The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee: Qadir Sheikhs Book Three

by North, Leslie

  Qadir Sheikhs

  The Sheikh’s Surprise Twins

  The Sheikh’s American Assistant

  The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, MARCH 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Emily Baker is in a heap of trouble. Her beloved horse farm is struggling financially, and she’s just found out her late father sold her favorite horse to a sheikh from a country she’s never heard of. The buyer, Zaman Abdul-Rahman is sexy as all get-out, the sort of man who makes a fling with a sheikh seem like a good idea. But Emily isn’t looking for romance, and certainly not with the overbearing alpha male who shows up to take away her beloved and pregnant horse, Riah. Emily refuses to let him until Zaman makes her a generous offer: he’s taking Riah, but he’ll also buy another horse and bring Emily to Qadir for six months to train it for an important race. Despite her hesitation, Emily knows the influx of cash will be enough to save the farm. Before she knows it, she’s traveling to the tiny kingdom and being seduced, not only by this beautiful foreign land but by Zaman, who’s just too gorgeous to resist.

  Zaman isn’t the sort of man to fall for a woman, especially one with such a fierce streak of independence. But he can’t help being wildly attracted to the beautiful American, and he secretly admires her strength and intelligence. Emily will only be in Qadir for six months, so what’s the problem with giving into their searing passion for a short fling? After all, he’s an expert at not growing too attached to anyone. This time, though, things are different. Emily is different. Maddeningly hard-headed. Thoroughly lovely. And…pregnant with his child.

  At the news, Zaman’s world shifts dramatically. His protective instincts kick into high gear—and end up pushing Emily away. It soon becomes clear, though, that the only race he wants to win is the one for Emily’s heart…

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  (Qadir Sheikhs Book Three)

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  End of The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee

  Thank You!

  About Leslie

  Also by Leslie

  1

  “I’m off to ride, Em. Are you good here?”

  Emily’s younger sister, Charlotte, sat astride a gray colt named Majalun, Maj for short. He tossed his head in the golden afternoon light of late August, looking for all the world like he’d stepped out of Horse & Rider, and Emily couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having one of her family’s horses on the cover of that magazine.

  They’d been there more than a few times in her father’s heyday. Not lately. Lately things had been…hard, to say the least. It kept her up nights, how hard things had been at Baker Farm.

  Emily’s favorite horse, a bay mare named Riah, nuzzled her hand. “We’re all right,” she told her sister, though it half felt like she was telling herself, too. “We’ll be all right.”

  “What was that?”

  Charlotte sat tall and confident on Maj, her black riding helmet setting off her sandy hair. Emily put a hand to her own hair and shoved the loose strands back under her own baseball cap. “We’ll be all right,” she said, louder. To her sister. To the universe. “See you for dinner.”

  “Aye aye, cap’n.” Charlotte shifted on Maj’s back, and the horse broke into an easy trot. Inside of a minute, they were on the edge of the pasture and headed for the low hills that were still miraculously part of Baker Farm. Emily’s throat went tight at the thought of how precarious things had been with her dad. He could have easily signed what they owned away. He’d done as much with some of the horses they’d bred before the sisters had realized what was going on. And by then…

  Emily shook her head. It was eighty-five degrees and humid, but she could feel a thin curl of cool in the air. Soon the seasons would shift, and they’d be out of this cruel summer and into something new and better.

  “Come on, Riah.” She kept a loose grip on Riah’s lead rope as they made their way out of the pasture over to a shady spot bounded by the horse barn, a simple fence, and a tall red maple. The grass grew thick and lush from daily watering. It was one of Emily’s favorite spots on the entire farm.

  Riah needed a rubdown, and Emily needed to turn her brain off.

  That was unlikely to happen.

  Riah lowered her head to a patch of grass. Emily hitched her to a post her father had installed just for the purpose and went into the barn to grab a rubdown bucket. There were five of them dangling from hooks in the wall above a purpose-built sink, just inside the door of the barn. When her father had been a young man, he’d tried to think of everything. He’d tried to give everything its own place. He’d done well, for so many years. In his best days, he’d bought her mother a small pane of stained glass to go in the kitchen window. She loved the colors so much, but it was expensive, and the two of them had been frugal. He’d always sworn he’d buy her more, but he’d run out of time for that. They all had.

  “How’s that mare of yours?” A pat on Emily’s shoulder made her straighten up. Marie, one of the longtime farmhands, stepped over to grab one of the other buckets. “Uh, oh. You’ve got a storm cloud covering your face.” Marie’s hair was more gray than dark, but she was strong and wiry and didn’t miss a trick. She spent most of her time mucking out stalls and corralling the teenagers Emily hired to help out.

