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“It’s not merely a question of money,” Faith snapped, irritated that he apparently thought money was her only concern. “Some things are more important than money.”
One brow lifted again. “Really?”
It figured he would think money was the only important thing. Something else he had in common with her father. Looking at him, looking into those dark eyes, she had the strangest feeling he was mocking her. Faith stiffened.
“To some people money isn’t the be all and end all. It’s a question of time and priorities. I have other clients who were in dire straits today and needed my assistance, clients I put off because your needs seemed to have been the most urgent. Apparently that’s not the case.”
“On the contrary, Ms. Martin. My needs are most urgent.” The tone of his voice had changed, softened, making her think of other needs, more primal needs, and she felt an unfamiliar heat flare through her.
“And contrary to your initial statement, Ms. Martin, I take my business very, very seriously.”
Fascinated, Ali studied her. She was, he decided, too plain to be considered beautiful, but there was something about her, even in her drab clothing, that was elementally interesting.
The khaki slacks fit snugly at her waist and flared over hips that were elegantly curved in a way that would keep a man’s head turning.
The plain cotton T-shirt was baggy, yet didn’t hide the lush curve of her breasts or her slender, almost elegant shoulders.
Her hair, although pulled tightly from her face and left to hang down her back in some intricate braid, was a beautiful honeyed-auburn with every color of red woven in. He’d bet his next foal it was all natural, and complemented her ivory complexion in an extremely appealing way.
Her face was an interesting, feminine mix of angles with enormous green eyes, high cheekbones and full lips that were made for kissing and kissing well. Although judging by the looks of her, she probably hadn’t been kissed very often.
She was not generally the type of woman a man pursued or fantasized over. She was far too plain. Her face was devoid of any cosmetics, yet her lashes were dark, long and full, shadowing her eyes and giving her a rather exotic look.
Ali found himself curiously intrigued and could not imagine why.
He gave a quiet sigh. Perhaps he’d been working too hard. An extremely sensuous man by nature who found everything about a woman, from her looks, to her scent, to the gentlest curve of her hip, gloriously fascinating and arousing, he had perhaps been too busy fending off the females his parents kept foisting on him to seek out a woman that could truly please and appreciate the most sensuous part of his nature.
Although he wanted—desired—the company of an intelligent female companion, one who was more than an advertisement for the latest designer, and who could respond honestly to his passionate nature, he had no wish or desire for love. It was simply not something he would ever allow in his life again.
Most of the women in his universe were either perfect models or beautiful debutantes who wouldn’t dare go anywhere without being decked out in their finest designer apparel.
Their facades of beauty, minds of cobwebs and hearts of stone, which allowed little for true passion of any kind, had left him cold.
And a cold woman was the curse of a man’s life. A fate worse than death, he believed.
In his experience a woman who was so preoccupied with how she looked rarely took the time to examine what she could feel, and a woman who could not accept, enjoy and appreciate the feelings of passion a woman was capable of was truly not a woman.
Ali cocked his head to examine the woman before him more closely, feeling a heated arousal of interest just from the angry passion radiating from her.
This was clearly a woman who allowed herself to feel all of life’s emotions.
And he found her both interesting and intriguing.
It was just a shame she was so sullen and surly.
He was not accustomed to having anyone, let alone a woman, speak to him in such a disdainful manner. Women generally were falling all over themselves in an effort to impress him.
It had become truly annoying, simply because he didn’t want to be impressed by beauty or clothing or jewels; he wanted a woman to impress him with her essence, her honesty, her being.
And so far, he had not yet met such a woman.
“Ms. Martin, if these computer problems are not solved, and solved quickly, it will jeopardize the entire operation of El-Etra Investments, something I cannot allow. I have a responsibility to my clients. They have entrusted me with their funds, some with their life savings, and I don’t intend to cause a panic among my investors because of a silly problem with a machine.”
“Silly problem with a machine,” Faith echoed in disbelief, blowing out a soft breath. “Mr. El-Etra, if it wasn’t for that silly machine, I sincerely doubt you’d be in business. That machine has no doubt improved your productivity and saved time, not to mention money.”
“Are you scolding me, Ms. Martin?”
His words hung in the air for a moment, still soft, still polite, but with an underlying hint of power. Faith had a flash of awareness that perhaps she’d gone too far, but she wasn’t about to back down. To anyone.
“Just stating facts, Mr. El-Etra,” she replied coolly. She refused to use his first name or his title, which would put this situation on a more personal level and she intended to keep this strictly business. “So exactly what is the problem?” she asked, determined to get on with the business at hand.
He smiled. “If I knew, Ms. Martin, trust me, I would have fixed it myself, or had my staff of computer experts attend to it. I’m afraid that we are at a complete loss to understand this confounded system.”
She tried to place the accent, but couldn’t. There were definitely hints of English, probably Oxford, she surmised, but there was also a hint of whatever his native language was still detectable in his impeccable speech patterns. It was an enticing blend of something foreign, exotic and slightly…erotic.
He dragged a hand through his dark hair. “All I know is that this problem has disrupted my entire operation, and it simply cannot go on or be tolerated. I must have the problem fixed immediately.”
