The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride Read online

  Unfortunately, thinking about men made her think about Jon. She hated that she still missed him and that seeing everything around the palace made her want to call him. He would appreciate what she was going through. Knowing him, he would even understand her ambivalence about their situation now.

  But calling wasn’t an option. He was in love with Elaine. That fact shouldn’t mean she and Jon couldn’t be friends, but the truth was, things were different. They could never go back and she couldn’t figure out a way to go forward.

  “Don’t think about it,” she told herself, then looked at the credit card Victoria had left with her. She didn’t enjoy shopping for girly stuff, but when cars or car parts were involved, she could really get into it. “So let’s take you for a test drive,” she told the card, “and see what you can do.”

  Maggie typed in the amount, held back a wince and pushed Enter on the computer. Less than a second later, her bid amount showed on the page. She clapped her hands, then groaned when someone outbid her by two dollars.

  She wanted that part. She needed that part. Maybe she should just offer the full price and get the stupid thing now, without worrying about it.

  Practicality battled with how she’d been raised and frugality nearly won. It was ridiculous to pay the full amount when she might be able to get the part for less. However, she did have to budget her time and as Prince Qadir was incredibly rich, she wasn’t sure he would care that she’d saved him twenty bucks.

  Still, it took a couple of deep breaths before she typed in the “pay this amount and buy it now” price. She writhed in her chair a couple of seconds before pushing Enter.

  “Are you in pain?”

  She turned toward the speaker and saw Prince Qadir stepping into her office.

  “Is it serious?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She hesitated, not sure if she should rise or bow or what. “I’m ordering parts online.”

  “A simple enough action.”

  “It’s an auction. I’ve been bidding all morning. Someone else keeps topping me by a couple of dollars.”

  “Then offer enough to push him out of the battle.”

  “That’s what I did.”

  “Good.”

  “I probably could have gotten the part for less if I’d waited.”

  “Do you think that is important to me? The bargain?”

  She looked at him, at his tailored suit and blinding white shirt. He looked like a successful executive…a very handsome executive.

  “No one likes to be taken,” she said.

  “Agreed, but there is a time and a place to barter. I doubt there is a huge market for parts for my car, but what market there is will be competitive. I want you to win.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “But you do not approve.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “Your expression. You would prefer to bargain and wait.”

  “I want you to get your car at a fair price.”

  He smiled. “An excellent idea. I appreciate the fairness of your concern. Perhaps a balance of both would be easiest.”

  He had a great smile, she thought absently. She hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about princes, but she supposed she would have assumed they were stern and serious. Or total playboys. She’d seen plenty of those during the season in Aspen. But Qadir didn’t seem to be either.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “It’s just I’m used to getting the best price.”

  “While I am used to getting the best.”

  With his family fortune, he always did, she thought humorously.

  “Must be nice,” she murmured.

  “It is.”

  Maggie smiled. “At least you’re clear about it.” She rose and walked to the printer. “Here’s a list of all the parts I’ve ordered so far. I’ll start disassembling her tomorrow. I haven’t seen much rust, which is great. Once I get her into pieces, I can figure out exactly what needs replacing. For now, I’ve just been ordering the obvious stuff.”

  She handed him the printout. Qadir studied it, even as he was aware of the woman next to him. She was an interesting combination of confidence and insecurity.

  He knew from personal experience that many people were uncomfortable around him at first. They did not know what was expected. He’d asked one of the American secretaries to help Maggie get settled, but only time would make his new mechanic comfortable in his presence.

  He reminded himself that being comfortable wasn’t required for her to complete the job.

  She was nothing like the women who drifted in and out of his life. No designer clothes, no artfully arranged hair, no expensive perfumes and jewels. In a way she reminded him of Whitney. There had been no pretense with her, either.

  He pushed the memory away before it formed, knowing there was no point in the remembering.

  “I’ll want to pull out the engine in the next couple of weeks,” Maggie was saying. “You told me you could help with that.” She paused. “Not physically, of course. I mean hiring people. Not that you’re not terribly strong and manly.” She groaned. “I didn’t just say that.”

  Qadir laughed. “You did and it is a compliment I will treasure. Not enough people comment on my manly strength. They should do so more often.”

  Maggie flushed. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Because you earned it.”

  “Hey, back off. You’re the prince. I get to be a little nervous around you. This is a strange situation.”

  He liked that she didn’t back down. “Fair enough. Yes, I have a team you can use to pull out the engine. I have several local resources. I will e-mail them to you. Mention my name—it will improve the response.”

  “Do you have a little crown logo you put in your signature line?” she asked.

  “Only on formal documents. You may have to go to England for some of your purchases. I have contacts there, as well.”

  “Any of them with the royal family?”

  “I doubt Prince Charles will be of much help.”

  “Just a thought.”

  “He’s too old for you, and married.”

  Maggie laughed. “Thanks, but he’s also not my type.”

  “Not looking for a handsome prince? Some of the women here have exactly that in mind. Or perhaps a foreign diplomat.”

