The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride (5 page)

“What do you think of me?” he asked.

The unexpected question made her blink. “Um, what?”

“We get along, do we not?”

Was that a trick question? “Yes.”

“Good. I agree.”

With what? What were they talking about?

“We have much in common,” he continued.

That
nearly made her laugh. What did they have in common? A love of fine Arabian horses? Jetsetting around the world? Hardly.

“Cars,” he added. “We both like cars.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Sure. Cars.”

“I mention this because I was thinking about your business back home.”

The one she’d lost, she thought sadly. “It’s not exactly what it was,” she told him.

“The loss of your father would have changed things.”

More than he knew. “It was hard while he was sick. He was in the hospital a lot and I was with him. It was hard to stay on top of things.”

“Of course. When you return, you’ll have more time.”

She nodded, thinking she would also have a fair amount of money, although not enough to buy back the business. Still, she could start over with her own small shop. Continue the work.

“More money would help,” he said.

“It usually does.” A hopeful thought appeared. “You have a second car?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then…”

“I have a proposition.”

If she’d looked anything like Victoria, she would have assumed he was coming on to her. However, she stood there in coveralls that had been patched more than once, no makeup and her hair pulled back in an uneven ponytail.

“Which is?”

Qadir smiled. “You may have noticed my father’s enthusiastic efforts to interest me in a woman. Any woman. He’s determined to get all his sons married as quickly as possible.”

“Typical father behavior,” she said, then grinned. “Well, not counting the whole ‘good breeder’ part of the introduction.”

“Exactly. I am not interested in being pressured. However, the only way to get my father to back off is to give him the impression I’m involved with someone and that it might be serious.”

She nodded. “That would probably work.”

“I’m glad you agree. So I propose an arrangement between us. We would date for a period of weeks. Perhaps three or four months, then say we are engaged. Nothing would be formally announced, of course, although there would be hints. Then a few weeks after that, we would have a heated argument, you would return to your country and I, heartbroken, couldn’t possibly consider getting involved again for the rest of the year. Perhaps longer.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. His words had actually entered her brain—she knew she’d heard them. But they hadn’t made any sense. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying.

“I…You…It’s…”

He smiled. “A relationship of convenience,” he said. “You will consent to be someone I become involved with for an agreed upon period of time—say, six months. I will, of course, pay you for your time.”

He named an amount that made her already spinning head threaten to fall off and explode.

He wanted to fake
date?
Then get fake engaged to her? And
pay
her? All in an attempt to trick his father, the king?

“If he finds out about this, he’d kill me.”

“Not in the traditional sense. He would be unhappy.”

Not exactly comforting, Maggie thought. “Just go out with one of the women he introduces you to. Why won’t that work?”

“None of them interest me.”

“Sabrina seemed really nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have to dance with her.”

“Lucky me.” She stared at him. “You can’t mean this.”

“Why not? It’s an arrangement that works for both of us. I don’t have to deal with the king’s matchmaking and you get to make extra money. I know the plan requires you to stay in El Deharia longer than you’d planned, but you will also earn a considerable sum for your trouble.”

More than considerable, she thought, unable to take it all in.

“I’m not princess material,” she said. “I work on cars.”

“You are delightfully different.”

If only. “I don’t know how to dress or say the right things. You should ask Victoria. Nadim’s secretary,” she added when Qadir looked blank. “Pretty, blond, a great dresser.”

“You and I get along. Spending time together would not be a hardship.”

She thought of the dance they’d shared at the ball. Nope, not a hardship at all. Especially if there was more dancing. She wouldn’t even object to kissing.

The image of them pressed together was so intense and so unexpected, she scrambled to the other side of the desk to put some distance between them.

“This is crazy,” she said. “Let’s all take a deep breath and start over.”

“It isn’t crazy. It’s a sensible plan that benefits us both. I get peace and quiet for at least a year. You get to work on my car, then vacation in a beautiful palace, all the while getting paid. I will provide you with an appropriate wardrobe, a chance to meet world leaders. We will travel and attend conferences. In time, the relationship will end and you will return home with a much larger bank balance.”

“It’s a whole lot of trouble just to get your father off your back.”

“You have never had to deal with a monarch as a parent.”

Good point.

She was tempted. Not only by the money, but by the opportunity. When else could she have an experience like this? Plus, a teeny, tiny, shallow part of her, the part that was still ashamed of what had happened with Jon, sort of liked the idea of him thinking she was dating a handsome prince.

“We would need ground rules,” she said.

“Such as?”

“You can’t be going out with someone else while we’re fake-dating. I don’t want to be cheated on.”