“Immediately,” she repeated with an irritated nod of her head. Obviously this was a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. Spoiled, she thought again, realizing she’d been right about him.
Her eyes flashed. “Well, if I hadn’t been cooling my heels in your waiting room, perhaps I’d have a clue what the problem is and be well on my way to solving it.”
“Perhaps.” Apparently, she was not about to forgive him so easily. “I understand that you are considered the best computer consultant in the business?”
“Considered?” One auburn brow rose and Faith felt the stung of his subtle doubt. Fists clenched in frustration at his high-handed arrogance, she took a step closer to his desk. “Well, you’ve apparently been misinformed.”
It was his turn to look surprised. His glance shifted from her to his elderly assistant who was still quietly hovering in the background. “Kadid? What is this?” He glanced at Faith, his dark brows drawn together, then back at his assistant. “Have I been misinformed?”
The carefully chosen words sounded like a threat, almost making Faith shiver. The guy gave a whole new meaning to the word arrogant.
“Absolutely,” Faith responded before the assistant could. “I am the best computer consultant in the business.”
“Modest, too, I can see,” Ali said, with a cautious smile of relief. Plain, but feisty, he decided with a hint of amusement. An interesting combination.
“No, Mr. El-Etra, not modest, just honest.” Her chin lifted. “Honest, and the best, but my time is valuable, and I don’t appreciate having it wasted.”
There was anger, he noted, and something else radiating from her, something he couldn’t quite place.
“Nor do I, Ms. Martin,” he said, making it clear that he considered her little temper tantrum a waste of his time. “If you are the best, then I trust you’ll be able to fix this insidious problem. Immediately.” It was a clear challenge, one Faith couldn’t ignore.
“Well, I don’t know about your idea of immediate, but once I find out what the problem is, I’m sure I can fix it. I can’t tell you how long it will take, though, until I know exactly what we’re dealing with.” She met his gaze head-on. “Some things take time whether we like it or not.” And she was not about to be rushed. Sensing he was going to issue another order or command that would no doubt only tick her off more, she rushed on. “Now, if you can give me an idea of just what the problem is, it might help. I have to start somewhere. I’m good, but I’m not a mind reader.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, stung once again by her sarcasm. He drew himself upward, slipping his hands in the pockets of his pants. “We are a full-scale investment firm, Ms. Martin, and once a month an assortment of checks are issued to each and every client, checks of different denominations for different purposes, of course.”
“Of course.” She wished he’d stop staring at her. He was making her…itchy.
Ali blew out an exasperated breath. “A few days ago, on the first of the month, when the first batch of checks were distributed, the system began spitting out checks in the wrong denominations. In addition, we discovered that it was also crediting deposits to the wrong accounts and in the wrong amounts. Both new funds, interest, as well as divestitures were misappropriated to the wrong accounts.”
With a shake of his head, Ali glanced down at the neat sheaf of papers on his desk. He’d spent hours going over paperwork, trying to fix this problem, then more hours on the phone, soothing investors. He felt as if he hadn’t left his office in weeks.
“As a result, chaos has reigned. My accountants did not discover the errors until after the first checks had been mailed and the first irate calls started coming in.” His brows drew together as he remembered the flurried panic among his staff that morning.
“Our in-house computer experts were at a loss as well. They began searching for the problem—”
“Immediately,” she injected with a nod of her head, causing him to stop and stare at her for a long moment. Obviously this was a man not used to being interrupted, judging from the look on his face.
“Yes,” he said slowly, still watching her carefully. “But alas, they came up empty. They tried various things, unfortunately, nothing worked. As a result, we had to completely shut down our entire computer system simply because it is set up to distribute and print checks automatically. I have been deluged with calls from angry investors who have either not received the proper funds or have not received any funds at all. Now, unfortunately, they have begun to question the integrity as well as the security of my firm.” He sounded as if he was surprised by this.
“Well, that would do it for me.” She slipped her hands in the pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “If I’d invested my life savings in a firm and found out they’d screwed up and sent my money to someone else, I’d be a tad annoyed as well.”
“Screwed up?” His dark eyes narrowed and she could hear Mr. Kadid sigh from behind her. Apparently telling the sheik he’d screwed up wasn’t part of the proper protocol. “This cannot continue, Ms. Martin,” he said in clipped tones. “So as you can see, this is of an urgent nature and must be attended to. Immediately.”
Perhaps if he hadn’t sounded like he was issuing a command, she might have softened at his plight.
“Situations happen whether we allow them or not. And as for urgent and immediate, I’m not the fire department,” she clarified, watching his face darken. The assistant was apparently back to sighing again as well. “Clearly you’ve got a problem with your accounting program,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
He stiffened and his eyes went cold at the perceived insult. “I can assure you, Ms. Martin, that my staff is more than qualified to handle almost any situation that arises—”
“But apparently not this one. If they were, I wouldn’t be here.”
Her words hung in the air for a long moment, and Faith wondered if perhaps she’d gone too far. But the man was just so…downright arrogant, she couldn’t help but goad him a bit.
