Bought For One Night: The Sheikh's Offer Read Online Free Page A

front gates ringing. I hurried through the house, my bare feet cold on the hardwood floors, to answer the call. The video display on the security system showed a limo driver waiting patiently in his idling vehicle.
     
    Man, that was fast, I thought as I pressed the speaker button and let him into the grounds, promising I was nearly finished packing. He politely told me to take my time.
     
    After throwing my luggage by the door and pulling on my shoes, I made a quick round to check doors and windows, water my plants, and ensure I hadn't left anything undone. It was only a twenty-four-hour trip, but when the trip was taking me halfway around the world, anything could go wrong and keep me away for longer. More than once, I had come home from a production that ran too long to a house full of dead plants, their poor brown leaves littering the floor. It wasn't the best welcome home.
     
    The limo driver moved to take my bags as soon as he saw the front door opening. He greeted me with a bow and introduced himself as Terry, handing me a card. I recognized the company he worked for, a local rental service that the Sheikh must have called to hire. He was professional and polite, but had that glow in his eyes that betrayed he was a fan that wanted desperately to gush about it all over me. Hollywood protocol tended to frown on that kind of behavior when it came from staff that had access to celebrity homes and lives, but there was no hiding the emotions.
     
    About halfway through the drive to the airport, Terry’s professional composure finally broke. “I loved you in Undertow ,” he said without turning his head to face the back.
     
    I smiled and nodded, fiddling with my sunhat in my lap. “I liked that one, too. Thank you, Terry.”
     
    “I haven't seen you in much lately.”
     
    Thanks for the reminder , I thought to myself. “I've been taking a little hiatus,” I replied confidently. “Needed a vacation from the rat race.”
     
    “I can understand that,” replied Terry as he took a right off the freeway. The airport was in the opposite direction.
     
    “Where are we going?” I asked curiously, looking out the window.
     
    “Reynolds Airfield,” Terry said matter-of-factly.
     
    I frowned, only vaguely aware of its existence. “Oh? Not LAX?”
     
    “My instructions were to take you to Reynolds,” shrugged Terry. “It's my understanding a private jet will be waiting for you. This is a bit of an exclusive airfield.”
     
    I had friends with private jets, but none of them had ever used this airfield. I was suddenly more intrigued, and sat back to enjoy the unfamiliar drive until we arrived at the tiny airfield with a hangar only ten planes deep.
     
    We idled for a moment at the gates as we were identified by an intimidating man at an equally-intimidating security booth. He told Terry my transport was ready and waiting, and directed him to our destination. An imposing steel arm lifted, opening the driveway to us, and Terry guided the limo inside and across the open concrete.
     
    We stopped in front of a gorgeous red-and-white jet glistening on the tarmac, stairway lowered. Two staff members were waiting with bright smiles at its base, wind whipping at their hair. Terry immediately hopped out of the car to open my door for me. I slipped on my sunglasses and hat and watched him head for the trunk for my bags.
     
    “Miss Wood?” came a voice. One of the flight attendants, a beautiful young woman with dark hair and olive skin, approached with an outstretched hand. “My name is Nareem. I'll be taking care of you today, along with my associate, Raj.” She gestured to the other attendant, who bowed and smiled. “Was your drive pleasant?”
     
    “It was fine, thank you.” I nodded, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you both.”
     
    “Wonderful. Please, follow me, and we’ll get you comfortable before take-off.”
     
    Nareem led me up the stairs and into the plushest private jet I had ever been on, and