“Agreed. Although the same rules apply to you.”

She smiled. “Not a big issue for me, but thanks for worrying.” What else? “I don’t want any of this in the papers. Do you guys have tabloids out here?” The idea of Jon knowing was one thing, but having a fake relationship played out in the media was another.

“We have some local coverage,” he said. “It is nothing like what exists in America and Europe. I would want some minor mention of us dating to convince my father, but nothing more.”

“Okay.” She hesitated. “I feel like I should ask more, but I can’t think of what it would be.”

“You’ve dated before,” he told her. “This will not be all that different.”

Except for not falling in love with the guy.

She looked at Qadir. “Are you sure about this? You do remember I’m a car mechanic, right? I don’t do the long-nail thing.”

“Yes, I know and please, do not recommend your friend Victoria again. I thought of this last night at the ball. You did extremely well there. Remember, the Russian ambassador was interested.”

“I don’t think that’s a very high bar,” she said.

“Regardless, you’re the one that I want. Yes or no, Maggie?”

Was she crazy to consider the offer? If she said yes, she would have enough money to buy three shops back home. She would be set for a long, long time. She would also not have to return to Aspen and watch Jon and Elaine fall deeper and deeper in love.

It wasn’t as if there was any pressing reason to say no. She didn’t have to be anywhere or do anything by a certain time. She was sadly free from commitment.

Maggie couldn’t think of a single downside. She supposed there was the remote possibility of falling for Qadir, but honestly—what were the odds of that? He was nothing like Jon and Jon was the only man she’d ever been in love with. So she was perfectly safe.

She drew in a breath. “Yes.”

“Excellent. We will meet again soon to work out the details.”

“Fine.”

“I will let you return to your packages.”

He approached as he spoke. She straightened and started to lift her right hand so they could shake on the deal. Instead Qadir cupped her cheek, bent forward and brushed her mouth with his.

The touch was light, quick and not the least bit sexual. Still, when he stepped back she felt the burn all the way down to her toes. Something sharp and needy twisted in her stomach and made her want to lean into him so he could kiss her again and this time do it like he meant it.

Her reaction stunned her. She hoped she answered as he said goodbye, but she couldn’t be sure. She could only try to breathe through the desperate need to have him kiss her again and know that she had just dropped herself into a level of trouble that she’d never been in before.

M
aggie spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out what she’d gotten herself into. Fake dating a sheik? That sort of thing didn’t happen to anyone, let alone someone like her. Maybe Qadir had a brain disorder that left him confused. Maybe he’d been kidding. Maybe she’d imagined the whole conversation and the next time she saw him he would call her “Ms. Collins” and look right through her.

Rather than make herself crazy with all the possibilities, she opened packages, savored the thrill of her car parts, then started an inventory base. It was nearly one before she noticed she was starving. But before she could cross to the phone and order lunch, Qadir appeared with a folder in one hand and a picnic basket in the other.

“We have much to discuss,” he told her. “Is now a convenient time?”

If it wasn’t, did she really get to say so? “If you brought lunch, then now is fine,” she told him.

“A conditional acceptance?”

“I’m starving.”

“So you can be bought with food.”

“Sometimes.” Based on their deal, she could also be bought with money, but she didn’t want to think about that.

They went into her office where she laid out the lunch he’d brought.

She eyed the white-chocolate macadamia-nut cookie and knew that if she had been alone, she so would have started with that. Next time, she told herself with a sigh, thinking one day she was going to have to go down to the kitchen, find whoever provided the daily baked cookies and give him or her a big hug.

“I had my assistant make a list of possible places and events for us to go to,” Qadir said when she’d taken her first bite of the sandwich. “The choices are divided into events that are purely public and those that will be perceived as private.”

Maggie nearly choked. “You told your assistant about our deal?”

“No. I asked for an updated social calendar. Then he prepared a list of restaurants where photographers were known to frequent. I’m sure he thinks we’ll be avoiding those places.”

She managed to swallow without killing herself. “Okay. That makes sense.” They would have to be seen to convince people—meaning Qadir’s father—that this was all real. “Is the king going to be upset about this? I’m nothing like Sabrina or Natalie.”

Qadir smiled. “Which is a good thing.”

“In your mind. What about in his?”

“He is not the one dating you.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Be serious. I don’t want the king hating me or ordering me out of the country because I’m not a known breeder.”

“Don’t worry about anything. My father will be delighted to think I am finally getting serious about someone. It has been a long time.”

How long? Maggie remembered her first night at the palace when she’d overheard Qadir and the king talking about someone from Qadir’s past.