  Maggie glanced away. “Not my style. Besides, I work with cars. Not exactly future princess material.” She held out her weathered hands. “I’m more of a doer than someone who is comfortable just sitting around looking pretty.”

  “That is the monarchy’s loss.”

  She laughed again. “Very smooth. You’re good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The women must be lined up for miles.”

  He smiled. “There’s a waiting area over by the garden.”

  “I hope it’s covered. You don’t want them getting sunburned.”

  As she spoke she leaned against the desk. She was tall. He couldn’t see much of her shape under the coveralls she wore, but he remembered how she had looked the previous day and was intrigued. Curves and a personality, not to mention humor. How often did he find that combination?

  A flicker of heat burst to life inside him, making him wonder how she would taste if he kissed her. Not that he was going to. He was far more interested in her abilities as a mechanic than her charms as a woman. But a man could wonder…

  He amused himself by imagining his father’s reaction if he were to start dating Maggie. Would the monarch be horrified, or would he be pleased to see yet another of his sons settling down? Not that it mattered. Speculation was one thing, but acting was another—and he had no plans to act.

  “I come bearing food,” Victoria said as she stepped into the garage. “One of the cooks told me you never get away for lunch. He assumes you don’t appreciate his culinary masterpieces. Trust me, those are people you don’t want to annoy.”

  Maggie straightened and set down her wrench, then pulled
off her gloves. “Thanks for the warning. I’ve been so busy pulling everything apart, I haven’t stopped to eat.”

  Victoria set the basket on a cart. “Let me guess. You’re one of those annoying people who forgets to eat.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Then we’ll never be really, really close.”

  Maggie laughed. “I think you’re a strong enough person to overlook that flaw. Come on. Let’s go eat in my office. It’s cleaner there.”

  While Maggie washed her hands in the small bathroom, Victoria set out their lunch. She’d brought a salad with walnuts, arugula and Gorgonzola. Several mini sandwiches on fresh foccacia bread, fruit, drinks and chocolate-chip cookies that were still warm.

  “I thought I was supposed to avoid dessert,” Maggie said as she took her seat.

  Victoria settled in the one opposite. “It’s your fault. I had to placate the cooks.” She slipped off her high heels and wiggled her toes. “Heaven.”

  “Why do you wear those if they hurt?”

  “They don’t all hurt. Besides, without them, I feel short and unimpressive. Plus men really like women in high heels.”

  Maggie laughed. “I’ve never thought about being impressive. And I’ve never tried to get a man that way. By being attractive.”

  “You could in a heartbeat,” Victoria told her as she speared a piece of lettuce. “I would kill for your bone structure.”

  The compliment pleased Maggie. She’d always thought of herself as a tomboy. Girls like Victoria usually avoided her.

  “How is it working with Qadir?” Victoria asked.

  “Great. He really wants me to make the car perfect, which is what I want, too. I love not having a budget. It’s very freeing. The progress is going to be slow at first, which he understands. I appreciate that. He’s—”

  She pressed her lips together as Victoria raised her eyebrows. “What?” Maggie asked.

  “Nothing. I’m glad he’s an excellent boss.”

  “That’s what you asked me.”

  “I meant as a man.”

  “Oh.” Maggie grabbed a sandwich. “He’s fine.”

  Victoria laughed. “He’s a sheik prince worth billions. He’s one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world and all you can say is he’s fine?”

  Maggie grinned. “How about really fine?”

  “Better, but still. You’re really not interested in him.”

  “Not as anything but the man who pays me.”

  “Interesting. Then I guess you won’t be angling for an invitation to the ball.”

  Maggie nearly choked. “There’s going to be a ball?”

  “Uh-huh. To celebrate Prince As’ad’s engagement to Kayleen. They’ve been together for a while now, but no one was supposed to know. The official announcement was put off until Princess Lina, the king’s sister, married King Hassan of Baharia a few weeks ago. Anyway, the ball is where the news is made public and everyone who works in the palace is invited. Apparently when the guest list is a thousand, what’s a couple hundred more?”

  “I’ve never been to a ball,” Maggie admitted. Her only frame of reference was cartoons with princesses as stars and she hadn’t really been into watching them.

  “Me, either, but I’m very excited. It’s sort of a once-in-a-lifetime chance to wear a formal gown and dance with a handsome prince. I’ll be hoping Nadim finally sees me as a person and not his efficient secretary.”

  “But you don’t love him,” Maggie said.

  “I know. I wasn’t kidding before—love is for suckers. But if he offered me a sensible marriage of convenience, I sure wouldn’t say no. I think I could be a good wife to him. Better than some of those plastic bimbos his father parades around the palace. Anyway, my point is, you should come to the ball. It will be great fun. You can tell your grandchildren about it.”

  Maggie wasn’t exactly tempted, although the idea was a little intriguing. She’d come to El Deharia to get away, but also to experience something new in her life.

  “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “They lead, you follow. I have an appointment to try on dresses. Come with me. It’ll get you in the mood.”

