Heather Graham (14 page)

Alex pretended a deep interest in her coffee. Sheriff hadn’t been around when D’Alesio had thrown her out of his hotel room, and he hadn’t heard D’Alesio laugh over her marriage proposal; neither had he been the one who was terrified and humiliated during the little “charade.”

“Have you finished?” Sheriff inquired politely.

Alex glanced at her plate in surprise. She had finished, barely tasting what she was eating after that first bite. She had been so carefully weighing all her answers because she wanted to become Sheriff’s friend. She had to get him to change his mind about insisting she leave the UAE.

“Yes, I have finished, thank you,” Alex said politely.

“Then come; you will walk with me. It is early yet In another hour or so I must start off for Haman’s with Dan, but until then …” He shrugged with his beautiful smile in place, teeth brilliantly white against his skin and dashing mustache. “Your own clothing has been laundered and returned. You will find it in the trunk beside your bed. If you wish to dress, I will wait outside for you.”

Alex quickly stood, murmuring a thank you.

Ali bowed and ducked beneath the flap. Alex quickly found her clothes where he had said they would be, dressed gratefully in lightning time and rejoined him.

“We will walk to the water,” he told her.

Alex noticed as they left her tent that Abbott and Costello were gone, but that they had been replaced by a new set of guards. Laurel and Hardy, she mentally dubbed the second pair. Laurel and Hardy followed behind them at a discreet distance.

Whereas nighttime had been peaceful and quiet, the morning was full of bustling activity. Boys and young girls tended flocks of sheep and goats, herding them through the trails between the tents toward the meager grasslands. Women were busy in front of their tents, gathering laundry, dousing cooking fires. An old man repaired a rent in his goatskin abode.

“Many of my tribesmen belong to the armed forces of the United Arab Emirates,” Ali explained as he led Alex along the trail to the water, the life center of the oasis. All whom they passed—male, female, child and adult—bowed graciously to the sheikh and stared quickly and curiously at her, but not long enough to be rude.

Water never appeared more beautiful than it did at an outpost in the desert. It shimmered aqua and the blue beneath the sun; it was one of the most beautiful sights Alex had ever seen. Young children were playing in it; women were washing clothes along the sandy banks.

Ali stooped to cup a handful of the liquid life, allowing it to drip through his fingers. “This must seem most strange to you, Dr. Randall,” he murmured. He glanced at her and grimaced. “But as you say, we are what we were raised to be. I have seen the majority of the world, Alex, and yet this—this place with no plumbing, no electricity—is where I choose to be. Oil has made us rich. But progress cannot be bought in a day or even in a year. It comes with time. And even then one must wonder how much progress he wishes to purchase! And oil! Across the Persian Gulf, the Iranians and the Iraqis murder one another for oil, for these riches …”

He stood, and his handsome face twisted into a grimace. “I love it here, Alex Randall. We are one of the last bastions of a truly romantic past. We offer perhaps the last of the Arabian nights. In time roads will sweep across the desert. We will build a railroad, and we will erect fine colleges. Our medicine will improve, and we will breed teachers and poets and scientists. We will join the contemporary world.” His grimace became a soft smile. “I begrudge that time coming, Alex, because all this will be gone—the simple beauty of water, the splendor of the horses racing across the sand, the honor that belongs only to men with simple needs.”

Alex hadn’t realized that she had reached out to touch him until her hand came into contact with his cheek. He glanced at her quickly and caught her hand, and as he read the empathy in her eyes, he lightly kissed the back of her hand, as if he were a French diplomat rather than a desert chieftain.

“I tell you all this,” Ali said, “because I still think it would be best if you were to go home. Our world is very different; I do not wish it to prove dangerous for you. However, I have given this situation serious contemplation. Marriage,” he teased her, eyes twinkling, “is a bit drastic. And I am the sheikh—the Arab. My name must stand to protect you. But it is not enough. Responsibility comes with power, and I already have grave responsibilities. Dan must therefore tell me that he will agree to be personally responsible for you—that he will be your protector. If he will do that”—Ali lifted his hands slightly—“then I too will agree that you may stay. Hopefully, between the two of us, you should be safe.”

