The Sheikh's Reluctant American (The Adjalane Sheikhs #3) (9 page)

BOOK: The Sheikh's Reluctant American (The Adjalane Sheikhs #3)
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Hearing a door open, Malid turned, expecting Nassir—or a nurse. Instead, Adilan took a step in and paused.

He hadn’t seen his brother in months—and he hadn’t been to his brother’s wedding. He regretted that now, and glanced behind Adilan, looking for the American woman, Michelle, that Adilan had married.

Adilan lifted one dark eyebrow. “Michelle is parking the car.”

Malid shrugged. “Ever the independent woman.” Adilan stiffened, and Malid came forward. Guilt tugged at him, a small twist in his chest.

Stepping into the room, Adilan asked, “How is he?”

Malid lifted a hand. “I think it will take more than one small attack to kill our father.”

“Were you arguing?”

Malid looked at his brother. “No, I was trying to give him an apology—but I believe it really should go to you. Or your wife. I was wrong.”

Adilan rubbed his jaw. He had filled out even more in the past few months—even though he was the youngest, he had always had more muscle. Now he looked—
a man, not a boy. Married life agreed with him. Frowning, he stepped forward. At last he extended his hand. “Brother should argue, but we should also know when to stop. Father has been tired of late. Mother keeps asking him to have tests done, but you know Father.”

“He didn’t want to hear that he should slow down. Did you know he called me to negotiate a deal with Opell Oil?”

Adilan huffed out a laugh. “Ah, that is why I saw Gordon Michaels at the palace. I thought perhaps he’d been there to see father.”

“He was.”

Shaking his head, Adilan sat down in one of the chairs. The waiting room was a private one, but it still had the world’s most uncomfortable chairs, Malid thought. Hard backs and seats designed to keep you awake and on your feet. Adilan asked, “How long have you been here?”

Malid shook his head. “I don’t really know. It seems forever.”

Adilan nodded. “Mother will be here as soon as the storm passes.”

“So you drove in it, too?” Malid asked.

Before Adilan could answer, the door opened and an older man in blue hospital scrubs stepped in. His name badge read Dr. Azoula, and he shook hands with Malid and then with Adilan, and asked if their brother needed to be here.

“You are caring for my father? How is he?” Adilan asked.

Malid waved for the doctor to talk. The man nodded and said, “It was good you got him to the hospital as fast as you did. A blockage such as the one he had can damage the heart—time is vital to restore circulation. The procedure went very well, but he will need rest for a complete recovery.”

“Can we see him?” Adilan asked.

“Soon as we have him settled. And don’t expect him to wake for a few hours.” The doctor left and Adilan glanced at Malid. “It seems I owe you a debt, brother.”

Nassir stepped into the room, steaming tea in his hand. “A debt for what?” he asked.

Turning, Adilan grinned. “It’s right that Malid is back home. And if Father has a problem with it, I will go with you to talk to him.”

“You will?” Nassir shook his head. “We will. But I think…why don’t we let that conversation wait for a time.”

“Is Michelle on her way here?” Nassir asked. Adilan nodded. Nassir glanced from Malid to Adilan. “And she’s going to be okay seeing him? She doesn’t have a knife on her, does she?”

Adilan grinned. “If she does, Malid will have to look out for himself.”

Shaking his head, Malid pulled open the door. “Go, you to. Make sure Father is comfortable. I’ll bring Michelle up when she arrives.”

Nassir shook his head. “You always had more courage than sense.”

Malid smiled. “No. I have a secret weapon.” Adilan frowned, Nassir grinned, and the two men strode out, heading for the elevators. They passed Nigella on the way, and Malid saw Nassir give her a wink.

She came over to Malid’s side. “That’s got to be another Adjalane—your father must have made the three of you out of the same mold.”

“I think my mother had something to do with it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, and told her the doctor’s news.

She let out a breath and smiled. “I’ll bet your mother’s going to love having to keep your daddy resting.”

“No, that will be the job of the staff, and Hassan has been managing my father for decades. Hassan will find ways to ensure my father’s rest, without seeming to do anything. There will simply be a lack of phone calls, few visitors will stay to tire my father, and papers will not be on my father’s desk when he demands them.”

Her eyes widened. “I need to get my daddy a Hassan. Can we go see Nimr? Should I wait here?”

