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.”
“Then that is what I will order.”
A waiter appeared. He barely glanced at Maggie before bowing low to Qadir and thanking the prince for choosing the restaurant. A fast-paced conversation followed with wine chosen, entrées, salads and either appetizers or desserts picked. Maggie didn’t recognize the names, so she couldn’t be sure which.
The waiter left. Seconds later another man arrived with a bottle of white wine, along with a free-standing ice bucket. The wine was opened, tasted, pronounced excellent and poured. The second man left as quickly as the first.
“One can’t complain about the service,” Maggie murmured as Qadir lifted his glass. She took hold of hers and raised it, as well.
“To new beginnings,” he said. “Let us give them a chance.”
“A sneaky toast.” Still, she touched her glass to his, then took a sip.
The wine was nice. Light and maybe crisp. She didn’t really know the right terms. She knew she liked it and that she would probably faint if she knew how much it cost.
“Perhaps this will go more easily if we get to know each other better,” he said, looking at her over his glass. “Tell me about your family.”
“There’s not much to tell,” she admitted. “I’m an only child. My mom died when I was a baby. Dad always kept pictures of her around, but I don’t remember her. It was just the two of us.” She smiled. “I didn’t mind. I couldn’t miss what I’d never had and my father was great. He was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. He took me with him everywhere, which is where I learned about cars. I grew up playing around them. I got in the way constantly, but then I learned how to help. It was a lot of fun. I learned math by helping with invoices. My dad made everything fun.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“He was. He cared about people and loved his work. We lived in a typical middle-class neighborhood. The houses were all the same and the kids played together. I was never into dolls or play
ing house. I was out with the boys. That was fine when I was young, but became a problem later. I didn’t fit in either place.”
She still remembered the horrible summer when she’d started to get curves. As minor as they were, they still made her feel as if she didn’t fit in with the guys who had always been her friends.
“Feeling out of place made me hang out at the garage even more. It was the only place I felt comfortable.”
She took another sip of wine. “Things got a little better in high school. I started seeing boys as something other than friends and they didn’t seem to mind that I knew more about cars than they did. I never got really close to any of the girls, though.”
She’d tried a few times, but hadn’t known what to talk about. Makeup and clothes didn’t interest her and she’d been too shy to admit to her crushes—a conversation point that might have allowed her to bond with the female half of the population.
“I would think the girls were jealous,” Qadir said.
Maggie laughed. “I wish, but no. Then I started dating Jon. He lived next door. We’d been friends for years. One day I looked at him and everything was different. He asked me out and that was it. Being a couple allowed me to fit in. He was good to me. My dad liked him. We were together all through high school and while he went to college.”
“Your relationship ended recently?”
“A few months ago.”
Qadir studied her. “You are still in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m not,” Maggie said quickly, knowing it was true. “I miss him. He was my best friend forever. It was hard losing my dad, then Jon. I miss belonging and having someone to talk to. But I’m not in love with him.”
Which made her behavior that night even more unforgivable.
Stop thinking about it, she told herself. Especially here, with Qadir.
Qadir didn’t look convinced so she decided to change the subject. “What about your past?” she asked. “Yours must be more exciting, what with your being a prince and all. Don’t women throw themselves at you wherever you go? Doesn’t it get tricky, stepping over all those bodies?”
“It can be tiresome,” he admitted, his eyes bright with humor.
She leaned toward him. “I want details.”
“There aren’t any of interest.”
“No great love lurking in your past?” she asked before she remembered the mention of the mysterious woman the night she’d arrived.
Qadir picked up his wine, then put it down. “When I was very young—still in university—I met someone. Her name was Whitney.”
“Was she from here?”
“England. I went to university there, although I did some graduate work in the States.” He shrugged. “She was lovely. Smart, determined. She wanted to be a doctor. We fell in love. I brought her home to meet my father. I thought everything had gone well, but when we returned to England, she told me she couldn’t marry me. She wasn’t willing to give up her dreams to be my wife.” He glanced at Maggie. “There are…restrictions that come with being a member of the royal family.”
Made sense, she thought. “Whitney wouldn’t have been able to practice medicine.”
“Among other things. She’s now in her final year of residency,” he said. “She’s a pediatric neurosurgeon.”
Something that never would have happened if she’d married Qadir. “You still miss her.”
“No. I respect her decision and I wish her well. It was a long time ago. We’ve both moved on.”
Maggie was willing to believe he wasn’t pining for Whitney. Qadir didn’t seem the type to pine for anyone. But were there regrets?
Knowing about his past made him seem more like a regular guy, she thought. But was that a good thing or a bad one?
Qadir watched the play of emotions in Maggie’s eyes. She was trying to put Whitney in context. Perhaps he should not have told her, but there was something about Maggie he trusted.
