The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride (7 page)

“If you like.”

She started to say she’d been kidding, but then realized having that information would help. “Theater is dressy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She thought about the clothes they’d bought earlier that afternoon. “I have a couple of things I can wear. What’s the play?”

“A musical.
Les Miserables.
The king’s favorite.”

“Has he seen it?”

“Many times. He’ll see it again tonight.”

“Oh. He’s going, too?”

“We’ll be in his box. It will be a good opportunity for him to get to know you better. As the woman I’m dating.”

With that he straightened and walked away.

The stylist returned. “He’s so hot. You’re really lucky. Are you all right?”

Maggie shook her head. The king was going to be there tonight? In the same box? Was she expected to talk to him?

Stupid question, she told herself. She would have to carry on a conversation and pretend to be Qadir’s girlfriend and what if the king asked about her being good breeding stock? How was she supposed to answer?

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered.

“I get that a lot,” the stylist said as he wheeled a cart close and reached for scissors. “Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.”

“I can’t do this,” Maggie said as the limo pulled up in front of the entrance to a very large, very old building. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think. This was all a mistake. If I’d already accepted money, I would return it. Seriously, pick someone else. Fainting will not make the king like me.”

“You’re exaggerating your condition,” Qadir said, not sounding the least bit sympathetic. “You said you like musicals.”

She glared at him. “What does that have to do with anything? I can’t meet the king.”

“You already have.”

“As a nobody. You’re being deliberately difficult and for the record, I don’t like it.”

He laughed. He actually laughed.

“You’ll be fine,” he said as he stepped out of the limo and held out his hand to assist her.

“It’s all fun and games now,” she muttered as she followed him. “Let’s see how amusing this is when I throw up on your expensive handmade shoes.”

He had the nerve to chuckle again, then he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her into the theater.

Maggie concentrated on walking in new shoes and breathing and trying not to think about the way her stomach flopped over and over and over. Look at the architecture, she told herself. Admire the clean lines, the soaring ceilings, the whatever the sticky-out parts were called by the corners.

Actually, now that she was paying attention, she realized the building
was
beautiful. Elegant and oddly feminine, if such an imposing building could be called that. There were mosaics and huge chandeliers, gilded pillars and archways. A staircase that seemed to glide up to heaven.

“What is this place?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Qadir came to a stop and turned her to her right. She stared at the handsome couple in front of them, then gasped when she realized it was them.

The large mirror showed her Qadir was as good-looking as always. Strong, tall and elegant in a tailored tux. The woman next to him wasn’t half-bad, either, and the most amazing part was it was her.

The haircut had brought out the waves she hated, but somehow now they didn’t look so geeky. Instead they were almost loose curls flowing to her shoulders. The makeup she’d been shown how to use made her eyes larger and mouth bigger. But it was the clothes she really liked.

True to her word, Ava hadn’t tried to stick her in a dress. Instead Maggie wore white silk trousers and a white silk tank top. What transformed the outfit from day to night wasn’t just the beading on the tank top, but the fact that her trousers were actually slit from ankle to thigh. While she was standing still, they looked perfectly conservative, but when she moved she flashed a whole lot of leg.

High heeled sandals made her even taller, although she was still several inches shorter than Qadir.

He put his hands on her shoulders. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You are beautiful, smart, funny and charming. The only problem we’re going to have with the king is that he is going to want you for himself.”

That made her smile. “I think you’re safe.”

For a second she thought he was going to kiss her again. There was something in his posture and the look in his eye. But then he took her hand and pulled her along toward the stairs.

Disappointment chased away the last of her nerves. She wouldn’t have minded a little premusical kissing. Honestly, the way Qadir made her body go up in flames, she wouldn’t mind a little anything with him. Something interesting to think about later.

They climbed the stairs and walked to the right. A guard stepped aside, allowing them to step into what Maggie assumed was a private box. She’d never been in one before.

There were several people standing around, drinking champagne and nibbling on appetizers. She had a sudden craving for those little hot dogs wrapped in pastry.

But before she could check out the food, the crowd parted and she found herself in front of King Mukhtar.

“Father,” Qadir said, “I would like you to meet my date for the evening. Miss Maggie Collins. She’s from America. Colorado.”

Maggie tightened her grip on Qadir’s fingers as she smiled at the king. “Your Highness, this is a great honor for me.”

The king frowned. “Have we met?”

One of the guards came forward. “Your Highness, the photographers are here. Shall I let them in?”

The king nodded. Everyone shifted position as several men with cameras entered the booth and began snapping pictures. Maggie found herself blinded. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, the king waved his hand and the men instantly stopped.

“There’s power,” she murmured to Qadir. “It really is good to be the king.”

“So I hear.”