He put the list on the desk between them. “I have marked several events I suggest we attend, but the others are discretionary.”

She glanced from the paper to him. “I don’t understand. You’re saying I get a vote, too?”

“Of course. Why would you not?”

Because he was a royal and she wasn’t. “Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s nice.”

He smiled at her uncertainty. “You keep forgetting, I’m the most charming of all my brothers.”

“So you say. I haven’t actually talked to any of your brothers so I only have your word on this.”

He grinned. “You’ll have to trust me.”

For reasons that weren’t clear to her, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She found herself reliving that brief but powerful kiss they’d shared.

She’d reacted so strongly to the lightest of touches. It had been the strangest thing…most likely brought on by too much champagne—even though she couldn’t remember having more than half a glass. Or maybe it had been because she hadn’t eaten. Whatever the cause, it hadn’t meant anything. Forgetting it had ever happened made the most sense. Except she couldn’t seem to forget.

“Maggie? Did you want to make some suggestions?”

“What? Oh. Sure.”

She glanced down at the neatly printed possibilities. There were plays, sporting events, a hospital wing opening. The shower for Kayleen and the wedding to follow were in bold.

“These are…” she asked.

“Required. The shower for you and the wedding for both of us.”

If she’d been standing she would have backed up a couple of feet. “I can’t go to Kayleen’s wedding shower. I barely know her.”

“If we are together, then you are part of the family.”

“I don’t want to lie to your family.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Deception is the nature of our endeavor.”

Most of the time he sounded like a regular guy, but every now and then he said something princelike.

“I’ve never been a very good liar,” she admitted. “I’d hate to see that change.”

He said nothing, as if giving her the time and space to change her mind. Did she want to go through with this?

She thought of her father fading away. He kept making her promise that after he was gone she would try to get the business back. He hated that his illness had caused them to lose everything. She’d never blamed him, never wished for anything except his recovery. She knew he would want her to have a financial cushion. He would probably find the whole situation with Qadir funny. Then he would squeeze her shoulder and tell her not to do anything he wouldn’t do.

The memory made her both happy and sad. With her father gone, she was alone in the world. The deal with Qadir offered her a level of financial freedom she’d never experienced. She would be a fool to walk away.

“I’ve never been to a wedding shower,” she told him. “I’m sure it will be fun.”

“Excellent.”

They discussed other possibilities. There was a car show in neighboring El Bahar. They both agreed that would be a good choice.

“Will you want to pick out the engagement ring?” he asked.

She stabbed her fork into the pasta salad and sighed. “I’d deliberately forgotten about that part of the deal. Do we have to get engaged?”

“If I am to be crushed by your leaving, then yes.”

She tried to imagine him emotionally crushed, but her imagination failed her. Qadir was too strong and in charge.

“You know, you could make this a lot easier by just falling in love with some woman and getting married for real.”

“I am aware of that.”

“You shouldn’t be so picky,” she told him.

“Thank you for that extraordinary advice.”

They returned to the list, but Maggie wasn’t really paying attention. Once again she was remembering the mystery woman from Qadir’s past—and wondering why it hadn’t worked out.

Maggie stared at the clothes in her closet and wished desperately that she’d asked Victoria to help her get ready. She also wished she had at least a couple of nicer outfits. But dining with princes hadn’t been on her weekly agenda in Aspen so her wardrobe tended toward supercasual with the odd somewhat less casual piece thrown in.

Her choices seemed to fall into two categories—long-sleeved T-shirts and short-sleeved T-shirts. She had a couple of blouses, one pair of black slacks and a ball gown that seemed as inappropriate for dinner as one of the T-shirts.

“I came here to work on cars, not date a sheik,” she muttered as she flipped through the meager selection again, desperately hoping to see something she’d missed the first three times.

There was actually one other choice. A simple knit dress that she’d packed on a whim. It was burgundy, plain and a little too fitted for her taste. She’d bought it a couple of years ago when she’d wandered through a mall shortly after finding out her father had been diagnosed with cancer. It had been on sale. She’d tried it on as a distraction and then had purchased it because explaining why she didn’t need it required too much effort.

Maggie wasn’t sure why she’d tossed it in her suitcase. Fortunately the fabric traveled well.

She pulled off the tags, then brought the dress into the bathroom and started getting ready.

Once she’d showered and blown her hair dry, there wasn’t all that much for her to do. She put on a little mascara, then lip gloss. Victoria had done a lot more to her the night of the ball, but Maggie had neither the skill nor the makeup. Qadir was going to have to suffer with her natural look.

