Expecting the Sheikh's Baby

by Kristi Gold

  When Ash showed his confusion with a frown, Daniel added, “Having the marriage and a baby before you have a commitment that involves two people who care about each other.”

  “I’m a realist, Daniel. At times it is necessary to accept that the choices we make should be based on what is best for all concerned, not on emotions.”

  “So you’re saying that all you expect is a continuing fondness for Karen?”

  “I expect nothing beyond what I know to be true, that we will marry in order to produce a child. I can’t deny that I find Karen to be a very desirable, passionate woman. I plan to enjoy those aspects.”

  Daniel’s expression reflected concern. “When the passion fades, I hope that something more exists. Otherwise, you might be in for a tough life together.”

  Ash gave Daniel’s words some consideration, and though he found wisdom in them, he couldn’t allow himself to become entangled in emotions, especially if Karen decided that she wanted to dissolve the marriage after the birth of their child despite his efforts to dissuade her. Before he could concern himself with that, she must first agree to be his wife.

  “And one more thing, Ash,” Daniel said. “The Barones take family very seriously. Karen has only been a member for a short time but she’s been completely accepted.”

  “I understand.” And he did. Ash realized all too well the strength of family ties, or in his case, chains.

  Daniel’s expression went stern. “And just so you know, you might be a good friend, but if you do anything to hurt her, you will have to answer not only to the rest of the family but to me as well.”

  He had no intention of hurting Karen. He had no intention of allowing her to cause him pain, either. “You can rest assured that I will take very good care of her.”

  “Speaking of family,” Daniel said, “what is yours going to think about you marrying an American?”

  Ash saw no reason to tell them immediately. Perhaps later, after the birth of their child. Or perhaps he would call his father following the marriage ceremony if only to inform him that he had not been able to interfere this time.

  Ash had waited thirty-six years for the moment when he could prove that the king of Zhamyr no longer had control over his son’s life. “I no longer concern myself with my family’s approval. And I have no obligations as heir since that duty falls on my eldest brother.”

  The phone rang and Daniel immediately rose in response. “I’ll get it. I told Phoebe to call when she’s ready for me to come home.”

  Ash couldn’t hold back a cynical smile brought about by more envy. “I see she has you shackled.”

  Daniel turned with his hand on the phone. “We haven’t tried shackles yet, but you never know.” He answered with a brief hello, said, “Send her up,” then dropped the receiver onto its cradle.

  “I take it your wife has decided to personally escort you home,” Ash said.

  “It’s not my wife who’s on her way up here.”

  “Then who?”

  “The woman you intend to make your wife.”

  Three

  With every solitary ping of the elevator climbing to the top floor of the New Regents Hotel, Karen’s heart beat double-time in her chest.

  She was the lone occupant in the car with the exception of a starched and polished attendant who stood in the corner wearing a blue-tailored suit and a poker-faced expression. More than likely, he thought her to be one of the catering staff since she was dressed for work in a black skirt and tailored white blouse. Of course, she was about to meet with a prince who could very well expect her to cater to his every whim. But not if she could help it. She only had one goal in mind—a father for her child. And to conduct her own little interview to make sure that the sheikh fit the father bill.

  Karen felt totally out of her element when the doors opened with quiet efficiency to a hallway covered in rich red carpet. She doubted it had been rolled out for her, simple Karen Rawlins from Nowhere, Montana.

  The attendant stepped out and kept his hand on the door to prevent its closure. With his free hand, he indicated the entrance at the end of the corridor. “Sheikh Saalem’s penthouse, madam.”

  She hoped he’d meant madam in a polite sense and didn’t mistakenly believe she was there to service the sheikh. Surely not. Now if he knew she was wearing skimpy zebra-striped underwear—her one secret indulgence—she could understand where he might make that assumption. But unless he had X-ray vision, he had no way of knowing that.

  The man cleared his throat and made a flicking motion on his chin. Did he expect a tip? Karen considered supplying a verbal one—lose the toupee.

  Just when Karen reached into her bag for a few bucks, he said, “Mustard, miss.”

  Only then did Karen realize she was sporting the remnants of a sandwich she had consumed in record time during her drive to the hotel. Embarrassed, she used the oval mirror across the hall to remove the yellow chin smudge with a napkin she’d stuffed in her purse. While she was at it, she secured the clip holding her hair in a loose upsweep then checked her lipstick. Luckily it was still there, and so was the attendant. From the mirror’s reflection, she noticed that he was ogling her. Ogling her legs, to be more accurate.

  She rolled her eyes to the ornate ceiling, turned and forced a smile. “Thank you. That will be all.”

  He gave her a brusque nod, backed into the elevator and closed the doors. How nice that he’d immediately left with little effort on her part, Karen thought. Dismissed with nothing more than a simple command.

  Standing before the double doors to the sheikh’s suite, clutching her basic black bag to her chest, Karen acknowledged she could get used to saying “That will be all” like some demanding debutante, especially if it encouraged others to do her bidding.

