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

      “I don’t take a project unless I can implement my plans fully.”

      Ah. An uncompromising artist. He’d expect no less of Celia. Wasn’t that part of her irresistible charm?

      Salim called her bluff. “Sure.”

      She blinked and her lips parted.

      “Not all of them,” she stammered.

      Salim turned to stare out at the empty road ahead. She wanted him to be one of those unimaginative suits, so she could turn down his project without a qualm.

      But he couldn’t let that happen. He’d make it impossible.

      Seeing her again had already fanned that unfortunate flame of desire she kindled in him. It had never truly gone out. This time he wouldn’t be done with her until it was extinguished — permanently.

       THE DESERT PRINCE JENNIFER LEWIS

       AND

       THE PLAYBOY’S PROPOSITION LEANNE BANKS

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       THE DESERT PRINCE

       JENNIFER LEWIS

      ACKNOWLEDGMENT

      Thanks once again to all the wonderful people who read this book while I wrote it: Anne, Anne-Marie, Carol, Cynthia, Jerri, Leeanne, Marie, Mel, my agent Andrea and my editor Diana.

      About the Author

      JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. Happily settled in England with her family, she would love to hear from readers at [email protected]. Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com.

      For my sister Caroline,

       whose adventurous spirit and creativity

       are an inspiration.

      Dear Reader,

      My first book, The Boss’s Demand, told the story of the unfortunate but irresistible attraction between oil magnate Elan Al Mansur and his assistant Sara. Since it was published, I’ve received many e-mails asking whether there would be stories coming for Elan’s brothers, who appear in the wedding at the end of the book.

      I’m happy to say this is the story of one of those brothers. Salim Al Mansur, the dignified eldest in the family, never quite got over his college sweetheart Celia. Now he finds himself in dangerously close proximity as she designs the grounds for his newest hotel.

      This book takes the reader to Elan and Salim’s hometown of Salalah, Oman, an ancient coastal city looking out over the blue waters of the Arabian Sea. I had fun catching up with Elan and Sara while I wrote this book, and I hope you enjoy Salim and Celia’s reunion romance.

       Jen

      One

       Did he know?

      Celia Davidson took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking.

      The Arabian Sea glittered outside the window of the elegant hotel offices, lapping against a ribbon of pure white sand.

      The beach had probably been trucked in, along with the palm trees and the elegant hotel villas that lined its shores. With enough money you could remake anything.

      Make it look as though the past had never happened.

      The elaborately carved door in front of her opened and her stomach clenched in response.

      “Mr. Al Mansur will see you now.” His well-coiffed assistant smiled politely.

      Celia brushed at her jacket, rumpled by the long journey from New York to Oman, and tucked a flyaway strand of mousy blond hair behind her ear.

      Silly. He hadn’t brought her here to rekindle their on-again, off-again romance.

      Or had he?

      That certainly wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t give him another chance to crush her heart beneath his heel.

      And there was a lot more at stake now.

      A rustling of papers from inside the office made her heart stutter, but she bravely took a step inside. Crisp white walls framed a high domed ceiling and two arched windows laid a spectacular view of the sea-lined horizon at her feet.

      An antique desk filled the center of the room, its shiny surface devoid of clutter. Behind it, facing the windows, the broad back of a leather armchair concealed its occupant.

      Her anxiety ratcheted up a notch as the chair swung to face her. Dark eyes locked onto hers. Black hair swept back from the aristocratic face and his wide, arrogant mouth sat in a hard line.

      Unfortunately, he was every bit as handsome as when she’d last seen him, almost four years ago.

      “Celia.” He rose from the chair and strode toward her.

      Blood rushed to Celia’s head and she struggled to keep her feet steady on the thick carpet.

      “Hello,” she stammered. She extended her fingers and slid them into his large hand. A jolt of energy startled her, though it shouldn’t since he’d always had that effect on her.

      Her heart still ached from the last time he’d brushed her off and slammed the doors of his life against her—again.

      Was that why she’d come? He’d finally invited her into the inner sanctum and she couldn’t resist a chance to walk the glittering floors and fondle the treasures he’d never shown her before.

      His eyes were expressionless as his palm pressed against hers, the formal gesture a stark contrast to the intimacy they once shared.

      She pulled her hand back, skin humming.

      Salim’s stern good looks had always intimidated her as much as they’d attracted her. His tailored suit barely concealed the muscled body she remembered far too well.

      “Thank you for coming.” He smiled and gestured for her to take a seat. “As you’ve been told, I’m planning a land reclamation project. I understand that you specialize in sensitive treatment of ecologically challenging sites.”

      Celia blinked. Apparently he intended to gloss over the fact that they’d slept together the last time they met.

      Focus. “I’ve worked on a number of desert projects, including an oil field in West Texas that I restored to native short grass prairie. I’m experienced with the issues involved and I—”

      “Yes. I read your online portfolio.” He turned and strode away from her. His broad shoulders tapered to his slim waist, accentuated by the well-cut suit.

      He hadn’t bothered to attend her presentation at the conference where they’d had their steamy tryst. No doubt he had more important things to do.

      Silenced by his brusque comment, she scanned her surroundings. Pictureless walls and ornament-free shelves. The only decoration was a gold-sheathed dagger that hung on the wall.

      Probably used to pierce his business rivals.

      She knew he was capable of utter ruthlessness. He’d cut her adrift without a backward glance.

      Twice.

      Though, really, she had only herself to blame for letting