The Sheikh's Christmas Maid (Shadid Sheikhs Series Book 1)

by Leslie North

  Satisfied with her game plan, she leaned back and enjoyed her breakfast. She’d get through this. She just needed to avoid Samir Shadid.

  With his tongue in his cheek, Samir read the note that Poppy had left for him. She’d given him the laundry while she bundled up and waddled outside to shovel the snow. He couldn’t help but feel marginally insulted that she’d given him housework.

  “Try to stay out of my way,” he read softly and shook his head. Crumpling up the note, he tossed it in the wastebasket and smiled. Two could play at her game.

  Donning his coat and pulling on his boots, he opened the front door and marched carefully through the snow to join her. “Got another shovel?” he asked cheerfully.

  Her creamy pale cheeks were red from the snow. She straightened and glared at him. “There’s no way you did three loads of laundry and pulled out the rest of the Christmas decoration in twenty minutes.”

  “Maybe I’m just that good.”

  She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me? What was that?”

  Growling, she pointed to the toolshed. “I said that you can find some shovels over there.”

  “Why, Ms. Poppy Milenne, did you lie to me?”

  “I can only imagine what your bodyguard is going to think when he sees you out here shoveling snow. I’m going to be fired before we even get to lunch.”

  Samir grinned and crunched through the snow to grab the shovel. The snowfall was much lighter, but it still didn’t look like it was going to let up. If the groundskeeper had shoveled yesterday, it looked like another four inches had layered on top. “You seem awfully concerned about your job,” he said conversationally as he joined her.

  “I need the money.”

  “You know, my bodyguard mentioned that you don’t stay in one place for longer than a few months, but you’ve been here for six. What’s the draw?”

  Poppy stopped shoveling and rested on the pole while she stared at him. “You said you wanted to help, so why aren’t you doing the laundry like I asked?”

  Samir shrugged, although he was sure that she couldn’t see it under his jacket. The cold nipped at his ears, and he wished he had a hat. “I don’t know how to use the machine.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “You don’t know how to use a washing machine?”

  “I grew up with servants. I’ve never done a load of laundry in my life,” he admitted. “And I figured that if I did something wrong, you’d never speak to me. How can you have so much laundry when you’re the only one who lives here?”

  Gripping the shovel, Poppy went back to work. “Emine wanted all new sheets and towels put out for you. Since we didn’t know which room you’d take, I now have five sets of sheets and enough towels for three bathrooms to wash.”

  “That seems like a waste.” He pushed the shovel under the snow and tossed it to the side.

  “What are you doing?” Poppy cried out. “Are you trying to make more work for me?”

  “What?”

  “You just threw your snow on my side…” her voice trailed off as she stared at his face. “You did it on purpose.”

  “Poppy, you really need to lighten up. I’m not going to fire you, but I would actually like to see you smile.”

  “I’ll smile when I’m not freezing my ass off,” she snapped.

  “I’d be more than happy to warm your ass for you.”

  Making a sound of disgust, she shook her head. “Are you going to make passes at me like that the entire time that you’re here?”

  “I’m only playing, Poppy. I tell you what. Answer one question for me, and I’ll take this snow shoveling seriously and won’t flirt anymore.”

  “Fine. What’s your question?”

  “Why did you tell me that it wasn’t your tree?” His voice was serious, and he watched a flash of surprise in her eyes. His suspicions were correct.

  “Because it’s not my tree. It’s yours.”

  “My tree?” He leaned against the shovel and narrowed his eyes. “Why would it be my tree?”

  She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “The kid had a list of things that you wanted. A list that Emine made. The tree had to be on the list. I don’t really celebrate Christmas.”

  Interesting. “I guess the delivery boy got a few things mixed up. I certainly didn’t ask for a Christmas tree. Why don’t you celebrate? Different religion?”

  She bit her bottom lip and pushed the shovel a couple more times before she answered. “No. We used to celebrate as a family, but things change, and I don’t really enjoy it anymore”

  “Why?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You said one question, and I answered it. If you don’t want the tree, we can always drag it out. Now get to shoveling before I turn into a Popsicle.” He grinned and was about to make a comment when she held up her hand. “Don’t you dare turn that into something sexual.” Concentrating on the walkway far more than necessary, she continued to push the snow off to the side completely ignoring him.

  Samir watched her for a minute before he quietly started shoveling. He had a feeling that there were several layers to Poppy Millene, and he wanted to peel them back until he discovered what made her tick.

  She would take work, but for the first time in Samir’s life, he was willing to put in the effort. And he suspected she was worth it.

  4

  After they finished shoveling the walkway, Poppy rolled her shoulders to ease her aching muscles and unzipped her jacket. The snow that had settled on her as they worked was rapidly melting in the warm house as she slipped her jacket off and hung it on the coatrack. Stomping her feet, she kicked her boots off leaving them on the tray by the door. She knew that Samir was still watching her. “Thank you for your help,” she said in a monotone voice. “I’ll start the laundry if you want to take a shower to warm up.”

  “Don’t you want to take a shower?”

  She did, to ease her muscles, but there was too much to do if she was going to finish in time to help Samir with the tree. It was already close to noon. “I don’t need a shower. I’m going to make a quick cup of tea.”

