The Sheik's Safety. Dana Marton

but in the last split second he threw it instead—with force.

      She didn’t have time to think. Instinct pushed her forward. She caught a glimpse of surprise on Saeed’s face before he propelled himself at her to knock her out of the way, taking her to the ground. He had already thrown his own dagger.

      It hit its mark.

      She stared at the attacker’s limp body not ten feet from them, then noticed that Saeed, on top of her, wasn’t moving either.

      Was he hit? She turned her head to look at him.

      His blue eyes stared at her with such intensity she couldn’t breathe. His muscular body pressed into hers. The adrenaline of the fight still pumped through her veins, every nerve ending alive. Having the prince of the desert lying on her did nothing to settle her down. “I—”

      Voices filtered in from outside. A dozen or so men poured into the tent with guns drawn. The first few pulled up short, looking from them to the dead man.

      After Saeed came to his feet, she sat up, grateful for the air that was slowly returning to her lungs. Any minute now and her brain would start working, too. She hoped.

      One of the men said something she didn’t understand. Must have been a joke, because the rest of them laughed.

      Saeed talked to them in Arabic, and they quieted. One of them responded before they backed out, taking the body with them.

      “We will talk. Now.” He closed the flap before he stepped to her and extended a hand to help her up.

      She ignored it and stood on her own.

      He lit a lamp.

      Oops. She stepped forward. She’d been lying in his bed. They’d been lying in his bed.

      He flooded her senses. And he wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, looking at her. She had to get a grip. He wasn’t the first handsome man she’d come across. In the SDDU, men outnumbered women twenty to one, all of them well-built, powerful, in their prime. But none of them had ever unnerved her the way this one did.

      And she couldn’t put it down to adrenaline. Not all of it.

      She had experienced attraction at first sight before, but never this strong, and her rational mind had usually talked her out of it. At the moment, her rational mind wasn’t functioning.

      He was a hairbreadth from her. She didn’t recall either of them moving.

      He touched his lips to hers and she fell into his kiss. Plummeted.

      And it was like silk, and honey, and going home. Familiar, as if she’d known him before and they had kissed like this, perhaps in a dream that she had long forgotten.

      The tent disappeared from around them, and the desert, and their countries. They had no separate identities, but a man and a woman joined together as one, floating under the stars.

      And after an eternity, she felt a nudge of conscience and drew away.

      “Don’t do that again,” she said, realizing her protest was too weak and too late. She hadn’t exactly kicked and screamed when the prince of the desert had had her in a lip lock.

      It helped that he looked as stunned as she felt. Took a little off the edge of her anger, though not enough to let it go.

      “Just because you saved my life, it doesn’t mean that you can take liberties with my body.” Better make that clear now if they were to work together.

      He inclined his head. “I apologize.”

      “I do, too.” The bluster went out of her all of a sudden. She was here to do a job. What she had just done fell miles outside the borders of professional conduct.

      Better focus on the task ahead. She drew her spine straight and tall.

      “I haven’t been completely honest before. My name is Dara Alexander. I work for the United States government. My orders are to protect you.”

      His face hardened as he stepped back. “Absolutely not.”

      SAEED SWALLOWED HIS ANGER, damning his rising lust that proved to be harder to control. So she was military. He wasn’t surprised. Her camouflage uniform; her skill with the knife; the efficient, in control way she moved supported her claim. “You don’t have a dog tag.”

      “I’m in a special unit.”

      “And what unit would that be? The kind that engages in unauthorized missions in foreign countries?”

      She remained silent, but from the carefully blank look on her face he knew he had hit close. “You must leave.”

      The woman folded her arms. “I have my orders.” Her body language made it clear she had no intention of going anywhere.

      As skeptical as he had been about her amnesia, he believed her now. The picture slowly forming in his head fit her.

      “You have to leave us,” he said again, trying to be patient. “After you recover, of course.” She was a guest in his tent and, in the desert, hospitality to strangers was the law of the land. Three days was customary. Required. Even if the man who walked into your camp was your worst enemy. A Bedu breaking the custom would have brought shame to his family for generations. A sheik who did not offer hospitality brought shame to his whole tribe.

      “You’re welcome in my tent until we leave for Tihrin. Then I’ll take you to your people.”

      She nodded, but he didn’t think she was really agreeing. Stubbornness was written all over her beautiful face, apparent in the stiff set of her shoulders. She was buying time.

      “In the meanwhile, I’m going to need some weapons,” she said with an easy smile, confirming his suspicions.

      “You are not my bodyguard. You are my guest.” The sooner she accepted that the better.

      “No offense, but it looks to me like you aren’t exactly Mr. Popularity these days.” She gave him a pointed look. “Even if I didn’t guard you, I would still need something to protect myself. We’ve been attacked twice in two days. Sharing your company could be hazardous for my health.”

      She had a point there. She had come into danger because of him. He watched her face for a few moments. “You were attacked in my home. I apologize. It is my duty to protect my guests.”

      “You’ll give me a gun then?”

      She was tenacious—a most unbecoming trait in a woman. “No.”

      “You know, you’re a real piece of work. Can I at least have my knives back?”

      He watched her eyes, trying to read her true intent. Could she be trusted?

      “If any of my people come to harm at your hand, you will answer to me.” He reached under one of the pillows and pulled the knives out, handed them to her. “It will matter not that you are a woman.”

      She nodded.

      He hoped she was smart enough to heed his words. “Tell me what you are doing in my country.”

      “Fighting terrorism.”

      “And your presence here is authorized by our government?” He waited to see if she would lie. King Majid had turned his back on his foreign allies as soon as they first began to criticize his methods of ruling.

      “I’m a soldier. I’m not privy to government negotiations. I get an order, I follow it.”

      “You think I have ties to terrorists?”

      She shook her head. “But I think the people who are trying to kill you might.”

      He had considered that. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. Majid was determined to keep power. He would support anyone who supported him, never realizing what harm he might do in the long term.

      “So you were dropped in the middle