Which brought him to Howard Newell, who was still regaling him with all the benefits his company could offer the royal family. Samir knew most of them already. He’d had his staff do background research on every vendor at the convention, which was for agriculture-adjacent import/export businesses. Howard’s company had some questionable practices, but he also had the best connections across the industry and the necessary equipment to get the flowers from point A to point B.

  “—our European partners. Of course, I don’t need to go into much detail about those, unless you’d like—”

  Samir was trying his best to pay attention to Howard, but he could only do so much. It was late in the evening. The convention had been one meeting after the other all day, and…

  And.

  There was a woman at the opposite end of the bar. With only one person sitting between them, how could he not have seen her? Samir’s heart skipped a beat, then another.

  She was stunning.

  As a member of the royal family, Samir had been to dinners and events and meetings with the most powerful—and some of the most eligible—women in the world. And no one he had ever seen, from Omirabad or Europe or the United States, had made him feel quite like this. Just looking at her had his feet floating a few inches off the floor. Even in the relatively low light of the bar, she seemed…bright. Blonde hair fell around her shoulders, and her blue eyes…

  They flicked to his and she smiled, her friend whispering something into her ear. She took the straw between her lips. They were perfect lips. Maybe the convention was going to his head. Samir attended official meetings all the time in Omirabad, but they were never on this scale and never involved such close contact. He’d brought extra security with him. Three of them hovered around the bar, watching.

  Samir wouldn’t mind being alone in his suite.

  Or with the woman down the bar.

  His imagination was running wild in a way that he normally never allowed. There was too much work to be done as a member of the royal family to let his mind get away from him. But her face looked so…open. So welcoming. He smiled at her and watched the expression reflect in her face. Her eyelashes fluttered downward—something out of the movies. When she looked back up at him—

  “—good taste.”

  Howard’s voice splintered his thoughts like an arrow, and Samir jolted back to the reality that this was the last night of the convention. It was time to close a deal. That’s what he’d come here for—a business deal, not a woman. Though he would need a wife. The desert tribes did not look kindly on members of the royal family bucking tradition, and Samir refused to drop the ball when it came to his new duties as liaison.

  “I’m sorry, Howard. It was a bit loud in here. What were you saying?”

  The older man grinned, a strange satisfaction in his face. “I said, it’s clear you have a taste for the finer things, Sheikh Samir.” He nodded his head toward the woman Samir had been looking at. “That’s my daughter, Heather.”

  Samir didn’t see the resemblance between dark-eyed Howard and the blonde goddess, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d never met Howard’s wife. Perhaps the daughter was her spitting image.

  “I—” What was he supposed to say in this situation? “I didn’t know.”

  The expression on Howard’s face shifted to something more speculative and calculating than the smile he’d had on his face the entire time they’d been at the bar. “She’s single, you know.”

  It came back to him in a rush how Howard’s daughter had featured prominently in the discussions they’d had the previous year. It had been more than a couple of casual mentions. Samir had even spoken with Rashid about it. And Rashid had teased him. Samir had had the distinct impression that even if the businessman was matchmaking, it wasn’t something he should take seriously.

  Now, standing by the bar…

  “I could introduce you,” Howard pressed on.

  “Oh, no need, no need,” Samir said, gesturing to the bartender for another drink. He’d been nursing the same one for the better part of an hour, but now he wanted something fresh to ground him.

  “You obviously find her intriguing.” Howard laughed. “How could you not? In addition to being beautiful, my daughter is quite accomplished. Whip smart. I could call her over here, and you two could talk. See if it goes anywhere.”

  Samir gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m focused on developing Omirabad’s business interests at the moment. It’s crucial that we get some movement on expanding the Omirabad crocus trade, and my talks with potential partners need to take precedence over everything else. It doesn’t leave much time for a personal life, I’m afraid.”

  “Even businessmen can have a little fun now and then, can’t they?” Howard leaned in. “Aside from that, I’m confident our business deal could only be improved if we added a…personal connection.”

  It was gross, the way Howard was offering his daughter to smooth out the business arrangement they were making. And it was unnecessary. Samir didn’t need to involve anyone else in the deal. He’d come here to make certain that Howard’s company was the right one for the royal family to partner with. The man had more than assured him of his access to resources and the necessary contacts.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The bartender’s voice rang out like a bell, and relief washed over Samir. Even if the man behind the bar wasn’t talking to him, he welcomed the interruption.

  “Yes?” He angled his body away from Howard.

  Two drinks. The bartender was sliding two drinks across the mahogany surface to Samir. One of them was the whiskey he’d ordered. The other was…more elaborate.

  Samir picked up the whiskey. “I didn’t order the second one,” he called to the bartender.

  “No. They did.” The bartender pointed over Samir’s shoulder. Samir turned his head to find himself locking eyes with Heather. Those blue eyes…

  They’d gone to a stand-up table not far from the bar. Howard’s daughter leaned over to her friend, and Samir turned back to the bartender.

