"I'll be ready," she said.

Before she could get out of the car, however, he stopped her. "You did well today."

"I will do fine tonight as well," she replied gravely. "I'll be most adoring, now that you won the match."

He laughed at her sa.s.sy remark and watched as she entered the house.

Bethanne dressed with care for the dinner. She wore an ivory-white dress from the ones Rashid had bought. The one-shoulder gown fell in a gentle drape down to the floor, moving when she walked, caressing her skin with the softness of pure silk. Minnah came to ask if she could a.s.sist and Bethanne asked her to do her hair up in a fancy style.

The quiet woman nodded and set to work when Bethanne sat in front of the vanity.

"Could you also teach me some Arabic?" Bethanne asked.

"Like what?"

"Pleased to meet you. I am enjoying visiting your country. Just a few phrases?"

"It would be my pleasure," the maid said.

For the moments it took the maid to arrange her hair, she also taught Bethanne several phrases. With a skill for mimicking sounds, Bethanne hoped she was getting the correct intonation to the sounds she heard.

Minnah beamed with pleasure a few moments later. Bethanne gazed at herself in the mirror, very pleased with the simple, yet sophisticated style the maid had achieved.

"Thank you," she said in Arabic.

Minnah bowed slightly and smiled. "You pick up the words quickly."

"I'll be repeating them from now until we begin dinner," she said in English.

"His Excellency will be pleased with the effort you have made starting to learn our language. It is good for you to speak Arabic."

Bethanne didn't abuse her of the idea that she was being considered for Rashid's wife. Nothing like servants' gossip to spread like wildfire. That should suit him.

Bethanne was waiting in the salon when Rashid arrived. He wore a tuxedo. She loved the different facets of the man. From suave businessman to casual polo player to elegant sophisticate. She couldn't decide which appealed more.

"Ever prompt," he repeated when he stepped into the salon. "And you look lovely."

"Thank you," she said in Arabic, almost laughing at his look of surprise.

He said several words in that language which had her actually laughing aloud and holding up a hand.

"Please, I only learned a very few-such as please and thank you, nice to meet you and I am enjoying my visit."

"Very well done," he said.

His obvious approval warmed her.

"The dress is lovely, but missing something," he said.

She looked down. "I have a wrap on the chair," she said, moving to gather it.

"I was thinking of jewelry," he said, stepping closer. From his pocket he pulled out a beautiful necklace of sapphires and diamonds on a white gold chain.

Bethanne caught her breath. "It's beautiful." She took a step back. "But I can't wear that. What if it came undone and was lost?" She couldn't replace a fine piece of jewelry like that for years.

"It will not come undone and the stones match your eyes. It will complete the dress."

She looked at the necklace and then at Rashid.

"My intended bride would not come as a pauper to the wedding," he said.

Of course. It was for show. For a moment she was swamped with disappointment. What had she expected-that he'd really give her a lovely piece of jewelry like that?

"Very well, but it's on you if it gets lost."

She stepped forward and held out her hand, but he brushed it aside and reached around her neck to fasten it himself. She stared at his throat, her heart hammering in her chest. The touch of his warm fingers on her neck sent shivers down her spine. She could scarcely breathe.

Bethanne turned when he'd finished, seeking a mirror to see how it looked. There were none in the salon. "I want to see," she said.

"In the foyer, then we should leave."

Standing a moment later in front of the long mirror in the foyer, she gazed at her reflection. She looked totally different. It wasn't only the expensive clothing and jewelry, the sophisticated hairstyle. There was a glow about her, a special look in her eyes. She sought Rashid's in the reflection. He looked at her steadily.

"Thank you. I feel like Cinderella before the ball."

"It does not end at midnight," he said. "Shall we?"

The limo carried them the short distance to the luxury hotel where the dinner was being held. The huge portico accommodated half a dozen cars at a time and Bethanne had a chance to observe the other women getting out of cars and limousines who were wearing designer creations and enough jewelry to open a mega store.

Once inside, Bethanne was delighted with the sparkling chandeliers overhead that threw rainbows of color around the lavish room. Tables were set with starched white linen clothes, ornate silverware and fine crystal gla.s.sware. The room was large enough to accommodate hundreds, yet the s.p.a.ce was not crowded.