He took her hand and stepped from the room, and saw Michelle walking into the hospital. She looked much as he remembered—a very straight nose, wide-spaced blue eyes, and the olive complexion of a woman from his own country. Her almost black hair was worn straight, and she had on a light-colored business suit, with a short hem. Malid was quite certain Michelle would never adapt fully to the customs of his country. Disapproval for her dress rose in him, but he bit it back.

Michelle saw him, glanced away and back. She missed one step and the color drained from her face.

Frowning, Malid pulled Nigella with him and headed for Michelle—Nigella would have to help him make this right. But Nigella pulled from her hand away from his and stepped forward, one hand offered. “You must be Michelle. Adilan is upstairs. I’m Nigella Michaels. I have to say I saw your wedding photos in the newspapers when I was doing my homework for the deal I was putting together for Opell Oil and the Adjalanes, but the photos don’t do you justice.”

Michelle blinked, and Malid had to hide a smile—he had never seen her at a loss for words like this. “Why…thank you.” She sounded uncertain and she turned to Malid, her eyes sparking with a challenge and her back stiff. “I’m surprised your back. Come to make trouble?”

Malid smiled. “I’ve already apologized to Adilan, and I offer you my regrets as well. I—” He glanced at Nigella, saw she’d lifted her eyebrows as if she knew what he should say and was waiting. Ah, but this woman would tie him in knots. He grinned. He would not mind so long as he, too, was allowed to play with knots when they were alone. He turned back to Michelle. “I will understand if you are unable to forgive me.”

She tipped her head to one side, her eyes narrowed, and then Michelle lifted a fist and punched his arm. It hurt—it actually hurt. Rubbing the spot, he stared at her. She grinned. “I’ve been wanting to do that for far too long. And Adilan’s been giving me boxing lessons. You can be the worst jerk…but Adilan…I think he’s missed you, you bastard.”

Malid heard a choked laugh. He glanced at Nigella, saw her covering her mouth. He looked at Michelle and gave a small bow. “Do we call it even now?”

Michelle shook her head. “Brother, I’m just getting started. But I suppose a hospital is a place for a truce.”

With a wave, he allowed her to head into the elevator first—he didn’t want that woman at his back.

Nimr had been settled into a private room, but the staff wanted only one visitor at a time. Malid found himself in a private waiting room, not far from his father. Nigella stood close to him, and he realized He couldn’t have done this without her. But how could he tell her that—they had known each other such a short time.

His mother came out of Nimr’s room looking tired and drawn. Adilan swapped a look with his wife, and Michelle offered to take their mother to get some tea. That was a good idea. Nigella leaned close to Malid and said, “He’s your father. You can’t fool me, you know. You care about him but you just don’t know how to show it.”

Malid slanted a look at her. “How do you know that?”

“You want me to list the reasons? There’s the fact that you didn’t leave the region after he banished you.”

“Al-Sarid is my home. I always planned on finding a way back.”

“And you broke your own rule—you went out in a sandstorm in order to get your father the help he needed.”

He shook his head. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Nigella smiled. “Really? But then we come to your hand.”

“What does my hand have to do with it?” he asked.

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “I’ve seen the tremors in your fingers—you were worried for him. Afraid he would die. I’ve been through this with Daddy—he had a stroke scare that had me climbing the walls.” She nodded to Nimr’s room. “Go on. I’ll wait here with your brothers.”

He squeezed her hand and headed into his father’s room.

Nimr lay on his bed, his eyes closed, wires hooked up to monitors and a tube to give him oxygen attached to his nose. Shifting on his feet, Malid wondered what he should do—what should he say. He had no idea, so he simply thought of Nigella and how she had stayed close to him, even holding his hand. He had never seen the man look so…so quiet.

Malid sat down next to the bed on a hard chair and clasped his father’s hand between his own.

Nimr’s eyes fluttered and opened slightly. He parted his lips and his voice came out raspy and weak. “Never go out in a sandstorm. Did I not teach you better?”

Malid shook his head. “I was confident I could get us to the hospital. Hassan taught me to drive. You had me worried today—but…but it made me realized something very important. Family must come first—before business. Before anything.”

Nimr gave a snort and then coughed. Malid stood and picked up the water on the table next to Nimr’s bed. He helped his father take two sips. Nimr held up a hand, and Malid put down the water and sat again.

