Desert Prince's Forbidden Desire
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Sandra Marton
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CHAPTER ONE
THE cry of the muezzin rose in the warm evening and hung trembling over the crowded streets of Casablanca. Joanna, listening from the balcony of her hotel suite, felt a tremor of excitement dance along her skin. Not that there was really anything to get excited about. While the hotel was Moroccan in décor, it was the same as hotels everywhere.
Still, she thought as she put down her cup and leaned her crossed arms on the balcony railing, it was wonderful to be here. This part of the world was so mysteriously different from the life she knew. She felt as if she had stepped back in time.
‘Jo!’
Joanna sighed. So much for stepping back in time. Her father’s angry bellow was enough to bring her back to the present with a bang.
‘Jo! Where in hell are you?’
And so much for the mystery of Casablanca, she thought as she straightened and turned towards the doorway. She was used to Sam Bennett’s outbursts—who wouldn’t be, after twenty-six years?—but she felt a twinge of sympathy for whatever poor soul had made him this angry. Jim Ellington, probably; Sam had been on the phone with his second in command, which meant that Jim must have done or said something that displeased him.
‘It’s about time,’ he snapped when she reached the bedroom. ‘I’ve been calling and calling. Didn’t you hear me?’
‘Of course I heard you.’ Her father was glaring at her from the bed where he lay back against a clutch of squashed pillows, his ruddy face made even redder by the pain in his back and his bad temper. ‘Half the hotel must have heard you. I take it there’s a problem?’
‘You’re damned right there’s a problem! That stupid Ellington—he screwed things up completely!’
‘Well, that’s no surprise,’ Joanna said pleasantly. She plumped the pillows, then took a small vial from the nightstand and dumped two tablets into the palm of her hand. ‘I tried to tell you not to rely on him, that he was the wrong person to deal with this idiotic Eagle of the East.’
‘Hawk,’ Sam said grumpily as he took the tablets from her. ‘Prince Khalil is called the Hawk of the North.’
‘Hawk, eagle, east, north—what’s the difference? It’s a stupid title for a two-bit bandit.’
Sam grimaced. ‘That “two-bit bandit” can end Bennettco’s mining deal with Abu Al Zouad before it starts!’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Joanna said. She poured some orange juice into a glass and offered it to Sam. ‘Abu’s the Sultan of Jandara—’
‘And Khalil’s been harassing him for years, stirring up unrest and trouble whenever he can.’
‘Why doesn’t Abu stop him?’
‘He can’t catch him. Khalil’s as sly as a fox.’ Sam smiled grimly, then gulped down the juice and handed back the glass. ‘Or as swift as a hawk. He swoops down from the northern mountains—’
‘The mountains Bennettco wants to mine?’
‘Right. He swoops down, raises hell, then escapes back to his mountain stronghold, untouched.’
‘He’s more than a bandit, then,’ Joanna said with a little shudder. ‘He’s an outlaw!’
‘And he’s opposed to the deal we’ve struck with Abu.’
‘Why?’
‘Abu says it’s because he’s opposed to our bringing in Western ways.’
‘You mean, he’s opposed to our bringing in the twentieth century,’ Joanna said with a grimace.
‘Whatever. The point is, he’ll do everything he can to keep Bennettco out. Unless we can change his mind, we might as well pack up and go home.’
‘I still don’t understand. Why can’t Abu simply have Khalil arrested and—?’ Her brows lifted as her father began to chuckle. ‘Did I say something funny?’
‘Have him arrested!’ Sam’s laughter grew, even though he clutched at the small of his back. ‘Have pity, Jo! It hurts when I laugh.’
‘I’m not trying to amuse you, Father,’ Joanna said stiffly. ‘I’m just trying to understand why this man isn’t in prison if he’s an outlaw.’
‘I told you, they can’t catch him.’
Joanna’s brows lifted. ‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ she said drily, ‘Khalil can be “caught” this very moment at a hotel on the other side of Casablanca.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I told that to Abu.’
‘Well, then—’
‘He doesn’t want to cause an international dispute with the Moroccan government. This is their turf, after all.’ Sam sighed and fell back against the pillows. ‘Which brings us back to square one and that dumb ass Ellington. If only I could get out of this bed long enough to make that dinner meeting—’
‘When we left New York, you made it sound as if this meeting were pro forma.’
‘Well, it is. I mean, it should have been—if I hadn’t pulled my back.’ Sam’s mouth turned down. ‘I know I could have finessed the hell out of Khalil—and now Ellington’s managed to make a bad situation worse.’
