The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride (3 page)

Qadir laughed. “You did and it is a compliment I will treasure. Not enough people comment on my manly strength. They should do so more often.”

Maggie flushed. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Because you earned it.”

“Hey, back off. You’re the prince. I get to be a little nervous around you. This is a strange situation.”

He liked that she didn’t back down. “Fair enough. Yes, I have a team you can use to pull out the engine. I have several local resources. I will e-mail them to you. Mention my name—it will improve the response.”

“Do you have a little crown logo you put in your signature line?” she asked.

“Only on formal documents. You may have to go to England for some of your purchases. I have contacts there, as well.”

“Any of them with the royal family?”

“I doubt Prince Charles will be of much help.”

“Just a thought.”

“He’s too old for you, and married.”

Maggie laughed. “Thanks, but he’s also not my type.”

“Not looking for a handsome prince? Some of the women here have exactly that in mind. Or perhaps a foreign diplomat.”

Maggie glanced away. “Not my style. Besides, I work with cars. Not exactly future princess material.” She held out her weathered hands. “I’m more of a doer than someone who is comfortable just sitting around looking pretty.”

“That is the monarchy’s loss.”

She laughed again. “Very smooth. You’re good.”

“Thank you.”

“The women must be lined up for miles.”

He smiled. “There’s a waiting area over by the garden.”

“I hope it’s covered. You don’t want them getting sunburned.”

As she spoke she leaned against the desk. She was tall. He couldn’t see much of her shape under the coveralls she wore, but he remembered how she had looked the previous day and was intrigued. Curves and a personality, not to mention humor. How often did he find
that
combination?

A flicker of heat burst to life inside him, making him wonder how she would taste if he kissed her. Not that he was going to. He was far more interested in her abilities as a mechanic than her charms as a woman. But a man could wonder…

He amused himself by imagining his father’s reaction if he were to start dating Maggie. Would the monarch be horrified, or would he be pleased to see yet another of his sons settling down? Not that it mattered. Speculation was one thing, but acting was another—and he had no plans to act.

“I come bearing food,” Victoria said as she stepped into the garage. “One of the cooks told me you never get away for lunch. He assumes you don’t appreciate his culinary masterpieces. Trust me, those are people you
don’t
want to annoy.”

Maggie straightened and set down her wrench, then pulled off her gloves. “Thanks for the warning. I’ve been so busy pulling everything apart, I haven’t stopped to eat.”

Victoria set the basket on a cart. “Let me guess. You’re one of those annoying people who forgets to eat.”

“Sometimes.”

“Then we’ll never be really, really close.”

Maggie laughed. “I think you’re a strong enough person to overlook that flaw. Come on. Let’s go eat in my office. It’s cleaner there.”

While Maggie washed her hands in the small bathroom, Victoria set out their lunch. She’d brought a salad with walnuts, arugula and Gorgonzola. Several mini sandwiches on fresh foccacia bread, fruit, drinks and chocolate-chip cookies that were still warm.

“I thought I was supposed to avoid dessert,” Maggie said as she took her seat.

Victoria settled in the one opposite. “It’s your fault. I had to placate the cooks.” She slipped off her high heels and wiggled her toes. “Heaven.”

“Why do you wear those if they hurt?”

“They don’t all hurt. Besides, without them, I feel short and unimpressive. Plus men really like women in high heels.”

Maggie laughed. “I’ve never thought about being impressive. And I’ve never tried to get a man that way. By being attractive.”

“You could in a heartbeat,” Victoria told her as she speared a piece of lettuce. “I would kill for your bone structure.”

The compliment pleased Maggie. She’d always thought of herself as a tomboy. Girls like Victoria usually avoided her.

“How is it working with Qadir?” Victoria asked.

“Great. He really wants me to make the car perfect, which is what I want, too. I love not having a budget. It’s very freeing. The progress is going to be slow at first, which he understands. I appreciate that. He’s—”

She pressed her lips together as Victoria raised her eyebrows. “What?” Maggie asked.

