The gleaming glass and steel of the hotel reflected the mid-afternoon sun in a thousand shards of white light that hurt the eyes, even with the sunglasses she'd bought at Sydney airport before boarding the flight. She still couldn't quite believe Ally O'Neal from Wilson's Crossing had made it this far, all on her own.
The idea of visiting Dubai had come the moment she received the invitation to her cousin's wedding in London. And here she was, surrounded by men and women in long robes and headdresses, intermingled with more conventionally dressed tourists. It seemed hotel staff wore the long white dishdasha and headdress as their uniform for several of them were loading a luggage trolley with cases from the long black limousine that had pulled in at the same time as her taxi.
"Excuse me. Can you help?" For a moment she thought she'd made a mistake when the staff member looked down at her with disdainful eyes of a strange amber colour. She straightened under his dismissive glance. Just because her slacks and blouse were crumpled from the journey didn't make her any less important than whoever owned the limousine. She'd paid her money for her room.
"What is it you wish?" If the heat hadn't already turned her into a puddle on the paved forecourt, the deep, heavily accented timbre of his voice would have finished the job.
"My luggage." She indicated the suitcase.
A faint twitch of his luscious mouth mesmerised her so she almost missed the snap of his fingers that brought one of the other staff running. Her bags were scooped up with a murmured apology and a deep bow that encompassed her saviour as well as herself. He must be some kind of senior concierge, perhaps.
"Thank you so much." She fumbled in her purse for a tip but he dismissed it with a wave of one beautifully manicured hand.
"It was my privilege. Enjoy your stay." He turned away, sweeping through the automatic doors into the foyer with long strides. At a slower pace, Ally followed. She would be here for nearly a week. With luck she might see him again. She wasn't usually one for facial hair but his neatly trimmed beard only accentuated the intense masculinity that oozed from him.
It was the following morning she saw him again. Quite unexpectedly, for she was sunbathing by the giant swimming pool, wearing her new bikini and wondering if she should have chosen a one piece, for most of the other women were covered right up. Only a handful of teenagers were similarly dressed, probably tourists like herself.
Her attention was caught by a group across the pool. Three women in traditional garb and their male companions in casual western dress. Two of the men wore only short legged bathers, an older man with a slight podge and another one that drew her gaze with his superb physique. His face seemed familiar and when his glance turned her way, she recognised the amber eyes and neatly trimmed beard.
Adjusting her sunglasses, she watched as the two men dived into the pool and swam several lengths. Her acquaintance of the day before moved gracefully through the water and she was caught unawares when he suddenly stopped and climbed from the water almost beside her, water dripping from perfectly sculpted abs.
"Good day to you. Are you enjoying our sun?"
"It's lovely. But I'm used to it. It's much the same temperature where I come from." She wished she'd not gabbled on. For all she knew he might be insulted.
"Of course. You come from Australia."
"How did you know?"
"Your luggage labels."
"I thought it might be my accent."
His eyes twinkled. "I would not have dared guess on such slender evidence. Are you here for long?"
"Til Thursday. I have to be at a wedding in London on Saturday."
"Perhaps you would care to be my guest on a journey into the desert tomorrow. Or are you here to enjoy the shopping in our facilities?"
"I'd love to see more of the country. Do you have the day off?"
Even white teeth gleamed in a broad smile. "Yes. I have the day off. My name is Jamel."
"That would be wonderful."
It had been wonderful too. The journey to a real oasis in his enormous black Land Rover and seeing a tribal encampment. All of the children had flocked around and they'd stayed for the evening meal of spiced meats and grains before travelling back through the darkness to the hotel. He'd kissed her goodnight and she'd wondered if he wanted more but he'd simply bowed and left her.
Now at the wedding, she was wishing she could have stayed longer. She knew no-one apart from her aunt and uncle and of course the bride. Everyone was dancing and she was sitting alone, flicking through the photographs of Dubai on her phone.
"Ally, my dear. Someone has asked to be introduced." Her aunt hovered, blocking the view of her companion. "Prince Hakeem Jamel al Hammoud, this is my niece Allison O'Neal, from Australia."
She scurried away to her bridal duties as Ally stood up, her breath catching painfully. "I thought you were the concierge."
"Are you disappointed?"
"No." She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. "I mean...why would I be disappointed? Unless...is it a joke? You weren't christened Prince by your parents?"
He laughed, a deep throaty sound that trickled down her spine and warmed her whole body. "No, alas. I was not christened at all."
"Of course not." Ally could feel the heat colouring her face. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. "Did you know I would be here?"
"My college roommate was marrying a Daphne O'Neal this weekend. It was a simple matter to arrange."
"Oh." Maybe travelling to London on a whim was easy for a Prince.
"So, shall we dance?" She nodded, and he gathered her into his strong arms and swept her across the dance floor.
The End
