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After the nurse's departure, he stepped back into the room. Tess now sat upright in bed, her arms crossed—as much as the IV would allow. He found himself almost mesmerized by those green eyes of hers.
"Tell me someone found Phil, my pilot. Is he all right? And when can I get out of here? Did my phone drown? I'll need to schedule a flight out. I was heading to Mumbai, and I have to be back in New York next week. Is it still Tuesday?" A line formed between her arching eyebrows. She kept her stare on him but picked at the tape holding her IV in place.
"The rescue crew found your pilot. He's down the hall. The doctors said you suffered a concussion and they advise rest. And your pilot has a broken leg that will keep him in the hospital for more than a few days. I'm also sorry to say we have no commercial flights available for the foreseeable future due to some labor disputes at our airports. I will see about your phone."
Her shoulders slumped. She stopped picking at the IV and settled her head against the pillow. The look in her eyes made him want to go to her side, to take her in his arms. But he had no such rights. "Miss Angel—"
"You recognized me?" She wrinkled her nose, and her mouth pulled down in a grimace. "I thought I might be spared that."
"How could I not know your face…and your name, which I found in your backpack? You are Tess Angel, owner of Angel Productions, and you head up the Coalition for Women in Entertainment. Thank you, by the way, for not leaving your empty water bottles strewn across my desert. I will see that all your needs are met, Miss Angel."
Her cheeks pinked even more. She lifted a hand. "Please call me Tess. And you…what? Are the owner of a desert?"
Tarek laughed. "No one can really own a desert. It owns itself. I just try to take care of it—and keep anyone from dying in it."
"You've had a successful day then."
She smiled. The warmth in her eyes made him forget to breathe. For a moment, he could only see the golden spark that lit her eyes. He wanted to step to her side, lean in, and capture that lush mouth with his own. Something about her…he couldn’t name it, but it called to him.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he looked away. This was not like him. He was a rational man. He had spreadsheets to review for the economy, striking workers who needed to be forced back to work, and protesting women in Al Resab's main park to disperse. He must focus on solving those problems and get over his fascination with this woman.
A knock on the door provided the interruption he craved. He called for the person to enter in Arabic, while Tess did the same in English. Surprised, he glanced at her. He was not accustomed to others giving orders in front of him. She stared back at him, eyebrows lifted high, as if she, too, was used to being the one in charge.
The door opened revealing a veritable parade. An orderly carried in a tray of food, while Dr. Al Din stood aside for an elderly woman in a traditional black robe and headscarf, along with three other women also dressed in black, while four uniformed palace guards took up posts outside the room. Tarek bit back a groan. Of course his grandmother would arrive with a full entourage. If a beetle crossed the country's border at the far edge of the desert, Sheikha Amal Rahim of Al Resab would know about it.
The orderly set the tray on Tess's rolling bed table and departed as soon as he could. Dr. Al Din gave a discreet bow and hovered in the background, along with the other women.
Sheikha Amal stepped up to Tess's bed at once dominating the room. Tall and slender, Amal wore unrelieved black as if she had been widowed a month ago, not decades before. Her black eyes glittered with intelligence and the strong nose and chin marked her as a woman not to be crossed. She took Tess's hand. "I'm so glad you've woken, my dear. We are delighted to have you in our country. I only wish the circumstances had been less traumatic for you, so you had a better first impression. You are quite the heroine, though. You must stay and allow us to suitably honor you."
Tess's mouth fell open, and she blinked several times.
Tarek stepped up next to his grandmother and took Tess's hand from hers. "Grandmother, may I present Tess Angel. Tess, this is Sheikha Amal Rahim. Grandmother, Tess was about to eat. Perhaps conversation would be best delayed until she has regained some strength. And we must allow the doctor to see to his patient." He gave Tess's hand a squeeze and hoped that would do as an apology for having so much of the palace descend upon her.
Letting go, he turned to his grandmother. She met his stare, her mouth set, her chin lifted. She knew better than to argue—she wanted more than anything, he knew, to make a good impression on Tess. After giving Tess a brilliant smile and a few more courteous words, Sheikha Amal swept from the room. Tarek followed, resisting the urge to glance back at Tess for one more glimpse of her stunning beauty.
In the lounge at the end of the hall, his grandmother stopped and faced him. Her ladies kept their distance, with the palace guard h
overing a few steps behind them. Amal lowered her voice. "We will make her stay as long as possible, Tarek. She must be your angel from the prophecy. Even her name fits."
He wanted to kick Arif for ever telling his grandmother about that old woman's nattering back in Oxford. Amal had listened to the story as if it came straight from God. She had been waiting for years for it to be proven true. He sighed.
"Grandmother, that wasn't a prophecy. It was the babbling of a homeless old woman who knew we'd give her money to make her go away. Tess has said she needs to continue her travels. She—like myself—has duties to attend to. She will stay only until she and her pilot are well enough to leave."
Sheikha Amal gave a snort. "You cannot say it is mere coincidence she falls into your lap just as Zahkim is having its worst crisis ever. Tarek, she will save you."
He shook his head. "From what, Grandmother? Myself? Is that not what you keep saying I need? Well, I can look after myself, and Zahkim has a long history. The country will go on. And Tess Angel's staying or leaving won't change a thing. I forbid you to speak a word of this nonsense to her. The state of our country is not her concern."
His grandmother patted his arm. "Tarek, you are very capable. You know I support you. But Allah is merciful, Allah is kind. Is it not possible that Allah sent her here to help you? Do you not feel it in your bones that she is the one meant for you?"
Tarek bit the inside of his cheek and counted backwards from five in Arabic, then English. "I think God, if he even exists, has much better things to do than arrange a plane crash, complete with injuries and a desert rescue."
Before Amal could respond, Dr. Al Din stepped from Tess's room and strode toward them. Tarek waved the guards aside and walked to meet the man.
The doctor gave Sheikha Amal a nervous glance but turned to Tarek. "Your Majesty, I have spoken with your guest. Rest is most important. She may leave, but I would prefer to keep her pilot for a week, possibly two. His leg will require surgery once the swelling is down."
"But Tess…Miss Angel…she is well?"
Sheikha Amal stepped forward. "We will provide her a room and care at the palace." She gave Tarek a defiant stare.