“Nothing. I’m glad he’s an excellent boss.”

“That’s what you asked me.”

“I meant as a man.”

“Oh.” Maggie grabbed a sandwich. “He’s fine.”

Victoria laughed. “He’s a sheik prince worth billions. He’s one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world and all you can say is he’s fine?”

Maggie grinned. “How about really fine?”

“Better, but still. You’re really not interested in him.”

“Not as anything but the man who pays me.”

“Interesting. Then I guess you won’t be angling for an invitation to the ball.”

Maggie nearly choked. “There’s going to be a ball?”

“Uh-huh. To celebrate Prince As’ad’s engagement to Kayleen. They’ve been together for a while now, but no one was supposed to know. The official announcement was put off until Princess Lina, the king’s sister, married King Hassan of Baharia a few weeks ago. Anyway, the ball is where the news is made public and everyone who works in the palace is invited. Apparently when the guest list is a thousand, what’s a couple hundred more?”

“I’ve never been to a ball,” Maggie admitted. Her only frame of reference was cartoons with princesses as stars and she hadn’t really been into watching them.

“Me, either, but I’m very excited. It’s sort of a once-in-a-lifetime chance to wear a formal gown and dance with a handsome prince. I’ll be hoping Nadim finally sees me as a person and not his efficient secretary.”

“But you don’t love him,” Maggie said.

“I know. I wasn’t kidding before—love is for suckers. But if he offered me a sensible marriage of convenience, I sure wouldn’t say no. I think I could be a good wife to him. Better than some of those plastic bimbos his father parades around the palace. Anyway, my point is, you should come to the ball. It will be great fun. You can tell your grandchildren about it.”

Maggie wasn’t exactly tempted, although the idea was a little intriguing. She’d come to El Deharia to get away, but also to experience something new in her life.

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

“They lead, you follow. I have an appointment to try on dresses. Come with me. It’ll get you in the mood.”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t actually been invited.”

“You will be. Ask Qadir.”

“Ask me what?”

They both turned and found the prince in her office. Victoria started to stand, which told Maggie she should be doing the same. Qadir waved them both back into their seats.

“Ask me what?” he repeated.

“I was telling Maggie about the ball celebrating Prince As’ad’s engagement. As all live-in employees are invited, Maggie said she would love to come.”

Maggie scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t. I’m not interested in the ball.” She knew Victoria meant well but she, Maggie, didn’t want Qadir thinking she was using him or their relationship. She motioned to the coveralls she wore. “I’m not exactly ball material.”

Qadir nodded slowly. “Perhaps not today,” he said slowly. “But I see possibilities.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Victoria told him.

Possibilities? What did that mean?

Maggie told herself not to read too much into the word. Besides, what did she care about Qadir’s opinion on anything but the car? He was just some guy. Royal, but still.

“I already have some dresses ordered,” Victoria continued. “I could have them send a few more in Maggie’s impossibly skinny size. With her hair up and in high heels, she could be a princess.”

Maggie glared at her friend. What was Victoria up to?

“I agree.” Qadir nodded. “Maggie, you will attend the ball.”

With that, he turned and left.

Maggie waited until she was sure they were alone, then glared at Victoria. “What were you doing?”

“Throwing you in the path of a handsome prince. My quest for a royal connection has failed miserably, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be successful.”

“But I’m not interested in him that way.” She didn’t think she would ever be interested in another man. Loving and losing Jon had been too painful.

“Can you honestly look at me and tell me you aren’t the tiniest bit excited by the thought of dressing up in fancy clothes and dancing with Qadir?”

“We’ll dance?”

“See! You’re interested.”

“No. It’s just I’ve never done anything like that.”

“All the more reason to do it,” Victoria told her. “Come on—it will be fun. We’ll both be fabulous and the princes won’t be able to resist us.”

Maggie had a feeling she would always be resistible, but allowed herself to momentarily wonder what it would be like to dance with a prince.

