"I should hope not," Bethanne said. "She couldn't help-" She paused. Hopefully Fatima had been circ.u.mspect in her complaints. Remembering the charade, she finished. "She couldn't help the situation. Tell her I wish her a pleasant journey home."

Once Fatima left, Bethanne went into the library again, wandering around, studying the various books on the shelves. She stopped at the desk and looked at the computer, considering. Turning it on, she sat down and began to search the Internet on any information she could get about Quishari and flight plans and Rashid's father.

Losing track of time, she was surprised when Minnah knocked on the opened door. "Miss, you haven't come for lunch. It is on the terrace. Are you not hungry?"

Bethanne nodded, reluctant to leave her search, but suddenly feeling ravenous.

She was glad she took the break a few moments later when Rashid arrived. She felt almost guilty using the computer to find out more about his father. If her need hadn't been so strong, she would not have done more than a cursory look to learn a bit more about him. Rashid loved his father and wanted to be like him.

She loved her father, and wanted to clear his name.

"Late lunch," Rashid said, drawing out a chair and sitting at the small table.

"I had coffee at a square in the old town midmorning, so wasn't ready to eat until now," she explained. "What are you doing here? Is the workday over?" She knew he devoted many hours to business; was something special going on to have him leave so early?

"I thought we could take the jet up again, fly over the wells to the south and see how things are going. Khalid said the well that was burning has been capped. I'd still like to see how much damage was done. There's an airport nearby and I'll have a car waiting so we can drive to the docks, and then go to the derricks themselves."

"I'm at your command," she said, taking another drink of the iced lemonade she enjoyed so much. This was unexpected, but she relished a chance to see more of what he dealt with daily. She was soaking up as much as she could about Rashid. Down the years, she'd have plenty of memories.

"No rush. Finish your lunch. Where in old town did you go?" he asked.

Bethanne looked at her salad, hoping hearing about her morning wouldn't make him angry. "I went for coffee at the square near where my dad lived. I met another American-a friend of Hank's," she said.

"Anyone I know?" he asked.

"A professor of English at the university. Walt Hampstead. He was pleased to see me. My dad had spoken of me to him. He said he's lived here for more than twenty years. Even married a local girl and they have two children."

Rashid appeared unconcerned by the revelation. "Did you visit the shops?"

"No, I enjoyed the architecture and got a feel for the place. The older section really draws me. I love it. If we are going soon, I'll run up and change."

When they reached the airport an hour later, Bethanne went to the air traffic control office to file a flight plan. The service was quick. As she was turning to leave, she asked if there were archived flight plans for the past five years. The clerk was instantly curious as to why she wanted to know. She shrugged it off as mere curiosity and left. The reports would be in Arabic undoubtedly. No help there-unless Walt could translate them for her.

Rashid had remained with the plane and she did her visual inspection before boarding. He was already in the c.o.c.kpit and for a moment, the intensity of her wish that things had been different floored her. What would it have been like if she and he had met under different circ.u.mstances? If he did not think her father a thief and he was seriously interested in her? That they were going off for a day of fun, just the two of them.

She couldn't help her own excitement at seeing him. Try as she might, it was difficult to remember it was all a charade. Especially after his kisses.

Once soaring over the Persian Gulf, she leveled out the plane and watched the earth below. There were large container ships on the sea, white beaches lining the sh.o.r.e. As they approached the oil rigs several hundred yards offsh.o.r.e, she circled slowly. The fire was out. There was a huge oil tanker anch.o.r.ed on the seaward side of one of the high platforms.

"Taking in oil?" she asked, pointing to the ship.

"Yes. Then it goes to a refinery. That's one of our ships. Another branch of the company," Rashid said. "My uncle runs that. Set us down and we'll head out to the rigs."

They landed on the runway that ran beside the sea. After Bethanne taxied the plane to a sheltered area as directed, she shut down the engines. A dark car drove over and a man jumped out of the driver's side. In only moments they were driving toward the docks.

The launch that took them to the rigs was small and rode low on the water. Bethanne studied the huge platforms that rose on pilings from the sea floor. When they arrived, they had to climb a hundred steps to get to the main platform. The noise surprised her as machinery hummed and clanked as it pumped the crude from beneath the sea.

Khalid was there and strode over to greet them. His manner was reserved and more formal than Rashid's. A difference in the twins. Even though they looked alike, they didn't behave alike.

A moment later Rashid excused himself, saying he had to confer with Khalid on a private matter.

Bethanne walked away, toward the activity near the ship. There were lots of men working in a ch.o.r.eographed way that showed they all knew their respective jobs well.

After watching for a while, she saw a man walk over to say something to her.

"Sorry, I only speak English," she said.

"I speak it," he replied with a heavy accent. "You fly jet that landed at airport?"

"Yes," she replied.

"I used to work planes for the old sheikh." He shrugged. "After he die, I come to oil-" He gestured around them. "Sheikh Rashid don't travel like father did."

"The old sheikh traveled a lot?" she asked, suddenly wondering if this man had known her father.

"More than son." He looked at the activity, studying it a moment as if a.s.sessing the efficiency.

"Did you know Hank Pendarvis?" she asked.

He looked back at her and nodded.

"Someone asked me to look him up if I got to Quishari. I think maybe he died several years ago."

The man nodded. "Bad time. Caused old sheikh's death."

"What happened?"

"Flight in west, something special." He paused a moment as if searching for the English word. "Sandstorm crash plane. All die."