He gave her a glass of champagne. She took a sip.

“What am I supposed to say when he asks me what I do?”

“Tell him the truth,” Qadir said.

Easy for him, she thought. He wasn’t a car mechanic. “He’s going to give me that look. The one that says I’m weird and that I should have gone for something more traditionally female.”

“He’s the king. He doesn’t do looks.”

“He’ll have the look. Trust me.”

Someone called Qadir away. Maggie eased into a corner and did her best to be invisible. She picked up a cracker with she wasn’t sure what on top and had just taken a bite when the king walked over.

“This is your first time at our theater?” he asked.

She chewed quickly then swallowed. “Um, yes. Sir. The building is stunning. I was admiring it when we came in. There’s something unique about the architecture.” Or was there? She swallowed again but not because of any food. “At least it seemed that way to me.”

“Early fifteenth century,” the king told her. “One of my ancestors built this small palace for a favorite mistress. He promised to build her something as beautiful as herself. When it was completed she claimed that no woman could live up to such beauty. But she accepted the palace anyway.”

Maggie grinned. “You have to respect a woman who enjoys real estate.”

As soon as the words were out, she wanted to stuff them back in her mouth. There were probably a thousand different ways for someone to interpret that comment and most of them were bad.

But before she could think about throwing herself off the nearby balcony, Mukhtar laughed. “An excellent observation, my dear. Very funny.”

She exhaled in relief. Time for a safer topic. “I’m looking forward to the performance tonight. I’ve heard most of the music from the show, but I’ve never seen it in person.” She thought about mentioning she’d seen the performance on PBS, but maybe he wouldn’t know what that was and she wasn’t sure he would find the explanation interesting.

“You are in for an experience,” the king said. “The music is compelling and touches one’s soul.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately the lights flickered. Qadir returned to her side and guided her to their seats.

“I did okay,” she whispered. “I didn’t say anything stupid to the king.”

Instead of answering, Qadir motioned to her right. She turned and saw Mukhtar sitting next to her.

She smiled tightly, then leaned to her left.

“You are so going to be punished for this later.”

Qadir, of course, only laughed.

The orchestra began playing. At first Maggie was so aware of the king seated close, she couldn’t relax. But eventually the story pulled her in. She found herself caught up in the events playing out on the spartan stage. When Javert killed himself, she felt tears in her eyes.

She did her best to blink them back, only to feel something soft pressing against her hand.

She looked down and saw a white handkerchief, then sniffed and looked at the man handing it to her.

“He was a good man facing an impossible choice,” Qadir murmured. “His soul could only handle so much before it ripped in two.”

She nodded without speaking, then wiped away her tears. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She relaxed with his embrace, and felt safe for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Q
adir stood by the office in the garage. It was his nature to take charge, to direct. Rather than give in to that need, he’d physically stepped back to let Maggie have control of the moment.

Gone was the sophisticated beauty from the previous night. Today she was all business, in coveralls and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back, her face scrubbed clean. She focused on nothing but the equipment and the men she directed as the engine was slowly lifted from the body of the Rolls.

Qadir knew he should be paying attention to the action. The engine was the heart of the car and if something happened to it then true restoration wasn’t possible. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop watching Maggie as she moved around the car, double-checking that everything was secure and then nodding for the men to resume.

There was something in the way she moved, he decided. Or maybe it was knowing that she could be both this competent leader and yet feminine enough to cry because a character in a play died.

Her tears had startled him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a woman cry for reasons other than manipulation. Later, as the musical had continued, Maggie had struggled for control, telling him or perhaps herself that she was fine.

“Swing it around,” Maggie called out. “Slowly. We don’t have any other plans for the day. That’s it. Great job. Just like that.”

He watched as the engine was lowered to the supports that would allow Maggie to work her magic on the aging beauty. When the engine was in place, Maggie breathed a sigh of relief and applauded her team.

“Excellent work,” she told the men. “Thank you so much for your patience and attention to detail.”

Qadir waited until everyone had gone to walk over to the engine.

“It could be worse,” she told him without bothering to look at him. “I’ll admit to a few moments of terror when it was pulled out. I thought there was more damage. But there doesn’t seem to be any horrible surprises. It’ll take me a few days to take everything apart and access the damage. That will really tell us where we stand.”

She glanced up at him. “What? You’re looking at me funny.”

“You are an interesting combination of traits. You were very good with the men.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been working with men my whole life.”

“These are men of my country, not yours. They do not usually take direction from a woman. Yet you established authority with them easily and offered them much praise. They will speak well of you.”

“Don’t be so surprised. I told you when you hired me, I know what I’m doing.”

Surprise didn’t describe his feelings. He was intrigued by her. Impressed. Aroused. But not surprised.