  She seriously doubted it would work on Ash Saalem. She also doubted she would be able to get any words out once she faced his high-voltage sensuality, live and in person. But last night, after weighing Maria’s advice, she’d decided to go through with the arrangement—if Ash satisfactorily answered her questions.

  Yes, I will marry you and have your baby. That will be all.

  Slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Karen pressed the buzzer and sucked in a deep breath, expecting to be met by Ash. She certainly didn’t expect to be greeted by her cousin Daniel.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a remarkably calm tone despite her surprise.

  Daniel stepped into the hall and gave her a wily grin. “Visiting with a friend. What are you doing here? Business or pleasure?”

  Karen had no idea what Daniel had learned from Ash and frankly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. From the moment she’d met him, Daniel had stepped into the role of the big brother Karen had never had. A big brother who delighted in teasing her. She refused to provide fodder for the ridicule mill. “I’m here on business.” Not exactly a fib.

  Daniel rubbed his jaw and his grin deepened. “Is Ash going to check out your portfolio?”

  “Something like that.” As much as she cherished Daniel, she wanted him to leave. She was anxious enough without his prodding. “Tell Phoebe I said hi, will you?”

  “Sure.” Daniel leaned forward, lowered his voice and said, “Don’t forget the Do Not Disturb sign.”

  That will be all. “It’s business, Daniel.”

  “If you say so.” Daniel departed, taking his skeptical grin with him, leaving Karen alone with the sheikh who now stood at the door looking calm and composed, and subtly sinful in his casual tan polo shirt and black slacks.

  “Come in,” he said with a sweeping gesture.

  Karen passed by Ash while maintaining enough distance between them to prevent inadvertently touching him. The pleasant scent emanating from him teased her senses, a one-of-a-kind fragrance that smelled a lot like incense, exotic but not overbearing. It reminded her of the patchouli oil Sunrise Bowers, Silver Valley’s lone hippie and video store manager, had bathed in. It had that certain kind of distinctiveness,
and Karen imagined it bore some equally unique name. Arabian Nights, Desert Sunset, Sex in the Sand.

  Good grief.

  To avoid looking at Ash, Karen turned her attention to the suite’s opulent living area. A row of French doors opening onto a verandah revealed the downtown Boston skyline and the still overcast skies.

  To her right, she noted a cherry wood dining table littered with lunch remains, to her left a sitting area with tan leather-covered sofas and chairs surrounding a small redbrick fireplace. And straight ahead, an open door revealed a king-size bed covered in a gold brocade spread. Quite different from the particle-board furniture, thin bath towels and faulty A/C she’d encountered in the motels where she had stayed on previous trips. Very nice decor indeed. Especially the bedroom and she definitely needed to stop looking at that.

  The front door closed behind Karen, startling her. She spun around and blurted, “Nice place. Do you come here often?”

  What was she thinking? She sounded like some barfly executing a bad pick-up line, not a smart, sophisticated woman bent on a mission. But Ash had a knack for making her totally tongue-tied and thought-challenged.

  Ash took a couple of steps toward her. “I reside here at the moment.”

  “Where do you normally live?”

  “Wherever my business happens to take me. I have no permanent residence.”

  As if he were some sort of superpowered pulley, Karen moved toward him. She took her purse from her shoulder and hugged it again, as if it provided her some protection from his magnetism. “Really? That seems odd, not having a place to call home.”

  “I’m hoping to settle in Boston.”

  He shortened the space between them with another stride, bringing them almost as close as they’d been the previous day behind Baronessa’s counter. Karen had no real desire to move back though she probably should.

  “Why are you here, Karen?”

  “I want to ask you a few questions.”

  Ash gestured toward the sofa. “Would you like to be seated first?”

  Sitting seemed like an extremely good idea. “Sure.”

  Karen claimed the end of the couch, expecting Ash to take the club chair across from her. Instead, he dropped onto the opposite end of the sofa and crossed one leg over the other, his arm draped on the back of the couch. He looked so at ease it almost angered Karen. So did her reaction to his nearness, the sudden images of him taking her down for the count on the nice plush woven rug at their feet.

  At least her hormones wouldn’t fail her when it came time to make a baby with him. She swallowed hard.

  “You may speak first,” Ash said.

  Darn tootin’, she would. She pointed at him. “That’s it. That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about.”

  “I’m not clear on your meaning.”

  “I think you should know upfront that for the past thirty-one years I’ve been inclined to express myself openly without anyone’s permission.”

  He had the absolute gall to grin. “I find that to be one of your more intriguing qualities. But then I find everything about your mouth quite intriguing.”

  Karen’s face went brush-fire hot. Back to the point. “My point is that I’m quite capable of taking care of myself and my needs in all respects.”

  “I have found that certain needs are better taken care of by others.”

  “Such as?” Boy, had she fallen right into that one.

  His grin disappeared, replaced by a sultry, seductive expression. “Intimate needs.”

  Karen had no problem picturing Ash taking care of those needs. “I guess you could be right in that respect.”

  “Could be?”

  “When it comes to conception. And that brings me to some important health issues. Do you have any known illness, disease, a family history of any diseases, mental illness?”

  “I am in perfect health.”