"I heard he stole the plane, took an illegal flight." Her heart pounded. This man said her father had crashed. She knew something kept him from contacting her. Still, maybe all hadn't died. Maybe it was even a different plane.

"No. Job for old sheikh."

Bethanne's interest became intense. "Did you tell anyone? Why does everyone believe he stole a plane?"

"Those need to know do."

"Where did he crash?"

"West."

"Who knows about this?"

He shrugged.

Either he knew no more or wasn't going to give her specifics.

"And he is buried out west, too?"

He shrugged. He peered at her closely, searching her face and eyes. "In a town called Quraim Wadi Samil."

Bethanne gave an involuntary start of surprise. "We were just there," she said.

The man shrugged. "Perhaps you go again."

"Why didn't you tell someone at the time? Sheikh al Harum believes he stole the plane."

"No, I tell the sheikh." He looked at where Rashid stood talking with the other men.

A helicopter approached, its blades whipping the air around the platform. It set down near the far edge.

Someone on the platform called the man and he waved. "I go." He loped across the platform and climbed aboard the helicopter with two other workers.

Bethanne stared at the helicopter until it was out of sight. It had not remained on the rig for more than a few minutes. Where was it taking the maintenance worker? She had to have answers. According to him, he had told Rashid.

That didn't make sense. If Rashid knew, why not tell her? He didn't pull punches accusing her father of being a thief, why not say if he were dead? If Rashid knew about the sandstorm and the plane crash, why not tell her?

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" a male voice asked to her right.

Turning, she saw Khalid had joined her, staring at the damaged oil rig.

"What?"

"Why men put themselves in danger just to pump oil from beneath the sea," he said.

"Was anyone injured in the fire?"

"One man was killed. Another burned."

"I'm sorry."

"As were we. Mohammad was a good man."

"You were burned once, yet you still fight the fires."

"I do not want fire to win. Why are you here?"

"Rashid brought me."

"I mean, why still in Quishari. You delivered the plane. You did not deliver Haile. Yet you stay."

"Ask your brother."

"I did. He said to stop rumors flying that would damage the negotiations with Benqura. I say forget it. Rashid has little to offer for you to stay-unless you hope to cash in somewhere down the line. A story for a tabloid? A bit of blackmail for your silence?"

She turned to him, affronted at his comment. "I have no intentions of blackmail or talking to a tabloid. Maybe I feel a bit responsible I didn't make sure Haile was on board when we took off. What's not to like about a few days in this lovely country? The villa is exquisite. The staff makes me welcomed. Your brother has shown me places I would not otherwise have seen. I would not repay such hospitality with anything you suggest. I stay because he asked me to." She wasn't going to dwell on the attraction she felt any time she was near Rashid. That was her secret alone.

Khalid studied her for a moment, his eyes a.s.sessing. "Maybe. But I don't buy it. Not from an American woman in this day. There has to be something for you in it."

"You're cynical. Maybe I'm enjoying a mini vacation."

"Yet you still fly."

She laughed. "That's for fun."

Rashid walked over. "Khalid." He acknowledged his brother. Rashid looked at Bethanne and then Khalid. "Problems?"

"Just questioning your guest as to why she's here. Watch your back, brother."

"I know what I'm doing," Rashid said with a steely note.

"Maybe it's time for me to leave," she said.

Rashid shook his head, his gaze still locked with his brother.

"No one helps out a stranger by pretending so much without something in return," Khalid warned.

Obviously Rashid had not shared all he knew about Bethanne to Khalid. She wanted to confront him about the information she'd learned from the older man. But not with Khalid standing there. How soon could she get back to Quraim Wadi Samil?

Rashid reached out to take her hand, pulling her closer to his side. "Give me an update on the estimated repair time, if you would. Then we'll be going." He was making a definite statement for his twin.

Khalid shrugged and began speaking in rapid Arabic. Bethanne could feel the tension from Rashid as his hand held hers. She let her mind wander since she couldn't understand a word. Why had Rashid asked her to stay-actually almost coerced her? The longer she knew him, the more attached she became. For a few moments, she'd let herself imagine he'd fall in love with her. He'd be as attracted to her as she was to him. Which could lead to happiness beyond belief.

But the reality was more like heartache the size of Texas. She wondered if she dare hint that her feelings were engaged. He'd given her no indication he wanted anything more than a buffer with the minister to buy him some time. And he had not told her the truth about her father.

Yet those kisses had been magical. Had he felt any of the pull she had? With all the women he could date with a snap of his fingers, the fact he spent so much time with her had to mean more than just subterfuge for the minister's sake. Or not. He was so focused on work.

"Is there anything else you wish to see?" Rashid asked her. Bethanne looked at him. Khalid was already some distance away, walking to a group of men near one of the large machines.

"A quick tour would be great. I'll probably never be on an oil rig again." Chafing with impatience to find out more about her father, she refrained from asking him while others could hear. And a quick tour might give her time to figure out how to formulate her question so he'd answer.

"I thought Hasid might have explained some things to you."

"Who?"

"The man you spoke with earlier."

"No." So much for waiting. "Rashid-he said my father's plane crashed near Quraim Wadi Samil. He said you knew."

Rashid stared at her, glancing briefly to the sky where the helicopter had flown. "I do not know what happened to your father. Why would he say that? He never told me. Why does he think that?"

She stared back. Had the other man lied? Why would he? Yet, she couldn't believe Rashid would lie about it. It didn't make sense.

"I'll speak to him. Maybe you misunderstood him. While he speaks some English, he is not fluent. He would have come forward when the plane was lost if he knew anything."

"He says he spoke to you."

"He did not."