She wasn’t like the usual women in his life. While she was certainly attractive, she lacked a sophistication he was used to. She didn’t play games. And she knew more about cars than any female he’d met.
He started to tell her that when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a photographer easing along the far wall.
“An excellent opportunity,” he said as he reached for Maggie’s arm and pulled her toward him.
“What?”
Instead of answering, he kissed her. He had barely touched his mouth to hers when a flash went off. There was a flurry of activity as the restaurant staff raced for the photographer, no doubt to drag him outside. Qadir hoped they didn’t take away his camera.
Even though the event had ended, Qadir continued the kiss. He liked the feel of Maggie’s lips, the softness, the way she yielded. At times she was tough and in control, but now, she was all female—finding the true power of giving in.
He moved his hand to the back of her neck, where her long hair teased him. She smelled of soap and an elusive female essence that made him want to explore all of her. Need stirred.
He wanted to deepen the kiss. He wanted to taste her and claim her and hold her. He wanted to feel her body next to his, even if all they did was kiss. But this was not the time or the place. Reluctantly he withdrew.
Maggie blinked several times. “Was there a flash?”
“I saw a photographer approaching. I wanted to give him something worthwhile.”
She drew in a breath to steady her pinging nerves. “You did. Definitely.”
The next morning Maggie had barely pulled on her robe when she heard someone pounding on her door. She walked through the living room of her suite and pulled open the door.
Victoria stood in the hallway, one hand on her hip, the other shaking a newspaper. “Do you know what’s in here?” her friend said, pushing past her and walking into the room. “Do you have any idea?”
With that Victoria slapped the paper down on the dining room table.
There, in the middle, was a clear photograph of Qadir kissing a woman. At least she was pretty sure it was Qadir—his face wasn’t visible. But hers was. Even with her eyes closed, she was easy to recognize.
Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “There has to be a heck of a story because the last time you and I talked, you were barely calling the prince by his first name.”
Maggie walked over to the coffeepot and turned it on. “It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
While she and Qadir hadn’t actually discussed keeping their deal quiet, it was certainly part of the bargain. But Victoria was her only friend in El Deharia and Maggie had a feeling she was going to need to talk things over with someone.
She turned. “Qadir doesn’t want his father constantly bothering him with appropriate women, so he came up with a plan. I’m going to fake dating him for a couple of months, then we’re going to get fake engaged. We’ll have a big fight, I’ll go home to Aspen and he’ll go into mourning. That’s all it is. A business proposition. He’s paying me and to be honest, I can use the money.”
Victoria stared at her. “Fake dating?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it a lot of money?”
Maggie grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
“Well, you go, girl.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. I’m bitter. I should have thought of something like that for Nadim. At least then he would have to acknowledge I was alive. Fake dating, huh? You have to make him take you to some very cool places. He’s a prince. He knows the global hot spots. You can…” Victoria swore under her breath. “Do you realize what this means?”
“What?”
“With the pressure off Qadir, the king is going to try to find Nadim a suitable bride. Knowing Nadim, he’ll agree and that will be that.”
Maggie poured them each a cup of coffee. “You aren’t in love with him. Maybe you need to let the whole prince thing go.”
; “Maybe. It’s just I’d be a really great princess.”
Maggie noticed her friend sounded more resigned than heartbroken. Maybe a distraction would help.
“I desperately need your help,” Maggie said. “Would you have time to go back to that consignment place? I have a fabulous wardrobe of T-shirts and nothing else. I don’t want to embarrass him. Qadir is going to be taking me places other than the garage.”
“Good point.” Victoria stared at her for a long time. “Sure, we can go shopping, but I have a question first.”
“Which is?”
“Are you sure about this? Have you thought it through?”
Maggie didn’t understand the question. “Are you saying Qadir might not want to pay me the amount he’s agreed to?”
“Not at all. I’m sure the money will be transferred with no problem. I was thinking more about not getting involved.”
With Qadir?
Maggie immediately thought about their brief but powerful kiss. He made her quiver with the lightest touch. She told herself it was nothing more than chemistry and circumstances. She would be fine.
“It’s a business deal.”
“So it seems. Just remember that princes aren’t like other men. Keep your heart safely protected.”
Maggie laughed. Her body she could worry about but her heart was safely out of reach. She’d been hurt too much to ever give it again.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Chapter Six
Q adir nodded to himself as he read the screen. All was well. Not that he expected less, but confirmation was always pleasant. He saved the information. His phone buzzed.
“Yes?”
“Sir, there is a Victoria McCallan to see you. She has no appointment but insists it’s very important.”
Qadir’s male assistant didn’t sound convinced of the fact. Qadir hesitated. Victoria was Nadim’s secretary. Why would she need to come here? Still, the woman had never bothered him before. He could afford to give her a few minutes of his time.
The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride Page 7