“You will be glad, Father, to know I have made things right between myself and Adilan—and Michelle as well.”

Lifting one dark eyebrow, Nimr stared at him. “Have you?” He narrowed his eyes. “You have been different today—is this the work of that American girl?”

“What if it is?”

Nimr let out a sigh. “My sons seems doomed to fall in love with Americans.”

Smiling, Malid shook his head. “Did you not fall in love with an American woman—before she left you and broke your heart, and you had to marry mother instead.”

Nimr groaned. “My chest hurts. I think I will sleep.”

“Oh, no—you do not get away from me so easily.”

Nimr waved a hand. “See Hassan. I have already set up the documents you need to act in my place.” Malid stared at his father. A small smile curved Nimr’s mouth. “What—you think I did not know you would come around…eventually. You were right to intervene with Gordon Michaels, and you have my permission to make whatever deal you think is right. And, if you let that pretty American slip through your fingers, you are not as smart as I think you are. Now go away. Let Nassir come in—he is as peaceful as your mother. I will see Adilan after, and then I plan to sleep.”

Malid stood. “Yes, Father.”

Nimr chuckled. “Ah, if only you were such a dutiful son.”

“That would mean I am not your son.” Malid squeezed his father’s hand and put it back down on the white sheets. He headed out, a weight seeming to lift from his shoulders.

He told Nassir to go in next, and then he turned to Nigella. “Come. You look as tired as I feel.”

“What a charming thing to say to a lovely woman,” Adilan said. He glanced at Nigella. “IS he always so charming to you?”

She shook her head. “Only when he wants something.”

Grabbing Nigella’s hand, Malid pulled her with him to the elevators. “Please, let us go. I hate the smell of hospitals and—”

“And almost losing your father…it’s hard.”

He looked at her. He had almost lost his father today, and suddenly all of their fighting seemed insignificant. Getting his own way would mean nothing if he lost the people who meant the most to him in the process.

The elevator arrived. He stepped in and pulled Nigella close. “Will you come home with me?”

“Why don’t we head to the nearest hotel—it’s faster and you’ll want to be close to your dad.”

He laughed. “Beautiful as well as smart—I am a lucky man.”

Smiling, she put her arms around his neck. “Oh, you’re about to get very lucky.”

 

Chapter 15

Malid flagged down a taxi and directed it to the nearest hotel. Too much excitement had left Nigella both tired and at the same time she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep—she also wanted her skin pressed against Malid’s. Tomorrow they could go back to hashing out business terms—tonight…tonight she just wanted to feel Malid’s heart beating against hers.

The nearest hotel proved to be both luxurious and Nigella didn’t want to even think about the cost. Malid checked them in with a flourish—it seemed there were many advantages to the Adjalane name. Room service brought them sparkling water, a meal of roast meats and salads, and a dessert of something with a light pastry, honey and dates.

Nigella didn’t wait for the room service, but had headed straight for the shower, tearing off her clothes as she went. She came out with a towel wrapped around her to find that Malid had the lights low and the meal set out on the balcony.

She glanced at him and asked, “Can the food wait?” He nodded, his eyes darkening. She smiled. “Good,” she said and dropped her towel.

In two strides Malid was at her side, swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He settled her on the bed, tore off his shirt and slipped his shoes and jeans off.

God, how she loved his body—every muscular line, every inch of smooth skin. She opened her arms and he came to her, covering her with his body, slipping into her at once.

She gave a sigh, wiggled her hips and he rolled with her, so that she straddled him. “Now—you may take your pleasure.”

Smiling, she did. She eased her hips up…and down again, dragging a long, soft moan from him. His eyes slid closed, so she did it again. And again. But already the heat was building inside her. Tingles spread over her skin.

Opening his eyes, Malid reached between them and touched her clit—that touch shivered over her and sank deep. Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and let the world come apart.

***

They slept, ate, made love in the shower, and slept again. Nigella woke early, found Malid asleep next to her, his erection nudging her hip. She threw back the sheets, brushed her fingers over his cock, and leaned over to take him into her mouth. He moaned and came awake at once. It took a lot not to giggle at his gasp of pleasure, but she managed, sucking hard and licking until he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down on the bed so he could enter her.

BOOK: The Sheikh's Reluctant American (The Adjalane Sheikhs #3)
12.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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