I Married a Sheik (2 page)

Faith took a step closer to the gleaming cherry desk, her temper inching upward by the second as she glared at the man. It wasn't enough that he had kept her waiting for almost two hours, now he had the audacity to ignore her!

"Mr. El-Etra!" She rapped on his desk with her knuckles. He never even flinched. "Your managing director called me this morning and insisted I come immediately, that your computer problems were of an urgent nature, but it certainly can't be that urgent if you've kept me cooling my heels in your waiting room for almost an hour and a half."

"Uh…Miss Martin…" The assistant held a finger in the air. "It's—it's not
Mr.
El-Etra," he corrected softly.

Faith blinked at him and felt a momentary skitter of alarm. Good Lord, had she stormed into the wrong office? She almost groaned. That would be a perfect end to a perfectly dreadful day.

She took a careful breath. "Excuse me?"

"It's
Sheik
El-Etra."

Her eyes narrowed. "You've wasted almost two hours of my valuable time and now you're going to get picky about titles?" Her voice rose as she took a step closer to him, forcing him to take a self-protective step back.

In addition to cooling her heels in the outer office, she'd missed lunch and had sat for nearly two hours in rush-hour traffic in order to keep this blasted appointment.

She'd been unusually nervous and excited when she'd received the call, well aware of the prominence of the El-Etra Investment Firm, and what having its name on her client list could do for her successful, but still not-over-the-hump computer consulting business.

Nerves, however, had finally given way to an inexplicable bout of temper. She was successful, in demand, and had garnered an impeccable reputation in the business community and was not accustomed to being treated like a bad-tempered stepchild.

"Ms. Martin." The assistant's lashes fluttered nervously. "I'm certain—"

"No, Mr. Kadid,
I'm
certain that your boss's title is of the utmost importance to you." Planting her hands on her slender jean-clad hips, she turned to glare at the man still engrossed in his telephone conversation. "But trust me on this, I couldn't care less what you call him, although I'm quite certain I could come up with a few names on my own." She gave her head an arrogant toss.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I really don't have time for this nonsense. Give my regrets to the sheik," she snapped, deliberately giving his title a great deal more emphasis than necessary as she turned and marched toward the doors. "Tell him when he gets serious about his business to give me a call. Until then, don't bother wasting my time." Muttering under her breath, Faith stormed back toward the still-open double doors, muttering imprecations under her breath.

"Miss Martin." The very deep, slightly accented voice caught Faith off guard, stopping her in her tracks. She hesitated for a moment as that voice seemed to reverberate along her nerve endings like an unwelcome caress. A shiver raced over her and she turned on her heel in curiosity to stare at the man that voice belonged to.

He'd hung up the phone, and was now standing, drawn to his full, elegant height, and Faith resisted the urge to take a step back. She had to tilt her head to take in the full length of him.

Magnetic was the first and only word that came to mind, crowding everything else out. With his proud, regal bearing, and dark good looks, his presence was forceful, incredibly masculine and magnetic.

Magnificent was the second word that popped into her mind. He was, she decided, one incredibly magnificent-looking male.

At the moment, however, he was also apparently annoyed, judging from the stormy look in those dark, smoldering eyes. Her chin rose a notch.

Too bad.

So was she.

Unwilling to be intimidated by his looks or his posture, Faith took a step closer.

She'd been too irritated to pay much attention to his features before, but now she could see he was, in a word, incredible. Much more elegant and handsome than in the silly society photos where he was usually photographed with some bubbling, beautiful airhead clinging to his arm like sticky flypaper.

Burnished olive skin, deeply etched features, a thin, elegant mouth, large dark eyes and a head of thick black hair made him like look a renegade pirate from another age. An unconscious shiver raced over her as she felt the full force of that masculine pull.

That was until she reminded herself of his reputation as a playboy who went through women faster than a termite through rotted wood. She pretty much knew this was
not
a man she was going to have much in common with.