Alex stooped to trail her fingers through the water. “Ali, I wish you would realize that I am responsible for myself. It is my choice to take risks, and it is my responsibility to accept the consequences. You …” Her voice became involuntarily husky and her breath seemed to catch in her heart for a moment. “You must try to understand. My father is my family. He is everything to me. I cannot leave without knowing—”

“I do understand,” Sheriff interrupted quietly. “But your being in danger will not help your father. The desert has strange laws, Alex. In our religion we believe in an eye for an eye. We believe in our customs, a way of life incredibly old. And also, in our blood, we believe in our wants and our desires and our tribes. We still hold fast to a wild beauty, Alex, but with it, we can also be dangerous to outsiders.”

Alex shook her head and touched the surface of the water again. “I don’t understand you, Ali.”

He laughed. “You are an exceptionally beautiful and unique woman, Alex—and willful! You need a lot of protection. Go work on D’Alesio again. You are a strong woman, yes, but still, as I said, a beautiful one! Surely you can charm a man! Dan is very self-sufficient and accustomed to his independence. It will not be easy for him to feel he must slow down for a woman, but still … he is a man, Alex. And if you wish to stay, I am afraid that I must insist we also have his agreement.”

“But he’ll never—” Alex broke off abruptly. She had been about to plead again that she was responsible for herself, but she realized her plea would fall upon deaf ears. Ali had decided. She was wasting her time trying to do anything other than confront D’Alesio again and beg and threaten until she forced him to agree.

“I won’t have much time to ‘work’ on him, I’m afraid,” Alex muttered. “Not if you two are leaving in an hour.”

“Then if I may,” Ali said lightly, “I will suggest that you start now!”

Alex glanced at up at the sheikh, then sprang to her feet with determination. “Where is he?”

Ali Sur Sheriff tossed back his head and laughed. “In the tent beyond yours, almost behind it. Go and wake him up. He is wasting the morning away.”

Alex hesitated a second, then spun to walk back upon the trail that had brought them to the water’s edge.

“Alex Randall!” the sheikh called after her.

She paused on her toes and spun back to face him.

“Good luck. I find you to be fascinating. I would enjoy having you as a guest much longer.”

Ali Sur Sheriff watched as the beautiful girl smiled, saluted him with a wave and turned to race off again.

She had something, he mused, something very special. And then he laughed again, because although he found himself growing fond of the American woman and did enjoy her company, he still logically felt she would be better off away from the Middle East, away from Cairo. For all they knew, Crosby might have been murdered.

But although he liked and admired her, and felt a great empathy for her, his actions were for the friend he loved like a brother. There were times when he might have been in grave trouble in the States. Dan, with his eloquent way with words and keen sense of danger, had pulled him out of many scrapes. And when he had broken up with his American wife, Dan had flown across two continents to help him and be beside him. But now, he felt, it was Dan who needed help—whether Dan thought so or not!

Dan had always managed women so easily. He was striking, he was a celebrity and he had a certain innate and primitively rugged sexuality that appealed instantly to the opposite sex.

He was a man basically unaware of his natural assets; he was always so intensely involved with the world that he would never have stopped to worry about his effect on people. Affairs came easily and naturally and usually ended when he moved on.

But what was it, Ali wondered, that seemed to come to all men? Was it age? Or the world itself. To most men came a time when they began to long for something solid, to need more than excitement, to crave a family and a home. With him that fulfillment had come with the acquisitions of his wives, one by one. With Dan, of course, fulfillment would be different. He was essentially a one-woman man, Ali was sure, simply looking for the right woman.

That one woman could be Alexandria, Randall. Oh, they appeared to clash like oil and water, but there was something else there, something that touched the air like electricity when they were together. Yes, Alex might very well be just what Dan needed, the perfect mate for him, body and soul. She was strong like the desert sun, yet gentle like the night breezes that cooled and soothed its heat. And, Ali thought a bit angrily, she deserved more of a man than what she had had. D’Alesio would never feel threatened by the strengths or intelligence of another person. He would admire such qualities, encourage them to their full potential.

I am trying to play Allah, Ali chastised himself. I am using my power to manipulate. He shrugged with a grin. What good was power if one didn’t occasionally use it? He had his responsibilities; he also deserved his enjoyments. And he was going to enjoy the electric storms to come, he thought with a laugh. Ah, yes, sparks were destined to fly.

