I Married A Sheikh. Sharon De Vita

their beauty.

      Faith shifted her gaze. In the middle of this opulence, behind the desk, sat a large dark-haired man engrossed in a telephone conversation, totally oblivious to her.

      He didn’t even bother to glance up.

      “Mr. El-Etra,” she said, storming across the plush navy-blue carpeting to plant her tennis shoes squarely in front of his desk. “Mr. El-Etra,” she repeated, more firmly this time. She was close enough now to see the family crest of gold inlaid in the top of the magnificent desk. It was a remarkable piece of work and almost had her gaping again at such decadent extravagance.

      The man’s custom-tailored suit in a subtle gray pin-stripe probably cost more than her annual rent. If you added the custom-tailored monogrammed white shirt, it could probably cover her grocery budget for a time as well.

      Terrific, she thought sourly, letting her gaze slip around the room again.

      Annoyingly rude, unbelievably rich, and no doubt irresponsibly spoiled. Her three least favorite things about a man, let alone a client.

      She planted her hands on his desk. “Mr. El-Etra, I appreciate that your investment firm is an important and integral part of the business community. However, you need to understand that my time is no less important or valuable.” Faith paused to take a breath, vividly aware that the dark-haired man was not in the least bit aware of her.

      Or her tirade.

      He was so engrossed in his telephone conversation, she could have been an ant on the floor for all the attention he’d given her.

      However, the rather nervous assistant now hovering at her elbow seemed about to swallow his tongue—if the bulging of his eyes and the nervous tic in his cheek were any indication.

      Faith took a step closer to the gleaming cherry desk, her temper inching upward by the second as she glared at the man. It wasn’t enough that he had kept her waiting for almost two hours, now he had the audacity to ignore her!

      “Mr. El-Etra!” She rapped on his desk with her knuckles. He never even flinched. “Your managing director called me this morning and insisted I come immediately, that your computer problems were of an urgent nature, but it certainly can’t be that urgent if you’ve kept me cooling my heels in your waiting room for almost an hour and a half.”

      “Uh…Miss Martin…” The assistant held a finger in the air. “It’s—it’s not Mr. El-Etra,” he corrected softly.

      Faith blinked at him and felt a momentary skitter of alarm. Good Lord, had she stormed into the wrong office? She almost groaned. That would be a perfect end to a perfectly dreadful day.

      She took a careful breath. “Excuse me?”

      “It’s Sheik El-Etra.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve wasted almost two hours of my valuable time and now you’re going to get picky about titles?” Her voice rose as she took a step closer to him, forcing him to take a self-protective step back.

      In addition to cooling her heels in the outer office, she’d missed lunch and had sat for nearly two hours in rush-hour traffic in order to keep this blasted appointment.

      She’d been unusually nervous and excited when she’d received the call, well aware of the prominence of the El-Etra Investment Firm, and what having its name on her client list could do for her successful, but still not-over-the-hump computer consulting business.

      Nerves, however, had finally given way to an inexplicable bout of temper. She was successful, in demand, and had garnered an impeccable reputation in the business community and was not accustomed to being treated like a bad-tempered stepchild.

      “Ms. Martin.” The assistant’s lashes fluttered nervously. “I’m certain—”

      “No, Mr. Kadid, I’m certain that your boss’s title is of the utmost importance to you.” Planting her hands on her slender jean-clad hips, she turned to glare at the man still engrossed in his telephone conversation. “But trust me on this, I couldn’t care less what you call him, although I’m quite certain I could come up with a few names on my own.” She gave her head an arrogant toss.

      “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really don’t have time for this nonsense. Give my regrets to the sheik,” she snapped, deliberately giving his title a great deal more emphasis than necessary as she turned and marched toward the doors. “Tell him when he gets serious about his business to give me a call. Until then, don’t bother wasting my time.” Muttering under her breath, Faith stormed back toward the still-open double doors, muttering imprecations under her breath.

      “Miss Martin.” The very deep, slightly accented voice caught Faith off guard, stopping her in her tracks. She hesitated for a moment as that voice seemed to reverberate along her nerve endings like an unwelcome caress. A shiver raced over her and she turned on her heel in curiosity to stare at the man that voice belonged to.

      He’d hung up the phone, and was now standing, drawn to his full, elegant height, and Faith resisted the urge to take a step back. She had to tilt her head to take in the full length of him.

      Magnetic was the first and only word that came to mind, crowding everything else out. With his proud, regal bearing, and dark good looks, his presence was forceful, incredibly masculine and magnetic.

      Magnificent was the second word that popped into her mind. He was, she decided, one incredibly magnificent-looking male.

      At the moment, however, he was also apparently annoyed, judging from the stormy look in those dark, smoldering eyes. Her chin rose a notch.

      Too bad.

      So was she.

      Unwilling to be intimidated by his looks or his posture, Faith took a step closer.

      She’d been too irritated to pay much attention to his features before, but now she could see he was, in a word, incredible. Much more elegant and handsome than in the silly society photos where he was usually photographed with some bubbling, beautiful airhead clinging to his arm like sticky flypaper.

      Burnished olive skin, deeply etched features, a thin, elegant mouth, large dark eyes and a head of thick black hair made him like look a renegade pirate from another age. An unconscious shiver raced over her as she felt the full force of that masculine pull.

      That was until she reminded herself of his reputation as a playboy who went through women faster than a termite through rotted wood. She pretty much knew this was not a man she was going to have much in common with.

      He reminded her too much of her father. Another handsome, irresponsible playboy who’d cared little for those who’d cared for him, less for the broken hearts he left behind.

      Faith almost shivered. She’d made it a practice to steer clear of this type of man. Thank God she didn’t have to deal with him on a personal level. She didn’t have much patience for immature male nonsense, and what little she’d had her father had worn out years ago.

      Having to deal with this man professionally was going to be more than enough, judging from this first encounter.

      “Ms. Martin.” There was a hint of annoyance in his tone and Faith took a step closer, wondering what the heck he had to be annoyed about.

      “I believe we have an appointment?” One dark brow lifted in an imperious manner, only further annoying her. Impenetrable dark eyes stared levelly at her, as if taking her measure.

      “Had,” she corrected, marching back toward him, feeling as if his twin nearly black eyes could see through her. “Had an appointment, Mr…. Sheik El-Etra.” She tapped the face of her no-nonsense sports watch. It matched the rest of her no-nonsense outfit. “Almost two hours ago.”

      “It’s Ali,” he said quietly.

      Faith blinked again, trying to shake off the shivers that deeply masculine voice had caused. It was an exotic blend, deep, smooth, with just a hint of an accent. “Excuse me?”

      “It’s