“W
hat is the longest river in America?”
the guy on the radio asked.

“The Missouri,” Maggie said as she undid the first screw in the window cranks from the door. “The Mississippi is the biggest, but the Missouri is the longest.”

“Ah, the Mississippi,”
the contestant said.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Ha!” Maggie crowed as she set the screw into the small labeled plastic container next to her. “You have to pay attention in school.”

“Or have a mind for trivia,” Qadir said from his place at her desk.

She looked at the open office door and sighed. “You can hear me?”

“Obviously.”

The American radio station in El Deharia ran a quiz every afternoon at two. She’d gotten in the habit of listening. Usually she was alone.

But today Qadir had stopped by to check out the parts list she’d put together. She’d sort of forgotten he was still in her office.

At least she’d gotten the answer right, she told herself. It beat getting it wrong.

Qadir stepped out into the garage. “You’ll need access to a machine shop,” he said.

“Along with a good machinist. I can explain what I want, but I can’t make it myself.”

She was rebuilding the engine rather than buying a new one. Unfortunately time had not been kind to many of the original parts and replacements were difficult, sometimes impossible, to find. She would buy what she could and have the others custom-made.

She smiled. “I’m sure you have contacts for me.”

“I do.”

“I figured. The thrill of being royal.”

“There are many.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“It is all I know. But there are disadvantages. My brothers and I were sent away to English boarding school when we were eight or nine. The headmaster was determined to treat us as if we were regular students. It was an adjustment, to say the least.”

“Doesn’t sound like fun,” she admitted, grateful for her normal life. “Were the other boys friendly?”

“Some of them. Some were resentful, and eager to show us they were stronger.”

“Bullies.” She went to work on the second screw.

“Sometimes. My brothers and I learned how to fit in very quickly.”

“At least you had a palace to come home to.”

“And a pony.”

She laughed. “Of course. Every royal child deserves a pony. I had to make do with a stuffed one. It was one of the few girly toys I liked. I was more into doing things with my dad than hanging out with the other little girls in the neighborhood. I hated playing dolls. I wasn’t very popular.”

“Until the boys got old enough to appreciate you.”

He was being kind, or assuming something that wasn’t true. Either way, she didn’t know how to respond. That combined with a particularly stubborn screw caused her to slip and jam the screwdriver into the side of her hand.

“Ouch,” she yelped and set down the screwdriver. Blood welled up.

Qadir was at her side in an instant, taking her hand in his. “What have you done?”

His touch was warm and sure. “Ah, nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Still holding her hand, he led her to the small bathroom and turned on the water. “Is it serious? Will you need stitches?”

Stitches? Just the thought of a needle piercing her flesh was enough to make her woozy. “Not if I haven’t cut anything off.”

She pulled free of his touch and shoved her hand under the water. The wound stung, but wasn’t too bad. She managed to rub on some soap without screaming too loudly, then held still as he applied a bandage he’d found in the medicine cabinet. He was surprisingly competent at the task.

When he’d finished, he took her hand again and examined it. “I think you will survive.”

“Good to know.” Even not thinking about the needle, she felt a little lightheaded. How strange.

Maybe it was the bathroom itself. The space was pretty tight and Qadir took up a lot of room. But even all that didn’t explain the sudden thumping of her heart or the way she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

She was aware of the flecks of gold in his dark eyes and couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his mouth which was, by the way, a very nice mouth. They were close enough for her to inhale the crisp, clean, masculine scent of him.

He smiled at her. “You will be more careful next time?”

She nodded without speaking.

“Excellent. I must return to my office.”

He released her hand and walked away. Maggie stayed where she was, her body oddly tense, her fingers tingling despite the pain from the cut.

What had just happened? She couldn’t seem to focus and the few thoughts that did pop into her brain seemed unrelated to anything. The tiny puncture wound couldn’t be responsible and there was no way she’d lost a significant amount of blood. It was the weirdest thing.

