LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      One

      “Sheik Al Abdar, could you tell us if this impromptu visit to Texas is for business or pleasure?”

      Sheik Omar Al Abdar flashed a slightly cool smile at the female reporter whose voice had risen above the others. He’d only just stepped out of the private jet that had flown him from his small, Middle East country of Gaspar to a private airstrip just outside Mission Creek, Texas.

      “I was unaware that the press had been alerted to my presence here in Texas,” he replied.

      “When one of the most eligible bachelors in the world comes to Texas, Texas sits up and takes notice,” the reporter responded with a dazzling smile.

      Omar paid her no attention. His mind was focused on his mission.

      What if she says no? The question came unbidden to Omar’s mind and he shoved it away, refusing to consider the possibility.

      Rashad Aziz held up his hands to halt the volley of questions. “Please, please, His Royal Highness has traveled a long distance today and is eager to get to his destination. He will answer no questions at this time.”

      As if on an unspoken cue, several guards moved into position, shielding Sheik Omar from the small crowd of reporters as they ushered him toward an awaiting car.

      “Thank you, Rashad.” Omar smiled at his personal assistant once they were all settled in the car and pulling away from the circle of reporters. “It would appear the owner of the airstrip leaked the information about our arrival here.”

      Rashad Aziz, a petite man in his fifties with skin the color of a coconut shell and a cynicism Omar often found amusing, grimaced. “I’m sure he was paid handsomely for giving the information to those vultures.”

      Rashad withdrew a small pad from his breast pocket. “We have made arrangements for you at the Brighton Hotel in Mission Creek. The Ashbury Suite will be yours for as long as you like. I spoke to the owner of the hotel myself, and he has assured me that his entire staff is eager to see that your every wish is granted.”

      “I’m sure it will be just fine,” Omar said absently. “And now you will tell the driver that we will go to the Carson Ranch before checking into the hotel.”

      Rashad didn’t blink an eye even though the plan had been for Omar to go immediately to his hotel. Rashad moved to the seat directly behind the limo driver and quickly relayed the change in plans. He remained seated there, as if instinctively recognizing that the sheik wanted a few moments with his own thoughts.

      Omar stared out the window at the passing landscape. It irritated him that the press knew he was here. He’d hoped to fly into Mission Creek, accomplish his goal, then return to Gaspar without the glare of the media upon him.

      He did not want the press to be privy to his personal business, and this trip to Texas was strictly personal. When he succeeded, he’d be more than happy for the world to know what he’d done.

      What if she says no? Again the question came from nowhere to plague him with the disturbing possibility. He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a photograph.

      The picture was of a young woman in a shimmering silver ball gown. The dark brown wavy hair that framed her heart-shaped face complemented her peaches-and-cream complexion. He remembered her eyes had been like emeralds, flirting and dancing and surrounded by thick, long lashes. A beauty mark at the corner of her mouth drew attention to the lush, thoroughly kissable-looking lips.

      Elizabeth Fiona Carson.

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