Rashid placed her hand in the crook of his arm, pressing her arm against his side as they walked in. He greeted friends, introducing Bethanne to each. She smiled and gave her newly learned Arabic greeting. Many of the people seemed pleased, and then disappointed she hadn't yet learned more. They encouraged her to continue learning.

An older man stopped their progression. He spoke to Rashid, but his gaze never left Bethanne.

Rashid answered then spoke in English. "Bethanne, may I present Ibrahim ibn Saali, minister of finance for Quishari. He is a great polo fan. I've told him you are my special guest."

"Come to visit Quishari?" the minister asked.

Bethanne smiled brightly. "Indeed, and I'm charmed by what I've seen." She leaned slightly against Rashid, hoping she looked like a woman in love in the minister's eyes.

"I thought another was coming," the minister said.

She looked suitably surprised, then glanced at Rashid. "There had better not be another expected."

He shook his head, his hand covering hers on his arm. "Not in this lifetime," he said. To the minister he nodded once. "We are expected at my mother's table."

"Nice to have met you," Bethanne said in Arabic.

The older man merely nodded and stepped aside.

She could feel his gaze as they crossed to the table.

"He's the one, isn't he?" she asked.

"Indeed. But your acting skills were perfect." He glanced down at her and smiled. "If we keep him satisfied, the deal is as good as done."

When they reached their table, Madame al Harum was already seated. Next to her was an elderly man. He rose when Bethanne arrived and greeted her solemnly. Both expressed surprise at her Arabic response. For a moment she wondered if the older woman would thaw a bit. That thought was short-lived when Madame al Harum virtually ignored Bethanne and indicated that Rashid should sit next to her.

Despite not understanding the language, Bethanne enjoyed herself. The polo club was celebrating their victory and she could clap and cheer with them all. Several speakers were obviously from the club. Rashid leaned closer to give capsulated recaps of the speeches. At one point the speaker on the platform said something that had everyone turning to look at Rashid. He rose and bowed slightly to thunderous applause.

When he sat down and the speaker resumed, she leaned closer.

"What did he say?"

"Just thanks for funding the matches."

"Ah, so you're the sponsor?"

"One of several."

She knew he was wealthy, but to fund a sports team cost serious money. She was so out of her element. No matter how much she was growing attracted to her host, she had to remember in the great scheme of things, she was a lowly employee of a company selling him the jet she'd delivered. He was a wealthy man, gorgeous to boot. He had no need to look to the likes of her when any woman in the world would love to be in her position. How could Haile have chosen someone else over Rashid?

When the after-dinner speeches were finally finished, a small musical ensemble set up and began playing dance music. Some of the older guests gathered their things to leave, but the younger ones began to drift to the dance floor.

Rashid held out his hand to Bethanne. "Will you dance with me?" he asked.

She nodded and rose.

He was conscious of the stares and some of the conversation that erupted when they reached the dance floor. Her blond hair and blue eyes stood out in this group of mostly dark-haired women. He enjoyed taking her into his arms for the slow dance. She was taller than most women he had dated and it was a novelty to not have to lean over to hear if she spoke. Or to kiss her.

He'd thought a lot about that kiss in Quraim Wadi Samil as they moved with the music. He tightened his hold slightly in remembrance. One kiss had him fantasizing days afterward. He'd kissed his share of women. He'd even thought he loved Marguerite. But Bethanne had him in a quandary. He knew this was an interlude that would end as soon as the contract with al Benqura was signed. Yet he found reasons to seek her out and spend time with her. He loved to hear her talk. She wasn't one to mince words, or be totally agreeable. He knew too many people who sought favor above friendship.

And while he tried to ignore the physical attraction, he couldn't do it. He longed to press her against him, kiss her, make love to her. Her skin was as soft as down. Her sparkling eyes held wit and humor and made him think of the blue of the Gulf on a sunny day. He wanted to thread his fingers through that silky blond hair and stroke it, feeling the softness, the warmth from Bethanne.

