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.On a whim, she’d applied to a placement agency and expected to wind up in a missionary school, but had found herself in the running for this job.It still felt like a miracle that she’d won it, but her quiet nature seemed to fit with a culture that valued modesty.She and Amineh had got on immediately, which surprised Fern.At first she had thought it was only because Amineh appreciated Fern’s genuine affection for the girls and her earnest desire to act in their best interests.Now she knew Amineh better, she recognized a like soul in the sense that they’d both struggled to find their place in the jungle of female cliques during their school years.Amineh and Zafir, Fern had learned, were the product of a rather notorious affair between an Arab sheikh and an English duke’s daughter.They’d ping-ponged back and forth between their parents, not quite fitting fully into either culture.Amineh had found stability by marrying her brother’s best friend, Ra’id, and living permanently in his country.Zafir still fought for the right to rule their father’s homeland, Q’Amara.He’d married the daughter of a sheikh, trying to ease resistance at having a man with such heavy Western influences governing their country.Somehow she couldn’t picture him wearing the same sad frown Amineh wore when she talked about their difficult early years.He seemed too fiercely proud to allow prejudice to reach his heart.It was hard to imagine a man that dynamic and confident struggling with anything.Peeking out of her tent, she saw him down at the water, shin-deep in the spring where the children had told her bathing was allowed.He stood with his sharp profile angled upward to the top of the worn canyon on the far side of the water.Then he crouched, not taking any heed that his robe was soaked through.He scooped his hands into the water and splashed his face, then lifted his gutra to wet the back of his neck.She swallowed, going weak as she watched him.He was so comfortable in his skin, so self-assured and compelling.It dawned on her that this was a crush.She was suffering a full-blown case of unfounded infatuation, behaving exactly like her adolescent schoolmates used to.She stood here spying on a boy, acting geeky and awkward and keyed up, entertaining uncharacteristic fantasies of kissing the back of his neck.How puerile.If only his wife was alive to deter her.Look away, she told herself, but she couldn’t make herself do it.Why did he have to be out there acting all brooding and sexy anyway?He stood and turned to stare directly at her tent.His shoulders were set at what seemed a tense angle, his demeanor projecting dissatisfaction.She couldn’t tell if he saw her, but she retreated to the back wall.This was going to be an interminable two weeks.Copyright © 2015 by Dani CollinsISBN-13: 9781460378335The Real RomeroCopyright © 2015 by Cathy WilliamsAll rights reserved.By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen.No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.This is a work of fiction.Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.www.Harlequin.com
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