‘I’ll bet Ellington obeyed you to the letter, phoned your regrets about tonight’s meeting, and said he’d dine with Khalil in your place.’
‘You’re darned right he obeyed me.’ Sam glared at her. ‘If he wants to keep his job, he’d better!’
‘It’s what everybody who works for you does,’ Joanna said mildly, ‘even if your orders are wrong.’
‘Now, just a minute there, Joanna! What do you mean, my orders were wrong? I told Ellington to tell the Prince that something had come up that I couldn’t help and—’
‘You insulted him.’
‘What?’
‘Come on, Father! Here’s this—this robber baron with an over-inflated ego, gloating over the fact that he’s got Sam Bennett, CEO and chairman of the board of Bennettco, over a barrel. He’s probably been counting the minutes until tonight’s meeting—and then he gets a call telling him he’s being foisted off on a flunky.’
‘Don’t be foolish! Ellington’s my policy assistant.’
‘It’s a title, that’s all, and titles are meaningless.’ Joanna sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Who would know that better than an outlaw who calls himself a prince?’
‘I already know we’re in trouble, Jo! What I need is a way out.’
‘Take it easy, Father. You know what the doctor said about stress being bad for your back.’
‘Dammit, girl, don’t fuss over me! There’s a lot at stake here—or have you been too busy playing nursemaid to notice?’
‘I am not a “girl”.’ Joanna got to her feet, her gaze turning steely. ‘I am your daughter, and, if you weren’t so determined to keep me from knowing the first thing about Bennettco, I wouldn’t have to ask you all these questions. In fact, I might have been able to come up with some ideas that would have gotten you off the hook tonight.’
‘Listen, Jo, I know you have a degree in business administration, but this is the real world, not some ivy-covered classroom. It’s Ellington who let us down. He—’
‘You should have told Ellington to tell Khalil the truth, that your back’s gone out again.’
‘What for? It’s nobody’s business that I’m lying here like an oversized infant, being driven crazy by you and the hotel doctor!’
‘Contrary to what you think,’ Joanna said coolly, ‘being sick isn’t a sign of weakness. Khalil would have understood that he wasn’t being insulted, that you had no choice but to back out of this meeting.’
Sam glared at her, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe.’
‘What did you plan on accomplishing tonight?’
‘For one thing, I wanted to eyeball the bastard and see for myself what Abu’s been up against.’
‘And what else?’
Sam grinned slyly. ‘He may resent us dealing with Abu—but I bet he won’t resent a deal that has some under-the-table dollars for himself in it.’
A frown creased Joanna’s forehead. ‘You mean, Bennettco’s going to offer him a bribe?’
‘Baksheesh,’ her father said. ‘That’s what it’s called, and you needn’t give me that holier-than-thou look. It’s part of doing business in this part of the world. It just has to be done delicately, so as not to offend the s.o.b.’ Sam sighed deeply. ‘That was the plan, anyway—until Ellington botched it.’
‘Have you any idea what, exactly, he said to the big pooh-bah?’
‘To Khalil?’ Sam shook his head. ‘Ellington didn’t even talk to him. He spoke to the Prince’s aide, a guy named Hassan, and—’
‘His first mistake,’ Joanna said with crisp self-assurance. ‘He should have insisted on speaking with the Prince directly.’
‘He tried, but Hassan says Khalil doesn’t deal with underlings. Underlings, can you imagine?’ Sam chuckled. ‘The only good part of this is imagining Ellington’s face when he heard that.’
‘What did Ellington say then?’
‘The conversation was all Hassan’s after that. He made some veiled threats, said if Sam Bennett wasn’t interested enough to deal with Khalil man to man, Khalil wouldn’t be responsible for what might happen.’
‘That’s insane! He can’t be fool enough to think he can ride down on our crews with his band of cut-throats—can he?’
‘Maybe—and maybe not.’ Sam grunted with displeasure. ‘Hell, this meeting was the key to everything! I just know that if I could have met face to face with this Khalil I’d have been able to convince him that Bennettco—’
‘We still can.’
‘How? I just told you, Khalil won’t meet with Ellington.’
‘But he might meet with me,’ Joanna blurted.
She hadn’t planned those words, but once she’d said them her heart began to pound. Sam’s prideful stubbornness, Ellington’s blind adherence to orders and the arrogance of a greedy bandit with a fancy title had set in motion a series of events that might make all the difference in her life.
Sam laughed, and Joanna looked up sharply.