“Touché.” He nodded, as if he was gracing her with some great gift, and allowed a small smile to touch his lips. “But of course you are right. This was one problem my own people have not been able to solve.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “El-Etra Investments prides itself on its impeccable reputation. As I’m sure you can understand, when someone trusts you with their money, any hint of impropriety can have devastating effects, not just on your actual business, but also on your reputation. And in this business, your reputation is everything.” He took a slow, deep breath. His gaze never left hers. “I have assured my investors that this problem would be solved immediately, and although I have ample insurance to cover such an occurrence, it is my name on the firm, and I have vowed to personally make good on every single penny invested and due. We’re in the process of personally distributing checks now to every investor to cover any losses, differences or discrepancies.”
“You have that kind of money?” The question popped out before she could stop it. She glanced around. This was no mom-and-pop store, but a big-league operation that no doubt had millions of dollars invested in it.
The mere idea of having that kind of indeterminable wealth almost stopped her heart.
For someone who had struggled, pinched pennies, worked two jobs just to put herself through school, and had gone deeply in debt just to start her own fledging computer consulting business and had worked like a dog for seven years to make a go of it, the thought of endless funds seemed like nirvana.
And this man discussed it without so much as a blip in his voice.
“But of course,” he said simply, as if they were talking about pocket change. “Why, are you planning on raising your rates?”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it before, but now, I just might consider it.”
“Ms. Martin, I am Sheik Ali El-Etra.” The way he said it made her wonder if she was supposed to bow or something.
“So I’ve heard, since everyone around here keeps telling me, although I can’t possibly imagine why.” Apparently she was supposed to be impressed.
She wasn’t.
“It means nothing to you?” For a moment he didn’t know if he should be annoyed or amused. Most women he encountered had all but done a Dunn and Bradstreet check on him before he ever met them.
“I don’t have a clue what your title means or why it should be important to anyone but you.”
He couldn’t help the little stab to his ego. “My title, Ms. Martin, merely means that I am of royal blood.”
“Royal blood?” One brow rose suspiciously. “Right.” This time the sigh from behind her was louder, and laced with just a bit of…panic, she thought. “Royal blood?” she repeated with a frown, considering. “You mean like a king or queen or something.”
“Or something,” he admitted with a slow nod.
“And of course no one thought it was important to mention this little tidbit to me?” she asked, feeling just a tad embarrassed by her own behavior. He was a client, and just because he’d been rude, didn’t mean she had to be.
He just annoyed her so with his arrogant, high-handed orders and demands. As if the world revolved around him.
“Would it have changed your behavior if you had known?” Or your viperous tongue, he wondered.
“Probably not,” she admitted honestly. “Unless you have the power to have someone beheaded.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich as it rumbled around the room. “I’m afraid, Ms. Martin, that we no longer behead people.” He flashed her a brilliant smile. Faith felt as if the temperature in the office rose twenty degrees. “Too messy.”
“Well, I’m grateful for small favors.”
Cocking his head, he studied her. “And would it have mattered anyway?”
“The beheading?”
He shook his head, amused. “No, my bloodlines.”
“Not unless you plan on running in the Kentucky Derby.” She shrugged. “Otherwise, your bloodlines don’t matter one whit to me.”
He laughed again. It had been a very long time since anyone had dared to speak to him so freely. Not since his beloved grandmother. But this woman certainly did not remind him of his grandmother.
On the contrary, she was young and vibrant, with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. And he found himself suddenly both irritated and amused by her.
A woman who was not impressed by his title, his bloodlines or apparently his money. A novelty, for sure.
“My title, it is, as you said, perhaps, of no real importance,” he admitted, “except to those who are impressed by such things.” He smiled and she realized anew just how incredibly attractive he was. “And you apparently are not one of those people.”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t care less if you’re the King of Siam.”
“Wrong country, wrong continent.” He pointed to a large, full-scale color map framed and anchored to one wall. “The land of my birth is Kuwait, Ms. Martin.”
Faith glanced across the room to where he was pointing. The details of the map were so precise, so vivid, it actually looked hand-painted. Probably was, she decided. He probably had his minions paint the little trinket just to decorate his office. Why, she wondered, did the mere thought annoy her?
Faith shifted her gaze back to his. Kuwait. So that explained the faint accent, the inlaid family crest on his desk, above the fireplace. It explained a lot of things about him.
She’d been right; he was spoiled and rich and, on top of it, a royal. Terrific.
“You are frowning again, Ms. Martin. Have I said something to annoy you?” Apparently, he’d been saying and doing a lot that annoyed her.
“You can call me Faith,” she said absently. If the man had royal blood, she supposed he could use her first name. “So what is a man of royal blood from Kuwait doing in California?”
“What all normal men do, I suppose. Conducting business.” He cast another scathing look at the computer on his desk. “Or trying to.” He didn’t know why it was important to explain, but for some reason he did. “Many years ago my father and his partner, Joe Colton, who happens to live in Prosperino, California, went into business together. It was the perfect merger of two like-minded men, two countries and cultures.”
“I’ve heard of the Coltons,” she said with a quiet nod.
The Coltons were California’s version of royalty—well-connected, well-respected, and with a sterling reputation in the business, political and social community.
