“You are in the palace?”
She glanced at Amahd. “Actually I’m, uh, in the grounds. Helping to set up the events. I’ll be a few minutes. Is the situation urgent?” She hoped nothing was smoldering or ready to blow.
“They’ll transfer the contents to another oven for now. And the AC drain for the east bedrooms is running slow. Could you take a look at that after you see to the oven?”
“Sure. Will do. Thanks.” She was desperate to hang up and rearrange her clothing so the desert sun wasn’t burning down on her bare breast. “Be right there,” she fibbed. She stared at Amahd, heart racing. “I have to go back.”
“I know. I’ll get the horses.” His expression was now deadly serious again. As he turned to go after the horses she noticed grubby fingermarks on his white robe, where she had been gripping on to him. She wondered if she should tell him or if it was possible to die of embarrassment.
It was probably just dust that would blow off on the ride back.
She hurriedly buttoned her shirt and tucked it in tight, trying to tamp down all the hot, urgent sensations still bubbling through her. How was she supposed to act normal around him now? Was this actually heading somewhere? Turning into some kind of a relationship?
It didn’t seem possible. He was a prince and she was about the farthest thing you could get from a princess. He was unbelievably wealthy and she was happy when she could pay her whole rent in one go. He was the ultra-eligible heir to an ancient kingdom and she was a struggling single mother.
Did he even know about Maddy? She doubted it.
She was chewing hard on her lip when Amahd returned, leading their horses. He offered her a leg up and she took it, since her knees were still weak from kissing.
Even easing back into the saddle didn’t restore the sense of freedom and independence she usually enjoyed. Her brain was racing with questions. Would they have made love—scratch that, had sex—right there in the desert if her phone hadn’t stopped them? She wasn’t on any contraception so hopefully she would have had the good sense to tell him, “whoa.”
“I guess it’s a good thing my phone rang.” Might as well talk openly. She didn’t like mystery too much. “We were getting kind of carried away.”
To her surprise, he turned to her with a grin. “Yes, we were.”
Damn, but she wondered what was going on behind those dark eyes that sparkled with mirth and intrigue. He wasn’t the gabby type. Nor was she, really, but sometimes it felt good to get things off your chest.
“I hope we haven’t been away from the palace too long.” She felt the need to fill the air with words, maybe just to crowd out the unruly thoughts in her head.
“They’re probably still on the tour. And then there’s lunch.”
“I know. I have to fix one of the ovens.” She said it partly to remind him that she had a practical purpose there. “It’s not working.”
He looked amused. “There must be twelve ovens in that kitchen.”
“That’s a relief, then.” She couldn’t remember a time where she’d felt so out of sorts—and while riding. They loped slowly across the desert, the sun now rising in the sky. Her horse didn’t seem at all fazed by the highly inappropriate events it might have witnessed if it wasn’t so focused on the sparse desert grazing. “I’ll say I was helping you warm up the horses.”
“Which you were.” His eyes grazed her torso quickly before returning to her face. Cheeky! Her body responded immediately, mostly because it was already in a frantic state and couldn’t take much more.
Though having steamy hot sex with Amahd was not likely to have cooled her down.
Damn. When did she last have sex?
A long time ago. Before Maddy. In fact, probably right about the time she found out she was pregnant with Maddy. Her relationship hadn’t survived that announcement.
No wonder she was quick to boil over. She’d been all work and no play herself for a very long time. Maybe she and Amahd weren’t so different after all, despite the extreme difference in their circumstances.
But that still didn’t mean this was a good idea.
The palace loomed larger and she felt weirdly guilty. She was glad to see that her fingerprints had blown off Amahd’s robe. She didn’t want the grooms—or anyone else—to know what had happened between them. She trusted Amahd not to say anything.
They nodded a perfunctory adieu as the grooms took their horses and she hurried toward the kitchen, hoping that the palace ovens adhered to basic rules of electronics, not some ancient heat transfer technique from the middle ages, but either way they would help to keep her mind—and her hands—off Amahd.