She looked toward the garage to where Qadir had stood only moments before. This couldn’t be about him, could it? She wasn’t attracted to her boss. It was a recipe for disaster. She knew better. And even if she didn’t, she was still mourning the fact that she and Jon weren’t together. She wasn’t interested in anyone else. She couldn’t be.

Maggie stared at the rack of elegant, sophisticated,
expensive
gowns and felt as if she’d stepped into a movie star’s dressing room.

“I thought they’d be like prom dresses,” she admitted. “These are real gowns.”

“I know,” Victoria said with a sigh. “They’re beautiful.”

“I can’t afford them.”

“Neither can I. Fortunately we get a discount.”

Unless it was an ninety-five percent discount, there was no way Maggie could buy one of these dresses. She needed the money to buy back her father’s business. She couldn’t waste a few thousand dollars on a dress she would wear once.

“Still,” she murmured, not sure how to explain to her friend that there was no way this was happening.

Victoria patted her arm. “You have to trust me. I don’t want to endanger my IRA any more than you do. These are to give us ideas only. Then we’re heading into the back.”

“What’s in the back?”

Victoria laughed. “I can see you’re not going to trust me. Come on. I’ll show you.”

They walked through the elegant boutique with the plush carpeting and soothing music. At the rear of the store, they stepped past heavy curtains and found themselves in a plain corridor. Victoria walked purposefully toward a simple door. She pushed it open and then moved to the side.

“Prepare to be amazed,” she said.

Maggie stepped inside. There were dozens of racks, all crammed with beautiful clothes. Pantsuits and dresses, blouses, skirts.

“I don’t get it. Why are these here?” she asked.

“Consignment,” Victoria told her in a low, amused voice. “The very rich and elegant bring their barely worn clothes here where hardworking young women can buy them for pennies on the dollar. How do you think I can afford to dress like I do? I get a four-hundred-dollar blouse for all of fifty dollars. You can find anything here and the quality is amazing. I love this place. Seriously, the evening wear is discounted the most because so few people have any interest in it. The stuff is practically free.”

That was a discount Maggie could get behind. “They really have ball gowns here?”

“They have everything. Because I’m short and chubby, I’ll be buying used. You, on the other hand, are tall and willowy so you can probably squeeze your tiny butt into a sample. Not that I’m bitter.”

Maggie grinned. “Willowy is a nice way to say flat chested.”

Victoria wove through the dozens of racks until she found one with her name on it. She quickly sorted through the dresses and handed Maggie six.

“Now we try them on,” Victoria said.

Maggie took them into the large dressing room on the left while her friend took the one on the right. As she pulled off her jeans and her T-shirt, she had trouble believing she was really trying on dresses for an actual ball. Three weeks ago, she’d been attempting to sort out her life in Aspen. How could so much have changed so quickly?

Unable to find the answer, she pulled on the first dress. It was peach, with a fitted bodice and a tiered skirt that fell in waves of shimmering fabric. Victoria ripped back the curtain and sucked in her breath.

“I knew you’d look fabulous. That dress is amazing.”

“It’s unusual,” Maggie said, facing her reflection. She had to admit that the color was good for her, but she wasn’t sure about the fluffy skirt.

“It’s couture, honey, and when it looks that good, you say a little prayer. I, of course, am hanging out everywhere and will have to pay to get this sucker hemmed.”

Victoria’s dress was black, strapless and fit her like it had been painted on. Maggie did her best not to be bitter about the curves spilling over the top. But hemming would be required. At least six inches of fabric bunched on the floor.

“Nadim won’t be able to resist you,” she said honestly.

“Aren’t you sweet? He’s managed to resist me very well so far, but I’m not going to think about that. Instead I’m going to talk you into that dress. You’ll be dazzling. I know you’re not interested in Qadir, but there will be plenty of handsome, successful men at the ball. You can dazzle them instead.”

For a second Maggie wondered if Jon would be dazzled. Then she reminded herself she wasn’t going to think about him anymore. Not that way.