  Emily put a smile back on and blew a strand of hair off her nose. “Just thinking.”

  Marie screwed up her lips. “You’ve been doing too much of that lately.”

  “I can’t help it,” Emily said with a laugh. “Someone’s got to hold down the fort.”

  “We’re all here holding it down with you,” insisted Marie. “You don’t have to let it hunch your shoulders.”

  Emily stood up even taller. “I’m not.”

  “All right.” Marie’s gaze lingered on Emily’s, the older woman’s steely eyes assessing. “Need help with anything? Stalls are done, and I’m going to give Thunder a rubdown before I head home, but
I can stay if you need me.”

  There were some things Emily needed. For one, she needed her comeback plan for the farm to succeed. Most of that hinged on Riah, who she’d bred from the family’s line of champion endurance horses, and then found the perfect stud to cover her after she’d proven herself in a few races. If everything went according to plan, Riah would put them back on the map. Emily grimaced. Back on the right part of the map, anyway. For now, they’d been exiled to Bad Deals Land. “We’re good. We’re all good,” Emily said.

  Back out in the shade, Riah shook her mane and whinnied. “You’re the best horse,” Emily told her softly as she rubbed Riah’s neck with the curry comb. “You’re going to be the comeback girl. Momma would be so proud.” She swallowed a fleeting ache in her throat, a memory of her mother laughing with her head thrown back flashing through her mind, superimposed on the leaves of the red maple. The tree had been smaller the year her mother had been thrown from her horse and killed on impact, but the whisper of the wind in its leaves was still the same. Emily cleared her throat. “She wouldn’t want me out here moping, not with a gorgeous mare like you, and all the—”

  “Beautiful horse.” The unfamiliar voice gave Emily a shock like an ice cube pressed to the back of her neck. She whirled toward the sound, dropping the brush in the process. The man’s dark eyes lit up. “And a beautiful woman.”

  A hot blush spread across Emily’s cheeks at the speed of a brush fire and moved past the boundaries of her face, cascading over her shoulders and chest. Hot. She was hot, but he was hotter, in dark designer jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dark hair, dark eyes, skin a deep bronze…a new awareness pulsed through her like a fever. Emily was a mess. Compared to this flawless prince of a man, she might as well be one of the feral cats that sometimes haunted the dark corners of their barn.

  Well, he was on her property, and this was what she looked like. A fierce attraction swelled in her chest. “You’re pretty beautiful yourself,” she heard herself saying.

  “I dressed for the occasion.” He glanced down at his outfit and looked back up at her with a smolder of a half-smile. “But I much prefer your look.”

  She pretended to fluff her hair. “Men fall all over themselves for the wrecked-by-work vibe.”

  “I can see it.” He stood up tall, crossing his arms easily over his chest. His full, perfect lips parted, a naughty spark in his eye—but then his expression changed. He cocked his head to the side, looking past Emily to the horse. “This can’t be Riah.”

  The warm, sultry feeling in her chest fled as if she had been personally attacked by a cold front coming in off the hills. Emily took a quick step back. This guy was a total stranger. How could he know about Riah?

  “I don’t think—” Approaching hoofbeats cut her off. Charlotte rode Maj across the pasture and through the gate, slowing only at the last second.

  “Hey.” Her sister’s voice was filled with caution and edged with the clear air she’d been breathing out in the hills. “Who’s this?” Charlotte swung off Maj, reins in hand, and led him over to the fence.

  “Sheikh Zaman Abdul-Rahman,” said the man, unfolding his arms and giving the slightest hint of a bow. “It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with the black sedan parked in our drive, would you?”

  “I would,” Zaman said mildly. “My driver is waiting, and my body man is—ah. Here.” Another man, taller and built like a tank, jogged around the side of the barn.

  “Sheikh Zaman.” He pressed a folder into Zaman’s hands.

  “Thank you. I’ll be all right.”

  The other man gave him a crisp nod and jogged away.

  Zaman met Emily’s eyes, and a sensation like a ringing bell moved through her, invisible to everyone else. “I’m here to see Cal Baker. I take it you two are his daughters.”

  Emily’s breath caught in her throat in a painful knot. She cleared it as gracefully as possible. “Yes. I’m Emily, and this is Charlotte. Our father passed away two months ago.” It was still so new and raw that it felt like swallowing a blade. “So, that won’t be possible.”

