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Chapter 1
Michelle Reynolds stared out the town car’s window. From the elaborate architecture that brought to mind the Arabian Nights to modern skyscrapers that soared into the clear blue sky the capital city of Al-Sarid looked to be an amazing place.
She glanced at her watch—on time but she was still trying to adjust to jet lag, the triple digit temperature, and the humidity that slipped past the car’s air conditioning, sticking her white cotton shirt to her back.
She’d done her research—her suit was cotton, tan and conservative. Al-Sarid had a European outlook and influence, and women had mostly given up the abaya, but that didn’t mean she had to look anything but all business.
Leaning forward, she asked the driver, “How long to Al-Hilah?
He glanced back in the rearview mirror, dark eyes bright and eager. He looked to be in his early twenties with a grin that lit up the car. Michelle noticed he wasn’t sweating, even though he had on a chauffer’s uniform. Since she spoke absolutely no Arabic, she was glad his English was prep-school perfect with just a faint accent. “Not long.”
She nodded. That could mean anything from five minutes to an hour—she was used to other countries having different time tables from her own. Pulling out her smart phone, she went over her notes one more time.
The meeting was with Mr. N. R. Bishara, one of the best architects in the country. She’d chosen him just for his ability to take a natural oasis and combine modern technology and classic architecture to create a stunning paradise. That was what she needed—what she wanted. It would be the perfect tribute to her mother. A place where her mother, or others who needed it, could visit and rejuvenate their minds and spirits.
Frowning, Michelle tapped a finger on the arm of the door. This trip had damn well better work out—and she was really hoping it wasn’t yet another excuse mom had used to get Michelle out of the country. Her mother had been physically unable to travel for three years now, and for three years Michelle was the one getting her passport stamped and looking after business. Michelle also suspected the trips were a move as well to keep her away from Alan.
She let out a breath, texted an update to mom, and then another to Alan—he was getting impatient about these trips, and Michelle was starting to wonder if Mom was right and Alan really wasn’t the one for her. She needed understanding in her life, not pressure about starting and raising a family.
Sending off the texts, Michelle glanced up again. The town car had left the high rises that clustered around the harbor and the shops of the main city. To one side, she could see water the same deep blue as the sky, dotted with the white of a low surf. Al-Sarid hugged the coast line of Arabia, a thin strip of a country. On the other side, white sand rose up to meet dark purple, rolling hills. She leaned forward, seeing nothing but desert to her left, a lone hawk circling in the sky the only sign of life.
Her mother had given her a detailed map with GPS coordinates of Al-Hilah, an oasis. The name meant crescent moon, and it was supposed to be the build site for an amazing place. At least that was the plan. Michelle pulled the coordinates up on her phone, checking with the driver about their location—not that there seemed much choice of a road. The main highway so far was the only one that headed north from the city.
Her phone beeped with a terse text from Alan. Michelle frowned and clicked off the message.
They’d dated for almost four years, and Michelle was beginning to think that had been four years too long. When she got back, she was going to have to find some way to end it. So far every time she’d tried, Alan had given her those huge, puppy dog eyes and then managed to talk her into giving him yet another chance. But a chance for what? More nagging? More arguments? Was she just giving into him because she was afraid there would never be anyone else?
The driver’s voice lifted, clear and all too young. “Those mountains to the left are where we are heading.” He pointed and turned the car away from the sea, taking a small road that barely deserved the title.
Michelle leaned forward, squinting to see anything but sand. The mountains seemed all too distant—and bare. “There really is an oasis out there?”
His grin flashed in the mirror. “Just wait. I came to Al-Hilah years ago with my grandfather. I know the spot well. It is hidden and so is not abused by tourists or the travelling nomads who still travel the country.”
Nomads. Michelle grinned. She had a sudden image of camels, robbed Bedouins, and beautiful Arabian horses. She shook her head. More than likely the nomads were a scruffy group who would never live up to the fantasy.
Twenty minutes later, the mountains rose up like giants around her. The road had been steadily climbing. Now it curved, and the driver turned off onto an even narrower, dirt two track that wasn’t even paved. After another ten minutes of bumping over the uneven ground, the driver pulled into a turn around. The ground rose up around the spot, creating a wall of rock that seemed sheer and final. Michelle frowned. This had better not be a place where the guy was going to ask for more money. She gripped her message bag with her laptop tighter. At least there was a sign of life here.
The driver had stopped next to a bright, red sports car, the type that would cost a quarter of the development’s budge
t. She’d seen one like it featured in a popular spy movie. Was that the architect’s car? If so, she might have to rethink if she could afford him.
Getting out, the driver adjusted his cap and opened the door for her. “You must walk from here. Over the ridge just there, then make a sharp turn and you’ll find a path that leads to Al-Hilah.” He gave a wave of his hand, as if that would summon the spot to her.
Michelle nodded and thanked him. The heat wasn’t as bad at the higher elevation as it had been in the city. But the sun beat down and she longed for a hat—or any kind of shade. Instead, she hefted her bag onto her shoulder and set off for the short climb. Please, don’t be far.
She should have worn boots, not heels that crunched on the pebbly ground. The air smelled dry now with a touch of sage or some kind of plant, and the perfume of spring flowers. She headed up the path, saw the turn the driver had mentioned. A narrow canyon opened in front of her as if by magic. It had to be only about thirty feet wide. Would construction equipment would even be able to get past this?
The canyon twisted and turned, the sides of the rock smooth and a soft ochre worn by centuries of flood waters. At least the tall walls offered some shade, and a hint of a breeze pushed the sweat from her skin.
The canyon ended as abruptly as it had started. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she stepped out and into a small valley. She gave a small gasp. A lush landscape stretched out before her.