He reminded her too much of her father. Another handsome, irresponsible playboy who'd cared little for those who'd cared for him, less for the broken hearts he left behind.

Faith almost shivered. She'd made it a practice to steer clear of this type of man. Thank God she didn't have to deal with him on a personal level. She didn't have much patience for immature male nonsense, and what little she'd had her father had worn out years ago.

Having to deal with this man professionally was going to be more than enough, judging from this first encounter.

"Ms. Martin." There was a hint of annoyance in his tone and Faith took a step closer, wondering what the heck he had to be annoyed about.

"I believe we have an appointment?" One dark brow lifted in an imperious manner, only further annoying her. Impenetrable dark eyes stared levelly at her, as if taking her measure.

"Had,"
she corrected, marching back toward him, feeling as if his twin nearly black eyes could see through her. "
Had
an appointment, Mr…. Sheik El-Etra." She tapped the face of her no-nonsense sports watch. It matched the rest of her no-nonsense outfit. "Almost two hours ago."

"It's Ali," he said quietly.

Faith blinked again, trying to shake off the shivers that deeply masculine voice had caused. It was an exotic blend, deep, smooth, with just a hint of an accent. "Excuse me?"

"It's Ali." He tilted his head, and she thought she saw a small smile curve the corner of that elegantly sculptured mouth. "My name, it is Ali."

His smile bloomed, transforming his face into something breathtaking. Faith felt her own breath wither in her throat. Her heartbeat sped up, and she resisted the urge to take a self-protective step back, to put some distance between them.

"Although I'm sure you've thought of other things you'd like to call me." Amused, his dark eyes twinkled, and Faith flushed, embarrassed that she'd allowed her temper to overrule her professionalism, and embarrassed that she was allowing herself to have such a strong physical reaction to him.

Her flush deepened. "I'm not accustomed to being kept waiting," she said defensively, meeting his gaze. "My time is at a premium—"

"As is all of ours," he countered, looking at her curiously. He was not accustomed to having a woman look at him as if he'd just slithered from between a crack in the flooring, and he was absolutely certain he didn't care for that cold look of suspicion she was aiming at him, as if she'd examined and found him lacking.

It was most unusual, and hardly the reaction most women had to him.

He spread his hands in supplication. "I apologize, but this delay could not be helped. I have been dealing with just one of many crises today. We will, of course, compensate you for your time, Ms. Martin."

"It's not merely a question of money," Faith snapped, irritated that he apparently thought money was her only concern. "Some things are more important than money."

One brow lifted again. "Really?"

It figured he would think money was the only important thing. Something else he had in common with her father. Looking at him, looking into those dark eyes, she had the strangest feeling he was mocking her. Faith stiffened.

"To some people money isn't the be all and end all. It's a question of time and priorities. I have other clients who were in dire straits today and needed my assistance, clients I put off because your needs seemed to have been the most urgent. Apparently that's not the case."

"On the contrary, Ms. Martin. My needs are most urgent." The tone of his voice had changed, softened, making her think of other needs, more primal needs, and she felt an unfamiliar heat flare through her.

"And contrary to your initial statement, Ms. Martin, I take my business very, very seriously."

Fascinated, Ali studied her. She was, he decided, too plain to be considered beautiful, but there was something about her, even in her drab clothing, that was elementally interesting.

The khaki slacks fit snugly at her waist and flared over hips that were elegantly curved in a way that would keep a man's head turning.

The plain cotton T-shirt was baggy, yet didn't hide the lush curve of her breasts or her slender, almost elegant shoulders.

Her hair, although pulled tightly from her face and left to hang down her back in some intricate braid, was a beautiful honeyed-auburn with every color of red woven in. He'd bet his next foal it was all natural, and complemented her ivory complexion in an extremely appealing way.

Her face was an interesting, feminine mix of angles with enormous green eyes, high cheekbones and full lips that were made for kissing and kissing well. Although judging by the looks of her, she probably hadn't been kissed very often.

