Page 5 of Hiding in the Sheik's Arms

Khal paused, his dark eyebrows lifting. “Joran is here?” he asked, fisting his hands on his lean hips. “I thought he was out with his special forces team on some field mission, testing the soldiers again.”

Tasha laughed softly and picked up a new file. “Apparently, he has abstained from another dirt-filled, terror-inducing jaunt through the desert in order to speak with you, Your Highness.”

Khal wanted to laugh at her description of his brother, who had evolved from his love of extreme sports to working with a team of special forces soldiers. It was an amusing image, but Khal’s laughter died in his throat, replaced by a heavy sigh as he rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired and irritated, and wished he could escape his responsibilities for just a moment and...do what? What would he do if he had the chance?

The thought of kissing Tasha popped into his head, a sudden, vivid image that took him by surprise. He almost smiled at the idea, but then, with a determined effort, he crushed the notion before it could fully form. The abrupt shift from his brother's antics to his own unexpected desire left him feeling more unsettled than before.

Irritated by his wayward thoughts, Khal shifted his focus, his annoyance growing as he considered the woman who had been diligently organizing his life and still refused to follow his orders. “Tasha, you’ve worked for me for a year now. I’ve repeatedly ordered you to use my first name.” He pulled his hands away and glared down at her from his six-foot-four height. “What the hell do I have to do to get you to call me Khal instead of ‘Your Highness’?”

Startling him again, Tasha offered an impish grin, clasping her hands together in front of her. “There is absolutely nothing you can do or say that will convince me to dispense with palace protocols, Your Highness.”

One dark eyebrow lifted, and Khal felt an unexpected bubble of…laughter? It had been a long time since he’d laughed,he realized. Staring down into her defiantly cheerful eyes, he wanted to chuckle and laugh and…do something outrageous.

“Tasha,” he began, trying to maintain his stern demeanor, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “If I declared a national holiday, would that induce you to call me Khal?”

Tasha’s grin widened, and she shook her head. “Nope. You are a workaholic, so I doubt that you know what a holiday is.” Her dark eyes suddenly moved over his shoulders and started trailing down before abruptly stopping and returning to his face. A slight blush warmed her cheeks, but Tasha rallied quickly, reverting back to her normal professionalism.

He sighed dramatically, pretending to ponder deeply. “What if I named a star after you? Or perhaps a racehorse?”

Tasha’s laughter was infectious, and he found himself smiling despite his best efforts. “Nice try, but no. You’re stuck with ‘Your Highness,’ I’m afraid.”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was no real irritation in his tone, just a grudging admiration for her stubbornness.

Again, kissing her popped into his head. And again, Khal suppressed the thought. Kissing Tasha, or anyone on his staff, was an absolute no.

He stared at her, his irritation warring with the undeniable amusement she always seemed to provoke. But the adorable defiance? Oh yes, he could manage that! “A challenge,” he said as if contemplating the meaning of the word. He nodded his head slowly, then declared, “I accept.”

Tasha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And how do you plan to win this challenge, Your Highness?”

He leaned in slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll find a way, Tasha. Mark my words.”

She laughed again, the sound bright and clear. “Good luck with that, Your Highness.”

As he watched her, Khal felt a mix of frustration and admiration. Her stubbornness was infuriating, but it was also one of the things he liked most about her. “You’ve given me a goal,” he muttered.

He took the folder containing the details for his next meeting and turned. “Tell Joran that I can see him whenever he’s–”

“I’m here,” another deep, male voice called out.

Tasha turned, smiling at the tall, handsome man striding confidently down the hallway. “Good morning, Tasha!” the wickedly handsome and devilishly confident Prince Joran said with a wink. Then his eyes dropped and he looked at her desk. “What the hell is that?”

Tasha twisted, following his gaze. The small pothos plant seemed to tremble at the large, muscular men’s disdain.

She picked up the plant, hugging it to her chest and covering it protectively with one hand. With a gentle finger, she touched the leaf, as if petting it softly. “It’s a plant.”

“It’s dying,” Khal said, his voice abrupt and unfeeling.

Tasha gasped and turned her body, as if shielding her precious, one-leafed plant from his harsh condemnation. “It is not!” she told him with feeling. “He’s a bit…wounded at the moment,” she added, then looked down at her plant. “But he’ll be fine!” She glared at the two big, healthy men. “Just because some people have too many muscles doesn’t mean that the weaker beings in the world can’t also thrive!” She ran her fingerover the leaf again. “All creatures, even the small, weak ones, just need a bit of love and compassion. This little guy will be huge! Just you wait!”

Khal shook his head, then turned to his brother. “You wanted to speak with me?” he prompted.

Joran nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to run some ideas by you.”

Tasha watched as Khal clenched his teeth. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but she knew that the man had been working since four o’clock. She knew because she’d taken the call from the prime minister and had been forced to wake Khal since none of his guards would do it. They would step in front of a bullet for the man, but they weren’t willing to face their ruler’s wrath if he was woken after only four hours of sleep.

Wimps! She turned and returned her small plant to the corner of her desk. “You’re going to be fine!” she whispered to the plant. “We’re both going to thrive!”

Chapter 4

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