That night she insisted on going home at a reasonable hour because she had to pick up her daughter. Mosir protested that there was no one as competent to take her place and important events were in full swing, but Sam backed her up and they called in another mechanic from the oil fields to supplement the palace’s maintenance staff.
She’d managed to shower and make dinner, and was sitting down with Maddy to eat some spaghetti with meatballs when a knock sounded on the door.
“Who’s that, Mama?”
“I have no idea.” She frowned. She’d be mad if Bubba or the palace had sent someone to retrieve her during her off-hours. She could handle working on the weekend but amount of money was enough if she couldn’t share dinner with her daughter.
It sounded again. Sighing and crunching her napkin in frustration—because, really, who else could it be?—she headed for the door. She probably had a scowl on her face when she opened it, ready to launch a fiery protest…
And saw Amahd standing there holding a bunch of flowers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mac’s mouth dropped open. Flowers? They were roses, pink and fat, with drops of water quivering on their leaves and petals. Amahd wore an open-necked shirt with a small plaid pattern and soft, faded jeans—the regal version of a sexy cowboy. Those dark serious eyes flashed as she greeted him, then she saw the hint of a smile sparkle in them.
“Uh, hi!” She had no idea how she managed to make a sound but was relieved that it was a fairly appropriate one.
“Hello, Mackenzie, these are for you.”
“Who is it, Mama?” called Maddy.
“Uh,” she turned to her daughter, unsure how to introduce him. Amahd? Mr. Al Kilanjar? The prince? My boss? None of them seemed quite right.
She turned back to him and saw that his face had changed completely. He stared at Maddy in astonishment as she rushed to the door in her Disney princess pajamas. Then he stuck out his free hand toward her. “My name is Amahd. What’s your name?”
Mac’s heart melted. Amahd was obviously surprised—shocked—that she had a daughter, but did his best to cover it.
“Madison Ann Malone,” said Maddy proudly. “And I’m real pleased to meet you.”
Mac was glad she remembered her manners. “Good girl, Maddy. Mr….Amahd works with me.”
He was still holding the flowers, and she managed to get herself together enough to take them from him. “I’ll go put these in water. Won’t you come in?” What else could she say?
“I need to get back to….” His trademark granite expression had closed over his face again. “I’ll be going.”
Awkwardness sprang up between them like the Berlin Wall. He’d brought her flowers—a sweet romantic gesture—then been shocked to discover that she had a child.
“If you’re sure.”
“Yes, absolutely.” He’d probably never looked more sure of anything. He nodded, then turned and strode to his car, which stood right outside her apartment where anyone could see it. Not that it had a royal crown painted on the door, but the workers here didn’t exactly drive Mercedes sedans.
She closed the door quietly as his engine started.
“Can I smell them, Mama?” Mac realized with a start that she’d been gripping the roses too tight and the thorns were cutting into the skin of her hands.
“Just a minute, hone
y. Let me put them in water.”
“They’re so pretty. Pink is my favorite color.”
“I know. We can put them in your room, if you like.” She certainly didn’t want them out where anyone—including her—could see them.
“Why did he bring flowers, Mama?”
Good question! Lucky thing Maddy hadn’t asked him that.
“I guess he thought we’d like them.”
Unless rules for dating were very different here in Ubar than they were in Texas, him showing up with flowers meant that he was interested in having a relationship with her and he wanted to let her know.
She shook her head and blew out a breath, then sucked the spot where a sharp thorn had cut right through the skin of her palm.
Amahd had come here to…
To ask her out? To kiss her? Maybe just to make hot passionate love to her in her own bed where no one was likely to discover them. He probably didn’t get much privacy at the palace, or even his own house, when there were so many servants about.