She was not generally the type of woman a man pursued or fantasized over. She was far too plain. Her face was devoid of any cosmetics, yet her lashes were dark, long and full, shadowing her eyes and giving her a rather exotic look.

Ali found himself curiously intrigued and could not imagine why.

He gave a quiet sigh. Perhaps he'd been working too hard. An extremely sensuous man by nature who found everything about a woman, from her looks, to her scent, to the gentlest curve of her hip, gloriously fascinating and arousing, he had perhaps been too busy fending off the females his parents kept foisting on him to seek out a woman that could truly please and appreciate the most sensuous part of his nature.

Although he wanted—desired—the company of an intelligent female companion, one who was more than an advertisement for the latest designer, and who could respond honestly to his passionate nature, he had no wish or desire for love. It was simply not something he would ever allow in his life again.

Most of the women in his universe were either perfect models or beautiful debutantes who wouldn't dare go anywhere without being decked out in their finest designer apparel.

Their facades of beauty, minds of cobwebs and hearts of stone, which allowed little for true passion of any kind, had left him cold.

And a cold woman was the curse of a man's life. A fate worse than death, he believed.

In his experience a woman who was so preoccupied with how she looked rarely took the time to examine what she could feel, and a woman who could not accept, enjoy and appreciate the feelings of passion a woman was capable of was truly not a woman.

Ali cocked his head to examine the woman before him more closely, feeling a heated arousal of interest just from the angry passion radiating from her.

This was clearly a woman who allowed herself to feel all of life's emotions.

And he found her both interesting and intriguing.

It was just a shame she was so sullen and surly.

He was not accustomed to having anyone, let alone a woman, speak to him in such a disdainful manner. Women generally were falling all over themselves in an effort to impress him.

It had become truly annoying, simply because he didn't want to be impressed by beauty or clothing or jewels; he wanted a woman to impress him with her essence, her honesty, her being.

And so far, he had not yet met such a woman.

"Ms. Martin, if these computer problems are not solved, and solved quickly, it will jeopardize the entire operation of El-Etra Investments, something I cannot allow. I have a responsibility to my clients. They have entrusted me with their funds, some with their life savings, and I don't intend to cause a panic among my investors because of a silly problem with a machine."

"Silly problem with a machine," Faith echoed in disbelief, blowing out a soft breath. "Mr. El-Etra, if it wasn't for that silly machine, I sincerely doubt you'd be in business. That machine has no doubt improved your productivity and saved time, not to mention money."

"Are you scolding me, Ms. Martin?"

His words hung in the air for a moment, still soft, still polite, but with an underlying hint of power. Faith had a flash of awareness that perhaps she'd gone too far, but she wasn't about to back down. To anyone.

"Just stating facts, Mr. El-Etra," she replied coolly. She refused to use his first name or his title, which would put this situation on a more personal level and she intended to keep this strictly business. "So exactly what is the problem?" she asked, determined to get on with the business at hand.

He smiled. "If I knew, Ms. Martin, trust me, I would have fixed it myself, or had my staff of computer experts attend to it. I'm afraid that we are at a complete loss to understand this confounded system."

She tried to place the accent, but couldn't. There were definitely hints of English, probably Oxford, she surmised, but there was also a hint of whatever his native language was still detectable in his impeccable speech patterns. It was an enticing blend of something foreign, exotic and slightly…erotic.

He dragged a hand through his dark hair. "All I know is that this problem has disrupted my entire operation, and it simply cannot go on or be tolerated. I must have the problem fixed immediately."

"Immediately," she repeated with an irritated nod of her head. Obviously this was a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. Spoiled, she thought again, realizing she'd been right about him.

Her eyes flashed. "Well, if I hadn't been cooling my heels in your waiting room, perhaps I'd have a clue what the problem is and be well on my way to solving it."

"Perhaps." Apparently, she was not about to forgive him so easily. "I understand that you are considered the best computer consultant in the business?"