Page 10 of The Sheikh's Temporary Girlfriend

Basam drew her out into the paved, garden courtyard, where big date palms shaded some garden seats and plants that spilled out of big pots. Water burbled from a fountain between two copper statues of children with baskets that held some kind of fernery, a deliciously cool breeze taking away much of the vicious morning heat.

“It’s more comfortable out here in the late afternoon,” he said conversationally.

She smiled. “I’m used to the heat. The only thing missing is the sand and ocean.”

“I can’t help you with the ocean, but Mother Nature does occasionally deliver on the latter when we get a sandstorm. Then you’ll find it everywhere—inside and out—of the palace.”

“You must have a competent cleaning crew. I’ve yet to see a speck of dust or a grain of sand in any of your rooms.”

“My servants take pride in keeping my palace impeccable.”

“Or perhaps they’re terrified you’ll find fault and rain down your wrath?”

He arched a dark brow. “I’m not a monster, Amber. If I was I would have made you pay for spilling those glasses of champagne on me.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here now?” she asked.

His gaze darkened. “Does being herefeellike punishment?” he asked silkily.

She sighed. “No, of course not. In all honesty, I feel blessed that I’m here.”And that I’m able to pay off my brother’s debts.

Basam’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t push the matter. Instead he drew her back inside his suite of rooms. “I asked for lunch to be brought here.” At her relieved sigh, he added, “I guessed you might like a few more hours to prepare yourself before your first official meeting at dinner tonight.”

Her insides went jittery. “There will be important people at your dinner table tonight?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “Thatiswhat our agreement entailed.”

He was right. Of course he was right. She’d already spent a day on his plane—mostly sleeping—and so far day two hadn’t been all that bad, either. Not unless she counted meeting the press, but even that hadn’t too overwhelming. She’d managed to hold her own with them.

She nodded. “That’s…fair. I’m sure I’ll do fine tonight, maybe even win some kind of award for my acting.” She cleared her throat. “Just as long as you fill me in on any customs I should know about and the people I’ll be meeting tonight so I’ll at least be informed…or forewarned.”

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know at lunch. Then afterward a dressmaker will be arriving to fit you with some new clothes.”

She blinked, relieved to hear it, despite him seemingly taking control of her every waking moment. She huffed out a breath. He’d taken control of her sleeping moments too. That she felt better for it was beside the point!Whatever. She really did need some clothes that were suitable for her role. “You’ve thought of everything.”

He smirked. “I didn’t get this successful by not thinking ahead.”

Just how successful was he? He must be loaded for the upkeep of his palace alone, let alone the wages he’d pay for all his servants and staff. She’d bet the palace wasn’t his only property. He probably owned plenty of other assets and businesses.

A knock sounded on the front door and Basam opened it before a chef in full whites pushed a trolley through. “Sheikh Basam,” the chef said with a respectful little bow. “I personally cooked you and your visitor a lunch banquet.”

Basam nodded approval. “Perfect. Thank you, Samuel.”

Her eyes popped wide apart, but she kept her mouth shut as the chef than set out some dishes along with two bottles of accompanying wines onto the dining table. “Enjoy,” he said, before he took his leave.

The scent of spiced aromas filled the room and her stomach gurgled. But though she was hungry, she held Basam’s gaze and asked, “Was that Samuel Conray—thereality television chef?”

Basam nodded. “I take it you’ve watched his cooking shows?”

“Are you kidding me? His Middle East cooking opened my eyes to the fact there is more than doner-kebabs to be enjoyed after a few too many drinks on a Saturday night.”

“Doner-kebabs?” he laughed. “Most of us enjoy shawarma here. The dish is similar but much more spiced and flavorsome in my opinion.” He pulled out a seat for her. “It seems you have much to learn about my country and its people.”

She accepted the proffered seat. “Not to mention the food,” she conceded. “I can’t wait to taste the real deal.”

Basam lifted the lid to what appeared to be a casserole. “Thareed. Lamb, butternut squash, onion, broth and spices.” He ladled some of it into a bowl for her, then advised, “This is best mopped up with naan bread.”

She tasted the fragrant dish. “Yum.”

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