  Leaving him to go upstairs, she put the kettle on the stove and ducked into the laundry room. Samir hadn’t even bothered to put one of the baskets of sheets into the washer. Sighing in frustration, she bent over to open the door when she felt something warm press up against her.

  Stiffening, Poppy felt Samir’s hands wrap around her waist. “I have a better idea,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Your highness,” Poppy said sharply as she straightened. “I thought you were going to behave yourself since I answered your question.”

  “Call me Samir, and I promised to behave while we were shoveling snow. And I wasn’t trying to misbehave. This laundry room is small,” he said with an innocent smile.

  Narrowing her eyes, she leaned against the machine. “And that idea that you had?”

  “I thought you could teach me how to use the washing machine. One day, my life may depend on me using this. Poppy, I am placing myself in your capable hands.”

  “Name one instance where your life will depend on using a washing machine.”

  Samir grinned. “Someone might put a gun to my head and threaten to shoot me if I don’t correctly wash their delicates.”

  “Delicates? Your shooter is a woman?”

  “Jealousy is a dangerous emotion.”

  Fighting the urge to smile, Poppy turned and opened the door. Loading two sets of sheets into the washer, she shut the door and pulled out the tray. “All washers are different. With older models, you pour the detergent right into the washer, but these new ones have special places. As you can see, they’re carefully labeled. Detergent. Fabric softener. Bleach.” Giving him a side look, she smirked. “You’ll have to ask your gun-toting, jealous woman whether she wants fabric softener with her delicates.”

  Pouring a capful of detergent, she closed the tray. “Next, it’ll ask how much water you want to use,
how hot you want the water, how long you want the cycle, and how rough you want it.”

  “I imagine with sheets, you want it pretty rough, right?” Samir asked in a silky voice.

  “Jesus,” she gasped. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she set the washer and turned it on. Turning, she found herself trapped between Samir and the rumbling machine behind her. “You have time to take that shower now, if you want it.” She silently chastised herself for sounding breathless.

  He put his arms out and trapped her. “We have time to take that shower together,” he said softly as he leaned down. Knowing full well that he was about to kiss her, her heart hammered in her chest. He gave her time to say no and turn her head, but she was too tempted to taste him.

  One kiss, she thought to herself. Just one kiss, and then she would avoid him at all cost.

  “Oh, Poppy,” he muttered as he brushed his lips across her. “You have no idea how crazy you’re making me, do you?”

  Unable to help herself, she parted her lips, and Samir took advantage. The world stopped as he stroked her with his tongue, exploring her, turning her head. Poppy couldn’t stop herself from winding her arms around his neck before running her fingers through his hair, and pressing her body against him. His hardness was evident, and she moaned.

  “Ahem.”

  The sound of Melka clearing his throat broke them apart. Completely taken aback by how easily she’d succumbed to Samir, she touched her lips and stared at him. Color stained her cheeks, and even he looked a little dazed.

  Suddenly, the kettle whistled, and Poppy took the opportunity to run past him and escape into the kitchen.

  “Poppy,” he called after her. “I think we should keep the tree.” If he forced her to enjoy some holiday traditions, he’d have an excuse to spend more time with her.

  It wasn’t like there was anything else to do around here.

  Samir breathed deeply and shook his head. “Melka, my friend, we really need to talk about your timing.”

  “I didn’t realize that you’d be moving so quickly,” his guard said wryly. “You haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, and you already have your tongue down her throat.”

  Rubbing his chest and trying to come to grips with how amazing the kiss was, he could only grin. “There is just something about her, Melka. What’s going on?”

  “I heard from Jarik’s guard. He said that Jarik flew out on his own.”

  Samir shrugged. “That shouldn’t surprise you. According to Kashif, Jarik has been in a bitter mood all month. I’m sure he’s decided to visit Kivi. You know how much history those two have.”

  “Kivi took advantage of Jarik,” Melka growled. “He should have nothing more to do with that man. He’s in jail, where he should be. He certainly should not be abandoning his bodyguard.”

  “Why not? Kashif went to Alaska without his,” Samir said with a shrug. “The death threat was only against me, so I don’t think we have much to worry about.” What he failed to say was that his two older brothers spent quite a bit of time away from their security detail. The only reason that Samir was forced to stay with Melka was because his father thought that Samir was too reckless with his life.

  So he drank some and enjoyed a few women here and there? Jarik was best friends with a known con artist, and Kashif was a thrill seeker. Why his father was more lenient with their security, Samir would never know.

  “You’re too cavalier, Samir. You live your life thinking that nothing can touch you.”

  “Not true,” Samir said with a shrug. “I live my life knowing that, as third in line to the crown, I have little to worry about. Kashif will have children before that crown ever comes to me. Anything else that you need to tell me?”

  Melka sighed. “I wish that you’d be more careful, Samir. Your brothers care about you and so do...”

  The last thing Samir wanted to talk about was his relationship with his brothers. Scowling, he pushed past Melka to search for Poppy, but she was nowhere to be found. A steaming cup of tea was on the counter, but she wasn’t in the kitchen. Just when he started his hunt for her, a loud crash sounded upstairs. “Poppy!” he bellowed and took the stairs two at a time as he raced up to her.

