In The Sheikh's Service. Susan Stephens

called out.

      ‘Of course I will,’ Isla teased Chrissie. Privately, Isla doubted that the Sheikh would be seen until His Royal Sereneness turned up to cut the ribbon on his new buildings and declare them open. In her imagination, the Sheikh of Q’Aqabi was as hard as nails, as rich as Croesus, and as tall, dark and sinister as could be—but compulsively enthralling, all the same.

      Realistically, Isla reflected as she got back to her work, the Sheikh was probably shrivelled, pot-bellied, and grumpier than Charlie.

      * * *

      Young. Challenging. Proud. Interesting. But too innocent for him, and he didn’t have time to waste on challenges. Interesting? Isla was certainly interesting.

      Would he pursue his interest in her further?

      Stuffing the twenty away in the back pocket of his jeans, he stared after her. She was proud, and he got that. She’d been offended by money. How would she react if he offered more? Money could buy most things in his world...

      But could it buy him everything he wanted?

      He doubted that any amount of money could buy Isla. Her grey eyes had flashed fire when she’d seen the twenty. She’d no doubt guessed he was responsible for padding her wages last night. She was resourceful and adaptable. She was also an innocent who had trespassed unwittingly into his dark, sensual world. He wondered about her past experience with men. She was attractive, so there must have been some, though her air of innocence suggested that none had breached either the defences of her body or her heart. He should know better than to play games with a girl like that, but she attracted him. Mild on the outside, she reminded him of a volcano about to erupt, and he wanted to be there when that happened.

      He found her beautiful, with that particular peach-like complexion so common in this part of the world. Her hair was rain-soaked, but he remembered it from the club, when it had been long and unruly, and had glittered gold beneath the lights. Her eyes were grey and expressive. Small and lush, she warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a long time, and her strength of character warned there would never be a dull moment. He liked that idea. As a mistress, she showed definite potential, but could he take her innocence and then discard her when he’d had enough?

      A casual affair was unthinkable for him. He had everything to prove to his country. His reckless youth, and the tragedy that had detonated, would take a lifetime to repay. He would do nothing to rattle the sound foundations he was building in Q’Aqabi. His duty was to find a suitable bride. He did not have time to waste thinking about a new mistress. He must harden his heart to Isla, even as another part of him hardened in lust.

      He summoned his colleagues in the hope that work would distract him, but, however many lectures he gave himself on the subject of forgetting Isla, he couldn’t help but anticipate the next coffee break, and another encounter with the spirited barista.

      * * *

      She didn’t go back to the building site. She came up with another plan. Coffee could be left with the security guard, and he could deliver it. Charlie readily agreed to this. They were so busy, he couldn’t spare his staff for any more lengthy visits.

      The following day Chrissie took over for her, as Isla had to be at the library. She wasn’t exactly avoiding a certain person, but she wasn’t exactly courting trouble, either. She wasn’t used to handling such a compelling man, and she didn’t want to appear as if she was overly interested in him. She had the best of excuses. As the prize winner, she was expected to be on duty at the library when the Sheikh of Q’Aqabi finally arrived to tour the university facilities. The head librarian welcomed her with particular enthusiasm as Isla knew more than most about successful breeding programmes of endangered species, having majored in that subject on her course.

      The Sheikh’s visit had provoked great excitement, and Isla was up earlier than usual getting ready for her duties at the library. She didn’t want to let anyone down.

      Having tied her hair back neatly, she viewed her pale face in the mirror. She’d missed sparring with the tough guy from the building site, but today wasn’t a day for daydreams, but a day when she could do something to help repay the university that had been so good to her. Checking the lapels on her plain grey suit, she told herself firmly that her racing pulse had everything to do with finally meeting ‘the invisible Sheikh’, and nothing at all to do with the fact that she might have to cross the building site to get a coffee at some point in the day.

      To give herself confidence, she slipped on her red high-heeled shoes. She loved them. They were a sale buy, and so unlike her, but what better day to wear them than today?

      She wasn’t the only one who was excited, Isla discovered when she arrived at the library and the air of anticipation was infectious. It had transformed the customary silence of the hallowed halls into a tense and expectant waiting room.

      The Sheikh of Q’Aqabi was pouring money into the university, and had donated several ancient manuscripts from his private collection. The head librarian explained that he would want to view them, and that was where Isla would step in.

      She glanced at the entrance doors yet again. Whatever he looked like, the Sheikh was obviously a fascinating man. Closing her eyes, she drew a steadying breath. Being in the library usually soothed her, but not today. And then she heard a buzz of conversation, heralding the arrival of the vice chancellor and his party. She prepared herself for the sight of a sheikh dressed in flowing robes, and was quite disappointed when the tweedy academics arrived with a group of men in business suits.

      But spearheading that group was—

      She lurched to her feet, the scrape of her chair screeching through the silence.

      Everyone turned to look at her. The man from the building site stared straight at her as if she were the only thing of interest in the entire, echoing space.

      Why hadn’t he said?

      Why was she so slow on the uptake?

      She realised now that the man who had told her to call him Shaz was, in fact, His Serene Majesty, Sheikh Shazim bin Khalifa al Q’Aqabi, the major benefactor of the university, and her number one sparring partner.

      And he was definitely not pot-bellied, or shrivelled, nor could his expression be called grumpy. Commanding, maybe. Faintly amused, definitely. And no wonder when he’d seen her in so many guises.

      Maybe he’d known all along. Maybe he’d been playing games with her. His security team had surely supplied His Majesty with a full breakdown of everyone he was likely to meet on campus.

      And now he was here in her library—the place she loved and felt safest and most at home in; the world of books, where adventures were safely contained within their pages—

      There was nothing safe in His Majesty’s eyes.

      She stood stiffly as he approached, glad that he couldn’t hear her heart beating.

      ‘Your Majesty...’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to curtsey.

      ‘No need to curtsey.’

      Her head shot up, and they exchanged a look—challenge, repaid by challenge. She could see the burn of humour in his dark, luminous eyes. He’d known she wouldn’t curtsey—and not because her manners were lacking in any way, but because she was frozen to the spot with surprise, and every inch of her was tingling with awareness.

      ‘And here we have our very own Athena,’ the vice chancellor stated with enthusiasm, forcing Isla to break eye contact with the royal visitor.

      She was standing to attention like a soldier on parade, she realised, trying to relax. She was never this tense. Forcing herself to look into His Majesty’s mocking eyes, she saw the flare of calculation in them as the vice chancellor continued to sing her praises.

      ‘Isla is our goddess of good order and wisdom, as well as strength and strategy,’ the vice chancellor continued, warming to his theme.

      ‘And warfare,’ the Sheikh added in an all too familiar husky tone with the faintest