Amahd let out a hearty laugh. “I knew you’d try to race.”
“I knew you would, too,” yelled Osman. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
He nodded ruefully. “You’re right. But partly because I wanted to prove what a bad idea it is. If we race against each other our horses will be too excited and we won’t hit the targets accurately. Then our team will lose.”
“Point taken.”
“This time focus on the targets. Yes, speed is important, but accuracy is more important.”
Zadir galloped back, his horse’s black mane flying. He leaped off to retrieve his lance, then jumped back on. “Gotcha, bro. Lesson learned.”
Aliyah giggled. “Men! Just make sure you’re all more sensible this time.”
They lined back up at the flags, and this time when Ronnie blew the whistle, they sped for their targets in a graceful gallop. Amahd hit his first of course—he had the most experience in the sport—but all three of them hit a neat bull’s-eye.
The women clapped and cheered.
Amahd grinned. “I think we’re ready.”
“That was a little too perfect,” said Zadir, trotting back with the wind in his hair. “It smacks of beginner’s luck.”
“We’ve done it once,” said Osman, patting his horse’s neck. “If we can keep that beginner carefulness we can do it again. It’s getting cocky that causes sloppiness.”
“Exactly, brother.” Amahd rode up to them. “It’s all in the mind.”
“As long as you’re already a perfect aim,” quipped Ronnie.
“That too.” Zadir shrugged. “But we are Ubarite men after all.”
Sam lifted a brow. “I think Ubarite men might be the cockiest men on earth.”
“Or is it just the royal ones?” murmured Ronnie with a slow smile.
Aliyah laughed. “I do think the royal ones are slightly more arrogant than the rest. But they’re so charming they can get away with it.”
“Yes, they have an annoying way of making women swoon over them.” Sam crossed her arms. “Except Amahd, of course, who would hate for a woman to swoon over him.”
“Indeed I would.” He lifted his chin as he walked his horse in a circle. “Swooning sounds like a terrible waste of time and energy.”
“You should try it some time,” teased Ronnie. “You never know, you just might like it.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mac hurried into the Wednesday morning maintenance meeting with her coffee still in hand. Madison had her first ever nosebleed right as they arrived at the day care so Mac had to stay until the bleeding stopped and Maddy was reassured, and now she was running fifteen minutes late. Hopefully no one would notice.
Except that they all did. As she opened the door to the staff conference room sixteen male heads turned toward her—including the head belonging to His Royal Majesty Amahd Al Kilanjar.
“This meeting starts at 7:30 sharp, Ms. Malone,” scolded Bubba from the head of the table.
“I know. I’m so sorry.” She hurried to the last empty seat and put down her coffee—which she now regretted bringing—and her printed maintenance schedule. “It won’t happen again.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to explain her lateness. It seemed wrong that taking care of her own child might make her seem weak and feminine and unreliable, but she had a nasty feeling they might all see it that way. Most of the men here were single—often divorced—and their children, if they had any, were back in the states having their diapers changed by someone else.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Bubba rasped. He looked quite threatening when his bushy eyebrows lowered beneath the brim of his blue Cowboys baseball hat. “We all have a tight schedule to keep.”
She didn’t miss his quick glance at Amahd. If she blew this opportunity, she’d make Bubba look bad, because he’d been the one to give her a chance. Naturally, her eyes wandered to Amahd, too. And before she could drag them away she had a full-on encounter with his piercing dark gaze, staring right at her, burning no doubt with censure and disgust at her disrupting the meeting.
And of course he looked ridiculously handsome in a dark suit with a pale gray shirt and a blue tie. He should be a male model, not managing the day-to-day operations of a remote oil field. But she supposed when you were that rich, you could do whatever the heck you wanted.
They each reported on any maintenance issues they’d encountered in their sector, and she mentioned that the tool and equipment closet could use some organizing and restocking. Bubba said that they should call back the person who’d last done it six months ago, a man they’d hired from Saudi, but Amahd protested, saying that it was time for them to manage this sort of ongoing organization in house.
“I’d be happy to catalog the inventory and plan for future orders.” The words flew out of Mac’s mouth. She wanted to atone for her lateness by proving what a valuable employee she could be. “I have experience from my time at Rexco. I ordered supplies for my whole division.”
Bubba glanced at Amahd. Who looked doubtful, but nodded. “Fine. Ms. Malone, please provide me with a full inventory and a list of items that should be ordered and kept in stock.”
“Sure.” She managed to sound confident, even as the reality sank in that this would mean overtime. Which would mean more day care hours for Maddy and less time for them to spend together. Still, it was important to make a good impression, especially after this morning’s lateness. “What’s the deadline?”
Bubba glanced at Amahd. Who looked at her.
Her breath lodged at the bottom of her lungs, and not because of worries about the deadline. It was hard to keep a straight face under that steady piercing gaze. Did he doubt her? Expect her to need more time than a man?
“However long it takes,” Amahd replied at last, his voice deep. “Keep Mr. White posted on your progress.”
Mac stared for a moment before realizing that Mr. White was Bubba. “Of course, Sir.” Oooh. That felt weird. Calling a guy sir after she’d kissed him.