  The trap up to the attic was pulled down, and Samir heard a low moan. A fist squeezed around his heart as he pulled himself up the stairs. “Poppy!”

  “Ow,” she muttered. She was sprawled on the floor, under a box. Decorations spilled out around her. “Why is there so much crap up here?”

  “Oh, habibti,” he said sympathetically as he pulled the box off her and kneeled down by her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I tripped over something.” Frowning, she reached under her and pulled out a giant Santa doll. “Really? Aren’t you boys a little old for Santa?”

  Samir gently took the doll and stared at him. “This was my mother’s favorite decoration,” he said softly. “She used to put it in the foyer. It had a basket that attached to his hands where she would put candy. My brothers and I used to make a game out of stealing the candy when no one was looking. She would get so mad, but she kept filling it back up.”

  “What’s it doing here?” Poppy asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it since she died. I always imagined my father threw all the decorations in a huge bonfire. I guess he packed up all the old decorations and had them stored here. We haven’t celebrated Christmas since,” Samir said hoarsely.

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Twenty years ago.”

  “How was it, you celebrated Christmas? I mean, you’re…you know.”

  “Muslim?” At her nod, he smiled. “My grandfather was appointed to the International Court of Justice in the Netherlands, shortly after it was created. My mother was born there. She adored everything about Christmas. I think if my father hadn’t put his foot down, she would have had decorations up year-round. But it was because of her. There was something about the holiday. Even seeing the decorations and lights reminded me that no matter what is going on, there is something good out there.”

  He took a deep breath and stared at the boxes. Memories that hadn’t surfaced in years danced in his head. Decorating for Christmas used to be one of his favorite past times. Jarik and Kashif always pretended that they were too old for such nonsense, but he’d string popcorn with his mother and sing Christmas carols.

  Of course, when it came to putting the star on top of the tree, Jarik and Kashif would show up and fight over who got to do it. Normally, as the oldest, Kashif won.

  Poppy’s fingers softly stroked his skin, and she gave him a tentative smile. “We can leave it up here or we could also bring them downstairs if you want.”

  “Really? That’s a ton of boxes to bring down.”

  “Well, we’ll do the tree tonight, and we’ll tackle these boxes tomorrow. Everything will be up and ready by Christmas.”

  Samir couldn’t help but smile. “You hate Christmas, and here you are, offering to do even more decorating.”

  “I told you, I don’t hate Christmas. It’s just not for me. But technically, this is your home, and we should decorate it the way you want.”

  “I may not even be here by Christmas.”

  “All the more reason to put it up. You can enjoy it while you still can. I’ll let you look through everything while I go down and fix us some lunch.”

  That was Samir’s cue for his stomach to rumble, but he ignored it. “Tell me why you don’t like Christmas.”

  She gave him a sad smile and pushed the box away as she stood. “I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.”

  Folding his legs, he readjusted as he watched her disappear down the stairs. She really was something else. Reaching over, he started picking up the items that had spilled out of the box. Stockings labeled with his and his brothers’ names. Old toys that he didn’t even remember. He pulled out a gorgeous angel that was meant to top the tree. Staring at the angel, he realized how much the f
igurine looked like his mother.

  She would have liked Poppy.

  The thought came out of nowhere, and Samir blinked. He hadn’t even known the woman for twenty-four hours. What was wrong with him?

  “Samir?” Melka poked his head up and frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking through Christmas decorations and trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to get Poppy Milenne into bed,” Samir said casually.

  Melka’s eyes widened. “Despite the kiss that I witnessed, that woman doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.”

  “No, she doesn’t, does she?” Samir mused. “But that’s okay. She’s got a few layers, and I’m going to break through that cold exterior. She’ll be mine, Melka. By Christmas, I’m going to make that woman mine.”

  5

  Poppy made a quick lunch and ducked into hiding. Although it didn’t need cleaning, she grabbed her feather duster and swept it over the surfaces of one of the already pristine empty bedrooms. Alternating between munching and cleaning, she refused to let her mind wander. A few minutes later, her phone vibrated.

  It was a message from Emine, demanding an update on the situation. Poppy was careful with her wording when she responded that everything seemed fine.

  And are you acting professionally?

  Professionally? Was allowing the Sheikh to do manual labor professional? How about kissing him or having erotic thoughts about him?

  Thoughts that included him standing behind her, skimming his hands over her waist until he could peel her shirt off her and unsnap her bra. He’d flick his thumbs over her bare nipples, and she’d roll her head to the side and moan while he skimmed his lips over the curve of her neck.

  Fuck.

  I’m doing my job and trying to stay out of the way, she typed back. And from here on out, she would try even harder to stay out of the way.

  Working until she really could no longer justify cleaning something that was already clean, she went back downstairs and was relieved to see that Samir and Melka were nowhere in sight. Picking up the empty plates in the kitchen, she loaded the dishwasher and changed out a load in the laundry. Emine had sent her a message reminding her to turn on the faucets to keep the pipes from freezing.