him mercilessly, or worse, try to make more of it than it was.

      She turned. Her face glowed with exertion, and he could swear her cheeks grew pinker at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

      Her blue eyes glowed with excitement that only fanned his desire.

      “What kind of question is that?” He tried to act casual. “It’s my newest resort, not to mention the home of my ancestors.” He attempted a smile. “This is where I should be.”

      He tried to keep his eyes on her face, to ignore the way her thin cotton T-shirt draped over her chest.

      She pushed a strand of damp hair off her face, and dusted off her jeans as the others