‘Right,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’m supposed to send my daughter to meet with a barbarian. Do I look like I’m crazy, Jo?’
‘Come on, Father. He’s not exactly a barbarian. Besides, I’d be meeting him for dinner, in a fancy restaurant. I’d be as safe as if I were dining in my suite.’
‘Forget it. The great Khalil doesn’t deal with underlings.’
‘Maybe he’d feel differently about someone named Bennett, someone with a vested interest in Bennettco.’ Joanna looked at her father, her voice strengthening as her idea took shape. ‘Someone who could identify herself as not just her father’s daughter but Bennettco’s vice-president.’
Sam scowled darkly. ‘Are we back to that?’
‘We never left it. Here I am, your only offspring, somebody who grew up as much in the field as in the office—’
‘My first mistake,’ he grumbled.
‘Here I am,’ Joanna said evenly, ‘the only person who knows as much about business as you do, my university degree clutched in my hand, and you absolutely refuse to let me work for you.’
‘You do work for me. You’ve been my hostess in Dallas and New York since you were old enough to carry on a conversation.’
‘That,’ she said dismissively.
‘Yes, that! What’s wrong with “that”, for lord’s sake? Any girl in her right mind would grab at the chance to—’ Joanna’s brows lifted and Sam put his hand to his heart. ‘Forgive me,’ he said melodramatically. ‘Any woman in her right mind would be perfectly happy to—’
‘Stanford Mining’s offered me a job,’ Joanna said softly.
‘They did what?’
She walked to the bureau and leaned back against it, arms folded over her breasts. She’d never meant to tell her father about the offer this way; she’d planned on working up to it, using it as the final link in a well-conceived argument designed to convince him, once and for all, that she wanted more than to be a beautifully dressed figurehead, but she knew in her bones that now was the moment.
‘The manager of their Alaskan operation is leaving. They asked if I might be interested.’
Sam’s face darkened. ‘My own daughter, working for the competition?’
‘The key word is “working”, Father. I’ve told you and told you, I’ve no intention of spending the rest of my life like some—some over-age débutante.’
‘And I’ve told you and told you, I didn’t work my tail off so my daughter could get her hands dirty!’
‘I’m not asking you to let me work in the field,’ Joanna said quickly. ‘Even I know better than to expect the impossible.’
‘Joanna.’ Sam’s voice softened, took on the wheedling tone she knew so well. ‘I need you doing just what you’ve been doing, baby. Public relations is important, you know that. Having your name listed on the committee for charity benefits, getting your picture in the paper along with the Whitneys, Rockefellers and Astors—’
‘You’re wrong about the importance of that stuff, Father, but if it matters to you so much I can hold down a job and still manage all the rest.’
Sam gave her a long, hard look. ‘Are you serious about taking the job with Stanford?’
Until this moment, she had only been serious about considering it—but now she knew that she would accept the offer rather than go on playing the part her father had long ago assigned her.
Joanna nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes locked with his, ‘I am.’
They stared at each other while the seconds passed, Joanna’s emerald gaze as unwavering as her father’s pale blue one, and finally he sighed.
‘Do you really think you could get this guy Khalil to agree to meet with you?’
A little thrill raced through Joanna’s blood but she was careful to keep her expression neutral.
‘I think I could have a good shot at it,’ she said.
‘By telling him you’re my daughter?’
‘By telling him the truth: that you’re ill but that this meeting is too important to miss. By telling him I’m your second in command, that everything I say has your full support and backing.’
Sam pursed his lips. ‘That simple, hmm?’
Nothing was ever that simple, Joanna knew, not in business, not in life, and surely not in this place where custom vied with progress for dominance. But this was no time to show any hesitation.
‘I think so, yes.’
She waited, barely breathing, while Sam glowered at her, and then he nodded towards the phone.
‘OK.’
‘OK, what?’ Joanna said, very calmly, as if her pulse weren’t racing hard enough so she could feel the pound of it in her throat.
‘Call the Prince’s hotel. If you can get past that watchdog of an aide, if Khalil will talk to you and agree to meet with you in my place, you’ve got a deal.’
Joanna smiled. ‘First let’s agree on the terms.’
‘I’m your father. Don’t you trust me?’
‘You’re my father and you raised me never to sign anything without reading it twice.’ She saw a glimmer of a smile in Sam’s eyes as she held up her fisted hand. ‘Number one,’ she said, raising her index finger, ‘I get a vice-presidency at Bennettco. Number two, it’s a real job with real responsibilities. Number three—’
Sam threw up his hands. ‘I know when I’m licked. Go on, call the man. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.’