  “Thank you.”

  A heavy hand came down on his shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it, Sheikh Samir,” boomed Howard. His grin was so wide, it was as if they’d already signed on the dotted line. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” Without waiting for a reply, Howard turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

  The rest of the evening—it was almost midnight already. The evening was wearing out. They’d be into the early morning in a matter of moments. Samir wasn’t going to stay out that long.

  Still, he should thank Howard’s daughter and her friend for the drink. He had no interest in letting the night get away from him. Under no circumstances would he lose control. Tomorrow, he needed to finalize the deal with Howard and fly back to Omirabad. Samir had to be able to hit the ground running.

  He picked up the second drink, half-expecting that when he turned back around, the two women would be gone. Why would they have been so interested in him? It wasn’t as if he was about to take the throne.

  But they were still there, and Heather straightened up. She took another sip of her drink, her cheeks pink.

  He was at the table in a few strides, putting on his most confident smile. “Thank you for the drink.” He nodded to both women. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Sheikh Samir of Omirabad.”

  “You’re handsome,” the brunette chimed in, eyes shining. “My friend here couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

  Howard’s daughter shook her head. “You are impossible.”

  The brunette let out an enormous and obviously fake yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

  “No way,” Heather said. “This outing was your idea, and you’re not going to bail on me in an attempt to—”

  “I love you,” shouted the brunette, throwing her arms around Heather’s neck and spilling a bit of her drink. “I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay? Text me.” Then she swept her drink from the table and made a beeline for the bar’s exit.

  Heather blew out a breath and looked up at Samir. “I guess it’s the two of us, then.”

  He’d only been intending to thank them, but now, this close to her, it seemed…utterly impossible to walk away. Samir spied an intimate booth in the corner, empty and waiting.

  “We both have drinks,” he said, nodding toward the booth. “Want to sit and talk?”

  “So much for sitting and talking,” Heather said with a laugh. “We did so much more than talk.” She was drunk and delighted and pink, and Samir couldn’t catch his breath. Heather leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re gorgeous. Mr. Handsome. That’s what I was calling you in my head. That’s what I’ll call you in my bed.” She giggled again and rolled off him, her naked curves sinking into the bedding beside him. The night was a blur of her laughter, her skin, her scent…

  Heather leaned in again, snuggling her head to her shoulder. She was right. They had not sat for long, and now she was in his suite, and Samir didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Not that he could move.

  He was so tired. He’d sleep for a moment, and then…

  3

  Dark.

  It was dark, and that was the only thing Clem was thankful for in the moment she came awake. Gritty and sensitive eyes—that was a real treat, but it was nothing compared to the pounding headache. Even without opening her eyes—and she wasn’t sure she could open her eyes at this point—she knew it was dark.

  Clem wriggled her toes, testing out the rest of her body. Her muscles ached. What had she done last night? Heather had insisted on going to the bar, and then…

  Her stomach turned. This might be the worst hangover she’d experienced since college. One of their friends had insisted on having a pre-party, a party, and an after-party at one of the local hotels on her twenty-first birthday. Clem tried to shut out the memories of the morning after that debacle. She felt worse now. Clearly, the years had done something to her tolerance

  She stretched out her legs, careful not to overdo it. A cramp lingered in her right calf. No—left calf. Maybe both. Clem definitely hadn’t planned on being in heels for…

  For how long, exactly?

  She forced one eye open, but it was exactly as dark in the hotel room as she’d expected. The blackout curtains were drawn tightly over the windows and the barest whisper of light seeped in along one side. That was it.

  Up. She had to get up. Later in the afternoon she’d fly to Seattle and spend a few days with Heather. She was nowhere near being able to sit on a plane right now.

  Clem closed her eye again and took a few deep breaths to fortify herself.

  She could always open her eyes later. Maybe after she’d had a chance to press a wet washcloth over them for a few minutes. It was a hotel room, after all—if she couldn’t find the bathroom with her eyes closed, she was in trouble.

  She scooted toward the edge of the bed—

  Only to be stopped by something warm.

  An arm.

  An arm around her waist.

  She opened her eyes, no hesitation this time, but couldn’t see anything. How had she not noticed that a man had his arm around her waist until this moment? Was the hangover that bad?

  It must be, because not only did he have his arm around her, he smelled…delicious.

  Like cologne and money and sunshine. Clem took in a deep breath and sighed. He smelled so good. She could get used to waking up every morning next to—

  Oh, my god. Who? Next to who?

  Whoever it was, his body was muscled. He held her close, pressed in tight, and…yes. Another part of him was hard, too. Desire bloomed low in Clem’s belly, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. How could she want this complete stranger? Her head throbbed.

  She held her breath and tried to wriggle out from under his arm, but the movement woke him up. With a gravelly groan, he pulled her back even tighter.

