The Desert Princes. Jackie Braun

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      For all those who like their bad boys safely corralled

      between the pages of a book, and for Bev,

      whose face lights up when I mention the word ‘sheikh’.

CHAPTER ONE

      SHE had a backpack the size of the world. Hoisting it off the luggage carousel, she almost knocked out the eye of the woman standing next to her. Buckles and straps jangled from it, along with a rope, a waterproof bedsheet, and a pair of sand boots. She had her hair scraped back and a camouflage hat with a highly becoming neck-flap crammed on her head.

      Hearing she was to travel to the interior of A’Qaban as part of her job as marketing executive to that country’s development agency, Casey had ditched the power suit and Jimmy Choos in favour of a safari suit and sandproof knickers. But this wasn’t an airstrip in the furthest reaches of A’Qaban, but A’Qaban International Airport, where the desert came in bijou-sized pieces, each grain of sand polished to a heady sheen by the world’s top designers.

      As with any other project she undertook for the company, Casey had researched this one thoroughly. It had only been on the point of boarding the aircraft that she had been told her itinerary had been changed—and by none other than the recently crowned King, Sheikh Rafik al Bad-Boy himself. Apparently His Majesty had insisted on meeting all his key employees before ruling the country took his eye off the business.

      Surprised to find an underling like herself under the spotlight, Casey had allowed herself a momentary glow, until it was pointed out to her that Raffa, as the Eton educated and Special Forces hardened Sheik preferred to be known, was well into weeding out the weak links in his organisation. So, here she was, dressed like a park ranger in the midst of Glitz Central, and with no office clothes to save the day.

      She СКАЧАТЬ