“The king likes you, as well,” he said.

She pulled a rag from her back pocket and wiped her hands. “Okay, that one I don’t know how to deal with.”

“You should be pleased.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better if he didn’t like me? We’re going to break up. I don’t want him mad at me when that happens.”

Qadir smiled. “Fear not. I will keep him from locking you away when you break my heart.”

“How comforting.”

“You did very well at the theater. Our next event will be to have dinner with As’ad and Kayleen. That will be easier.”

“Maybe for you,” Maggie said with a sigh. “I’m not so sure. I only had to talk to the king for a couple of minutes. Dinner is a lot longer. They’re going to ask questions like where we met.”

“We met here,” he reminded her.

“Oh. Right. Well, they’ll want to know other stuff. Like what we see in each other.”

A question he could easily answer, he thought as he watched her walk around the engine. Maggie was bright and funny and she spoke her mind. She was also a fascinating combination of competent and sexy. Like now. The coveralls hid everything, which only made him want to see and touch all that they concealed.

“My brother and his fiancée are within weeks of their wedding,” he told her. “They have adopted three young girls. If the conversation turns too personal, ask about some detail in the planning or how the children are doing. I am confident that you’ll be just fine.”

“Wish I were.” She walked over to the car and ran her hands along the side. “This I understand. This makes sense to me. Where art meets function. Couldn’t I just stay here and work on the car?”

He crossed to her and touched her face. Her skin was soft, her eyes wide, her mouth…tempting.

“Do you wish to be released from our arrangement?” he asked, wanting her with a power that left him hungry and restless.

Her pupils dilated. “No. I just want to whine about it.”

As always, she made him smile. “Then I will ignore your complaints.”

“Fair enough.”

“I must return to my office.”

The need to kiss her was strong, but he resisted. He’d hired Maggie to convince his father he was involved. He would not take advantage of the situation, no matter how much she tempted him.

He left the garage and walked toward the palace. Halfway through the garden he realized he had not told Maggie what time they were to meet for dinner.

He retraced his steps. She wasn’t in the garage, so he crossed to her office. The door was closed. He opened it without knocking and walked inside only to find Maggie changing her clothes.

She stood in the center of the room, her back to him. As he watched, the coveralls fell to the floor and she stepped out of them.

She’d already removed her boots, so she wore nothing but socks, tiny panties and a T-shirt.

Everything he’d been taught told him to retreat, to give her the privacy she expected and deserved. The blood of the desert that still pounded through his veins demanded that he take this beautiful, alluring woman.

He couldn’t seem to look away from her long legs, the curve of her hip, the way she moved as she bent down to pick up the coveralls. She turned slightly, saw him and jumped.

Maggie was pretty sure she didn’t scream, which was good because she hardly needed one more embarrassing moment where Qadir was concerned. Then she remembered she was kind of undressed and felt herself flush anyway.

“I…forgot to tell you what time we would meet for our dinner,” he said.

“Isn’t it seven? That’s what my schedule says.”

“Ah, yes. Seven.”

She stood awkwardly, sort of holding the coveralls in front of her body, even as she tried to convince herself that panties and a T-shirt were more clothing than she wore to the beach. Only they weren’t at the beach and she’d been undressing.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said. “My apologies.”

She appreciated the words, even as she noticed he wasn’t leaving. That should have annoyed her. But there was something in the way Qadir looked at her that made her feel all shaky inside.

“Maggie.” He crossed to her in three long strides. “Send me away and I will go.”

His gaze was intense, as was his touch when he held her by her upper arms.

Sparks arced between them. She could practically see them as they singed her skin. Need grew until it devoured every part of her.

She didn’t understand what it was about this man that made her react the way she did. Cosmic humor? Chemistry? Hormones? She didn’t know and she wasn’t sure she cared. She only knew that when she was close to Qadir, touching him, being touched, she felt more alive than she ever had in her life.

She dropped the coveralls. “That won’t be necessary,” she whispered.

He pulled her toward him with a force that caused her to lose her balance. Not that it mattered. She knew if she fell, he would catch her, just as he caught her now, pulling her against him, claiming her with a hot, wild kiss that threatened to steal her soul.

She leaned against him, her curves flattening against his hard chest, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to the kiss. She met him stroke for stroke. As he explored, she tightened her lips around his tongue and sucked. He stiffened.

Pleasure filled her, along with the confidence of knowing she wasn’t the only one in danger of getting lost in the moment.

He dropped his hands to her hips then around to her rear, squeezing the curves, causing her to surge against him.

Her belly nestled against his arousal, hard, thick proof of what she did to him. Feeling it made her insides melt. She felt herself swelling in anticipation.