  The remains of the smile fell from Zaman’s face, and he lifted a hand to his heart. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope the sale will make things easier, though I can’t imagine how it would.”

  A beat passed before she could breathe. This wasn’t the first secret deal her father had made, and a twist of dread wound itself through her gut. “What sale, Sheikh Zaman?”

  “You may call me Zaman,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “I’m here to pick up Riah. I contracted to buy her from Cal three months ago.”

  “No, you didn’t.” A wild laugh bubbled up from the center of Emily’s chest. She reached up and put a hand on Riah’s neck, the warm coat beneath her palm steadying her. “That’s not possible. Our father knew not to sell Riah. She’s my horse.”

  “I assure you, it’s possible.” Zaman opened the folder and took out a sheet of paper. He looked it over, then stepped forward and offered it to Emily. She took it with a sick, lurching feeling. “Your father and I had a deal. I paid him handsomely, in advance, for the horse Riah. I wanted to escort her home myself, and this was the earliest break in my schedule.” His voice was so sexy, and yet he was saying terrible things. “My plane is here, and I’m ready to assume ownership.”

  Emily still had her palm pressed to the horse’s neck. Her free hand trembled, the paper fluttering in the breeze. Her father couldn’t have sold her horse. She and Charlotte still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of everything he’d done before they found out about the dementia, but this—this couldn’t be.

  But there it was, in black and white, on the bill of sale. Spelled out in plain English. There were the terms. There was the record of payment. And there was her father’s signature, written neatly at the bottom.

  There was Zaman’s signature.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  This was happening.

  Charlotte walked over and plucked the paper from Emily’s hands.

  “We’ll refund your money,” Emily said. They didn’t have the money to pay Zaman back, but they’d figure it out.

  “I don’t want a refund. I want the horse.” Zaman looked confused, bordering on irritated. “I’ve paid in full, and Riah is the property of the royal family of Qadir.”

  “You can’t have her.” Panic washed up into Emily’s mouth, and she swallowed it back down.

  “Emily, we have to talk about this,” said Charlotte. She felt her sister’s eyes burning into her skin but couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the sheikh who was trying to take her heart out of her body.

  “Why not?” said Zaman.

  “Because my horse—Riah—” She stood closer, stroking Riah’s mane. I won’t let you go. She tried to telegraph the thought through the palm of her hand. “She’s pregnant.”

  2

  So this was Riah, who’d been sold to him as in fine racing condition. This, the pregnant horse in front of him. Something had clearly gone wrong, either in the description or his understanding…but he was sure Riah had been described as race ready.

  Emily turned away and whispered something in Riah’s ear. Zaman wanted to know what it was—he wanted to know what every word out of her lips was—though he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the golden glow of the afternoon light going to his head. Maybe it was the green, rolling hills surrounding the horse farm that made him want to take her hand and walk away with her with no particular destination in mind. The fantasy struck him powerfully, right between his ribs, strange and senseless as it was.

  She was gorgeous, and it was making it hard to think. Yes, her sandy hair was windblown and shoved haphazardly up underneath a baseball cap, a long ponytail spilling out the back. Yes, she had a smudge of dirt across one cheek. Yes, her jeans were nearly worn through on one knee. None of it did a thing to dampen her bea
uty. Emily held herself like she was on steady ground. It reminded him of a ballet dancer he’d known once, only that woman would never have agreed to work with horses out in the sun. That woman would never allow herself to be seen in a baseball cap without her hair perfectly coiffed.

  And Riah—Riah was a stunning mare. Zaman had only seen her in pictures until this moment, and those photos hadn’t done her justice. Not in the least. The royal family had done business with Baker Farm before, during his father’s younger days, and when Zaman lost the bet with Baqir and had to find a thoroughbred, rather than an Arabian, for the next running of the Qadiri National Endurance Race, he’d turned to Cal Baker.

  The man’s American accent had sounded so steady over the phone, if a little insistent. Zaman had been charmed. Cal was easy to talk to, and over the course of choosing Riah, they’d talked about more than horse racing and breeding. They’d talked about his daughters. Cal had spoken highly of them both, but there was awe in his voice when he’d described Emily’s achievements. Both sisters were horse trainers. Charlotte, Zaman had learned, was also a vet tech, but Emily had a special touch with horses.

  “She takes after her mother,” Cal had said, a heaviness in his voice that reminded Zaman of the way his own father spoke about his mother. The similarities had given Zaman a pang in his heart.