He laughed aloud suddenly, wondering if Dan wouldn’t be tempted to come striding down to the water to give him a good right hook across the jaw if he knew his life was being manipulated. But Ali could be pretty damn good at guileless innocence when he chose.

And Crosby was missing. Ali owed the man’s daughter his protection. And he was going to need help. Who really could protect the girl better than Dan D’Alesio? And what better could he do for his friend than to hand him a sun-gold beauty.

Ali still chuckled lightly to himself as he started back for his own tent. One hundred years ago his forefathers would have made a similar gift to a respected friend. Poor Dr. Randall! She would be so terribly offended if she knew.

Little tiny prickles suddenly seemed to accost his skin, a sure warning that he was not alone. He jerked around, drawn instantly from a comfortable sleep. “Oh, Jesus!” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. “You again.”

She was sitting demurely at his kneecaps.

“Who else was I expecting?” he muttered in dry exasperation to the silken canopy above his head.

“Ali told me to wake you,” Alex said defensively.

“Of course,” Dan muttered caustically. “My bathroom … my bed. Maybe I ought to marry you. At least I wouldn’t be so startled to find you in all these places.”

Her lashes lowered and she stared silently at her hands. “Actually,” she began, “that—”

“Forget it,” Dan interrupted roughly. “I was being sarcastic. And can’t you ever take those damn things off?”

“I don’t want to marry you, D’Alesio,” she said a bit smugly. “All I need is—” She broke off as her eyes rose with startled surprise to meet his. “What things?”

“Those lashes.”

“No, I can’t take them off. They’re attached to my eyelids.”

Dan sat up and leaned closer to her, studiously inspecting her eyes. “They
are
for real!”

“Of course they’re real! What kind of idiot would run around the desert with false eyelashes!”

Dan suddenly laughed. “You don’t want me to answer that. But listen, since you’re sitting on my bed—and I sleep in the buff—why don’t you be sweet and bring me a cup of coffee.”

She was about to snap that he could get his own damn coffee when she remembered she was trying to charm him. She gave him a disarming smile and hopped off the bed.

His tent was set up exactly like hers—rugs, silks, divans and a center section with a Persian rug where meals were taken. Apparently someone catered to the needs of Ali Sur Sheriff’s American friend. Coffee brewed in a tiny pot, and an elegant silver tray of covered dishes awaited his pleasure.

Alex poured one of the delicate ceramic cups full of coffee and brought it back to Dan, taking a seat once more on the edge of the bed.

“Listen to me, will you please, D’Al—Dan?” Not waiting for an affirmative reply, Alex rushed into her list of arguments. “Ali has finally agreed that I might stay—”

“Great. Then you’re his problem.”

“I’m not anyone’s problem!” Alex snapped, biting her lip as she remembered how cool and cajoling she had meant to be. How she wished she could tell him that he didn’t matter a damn! But he did. Ali wouldn’t let her stay without Dan’s say-so, and she could hardly do battle with the sheikh on his own lands.

“There’s a small catch,” she murmured uncomfortably.

“Oh?”

“Ali says I can stay if you agree to—uh—personally protect me.”

“Then you’re leaving, because I don’t agree.”

“You bastard!” she hissed, forgetting again that Ali had suggested charm. “D’Alesio, you need me! I swear you’ll never film a thing my father does if you don’t help me!”

There was a dangerous narrowing and a heated sizzle in the depths of his eyes, but Alex was too incensed to heed the warning.

“Blackmail again, Doctor?”

“Blackmail, threat, whatever you choose to call it.”

She was startled when his fingers suddenly wound into her hair and tugged so that she found her face an inch away from his. “Wrong move, Doctor. I work only by my own credentials. James Crosby knows my brand of professionalism. And I’m sure he’ll understand that it’s a hell of a lot easier traipsing around a desert without a rope of a powder puff—”

“Damnit!” Alex jerked her hair from his grasp, fighting the tears that were rising to her eyes. He hadn’t hurt her; she was merely getting so desperate. “You don’t have to do anything except tell Ali that you don’t care if I stay. Surely you can be that accommodating—”