He ran his hands up and down her back before slipping one around her rib cage then up her T-shirt to her breast. Even through the layers of fabric, he found her nipple, tight and hard. He teased the sensitive point, rubbing it, circling, then brushing it with the palm of his hand.

At the same time he broke the kiss, only to nibble his way along her jaw.

He moved his free hand to her other breast. His touch was exquisite. Powerful need made her tremble. She wanted everything right that second. She wanted
him.

He stepped back far enough to pull off her T-shirt. She quickly undid her bra and tossed it aside. Then his hands were on her bare skin.

He stroked her with his fingers before bending down and taking her nipple in his mouth. When he sucked, deep ribbons of desire wove their way down to that place between her thighs. She cupped his head with her hand, as much to be touching him as to make sure he never stopped.

His tongue danced with her, flicked against her, made her gasp and moan. Then he slipped one hand between her legs.

She braced herself for the magic of his touch and the intensity of her response. But even as he eased into place, she heard someone in the garage. A voice, then a burst of male laughter. She stiffened.

Qadir straightened. He immediately pulled off his suit jacket and covered her, then moved to the door, closed and locked it.

All that only took a second, but it was enough for her rational mind to wake up and be horrified by what had almost happened.

Qadir was her boss. They had a deal and that didn’t include sex. Just as confusing was the fact that she’d never been the kind of woman who threw herself into bed with any guy who came along. There’d only ever been Jon and it had taken them three years of dating to finally go all the way.

Of course they’d been young and both virgins. Qadir was a man of the world. Which explained his actions, but what about hers? It was one thing to enjoy a man’s kiss—it was another to get so swept away that she’d nearly done it in her office in the garage, in the middle of the day.

“Maggie?”

She looked at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I won’t apologize.”

He hadn’t done anything wrong except take what was offered. “I don’t expect you to.”

“Would it help if you threw something?”

That made her smile. “I’m not sure. I don’t feel angry. Just confused. I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

“There is a powerful attraction between us.”

“I got that.”

He picked up her bra and T-shirt. After handing them to her, he turned his back. She set his jacket over a chair and quickly dressed. When she’d pulled on the coveralls, she said, “Doing anything…you know, intimate, would mess things up.”

He faced her again. “I agree.”

“I work for you.”

He nodded. “Better to keep things business only.”

“Yeah.”

They were both saying the right words, so why did she have the feeling that neither of them believed them?

“You are all right?” he asked.

“Fine. Weirded out, but fine.” She gave him a little push. “Go back to your office and do princely things. I’ll be ready at seven.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he told her and left.

Maggie watched him go. When she was alone, she sank into the chair and tried to figure out how much trouble she’d just gotten herself into.

Could she and Qadir put this behind them and pretend it had never happened?

Without meaning to, she closed her eyes and remembered how it felt to have his mouth on her breasts. Talk about amazing.

“It’s just chemistry,” she told herself. “Nothing more.”

It couldn’t be. She was here for a job and that was all. In six months their fake relationship would end and she would go home, much richer for the experience.

The trick was to not get personally involved. But for the first time she wondered if that was going to be harder than she’d ever imagined.

“Tell me about the woman,” Kateb said as he shrugged out of his robes and tossed them over a chair in Qadir’s suite.

Qadir poured them each a Scotch and handed his brother a glass. “What woman?”

Kateb raised his eyebrows. “Word of your involvement had even reached me in the desert, so there must be a woman.”

They settled on the oversize sofas in the main living area. Qadir raised his glass in a toast to his brother. “It is good to have you back. You stay away too long.”

“I find no pleasure in the city. I belong in the desert.” Kateb took a sip of his drink. “But you have not answered my question.”

“Her name is Maggie Collins. She’s restoring the Rolls.”

Kateb’s expression gave nothing away. “And?”

“And she’s beautiful, funny, down-to-earth.”

“You say all the right things. What aren’t you telling me, brother?”

Qadir grinned. “That it’s a game. I’m paying her to pretend to be my girlfriend. In a few weeks, we’ll get engaged. Then this will all be too much for her and she’ll return home. Heartbroken, I won’t be able to consider any of our father’s offers for perhaps as long as a year.”

Kateb nodded slowly. “An impressive plan.”

“You wish you’d thought of it yourself.”

“The idea has merit, although living in the desert as I do, I am well out of the king’s reach.”

“Lucky you.”

Kateb took another drink. “You do realize the game may have consequences.”

Qadir thought about his encounter with Maggie that morning, in the garage. If those were the consequences his brother was talking about, he would welcome them.

She had been all sweet fire in his arms. Her body yielding, her moans telling him she was as aroused as he had been.

“I am not concerned,” Qadir told him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“As you wish.”

“Are you here to discuss the nomination?” Qadir asked.