was plastered to her face—and she probably had panda eyes from knuckling rainwater out of them.
‘Here, Isla...take it.’
She stared at the money in his hand.
‘It’s the least I can do,’ he insisted, thrusting a wad of notes towards her.
‘There’s no need for that. I’m just doing my job.’
The job you want to keep?
‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she added. ‘If you would like to leave some money at the end of the week for everyone at the café to share, that would be great.’
What was she doing? Could she afford to turn down such a generous tip?
No. Absolutely not, but something felt wrong about accepting such a large tip from a man she hardly knew—and particularly from this man. It was too much, and after last night at the club when she suspected he had doubled Chrissie’s pay, she couldn’t take any more from him.
Cut him some slack, Isla’s inner voice intoned wearily. No doubt everyone who works for the fabulously wealthy Sheikh has more money than they know what to do with.
Maybe. But that wasn’t the point. A small show of gratitude was acceptable, but flashing a twenty? She wasn’t comfortable with that.
‘Thanks anyway...’ She shot him a thin smile and left it at that before braving the icy wind with the memory of his fleeting touches branded onto her mind.
Knocking mud off her boots, she walked with relief into the steamy heat of the busy café. It was good to be back on familiar ground. She felt safe from conflicting feelings here. The customers liked her and she liked them. Charlie said she invited confidences with her easy manner. The truth was Isla needed company as much as anyone else. Since losing her mother and paying off all their debts, she had lived alone in one room above a shop, and she loved the contrast of her busy life at the café. All that company and chat, with breakfast thrown in? What was not to love?
Customers that shook her up, like the man from the building site?
She should forget him. He’d probably be gone by tomorrow.
Forget him?
Maybe not, but she would do her best to keep her mind on the job.
The aromatic air inside the café made Isla’s mouth water. Charlie was a good cook and he fed his staff well. No wonder she was smiling, when she had such a great day to look forward to. Once she finished her shift here, she was due at the university gym. Gymnastics had been one of Isla’s childhood passions in the days before her father walked out and her mother got sick, and now she was grateful to make money out of her skill. She worked every hour she could to fulfil her mother’s dying wish and make her proud.
‘My shift is nearly over,’ Chrissie carolled happily as she joined Isla at the counter.
‘Mine too,’ Isla said with a grin.
After the gymnastics classes she could look forward to a long, peaceful evening. That might involve wearing every jumper she possessed with her feet drawn up as close as she dared to her three-bar electric fire, but at least she had a home to go to. A quick glance at Charlie to let him know that she was back was repaid by a hard stare. Understandably. She’d been gone a long time. But once Charlie took in her new outfit, he began to smile. Charlie wasn’t the only one. She was so wet, and it was so hot in the café that her clothes were starting to steam. Tipping Charlie a wry look, she explained what had kept her so long. ‘I’m to be the Sheikh’s team’s regular gofer. I think they’re going to need lots of coffee while they’re here.’
Charlie was pleased to hear it. ‘Well done for encouraging business.’
‘And look out for the Sheikh when you go back next time,’ Chrissie called out.
‘Of course I will,’ Isla teased Chrissie. Privately, Isla doubted that the Sheikh would be seen until His Royal Sereneness turned up to cut the ribbon on his new buildings and declare them open. In her imagination, the Sheikh of Q’Aqabi was as hard as nails, as rich as Croesus, and as tall, dark and sinister as could be—but compulsively enthralling, all the same.
Realistically, Isla reflected as she got back to her work, the Sheikh was probably shrivelled, pot-bellied, and grumpier than Charlie.
* * *
Young. Challenging. Proud. Interesting. But too innocent for him, and he didn’t have time to waste on challenges. Interesting? Isla was certainly interesting.
Would he pursue his interest in her further?
Stuffing the twenty away in the back pocket of his jeans, he stared after her. She was proud, and he got that. She’d been offended by money. How would she react if he offered more? Money could buy most things in his world...
But could it buy him everything he wanted?
He doubted that any amount of money could buy Isla. Her grey eyes had flashed fire when she’d seen the twenty. She’d no doubt guessed he was responsible for padding her wages last night. She was resourceful and adaptable. She was also an innocent who had trespassed unwittingly into his dark, sensual world. He wondered about her past experience with men. She was attractive, so there must have been some, though her air of innocence suggested that none had breached either the defences of her body or her heart. He should know better than to play games with a girl like that, but she attracted him. Mild on the outside, she reminded him of a volcano about to erupt, and he wanted to be there when that happened.
He found her beautiful, with that particular peach-like complexion so common in this part of the world. Her hair was rain-soaked, but he remembered it from the club, when it had been long and unruly, and had glittered gold beneath the lights. Her eyes were grey and expressive. Small and lush, she warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a long time, and her strength of character warned there would never be a dull moment. He liked that idea. As a mistress, she showed definite potential, but could he take her innocence and then discard her when he’d had enough?
A casual affair was unthinkable for him. He had everything to prove to his country. His reckless youth, and the tragedy that had detonated, would take a lifetime to repay. He would do nothing to rattle the sound foundations he was building in Q’Aqabi. His duty was to find a suitable bride. He did not have time to waste thinking about a new mistress. He must harden his heart to Isla, even as another part of him hardened in lust.
He summoned his colleagues in the hope that work would distract him, but, however many lectures he gave himself on the subject of forgetting Isla, he couldn’t help but anticipate the next coffee break, and another encounter with the spirited barista.
* * *
She didn’t go back to the building site. She came up with another plan. Coffee could be left with the security guard, and he could deliver it. Charlie readily agreed to this. They were so busy, he couldn’t spare his staff for any more lengthy visits.
The following day Chrissie took over for her, as Isla had to be at the library. She wasn’t exactly avoiding a certain person, but she wasn’t exactly courting trouble, either. She wasn’t used to handling such a compelling man, and she didn’t want to appear as if she was overly interested in him. She had the best of excuses. As the prize winner, she was expected to be on duty at the library when the Sheikh