In truth, she didn’t want to be involved with him. She just missed him.

“Uh-oh,” Victoria said as she put her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me? There’s a guy, isn’t there? I can tell just by looking at you.”

“There’s no guy,” Maggie told her.

Victoria kept staring.

“Okay, maybe there’s half a guy.”

“Interesting. Which half?”

That made Maggie laugh. “I mean I’m only half involved. Or less, even. I keep telling myself Jon is just a habit.”

“A bad one, I’m guessing.”

“We grew up next door to each other, so I’ve known him all my life. In high school, we started dating. Everyone assumed we would always be together.”

“Including you,” Victoria said.

Maggie nodded. “Then we started drifting apart. I think we both sensed the change, but neither of us wanted to be the first one to say anything. Then my dad got sick. By then we knew it was over, but Jon didn’t want to break up while I was dealing with my dad’s death, so the relationship went on longer than it should have.”

She drew in a breath. “The thing is, we’ve been best friends forever. That’s the part that’s hard to give up. I miss talking to him. But he’s with someone else and the truth is, we’re not best friends anymore.”

Victoria gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. That has to be hard. You lost your guy and your dad so close together. It’s okay to take the time to deal with that.”

“I know. I’m just ready to be over him.”

“Love sucks the big one,” Victoria said firmly. “It’s why I’m never giving away my heart. I want a sensible arrangement with a man who is all about security and convention.”

Maggie was surprised. Victoria seemed spontaneous and fun loving. “Won’t that be boring for you?”

“Nope. I want safe and practical. Did you know it’s a really big deal for a prince to divorce? So they never do. I like that in a man.”

“Part of Nadim’s charm?” Maggie asked.

Her friend nodded. “A lot of it. Plus, my dad can be…difficult.” Victoria shrugged. “Having a prince on my side would really help.”

Maggie sensed there were a lot of secrets in Victoria’s past, but she didn’t want to pry. The other woman would tell her when she was ready.

“I’m going to think about not making a fool of myself,” Maggie muttered. “Is there a book or brochure telling us how we’re supposed to act and stuff, because I could use some pointers.”

Victoria grinned. “I’ll see what I can find. It will be practice for when we attend the wedding.”

A royal wedding? “I don’t think I’ll still be here,” Maggie told her. “I should have the car done in less than two months.”

“The wedding is in six weeks. Apparently As’ad is very anxious to claim his bride. So you’ll get to be there. If nothing else, you can fly back to dance at mine.”

Standing in the dressing area of her suite, Maggie stared at the peach dress practically floating on the hanger. Victoria
had
been right. It was the perfect choice.

On the floor by the fluffy hem was a shopping bag containing a pair of high-heeled sandals and an evening bag, also purchased from the consignment room at the boutique.

“I’m really going to a royal ball,” Maggie murmured to herself, unable to believe it was happening. She was just some mechanic from Colorado. Stuff like that didn’t happen to her.

She tucked her hands into her pockets to keep herself from reaching for the phone. The need to call Jon was powerful and she wanted to resist. While they had both claimed they would always be friends, the truth was, they weren’t. Not the way they had been.

Everything was different and there was no going back. Everything was—

The phone rang. Maggie jumped, then walked into the living room and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“You’re hard to track down.”

The familiar voice stole the strength from her legs. She sank onto the sofa and tried to remember to breathe.

“Jon. Is everything okay?”

“Sure. I’m calling to check on you. I haven’t heard from you and wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Everything is fine.”

Which it was—so why was she suddenly fighting tears?

Probably the loneliness, she told herself. She missed her dad and she missed Jon.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Of course. Work on the car is going really well and you’ll never guess. There’s going to be a royal ball here, and I’ve been invited.”

“Good for you.”

“It’s kind of a strange thing, but I think it will be fun. And I’ve made a few friends. There’s a great secretary here who is also American. We’ve been hanging out together.” Maggie talked a little more about her life then said, “How are things there?”