Such a plan backfired on him, however, when his father stopped by and gave an approving nod. “If this is the influence an American girl has on you to work harder, I approve.” His father smiled, turned and walked out.
And Khalid knew he was going to have to not be so consumed by business—he wanted his father to get the idea of marriage out of his mind. Not to think that Casey was reforming Khalid’s playboy ways.
The event that evening was to take place in the gardens. The sultan had asked for traditional dress. Khalid intentionally chose a black suit and white shirt, leaving off even the formality of a tie. He sent to Casey a request for her to wear the red gown he had chosen for her. It was not the least traditional. Oh, it covered her skin, but when she stepped from her room, he saw it did just what he had hoped.
The long, red dress showed off her curves. The skirt flowed loosely around her legs, but the top hugged her thin waist and the swell of her breasts. Khalid smiled—she looked very American with her golden hair loose and her pale skin.
With his hand resting at the small of her back, he escorted her down the stairs. “Did you have a good day?” he asked.
She lifted one shoulder. “More like a long call last night giving excuses to my editor about not having a deadline or an interview lined up—and then a long day of writer’s block. Khalid, it’s hard to write a story if you don’t know what the story is. I need some interviews.”
He nodded. “Tomorrow, I promise, I will arrange all.”
They stepped into the gardens.
Small, white lights had been strung in the trees. Candles in lanterns floated in the three different fountains. Food had been set out in one area, a band played traditional instruments in another, and the air smelled of scented flowers—jasmine and honeysuckle.
“There she is,” the sultan said coming to meet them. He glanced at Khalid’s casual dress and frowned, but Casey stepped forward and said, “Masaa el kheer.”
For a moment, the sultan seemed taken aback that she had spoken Arabic, but his mustache twitched and he gave a nod. “Good evening. It is good to see you learn a few words.” He waved impatiently for Khalid. “Come, I have told everyone they are to meet my son’s bride-to-be.”
Khalid took Casey’s hand and escorted her around the gardens. He lost track of the number of hands shaken. Most of the guests he knew already—the crowd was mostly men, and mostly American. Casey seemed to become more a reporter than a person. She could not, it seemed, resist asking questions.
“What do you think of Sharjah’s stance on women’s rights? Do you think Sharjah should be sanctioned until it does away with forced marriages? Have you ever thought of using your business ties to Sharjah to enforce a change in how women are treated?” The questions would have pleased him—if his father had been close enough to overhear.
Instead, he got startled glances from the businessmen—some excused themselves with the protest this was an evening off, others just glanced at Khalid and walked away, and some frowned and told Casey a blunt, “No comment.”
Grabbing Casey’s hand, he pulled her over to one of the refreshment tables—one laden with sparkling water and a punch bowl. “This would be wonderful if you were doing all of this within my father’s hearing.” He handed her a glass of punch.
She took it and put it down again. “I’m not a pretend reporter. That’s my profession. This is what I do.”
“You are doing an excellent job at making our American business partners uncomfortable.”
“It’s our now—not your father’s. I was honest with you when I said I was here to get a story.”
Khalid let out a long breath. “And I was honest with you when I said I would arrange interviews—but now and here is not the place.” Her mouth pulled down, and he noticed then the stubborn tilt to her jaw. He took her hand and stepped closer. “Please, can you not just be a woman tonight?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “That line work for you before?”
He let go of her hand. “That was not a line.”
“It sounded like one to me. But I’ll make you a deal—no more questions tonight, but you guarantee me either an interview with your father or with Fadiyah tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “Tomorrow I can guarantee you a date for such a thing. Will that please you.”
She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
He took her hand as if to shake it, but then turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Deal. Now let us see if you can enjoy this evening and stop threatening disaster. I am hoping our American partners will be more forgiving if you now become charming.”