Catching a quick shot of those sky blue eyes took him back to the last time he’d seen her. He remembered the heat in those eyes as she’d looked into his and the way they’d made him feel, somehow ravenous, as if only she could quench his hunger, and yet protective all at once. The last time he’d seen those eyes, the two of them stood face to face on the balcony behind her hotel room. It had been a magical night, and it ended under the stars.
But their commitments to their respective positions had pulled them apart then, and he figured it might have been for the best. He couldn’t tell if she had seen him yet, so he continued to watch her covertly. If anything, these years were good to her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She’d always worn her hair in a tight bob, which suited her but he was pleased to see that it was longer now allowing her natural waves to frame her face.
“…and I think that Sheikh Zaid will agree when I say that there is still much work to be accomplished to get us where we want to be,” Alacabak concluded his speech, bringing Zaid’s attention back to the front of the room.
“Yes,” he agreed without hesitation. “There is still much work to be done.” He didn’t know where to go in his speech from there, too busy watching the auburn-haired beauty in the back of the room. It was as if she’d stepped directly out of his memory with her knee-length gray skirt hugging the subtle curves of her petite frame, her gray jacket clinging tightly to her shoulders and breasts, her silky hair, those thin hands that had held his face to hers, and those blue eyes that had pulled him out of himself before. He forgot himself every time he saw her.
“I took the liberty of creating an itinerary that each of you should have received at the hotel when you arrived,” Zaid continued. “It illustrates for you the different parts of the region where we will be visiting. We want to show you the best that Sharjah has to offer and what your investments will be supporting. We tried to include a fair mixture of traditional sights and modern features. We can start your tour of the region today, after we take a brief break to get everyone situated and organized.”
Zaid had worked closely with Alacabak and the tourism advisors to create an itinerary filled with trips to the museum, the desert park and reserve, the finest restaurants, the new conference center, and a few sightseeing tours designed to show off the wealth and modern development prevalent in Sharjah. He figured he would show them everything he wanted them to know about Sharjah, things he couldn’t put into words in order to persuade the investors and government officials to put more money into business development in the Emirate.
While he spoke, he looked for Rebecca again. She was gone, swallowed by the group.
“I’d like to close by saying again that we’re glad you could visit the region and see what opportunities we have to offer your businesses and other investments in our economy,” he concluded. “Now, if you’d like, we have refreshments on the table behind me. Don’t fill up on the finger foods, though,” he said with a laugh. “We will be attending lunch after a brief meet-and-greet session with the Sultan and other government officials who are now arriving.”
Zaid stepped aside from the tables of food as servers appeared with trays of non-alcoholic drinks. As the guests were distracted by the refreshments, he began to make his way through the group, looking for the beautiful American woman who had threatened to steal his heart all those years ago for just a few nights of passion.
He hadn’t given her much thought in the five years since, allowing the memory of her to fade into the busy political scenery. Ironically, it seemed she’d done that here in the palace. He couldn’t find her anywhere.
He heard Alacabak explaining some of the places they would be visiting to the guests behind him while he searched for Rebecca.
Sheikh Zaid’s heart pounded in his chest while he looked for Rebecca. There weren’t very many people in the room, no more than a dozen members of the diplomatic tour with a few staff members serving drinks and food. Perhaps he hadn’t actually seen her. Maybe he’d mistaken another guest for her in a fit of wishful thinking. He looked around to see if he could find the mistaken guest, but no one fit the description of the little American woman who was a foot shorter than he was without her heels on.
In the meantime, his father the Sultan had finally joined the meeting. He sat in his large throne-like chair on the dais at the far end of the room. Khalid stood next to their father, both of them in their traditional gowns and headpieces, but the Sultan with his black robe with gold trim over his shoulders.