Why couldn’t she forget about that damn kiss? She’d be a lot better off if she could pretend it never happened. And he was still looking at her! In a meeting full of burly oil field mechanics. She blinked and wrote some unimportant “notes” on the first page of her maintenance schedule. Anything to distract herself.
To her relief the meeting was soon disbanded, and she hoped to slink away without further contact with his majesty. Her hopes were dashed when she felt his shadow looming over her.
For a moment she pretended not to notice. She scribbled a few more notes about potential suppliers. Then she heard him clear his throat.
The others were still filing out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves, and she resisted the temptation to glance at them to make sure no one was watching. Finally she looked up. “Your majesty?”
“Mr. Al Kilanjar will suffice,” he growled.
Had he thought she was mocking him? Maybe she was. This whole situation was so awkward. She was used to diffusing situations where brawny men thought she had no business being in their midst—and wanted to prove it—but she’d never had to deal with royalty before.
Something in her gut rejected the whole idea that one man could be born to rule over others. It was un-American. Part of her wanted to please Amahd because he was her boss, part of her wanted to challenge him to see if he really thought he was better than her.
“Of course, Mr. Al Kilanjar. I grew up in a little hick town in Texas so I’m sure my etiquette could use a little fine-tuning. I am a whiz with organizing inventory, though, so have no worries about that. Do you wish to continue with the current suppliers?”
She’d gathered her papers and risen to her feet during her last speech, hoping she sounded more professional than she felt. Why had he stayed to talk to her? Maybe he liked curvy redheads with Texan accents.
“I’ll leave that to your discretion. I just wanted to underscore that we do keep a tight schedule here. We are working with precision machines and I prefer to elimin
ate human error from the equation.”
She stared at him for a moment. His eyes were such a dark brown they appeared black, like onyx. Then his meaning sank in. He was scolding her for being late.
“I’m sorry.” No point in promising it wouldn’t happen again. Motherhood being what it was, it probably would. You never knew what could go wrong at the last minute, and heaven forbid Maddy could get sick and need to stay home all day. It would only be a matter of time before that happened, and she had no friends or family here to step in and help out. Amahd didn’t have children, so he had no idea what that was like. Even if he did, there would be servants to take care of them. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
He’d stood there so long she was in danger of getting behind on her maintenance schedule. She needed to finish her regular maintenance before things started breaking down and she had to run to fix them.
“That is all. Please resume your duties.” He said it coolly glancing somewhere over her head is if he’d already almost forgotten her existence.
Arrogant so-and-so! He did think he was better than her. He certainly was richer. She couldn’t argue with that.
As he strode out the doorway she glanced over her shoulder and caught an unfortunate glimpse of those broad shoulders tapering to tight hips. Why did she look? What kind of idiot did this man turn her into? A cat may look at a king, according to the proverb, but a maintenance mechanic looking at a prince was a recipe for disaster so she’d better keep her eyes on her inventory sheets from now on.
Amahd muttered silent curses as he strode down the hallway to his office. He’d stayed behind to scold Ms. Malone so she’d know that he didn’t intend for her to expect special treatment despite their unfortunate…dalliance.
Once again, close proximity to her had such a disturbing effect on him that he was almost at a loss for words. The lush curves of her body were indecent, even inside the dark blue overalls she wore. And her eyes twinkled with an infuriating insolence that almost made him feel like she was mocking him.
Maybe she was. He’d been foolish enough to get carried away by that kiss. She’d seduced him. She probably kissed a different man every day. Maybe she was late because she couldn’t stand to get out of bed with her latest lover.
His entire body recoiled from that thought. Which was ridiculous. He couldn’t care less what she did on her own time. Or he shouldn’t care.
It truly was awkward having her working here and perhaps it wasn’t going to work out. Certainly not if she was late to routine meetings that could interrupt the flow of their workday. Perhaps it would be easier for everyone if she returned to the U.S. and pursued her freewheeling, liberated lifestyle there.
In the meantime he’d be sure to keep a close eye on her. Not out of any prurient interest in her, of course, but to ensure that she was an appropriate and useful employee. If she wasn’t, he’d fire her himself.
“Have you made any friends in day care, honey?” Mac spooned sprinkles over strawberry yoghurt for dessert. Her stomach tightened a little as Maddy’s freckled face clouded and she shook her head so hard her ginger curls bounced.
“They’re all boys. None of them want to play with dollies or dress up.”
“You’ve only just met them. You might be surprised what they enjoy.” Mac had noticed the absence of girls. Strange really, but maybe people were more willing to move here—the middle of nowhere—with sons rather than daughters. “And maybe some girls will turn up soon. They’re hiring people all the time.”
“I miss Katie.” Her little daughter’s lip grew longer. Her bouncy little best friend had lived next door to them at their last home. Mac had known it was a temporary job and they’d be moving on soon, but little Maddy’s life was so short that the six months they’d spent together was an eternity she’d probably thought would last forever.
