Which was just as well since Rafe had hated every one of those twenty cold women. They had been lacking in heart and a little hard in the soul. Kade would not have hesitated to take one or two of them to bed, but he’d made it clear that he had no interest in marrying any of them. Now the deadline for the three of them to find a bride and wed her breathed hotly down their necks. If they didn’t select one soon, the throne would pass to their cousin, Khalil.
No one who liked their chic yet charming country as it was wanted that.
“We’re actually here because Talib has found a possible candidate.” Kade’s sly smile told Rafe they were on the same page. Dex wanted to give them a lecture? They would give him a surprise.
Dex’s eyes rolled slightly. “Seriously, you’re looking for a wife, but you’re taking a little detour to salivate over my researcher? Not cool, guys.”
Rafe put the folder with Piper’s information on the desk, his palm remaining on it. It contained the original report and Tal’s observations about the girl, along with a few snippets of instant messaging conversations they’d shared. Rafe had already memorized them and had been intrigued, but meeting the girl had increased his understanding and enthusiasm a hundredfold. “You are right, of course. That would be very ungentlemanly of us.”
“And obviously your wife’s friend is far too sweet for nasty men like us.” Kade grinned.
“Dude, I’m glad you understand what I’m saying.” Dex held up his hands. “I’m not trying to disrespect you. I really do know what it means to be in your place, having a certain…itch and liking it scratched frequently. Slade and I had to hunker down and try to survive big brother until Hannah softened him up. But Piper isn’t a good-time girl. She’s the kind of girl you marry. Can’t you find someone else?”
Rafe’s lips turned up as Dex fell neatly into their trap. “I would not wish Piper heartache. Now, this is the name of the woman Talib wishes us to investigate as a potential bride. He thinks she’s quite intelligent and possesses many of the qualities we seek. If you could tell us all you know about her before we approach her, perhaps fill in any gaps in our report, we would be so grateful.”
Dex pulled the folder toward him. “Sure thing. Any woman you choose will be one lucky lady. Your country is beautiful and that palace is something else.” He opened the folder, caught sight of Piper’s name, and sighed. “You’re a son of a bitch.”
Rafe couldn’t help but smile. “So, you’ll set up lunch for us?”
He growled a little. “You two better take fucking good care of her. No, damn good care. No fucking her. Not until this thing is settled.” He picked up the phone and started talking.
Kade slid Rafe a slow smile.
Yes, they would take damn good care of her, indeed. Eventually, he suspected, they’d take fucking good care of her, as well.
* * * *
Piper looked around the restaurant, hoping no one noticed her thrift store clothes. She felt deeply out of place, and yet she couldn’t help but stare. It was beautiful, completely unlike anywhere she’d been before, but then there was only one place in her hometown that would qualify as a restaurant. Patty’s Pie Hole didn’t look like this.
Gosh, she hoped she didn’t break anything and could figure out which fork to use.
“What looks good to you, habibti?”
His voice was like rich chocolate. Rafiq. He’d introduced himself that way, but quickly asked her to call him Rafe. He’d been the one to hold open the door for her and to help her out of the car. He probably knew she was likely to take a header right on the street.
“What does that mean?” He’d called her that twice. She wasn’t sure if he just kept forgetting her name. Black Oak Oil didn’t hand out security badges with employees’ names.
“Habibti?”
Piper nodded, trying not to let her eyes widen as she took in the prices on the menu. She could buy a cow for what they charged for a steak. Mr. James had explained that she was being treated, but she wasn’t used to being treated this well. “Yes, sir. I don’t know what that means.”
Kadir, or Kade as he liked to be called, elegantly slid his napkin over his lap. “It’s the Arabic equivalent of sweetheart.”
She hid a smile. At least men were the same across the world. She’d been around men all her life who called every woman, from eight to eighty, sweetheart or darlin’. They were either trying to be charming or were wretchedly bad at remembering names. But it was still somewhat endearing. “Oh, that’s nice. So, what exactly can I help you with, Mr. al Mussad? I assumed you were getting all the research notes and projections from Tal.”