Joanna’s smile blazed. ‘Just watch me.’
Her father reached out, took a notepad from the nightstand, and held it out to her. ‘Here’s the phone number. It’s direct to Khalil’s suite.’
Joanna nodded and reached slowly for the phone. She would have preferred to make this call from the other room instead of here, with her father watching her every move, but Sam would be quick to pounce on that as a sign of weakness.
‘Good evening,’ she said to the operator, then read off the number on the notepad. Her stomach was knotting but Sam’s gaze was unwavering and she forced a cool smile to her face as she sank into the bedside chair, leaned back, and crossed her legs. The phone rang and rang. Maybe nobody was there, she thought—and at that moment, the ringing stopped and a deep voice said something in a language she couldn’t understand, except for the single word ‘Hassan’.
Joanna clasped the phone more tightly. ‘Good evening, Mr Hassan,’ she said. ‘This is Joanna Bennett. Sam Bennett’s daughter.’
If Hassan was surprised, he covered it well. ‘Ah, Miss Bennett,’ he said in impeccable English, ‘I am honoured. What may I do for you?’
‘Well?’ Sam said impatiently. ‘What’s he saying?’
Joanna frowned at him. ‘How are you enjoying your stay in Casablanca?’ she said into the phone.
‘The city is delightful, Miss Bennett, as I’m sure you agree.’
Joanna touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘And the Prince? Is he enjoying his stay, as well?’
‘Dammit,’ Sam hissed, ‘get to the point! Is Khalil there, or isn’t he?’
‘Indeed,’ Hassan said pleasantly, ‘my Lord Khalil has always had a preference for this city.’
Joanna took a deep breath. Enough pleasantries. It was time to get down to business.
‘Mr Hassan,’ she said, ‘I should like to speak with the Prince.’
Hassan’s tone hardened. ‘I’m afraid that is out of the question, Miss Bennett. If you have a message for him, I shall be happy to deliver it.’
Joanna’s hand began to sweat on the phone. Her father was still giving her that same steadfast look and a self-satisfied smile was beginning to form on his lips.
‘Give it up, baby,’ he said quietly. ‘I told you you couldn’t pull it off.’
‘Mr Hassan,’ Joanna said evenly, ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand. I want to assure the Prince that the only reason for the change in plans is because my father is ill. As for Mr Ellington—I’m afraid he misunderstood my father’s instructions. The Prince will be dining with my father’s representative, whom he trusts completely and holds in the highest esteem.’ Joanna looked at Sam. ‘Vice-president Jo Bennett.’
‘One moment, please, Miss Bennett,’ Hassan said.
Joanna felt a rush of hope. She smiled sweetly at Sam. ‘He’s going to put the Prince on,’ she said, and hoped that her father couldn’t see her crossed fingers.
* * *
Across town, in the elegant royal suite of the Hotel Casablanca, Prince Khalil glared at his prime minister.
‘What sort of man is this Sam Bennett,’ he growled, ‘that he asks his daughter to telephone me and beg on his behalf?’ He folded his arms across his chest, his dark blue eyes glinting like sapphires in his tanned, handsome face. ‘Bennett is worried,’ he said with satisfaction as he leaned his hard, six-foot frame against the wall.
‘Precisely, my lord. He must be ready to bend to your will or he would not have ordered a woman to act as his agent.’
‘Only a fool would bring his daughter on such a trip,’ Khalil said with disdain. ‘The woman must have thought Casablanca would be an exotic playground in which to amuse herself.’
Hassan’s grizzled brows lifted. ‘Of course, my lord. She is, after all, of the West.’
Khalil grunted in assent. ‘What does she want?’
‘To speak with you.’ Khalil laughed and Hassan permitted himself a smile. ‘I told her, of course, that was not possible, and then she said Sam Bennett wishes tonight’s dinner meeting to take place.’
‘Ah.’ Khalil’s hard mouth curled with the shadowy beginnings of an answering smile. ‘Bennett has decided he wants to keep our appointment now?’
‘He is ill, sire, or so the woman claims, and wishes to send an emissary. I suspect it is an excuse he uses to save face.’
Khalil strode forward. ‘I do not meet with emissaries, Hassan.’
Hassan dipped his head in respect. ‘Of course, my lord. But her offer is interesting. The emissary is Joe Bennett, a vice-president of the company.’
Khalil’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who? I have never heard of such a person.’