“I miss her mama.” She and Faye had shared a lot of laughs—and worries—and it was tough right now having no one to talk to. She couldn’t justify the price of a lot of international phone calls just to mouth off or lean on someone’s shoulder.
“I want to go home.” Sudden tears brimmed in Maddy’s big blue eyes. “I don’t like it here.”
Mac’s heart sank. This was what she’d dreaded. “We only just got here. It’s always hard to make new friends when you arrive at a new place, but soon you’ll feel like you’ve always lived here.” She glanced at the window, where the sun was disappearing behind a craggy range of hills. She didn’t harbor any illusions that she’d soon feel at home here—who’d ever even heard of Ubar, for crying out loud?—but she wanted to comfort her daughter.
“And Mama’s making a lot of money. Enough to buy our own house when we go back home.”
“If we have our own house we can have a cat.” Maddy’s expression grew thoughtful. Mac often marveled at how a four-year-old could look like a little old woman at times.
“We could, couldn’t we?” She’d explained on several occasions how you couldn’t own pets when you were a renter as they weren’t always allowed. “What color cat would you like?” Maybe they could both look toward the rosy future they’d enjoy back home after a couple of lucrative years here.
“Black. That’s my favorite color for cats.”
“Me too. They’re the magical ones. They’re good luck.”
“Grandma said they’re bad luck.”
“Grandma isn’t right about everything,” she said with a wink. It was a relief to be away from her mom, and the rest of her crazy family who were always trying to teach Maddy words no four-year-old should know or convince her that hunting was fun. Her grandpa Moon Malone was the only member of her family who really understood her, and he’d died before Maddy was born.
“Grandma said we were moving to hell.” Maddy spoke slowly, as if knowing the impact her words would have.
Mac blinked. She shouldn’t have left Maddy with her mother for over a week while she came out here to interview. Lord knows what else she’d told the poor child. “Does this look like hell to you?” She gestured around their bright and comfortable furnished apartment. Okay, so the sunset rays blazing through the window did look a tiny bit like hellfire, but that’s where the similarities ended. She rose from the dining table and drew the curtains. “We get a lot of different channels on cable here,” she said brightly. “Want to look for cartoons?”
“I’m sleepy.” Maddy wasn’t eating her yogurt, but stirring it around with her spoon.
“Then let’s put you to bed, sweetie.”
“And read me a story.”
“Of course. I just downloaded some new ones for us to share.” Thank goodness for ebooks. They’d relied on the library back home but as far as she knew there wasn’t a library in this entire country. “How about Animals Should Definitely Not Wear Clothing?”
Maddy giggled. “Animals don’t wear clothes.”
“And this book shows why,” she smiled. No one read her stories when she was little, though Grandpa Moon told her some pretty wild ones that he said her great-grandmother had made up back before books were invented. She’d believed him, too. Now she realized they’d probably never had money for books when he was a kid. Or when she was either, come to think of it.
She tucked Maddy into bed under the colorful quilt and the matching framed pictures of a smiling giraffe and zebra that her good salary had paid for. People might laugh at her for being a mechanic, but it paid better than a lot of girly jobs and she was proud to be able to support her daughter without help from anyone.
Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have someone to lean on or a partner to share things with, but so far life—and Maddy’s handsome, charming, unreliable father—had taught her it was safer to depend on herself.
Of course that didn’t stop her from having feelings. Even ones that got out of hand enough for her to initiate a kiss with a complete stranger. It was almost funny how her dreams of romance always turned into a nightmare of embarrassment. Obviously she was allergi
c to men. And from now on she’d do her best to have no more emotions or needs that the machines she maintained.
Especially when she was anywhere near Amahd Al Kilanjar.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning, as soon as she was done with her preventative maintenance tasks, Mac started in on the inventory. There was plenty of storage in a dedicated room, but people had used stuff and put it back in the wrong place or dirty or used up all of something and forgotten to order more. Typical guy stuff, really.
She compared the contents of the closet to the original list of what they were supposed to have and had decided to move the heaviest stuff to the lowest shelves and the lightest stuff to the highest—which anyone with a brain would have done in the first place—when a knock on the door made her jump.
“May I come in?” A deep male voice. With an accent. For a second she thought it was Amahd, but it had a different tone.
“Uh, sure.” She spun around and saw a tall, dark-haired man wearing jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt. She was fairly sure this was one of Amahd’s royal brothers and she wondered whether she should introduce herself. He smiled warmly at her.
Now she heard Amahd’s voice, from the other side of the doorway. “I don’t understand why you want to see our supply room.” She braced herself for him to enter, determined not to let her body or mind react to his presence.
“I want to understand your work better, brother. I’m impressed that you’re already generating a profit. I can learn from your expertise.”
“By looking in my supply closet?” Amahd sounded annoyed.
But the other man ignored him. His eyes had fixed on Mac and a grin spread across his mouth. He stuck out a long, muscled arm. “Zadir Al Kilanjar, pleased to meet you.”
“Uh, Mac Malone. Likewise.” She shook his hand. He was just as good-looking as his brother, but luckily no alarming chemical reactions happened inside her. “Can I help you with something?”
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