  “I don’t think so. I haven’t actually been invited.”

  “You will be. Ask Qadir.”

  “Ask me what?”

  They both turned and found the prince in her office. Victoria started to stand, which told Maggie she should be doing the same. Qadir waved them both back into their seats.

  “Ask me what?” he repeated.

  “I was telling Maggie about the ball celebrating Prince As’ad’s engagement. As all live-in employees are invited, Maggie said she would love to come.”

  Maggie scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t. I’m not interested in the ball.” She knew Victoria meant well but she, Maggie, didn’t want Qadir thinking she was using him or their relationship. She motioned to the coveralls she wore. “I’m not exactly ball material.”

  Qadir nodded slowly. “Perhaps not today,” he said slowly. “But I see possibilities.”

  “That’s what I was saying,” Victoria told him.

  Possibilities? What did that mean?

  Maggie told herself not to read too much into the word. Besides, what did she care about Qadir’s opinion on anything but the car? He was just some guy. Royal, but still.

  “I already have some dresses ordered,” Victoria continued. “I could have them send a few more in Maggie’s impossibly skinny size. With her hair up and in high heels, she could be a princess.”

  Maggie glared at her friend. What was Victoria up to?

  “I agree.” Qadir nodded. “Maggie, you will attend the ball.”

  With that, he turned and left.

  Maggie waited until she was sure they were alone, then glared at Victoria. “What were you doing?”

  “Throwing you in the path of a handsome prince. My quest for a royal connection has failed miserably, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be successful.”

  “But I’m not interested in him that way.” She didn’t think she would ever be interested in another man. Loving and losing Jon had been too painful.

  “Can you honestly look at me and tell me you aren’t the tiniest bit excited by the thought of dressing up in fancy clothes and dancing with Qadir?”

  “We’ll dance?”

  “See! You’re interested.”

  “No. It’s just I’ve never done anything like that.”

  “All the more reason to do it,” Victoria told her. “Come on—it will be fun. We’ll both be fabulous and the princes won’t be able to resist us.”

  Maggie had a feeling she would always be resistible, but allowed herself to momentarily wonder what it would be like to dance with a prince.

  Chapter Three

  “W hat is the longest river in America?” the guy on the radio asked.

  “The Missouri,” Maggie said as she undid the first screw in the window cranks from the door. “The Mississippi is the biggest, but the Missouri is the longest.”

  “Ah, the Mississippi,” the contestant said.

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Ha!” Maggie crowed as she set the screw into the small labeled plastic container next to her. “You have to pay attention in school.”

  “Or have a mind for trivia,” Qadir said from his place at her desk.

  She looked at the open office door and sighed. “You can hear me?”

  “Obviously.”

  The American radio station in El Deharia ran a quiz every afternoon at two. She’d gotten in the habit of listening. Usually she was alone.

  But today Qadir had stopped by to check out the parts list she’d put together. She’d sort of forgotten he was still in her office.

  At least she’d gotten the answer right, she told herself. It beat getting it wrong.

  Qadir stepped out into the garage. “You’ll need access to a machine shop,” he said.

  “Along with a good machinist. I can explain what I want, but I c
an’t make it myself.”

  She was rebuilding the engine rather than buying a new one. Unfortunately time had not been kind to many of the original parts and replacements were difficult, sometimes impossible, to find. She would buy what she could and have the others custom-made.

  She smiled. “I’m sure you have contacts for me.”

  “I do.”

  “I figured. The thrill of being royal.”

  “There are many.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “It is all I know. But there are disadvantages. My brothers and I were sent away to English boarding school when we were eight or nine. The headmaster was determined to treat us as if we were regular students. It was an adjustment, to say the least.”

  “Doesn’t sound like fun,” she admitted, grateful for her normal life. “Were the other boys friendly?”

  “Some of them. Some were resentful, and eager to show us they were stronger.”

  “Bullies.” She went to work on the second screw.

  “Sometimes. My brothers and I learned how to fit in very quickly.”

  “At least you had a palace to come home to.”

  “And a pony.”

  She laughed. “Of course. Every royal child deserves a pony. I had to make do with a stuffed one. It was one of the few girly toys I liked. I was more into doing things with my dad than hanging out with the other little girls in the neighborhood. I hated playing dolls. I wasn’t very popular.”

  “Until the boys got old enough to appreciate you.”

  He was being kind, or assuming something that wasn’t true. Either way, she didn’t know how to respond. That combined with a particularly stubborn screw caused her to slip and jam the screwdriver into the side of her hand.

  “Ouch,” she yelped and set down the screwdriver. Blood welled up.

  Qadir was at her side in an instant, taking her hand in his. “What have you done?”

  His touch was warm and sure. “Ah, nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  Still holding her hand, he led her to the small bathroom and turned on the water. “Is it serious? Will you need stitches?”

  Stitches? Just the thought of a needle piercing her flesh was enough to make her woozy. “Not if I haven’t cut anything off.”