Frowning, Hassan took his hand from the telephone and spoke into it. ‘We have no knowledge of this person who would meet with Prince Khalil, Miss Bennett. Is he related to your father?’
‘Mr Hassan, if I could just speak with the Prince—’
‘The Prince does not speak with underlings, and he surely does not meet with them,’ Hassan said coldly. ‘If you wish to answer my questions, I will transmit the information to my lord. Otherwise, our conversation is at an end.’
‘Jo,’ Sam said, ‘give it up. You’re not gonna get to first base with this guy.’
Joanna swung away from her father. ‘Jo Bennett is hardly an underling, Mr Hassan.’
‘Jo,’ Sam said, his voice gaining authority, ‘did you hear me? Give it up. You took a shot and you lost.’
‘Miss Bennett,’ the voice in her ear said sharply, ‘I asked you a question. Who is Joseph Bennett? Is he Sam Bennett’s son?’
Joanna swallowed, shut her eyes, then opened them. ‘Yes,’ she said into the telephone, praying that the Prince would forgive the deception after she convinced him that there’d be enough money in this deal to make him happy, ‘yes, that’s right, sir. He is.’
‘A moment, please.’ Hassan put his hand over the mouthpiece again and looked at the Prince. ‘The man you would dine with is the son of Sam Bennett.’
Khalil glared at his minister. ‘A son,’ he snarled, ‘a young jackal instead of the old.’ He stalked across the elegant room, turned, and looked at Hassan. ‘Tell the woman you will accept a meeting with her brother. Perhaps my judgement is wrong. Perhaps the son has some influence on the father. At any rate, you can convey my message clearly: that I will not be ignored in this matter!’
Hassan smiled. ‘Excellent, my lord.’ His smile fell away as he tilted the phone to his lips. ‘Miss Bennett.’
Joanna blinked. ‘Yes?’
‘I, Adym Hassan, Special Minister to His Highness Prince Khalil, will meet with your brother tonight.’
Joanna clutched the cord tighter. ‘But—’
‘Eight o’clock, as planned, at the Oasis Restaurant. As they say in your world, take it or leave it, Miss Bennett.’
‘Jo?’ Sam’s voice rose. ‘Dammit, Jo, what’s he saying? He’s turning you down flat, isn’t he?’
Joanna hunched over the phone. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘eight o’clock. That will be fine. Thank you, sir.’ She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned to her father. ‘You see?’ she said briskly. ‘That wasn’t so hard after all.’
‘He’s meeting with you?’ Sam said doubtfully.
Joanna nodded. ‘Sure. I told you he would.’
Sam blew out his breath. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘OK. Now, let’s figure out how to get the most mileage we can out of tonight.’ He looked at his daughter and a grin spread over his face. ‘Not bad, kid,’ he said, ‘not bad at all.’
‘It’s not “kid”,’ Joanna said with an answering smile. ‘It’s Vice-President Jo Bennett, if you don’t mind.’
Vice-President Joseph Bennett, she thought, and gave a little shudder. Things were going to get interesting when Special Minister Adym Hassan found out he’d been lied to.
* * *
Halfway across the city, Special Minister Hassan was already thinking the same thing.
‘I am suspicious of Bennett’s motives, my lord,’ he said to Prince Khalil as he hung up the phone. ‘But we shall see what happens. The woman’s brother will meet with me tonight.’
Khalil nodded. ‘Good.’ He turned, walked slowly across the room, and stood gazing out the window as if he could see beyond the city to the hills that marked the boundary of his kingdom. Sam Bennett was a sly, tough opponent; it was more than likely his son would be the same. Too sly and too tough for Hassan, who was loyal and wise and obedient but no longer young. How could he let the old man meet with Bennett? If he’d learned one thing these past weeks, it was that dealing with anybody named Bennett was like putting a ferret in charge of the hen house.
Khalil spun away from the window. ‘Hassan!’
‘Yes, my lord?’
‘I have changed my mind. I will meet with Sam Bennett’s son myself.’
Hassan looked startled. ‘You, sir? But—’
‘There are no “buts”, Hassan,’ Khalil said sharply. ‘Call down for some coffee and lay out my clothing.’ He smiled tightly, the sort of smile that chilled those who knew him well. ‘I promise you this, old man. One way or another, tonight will change everything.’
* * *
It was Joanna’s thought, too, as she sat beside her father, only half listening as he droned on about tonight’s agenda.
One way or another, she knew in her bones that her life would not be the same after this night ended.
Afterwards, she would remember how right she’d been.