She pulled on the dress, then stepped into a flat pair of sandals that weren’t nearly as pretty as the ones she’d worn with her ball gown, but were a whole lot more comfortable. Then she glanced at the clock. It had taken her twelve minutes from stepping into the shower until she was ready to go. That included four minutes blow-drying her hair. Victoria would be horrified.

Thinking about her friend made her wonder what the other woman would think about the deal. Which made Maggie nervous. She put her hand to her stomach, as if that would help settle her nerves. Then someone knocked.

She opened the door to her suite and saw Qadir standing in the hallway. He looked as he always did—tall, handsome, well-dressed. Nothing was different. Except the tension in her stomach increased until she thought she might have to throw up. Just as intense was her need to have him pull her close and kiss her.

“Good evening,” he said and smiled. “You are prompt. I should not be surprised.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” She collected her purse and followed him into the hallway. “It doesn’t take me long to get ready.”

“And yet the result is lovely.”

A compliment? She didn’t know what to say. “Ah, thank you.”

He chatted about something on the walk down to the front of the palace, but between her spinning head and swirling stomach, she had no idea what. When they entered the courtyard, a limo was waiting.

“I happen to know you have regular cars,” she said as he held open the rear passenger door for her.

“Agreed, but this makes a better entrance.”

Right. Because this was all for show.

She slid along the leather seat and tried to catch her breath. Fake dating, she reminded herself. Nothing more. She had no reason to be tense.

She forced herself to think calm thoughts. About ocean waves rushing in, then retreating. A cool, green forest. Water flowing in a brook.

“Maggie?”

She turned to him. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying not to throw up.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “You are always honest.”

“I try to be.”

“There is nothing to be nervous about.”

“My stomach doesn’t agree with you.”

He shifted close and took her hand in his. “We are going to dinner at a very nice restaurant. You need to be calm so you can enjoy the meal. It is unlikely that we will be spotted by a photographer, however certain people will see us and that will start the gossip. Other than nodding politely to a few diners, little will be expected of you except eating.”

“I’m a good eater.”

“Then you will be fine.”

His voice was so deep and low, she found herself getting lost in the sound. He rubbed her hand with slow, steady movements. That was nice, too, she thought as she felt herself relaxing.

This was just Qadir, she told herself. Just dinner. Nothing more.

She raised her gaze to his and found him watching her. With their eyes locked, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.

It was a soft kiss that probably meant nothing. It was just…just…

Tension filled her stomach, but this was a whole new kind. It was hot and tight and had nothing to do with the rest of the world and everything to do with the man next to her.

Before she could figure out what she was supposed to do now, the car came to a stop. Talk about timing, she grumbled to herself.

The restaurant was on the water, with a beautiful view and the kind of low lighting that made everyone look good. They didn’t have to wait, but were immediately led to a private table in an alcove.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening, Prince Qadir,” the hostess said, eyeing Maggie with obvious confusion. “I hope you enjoy your dinner.”

The young woman nodded, then left.

Maggie shifted uncomfortably, wanting to explain that she wasn’t
really
dating the prince. That the other woman didn’t have to worry she would one day really be a princess. One thing for sure—she was going to have to talk to Victoria about going shopping in that secret back-room boutique. Better clothes were required for this whole fake-dating thing.

Still feeling out of place, Maggie picked up the leather-bound menu. As she did, she bumped one of the three different wine glasses set at her place. There was also a waterglass and an assortment of flatware, some of which she didn’t recognize. Couldn’t they have gone for a burger instead?

She opened the menu and stared at the pages and pages of choices.

“Do you have a preference for the wine?” Qadir asked. “French, Spanish, Italian? They also have an excellent selection from California, Washington, Australia and Chile.”

“Whatever you would like is fine with me,” she murmured, knowing she could never admit that the last time she’d had wine, it had been poured from a very lovely box purchased at Target.

She returned her attention to the menu, determined to pick something, but the words all blurred. She couldn’t do this—she didn’t belong here.

She looked up and found Qadir watching her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Pretty much everything.”

He surprised her by smiling. “If it is as awful as all that, then we have many areas where we can improve.”

At least
he
found the situation amusing. “I’m not the right person for this,” she whispered, leaning forward so he could hear her. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“I have not.” He took the menu from her hands and set it on top of his. “You are unfamiliar with the circumstances. This will get easier.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let me order for you. Do you have any food dislikes?”

This was a fancy restaurant. The possibilities for disaster were endless. “I’d just like something normal. Nothing squishy like sea urchin, or gross like paté.”

“Very well. How about roast chicken with vegetables?”

“I could do that.”