Comparing her to other women was unfair-to others. Unlike Marguerite, she was unpretentious and genuine. She did not show an innate desire to garner as much money as she could in a short time. He detected no subterfuge; had heard no hints about keeping the necklace she wore. He smiled slightly when he thought of her worry if it came undone. He would never expect her to repay the cost of the jewelry. When he'd asked his a.s.sistant to find something with blue stones, an array had been brought to the office. These sapphires had matched her eyes. He'd chosen it immediately.

How had he known they would match her eyes? He could not even remember what color Marguerite's eyes were. Glancing down, he studied his partner as they circled the room. She looked enchanted. And enchanting. Her gaze skimmed around the room, a slight smile showing her enjoyment. As if she could feel his attention, she looked up.

The blue startled him with its intensity. Her smile made him want to slip away from the crowd to a private place and kiss her again.

"Enjoying yourself?" he said, to hear her speak.

"Very much. This is even better than my senior prom, which was the last formal dance I attended, I think. Some of the gowns are spectacular. I'm trying to remember everything so I never forget."

"There will be others," he said, taking for granted the setting and the people-many of whom he'd known all his life. His polo team members had been friends for years.

"For you. Once you sign that contract, I'm heading back to Texas."

"Or you could stay a little longer," he suggested, wishing to find a way to keep her longer.

From the jump she gave, he'd surprised her with his suggestion.

"I may delay signing the papers until well after the deal is finalized," he said, half in jest. Far from being angry at Haile, he now thanked her for her defection. Otherwise he would not have known Bethanne. What a shame if he'd merely thanked her for delivering the jet and never seen her again.

"Now why would you do that?" she asked, leaning back a bit to smile up at him with a saucy grin.

It took all of Rashid's willpower to resist the temptation to kiss her right there on the ballroom floor. She was flirting with him. It had been years since someone had done that in fun. He knew she had no ulterior motives.

"Alexes might never fly again. Perhaps you could become my personal pilot." He hadn't thought about that before, but it would be a perfect solution. She'd remain in Quishari and he could see her whenever he wanted.

"My home is in Texas," she said slowly. "I don't speak the language here. I have family and friends in Galveston. I don't think it would work."

At least she sounded regretful.

"Think about it before deciding," he said.

"Would there be more dances like this?" she teased.

He laughed and spun her around. "Yes, as many as you wish to attend. I don't go often, except the ones with the polo team. But that could change. I receive dozens of invitations."

"I would imagine attending them all would prove tiring. And it would dim some of the splendor if you saw this kind of thing all the time. What makes it special is being rare."

"A wise woman."

The music ended. In a moment another song began. Rashid held her hand during the short break, rubbing his thumb lightly over the soft skin. The couple next to them smiled but said nothing, for which he was grateful. Even more grateful when the music began again and he could draw her back into his arms again. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed spending time with anyone beyond his family.

The evening flew by. Bethanne focused on the offhand invitation to stay. She wasn't sure if he were serious or not. It was tempting. Maybe too much of a good thing. What would happen if she actually fell in love with the sheikh and he only wanted her as a pilot because Alexes was incapacitated? She gazed off, picturing him with other women-beautiful women with pots of money. He'd ask her to fly them to Cairo or even Rome on holiday. She'd be dutiful and resentful. She didn't want to fly him and some other woman anywhere. She wanted him for herself.

Startled at her thoughts, she glanced at him quickly, and found his gaze fixed on hers.

"If you are ready to leave, we can return to the villa," he said.

"I've had a lovely time, but it is getting late." Her heart pounded with the newly admitted discovery. She was in love with Rashid.

"Too late for a walk along the beach?"

To walk along the Persian Gulf in the moonlight-who could pa.s.s up such an opportunity?

"Never too late for that."

On the ride to the villa, he continued to hold her hand. Bethanne told herself it was merely a continuation of the evening. But she felt special. Would it ever be possible for a sheikh to fall for a woman from Texas? With no special attributes except the ability to fly planes? Undoubtedly when he chose a bride, he'd want a sophisticated woman who was as at home in the capital city as she would be anywhere in the world.

When they reached the villa, he helped her from the limo then bypa.s.sed the front door to head for the gardens. The pathways were discreetly lighted by soft lamps at foot level. Selective spotlights shone on a few of the topiary plants; the ambient glow felt magical. Fragrances blended delightfully with the salty tang of the sea. She heard the wavelets as they walked along.