Then he’d seen Maddy and turned and fled. He wasn’t the first man to do that and likely wouldn’t be the last. Men wanted a single woman; a carefree bachelorette with no responsibilities and a lot of time to devote to them—in between touching up her manicure—not a working mother who could barely find time to brush her teeth.
She sighed. Now he wouldn’t have any illusions about her. And knowing she had a daughter might make him less inclined to view her as an exciting conquest. Which would keep her body, and her heart, a lot safer.
“Amahd, where were you?” Sam rushed toward him as he entered the palace garden shortly after dark. “We’re about to sit down to dinner.”
“Went to pick some stuff up from my house.” He avoided her gaze. He’d barely had time to change back into traditional clothing. He felt like an ass for dressing in Western clothing for Mackenzie. What was he thinking?
“You’re next to Darud.”
“Why?” Adrenaline spiked through him. Darud was their main suspect in the attacks they’d experienced over the past few months.
“Because you’re the expert on this whole tent-pegging contest and you’ll be able to talk about it with the most enthusiasm.”
Amahd nodded. In fact he was curious about Darud and his team from a purely sporting perspective. Although their dialects had differences, they were similar enough that conversation should be easy.
“Gibran wants him to enjoy himself and let his guard down.”
“I’ll try. I’m not exactly known for my winning social skills.”
Sam laughed. “Your social skills are carefully cultivated to keep fools at bay and only admit those you’re interested in. You’re not as mysterious as you think.”
“I don’t imagine that I’m at all mysterious.”
“Hmm.” Sam pressed a finger to her lips and surveyed him with a twinkle of humor in her eyes. “I think you are a tad more mysterious than you’d like us to believe. You keep disappearing, for one thing.”
“Busy. That’s all.” Busy obsessing over a woman he had no business being interested in.
She has a child.
“Everyone’s allowed a few mysteries. Just don’t forget to share with us when you’re ready.”
“There’s nothing to share.” The truth. His interest in Mackenzie, which had blown right out of proportion of the last couple of days, had extinguished completely. Or he hoped it had.
“Are you in the mood for romance?” Sam’s hair almost brushed his shoulder as she leaned in with the conspiratorial whisper.
“What?” He said it too fast. Did Sam suspect something? Had she invited Mackenzie? He resisted the urge to scan the crowd.
“Zahaina’s here.” She inclined her head toward a knot of guests gathered around the fountain enjoying aperitifs.
“Who?”
“How can you have forgotten her already? She’s bound to have set her sights on you now everyone else is married.”
“Oh, her. I doubt she’ll harbor any illusions that I’m interested in her.”
“Of course. She’s not traditional enough for you.”
“Exactly.” He’d always made a big deal of how he wanted someone old fashioned and simple, not a spoiled jet-set princess.
“Like one of Darud’s granddaughters, perhaps.” Sam winked at him. Amahd’s chest tightened. Probably everyone in this room was wondering who he’d marry, as the last eligible heir to the Al Kilanjar throne. She might be joking but it was deadly serious.
They’d probably all choke on their iced rose water if they had any idea that only an hour ago he’d been rash enough to take flowers to a female mechanic—with a daughter.
He almost shook his head in disbelief. Mackenzie Malone was an employee, apart from any other consideration.
What on earth must she think of her boss showing up at her apartment with a bunch of roses? On the other hand, she might not have been too surprised since he’d been rash enough to kiss her hard on the mouth earlier that day.
Amahd shoved a hand through his hair and blew out hard. He lost all perspective on reality when he was around Mackenzie—or Mac, as she called herself. In her presence he turned from a buttoned-down boss with his life planned out in almost as much detail as his business, to a hot-blooded young fool who just wanted to run his hands over her stunning curves.
“Darud, so pleased to have you here.” He bowed low as their guest approached and he turned to lead him to the dining room. “I’m looking forward to the start of the contest tomorrow. I hear your men are some of the finest riders in this part of the world.”