  Karen would have to agree with that, or so it appeared. Very healthy indeedy. But those were only superficial aspects. “When was your last physical?”

  “Two months ago with a prominent physician in New York. But if you are still concerned, I would be glad to allow you to examine my medical records, or anything else you might choose to examine.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Loads of fun, but not necessary.

  She searched her brain to try and remember exactly what the forms at the fertility clinic contained. Only one other question came to mind. “Do you have any hobbies?” Like that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

  “I like to ski, which is how I met your cousin Daniel. In the Pyrenees. I also enjoy the Alps.”

  “And your education?”

  “I studied in France.”

  “Then you speak French?”

  “Yes. I am quite proficient in several tongues.”

  She knew all about his proficient tongue, more than she’d ever bargained for. “Now, if we should happen to be successful in becoming pregnant—”

  “We will be successful. My father has five sons and three daughters. Several of my brothers have that many offspring and so do my sisters. We, too, will have no trouble in that regard.”

  Karen only wanted one baby, not a brood. “I certainly hope you’re right about your fertility. That it won’t take more than one time for me to become pregnant.”

  “I admire your optimism, Karen, but I would think it best if we make more than one attempt.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d survive more than one time, especially if he did justice to her overstimulated imagination. “Only if it’s necessary. And after we achieve conception, I would prefer a platonic relationship.” She figured he could very well rescind his offer after that little bomb.

  “Then you do not wish me touch you after you become pregnant?”

  “I think that’s best.”

  Ash’s stern expression said he believed otherwise. “I will agree not to touch you.”

  That was easy. Too easy. “Good.”

  “Unless you ask it of me.”

  Karen didn’t plan on asking him any such thing. “I would really want to do it soon.” Oh, cripes. “The wedding ceremony, I mean.”

  “Why the hurry?”

  Karen felt a bout of stammering coming on so she drew in a deep breath and sat on her hands. When she became tense, she tended to flail them around. “The, uh, fertilization…” That sounded like a request for lawn service. “The attempt at conception needs to happen in the next four days at the latest. I’m sure we can use the courthouse.” Foot, get thee out of my mouth! “I mean use the courthouse for the wedding, not the conception.”

  Ash looked as though he greatly enjoyed her floundering. “I agree that it might be inappropriate to make love on the courthouse lawn, although I admit it might be interesting to find a secluded place behind a hedge.”

  Vivid images filtered into Karen’s brain like a clear cable channel that showed after-hours movies with titles that included words like “confessions” and “diaries.” Visions of making love with Ash on the lawn, against the wall, in an exquisite king-size bed. Making a baby, she corrected. Love wasn’t going to enter into it. Ever.

  “If I do consent, will you make the arrangements or should I?” she asked.

  His grin reappeared. “You wish me to find a hedge?”

  He was obviously determined to keep her off balance, and quite possibly off her feet and in his bed after they were married. She refused to let that happen. “I’m referring to the wedding arrangements.”

  “I will handle all arrangements.”

  “Then I take it you wouldn’t have a problem with having the wedding in the next four days?”

  “I would gladly rearrange my schedule to accommodate you.”

  Not exactly what Karen had envisioned when she’d considered getting married, a quick service in a judge’s chambers. But those were old, worn-out dreams that didn’t matter any longer. Reality did. Practicality did. “I would want everything in writing.”

  His expre
ssion turned from seductive to solemn. “Do you not trust me?”

  She didn’t trust herself around him. “I think it’s wise.”

  “I will have the papers drawn up.”

  “And that would include the clause about parting after the baby’s born?”

  Ash again looked more than a little miffed. “Yes, I would include that clause in the terms.”

  “Good.” Karen quickly came to her feet. “I think that covers everything.”

  Ash rose to stand before her. “Then you have decided?”

  “I have, and my answer is okay.” There it was, and not so very painful after all.

  Ash slipped his hands in his pockets as if he needed a means to control them. Unfortunately, Karen had no pockets in her skirt, not that she was going to touch him. Not that she wanted to touch him. Okay, maybe she did just a little.

  “Are you saying we are agreed?” he asked with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  Ash’s expression looked victorious. “I am pleased you see the advantages to our union.”

  She could think of one really nice advantage—the conception. “There is one more thing. When you make the arrangements, will you see if you can set it up around lunchtime?”

  “That will be satisfactory. We could spend the rest of the afternoon meeting our objectives.”

  Coming from anyone else, that would have sounded like a dull, business proposition to Karen. Coming from Ash, it sounded like an invitation to sin. “I’m on the schedule to work evenings at the gelateria.”

  “You would not consider taking the day off?”

  She thought about Maria and her impending departure. After making the call that morning to the Calderones who were thrilled to open their home to Maria, everything but the date and time had been set. Karen saw the wedding as the perfect opportunity for Maria to escape. Maria could serve as Karen’s attendant then sneak away. A perfect plan.

  But if Maria left that particular day, then Karen would have to work that evening, unless someone would be willing to pull a double shift. She had time to plan that later. Right now she needed to get back to her job before people started wondering where she was. Wouldn’t they be shocked to know?