  Then on the bedside table, a cell phone rang—not her ringtone. He released her, and the bed shifted as he turned over. So did she, blinking into the light of the phone.

  He swiped his thumb across the screen…and started speaking in Arabic.

  The sheikh.

  This wasn’t a stranger in bed with her. It was Sheikh Samir from the bar. Her heart leapt into her throat. Technically, he was still a stranger, but somehow they’d both ended up here, which meant they’d spent plenty of time last night getting to know each other.

  As he spoke into the phone, she pushed herself upright in the bed.

  Naked. Not a stitch of clothing on her. Clem let out a squeak and grabbed for the sheets. He stopped speaking, and she froze. It was ridiculous, freezing like this—they were in bed together. But for some reason she couldn’t stifle the urge to hide.

  A metallic click, and the lamp on the bedside table burst into light. She grabbed frantically for a pillow, pressing it to her chest, and then turned to face the sheikh.

  He looked at her, a long, steady gaze, and then the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile that made her skin feel superheated.

  “Good morning,” he said, his English smooth and posh, like a prince out of a movie.

  That’s what he was, she realized with a shock. A prince. He was basically a prince. That’s what Heather had said—he was a sheikh from Omirabad.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  Samir still had the phone pressed to his cheek. “I’ll call you back,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the bedside table.

  Clem hadn’t been wrong the night before. He was still the most gorgeous man on the planet. Maybe even more so with his hair mussed from sleep and a lazy heat in his eyes.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

  “Yeah,” she said, running a hand over her hair. There was no telling what she looked like. “We’re…definitely here together. And…”

  “You don’t quite remember the details?”

  She shook her head and immediately regretted it. Clem closed her eyes against the light and swallowed. “I remember being at the bar.”

  Samir nodded. “You sent me a drink.” He pursed his lips. “I can recall the time before that drink being relatively tame.”

  “It was tame,” she agreed. “Mostly standing around and looking at you.” Clementine blushed. “I didn’t mean to admit that out loud. It’s easier with my eyes closed.” Was he even going to understand what she was talking about? This was a wicked hangover, and Clementine also felt…a little drunk.

  “I think the staring was mutual.”

  She opened her eyes and looked down at the pillow she had hugged to her chest. It was an enormous, fluffy thing—exactly the opposite of the hard-bodied man in bed with her. “At some point, we left the bar.”

  Samir laughed. “Several drinks later, you decided you wanted to dance.”

  That was a relief. “Sounds like me.” So she hadn’t done anything completely off-the-wall, like insist on taking Sheikh Samir of Omirabad to some underground club in the seedier part of Las Vegas. It wasn’t like Clem knew any such places, but having no memory of the past night’s events was…unsettling.

  “You’re very good at dancing,” said Samir, a sultry note creeping into his voice.

  Her face went hot. “I’m sure I felt very…uninhibited.”

  “I mean it,” he said. “It was…very much a club atmosphere.” He didn’t sound like the kind of man who visited clubs very often, and the wry smile on his face proved it. “But it was a beautiful thing to watch.” He put a hand to his hair. “I’m sure this isn’t nearly as beautiful.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s…” Clem cleared her throat. “It’s pretty nice, honestly.” She hugged the pillow closer. “Then after the club…”

  “After the club, it was very, very late, and you were…we both…” Samir hesitated. “We’d had a lot to drink, and after the elevator…”

  “The elevator?” The tone of his voice told her something had happened in the elevator, and her stomach turned over again.

  “Nothing bad,” Samir said, rubbing at his chin. “Nothing bad at all. It was only a bit…heated. We made the decision to come back to my room, and then…” He gestured toward the bed.

  Of course. This suite was twice the size of the one she was sharing with Heather. Clem blinked, bringing the room into better focus. Right. His room. His bed.

  She couldn’t remember a single detail, except a certain warmth between her legs, a passionate heat, and lips dragging across her skin… She could feel the blush spreading downward from her cheeks to her chest and lower.

  “Perhaps we should give it another go. Just to jog our memories.” God, his voice. Part of her wanted to leap onto those chiseled abs rising above the sheet.

  The other part was hungover and desperate for a toothbrush.

  “I’m—not sure if that’s the best idea right now.” A quick trip to the bathroom could fix all that, and when she was alone she could take some calming breaths and recenter herself before leaping back into bed with Prince Samir. Sheikh Samir. “I think I’ll go and freshen up.” Freshen up was not something Clem ever imagined herself saying, but there she was.

  “All yours,” Samir said, settling back onto his pillow. How was he so confident? Women probably fell all over themselves trying to spend time with him in Omirabad. That was it.

  And now there was the matter of getting out of bed.

  It turned out Samir was a true gentleman, because he’d closed his eyes.

  Clem tugged the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself, then scrambled to the bathroom. As she went, Samir’s phone rang again. He picked it up with a “Hello?” that sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. Whatever happened last night must have been amazing, because Clem’s body remembered, even if her mind didn’t.