“In any part of the world,” insisted Darud. His beard was turning white, but his dark eyes sparkled with good humor and health and his skin was firm and tan from outdoor pursuits. “And our horses are a match for any man’s. I hear you have some of them in your stable.”
“Indeed I do.” Amahd nodded. “I’ve always admired the breeding of Tabriq horses. How you select for stamina and temperament before beauty.”
“And beauty follows,” said Darud, lifting his chin.
“Indeed it does.” Amahd sat next to him at the big table. “They are horses in the old style. Mounts for victorious warriors. Will you be riding yourself tomorrow?” The question was probably impertinent given Darud’s age, but Amahd was curious. Darud seemed like the type of man who’d ride his own horses—much as he intended to be himself when he reached Darud’s age.
Darud smiled. “I shall be leading the team for Tabriq. And I understand that you’ll be leading the team for Ubar, despite you being the only one of your brothers who is not yet a king.” One server poured them a rose water drink and another spooned spiced rice onto their plates.
“True. I hope to ascend the throne soon.”
“A condition of marriage is the reason you are still a prince?”
It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knew that Amahd had to marry to become king.
“Indeed. One cannot rush something so important as a lifetime commitment.”
“Very sensible. And after dinner I would like to make an introduction for you.”
Uh-oh. Amahd tried to look pleased. He nodded for the server to add chicken to his plate.
“My grandniece Kerila. Beautiful and intelligent.”
“I’d be delighted to meet her.” He hoped she was at least twenty. Which was unlikely. Beautiful daughters of wealthy and powerful men in this region were usually married off long before they could get themselves into trouble by having their own opinions.
“Unless you are spoken for, of course.” Darud looked curious.
Amahd cursed himself for not seeming adequately enthusiastic. Then again, he didn’t want to mislead Darud. He had no intention of choosing a bride based entirely on political exigency. She would have to be the kind of woman he’d want at his side for a lifetime. Someone like…
Damn it! Why did Mackenzie keep springing up in his mind? She wasn’t at all the sort of woman he needed to spend his life with. Yes,
his brothers had chosen bold American women, but neither of their wives so obviously advertised their previous sexual relationship with another man by having a child.
What a sweet little girl she was, too. He hoped he hadn’t made things too awkward to explain for Mackenzie. It had never crossed his mind that there might be someone else in her life.
It must be hard to work her demanding job with long hours then go home to take care of a child. He’d have to make sure Bubba didn’t give her unwanted overtime or send her on remote field assignments. Thank goodness Sam had taken a personal interest in the day care facilities for workers. He knew they were top-notch, with excellent staff and coverage at all hours.
Amahd realized that Darud was waiting for a response. “I’ve been so busy with my efforts in the oil fields and setting up the infrastructure that I haven’t had time to put energy into my personal life.”
“The oil fields are productive, I hear.” Darud leaned back in his chair. He showed little interest in the delicacies being piled on his plate. “I knew they would be.”
“Yes, I’m surprised that my father never did anything with them.” He decided to play dumb and see where it led.
“I told him he should lease them to me and I would exploit them and give him a handsome cut of the profits. One of my men pursued the negotiations for years but he never took it seriously enough to grant me the leases.” Their father had strung him along with promises, though nothing had ever happened. Darud must be angry at the wasted time and money he’d poured into a project that had ended with their father’s death.
Hence the brothers’ suspicion that Darud might be behind the acts of sabotage and intimidation that seemed designed to convince the brothers to abandon their ancestral homeland and head back to a life of quiet luxury abroad.
“Perhaps he intended to drill the wells himself.” Amahd truly didn’t know what his father had wanted or intended. He’d been overseas and had little contact with the old man.
Darud’s eyes narrowed, then a big laugh exploded from his slim mouth. “His Majesty Nizwan Al Kilanjar? Oil fields? I think that would require too much time away from the hunting field.” He smiled warmly. “Your father shared my passion for horses and hounds.”
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 71