Page 88 of Defenders of Jawhara

He glanced around. Most of the guests were already seated. Traditional white keffiyeh headscarves for the men mixed with suits, and while some women covered themselves in modest, but brightly colored hijabs,others wore designer gowns. The air smelled of incense and a little sweat—hard to air condition the great outdoors.

Keeping his hand on the small of Keira’s back, Brock leaned close. “There’s your other surprise, Ella.”

She glanced at him, eyes narrowed, and then followed his stare.

Two men stood not far from the stone terrace. Trent Larson and his brother Travis couldn’t have looked more out of place if they’d tried.

Except for the sleek suits, they fit the stereotypical profile of surfers—shaggy, sun-bleached hair, blue eyes in deeply tanned faces, toned, lean bodies. Brock would take one or both of them to back him in any fight, and they were just about the best when it came to electronics or computers. Right now, they had cameras out and looked like the perfect wedding photographers.

“Oh, honey bear, you shouldn’t have,” Keira said. It sounded like she meant it.

“I know you love how the Larson brothers make you look in print.”

Travis looked up and snapped a photo of Brock and Keira. Brock picked up on the unspoken message from Travis—so far, so good. Brock watched the brothers as they moved around, keeping an eye on all the action.

“And one more surprise for you, but you won’t get to meet him until later. Standing with the sheikh.” Without gesturing, he pointed Keira in the direction of where Slade was standing with Sheikh Kamal, and she gave a slight nod.

With a last look around, Brock headed to grab a seat, bringing Keira with him. He just hoped like hell that the rest of this day went smoothly. On assignment, they usually didn’t.

5

The wedding was beautiful, and once again, Keira was pleased that she had a decent understanding of Arabic, even if the Jawharan dialect was a bit different from what she had learned. Shira made a beautiful bride, dressed in a brightly colored thobe that offset the color of her hair, which was twisted in an up-do with curls framing her face.

Her hands had been decorated with a henna. The prince wore a traditional man's thobe and hatain white with gold and silver trim.With his dark good looks, Keira could see why Shira had fallen for him.

She didn’t have time to greet Erin or Shira until after the ceremony—theKatb el-Kitab. An imam gave a speech, followed by an older man that Keira assumed was some sort of uncle or possibly cousin. She kept scanning the crowd, wondering who had wanted to do Erin harm—who might still want her gone, and what that might mean for the safety of the prince’s new wife. She was also too aware of Brock sitting next to her.

His thigh brushed hers, as did his shoulder, the silk of his suit rubbing against her bare skin, leaving her aware of the nubby weave. His scent seemed to overwhelm her with a musky aroma that kept her on edge.

He was a presence anywhere he went, even outside under a warm sky and a pleasant breeze. She couldn’t help but notice him. He hovered like a Viking guarding the goods he’d raided.

She was glad he was growing out his hair, which now had blond highlights running through it as if he’d been spending extra time in the sun, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Was it as silky soft as it looked? Her thoughts were running away with her, and she tried to shift subtly away from him, but he only seemed to spread out a bit more, giving her the feeling he was taking advantage of how close they had to sit just to rub up against her.

Keira knew they were part of a playact that he’d started as soon as she’d arrived, and other than a very noisy breakup, she couldn’t see any way around the fact that the two of them were now linked in the eyes of most everyone here. Given that he was part of the sheikh’s security team, she bristled at the fact that her ability to get past any suspicion was hampered given what herboyfrienddid for a living. With one kiss, her job just got that much harder, and she was fairly sure that Brock was enjoying himself too much to care.

Finally, the ceremony ended. Keira had a chance to greet both the sheikha and the bride, kiss their cheeks, and make sure the cousins were playing along with Keira’s cover. Erin blushed over the greeting, but Shira gave her a big hug as if they were long-lost friends. Keira would need to be careful—it looked as if Erin wasn’t very good at deception.

Shira threw her bouquet—white roses and jasmine—just like any bride, and Keira caught it. Everyone clapped and started for the reception area. As the band started up, PJ headed over to greet Keira, and the two pretended to meet each other for the first time.

Grabbing glasses of what looked like iced tea from a passing waiter, PJ offered her one. “This is fabulous—it’s spiced and sweet and just one of the many things I love about this place. And nice job on that diversion tactic between you two out front. I caught it in replay on video. That was hot.” She gave a nod to Brock, who stood across from them now, talking quietly with the sheikh and Slade.

PJ took another sip of her tea and smiled at a tall, dark-haired man in an even darker suit.

Keira followed her gaze and asked, “Okay, what’s with tall, dark, and gorgeous over there? The sexy one who keeps watching you like you’re on the menu tonight?”

With a shrug, PJ leaned close. “He is kind of gorgeous, isn’t he? He’s Talib, and he’s mine. So hands off.” She snagged something off one of the trays being passed around and offered it to Keira. It was spicy and sweet at the same time, and Keira wondered if she could get more of it.

Eyebrows lifting, she also watched the tall man—Talib—walk across the garden and join them. He was worth watching. He moved like a dancer, all grace and ease. He had the swarthy coloring of most Jawhara men, but he had finer features, she thought, and his dark hair had been swept back—it just about begged for a woman’s fingers to disorder the strands. When he was close enough, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Ella Clausen.”

He gave a small nod, but instead of shaking her hand, he kissed the back of it and gave her a small bow. He draped an arm over PJ’s shoulder. “You may call me Talib. Welcome to Jawhara. I saw you with Erin a few minutes ago. It must be nice to see your college friend again.”

Keira kept her smile in place. She knew Talib from the brief. Head of security, a good man it seemed. She assumed he was in on the cover story, but she wasn’t breaking her role for anyone. Not in public. “Excuse me. I should mingle and give you two time alone.” She gave them a wink.

PJ called out, “Let’s get together tomorrow over breakfast, and I can give you a list of some of the better places to shop while you’re here.”

Keira waved and headed into the crowd. She scooped up another glass of tea—it really was good—and paused next to the Larson brothers. “Hey, boys. How about some photos of me and for me?” She struck a pose, hip jutting out and glass to her lips. She’d taken enough classes and had enough practice that shifting into her role was as easy as changing her clothes.

Travis was working video, but Trent turned and took a shot. He gave her a cocky grin. “Looking good.”

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