Claimed by the Desert Sheikh

Chapter Five

Maggie spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out what she’d gotten herself into. Fake dating a sheik? That sort of thing didn’t happen to anyone, let alone someone like her. Maybe Qadir had a brain disorder that left him confused. Maybe he’d been kidding. Maybe she’d imagined the whole conversation and the next time she saw him he would call her “Ms. Collins” and look right through her.

Rather than make herself crazy with all the possibilities, she opened packages, savored the thrill of her car parts, then started an inventory base. It was nearly one before she noticed she was starving. But before she could cross to the phone and order lunch, Qadir appeared with a folder in one hand and a picnic basket in the other.

“We have much to discuss,” he told her. “Is now a convenient time?”

If it wasn’t, did she really get to say so? “If you brought lunch, then now is fine,” she told him.

“A conditional acceptance?”

“I’m starving.”

“So you can be bought with food.”

“Sometimes.” Based on their deal, she could also be bought with money, but she didn’t want to think about that.

They went into her office where she laid out the lunch he’d brought.

She eyed the white-chocolate macadamia-nut cookie and knew that if she had been alone, she so would have started with that. Next time, she told herself with a sigh, thinking one day she was going to have to go down to the kitchen, find whoever provided the daily baked cookies and give him or her a big hug.

“I had my assistant make a list of possible places and events for us to go to,” Qadir said when she’d taken her first bite of the sandwich. “The choices are divided into events that are purely public and those that will be perceived as private.”

Maggie nearly choked. “You told your assistant about our deal?”

“No. I asked for an updated social calendar. Then he prepared a list of restaurants where photographers were known to frequent. I’m sure he thinks we’ll be avoiding those places.”

She managed to swallow without killing herself. “Okay. That makes sense.” They would have to be seen to convince people—meaning Qadir’s father—that this was all real. “Is the king going to be upset about this? I’m nothing like Sabrina or Natalie.”

Qadir smiled. “Which is a good thing.”

“In your mind. What about in his?”

“He is not the one dating you.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Be serious. I don’t want the king hating me or ordering me out of the country because I’m not a known breeder.”

“Don’t worry about anything. My father will be delighted to think I am finally getting serious about someone. It has been a long time.”

How long? Maggie remembered her first night at the palace when she’d overheard Qadir and the king talking about someone from Qadir’s past.

He put the list on the desk between them. “I have marked several events I suggest we attend, but the others are discretionary.”

She glanced from the paper to him. “I don’t understand. You’re saying I get a vote, too?”

“Of course. Why would you not?”

Because he was a royal and she wasn’t. “Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s nice.”

He smiled at her uncertainty. “You keep forgetting, I’m the most charming of all my brothers.”

“So you say. I haven’t actually talked to any of your brothers so I only have your word on this.”

He grinned. “You’ll have to trust me.”

For reasons that weren’t clear to her, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She found herself reliving that brief but powerful kiss they’d shared.

She’d reacted so strongly to the lightest of touches. It had been the strangest thing … most likely brought on by too much champagne—even though she couldn’t remember having more than half a glass. Or maybe it had been because she hadn’t eaten. Whatever the cause, it hadn’t meant anything. Forgetting it had ever happened made the most sense. Except she couldn’t seem to forget.

“Maggie? Did you want to make some suggestions?”

“What? Oh. Sure.”

She glanced down at the neatly printed possibilities. There were plays, sporting events, a hospital wing opening. The shower for Kayleen and the wedding to follow were in bold.

“These are …” she asked.

“Required. The shower for you and the wedding for both of us.”

If she’d been standing she would have backed up a couple of feet. “I can’t go to Kayleen’s wedding shower. I barely know her.”

“If we are together, then you are part of the family.”

“I don’t want to lie to your family.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Deception is the nature of our endeavor.”

Most of the time he sounded like a regular guy, but every now and then he said something princelike.

“I’ve never been a very good liar,” she admitted. “I’d hate to see that change.”

He said nothing, as if giving her the time and space to change her mind. Did she want to go through with this?

She thought of her father fading away. He kept making her promise that after he was gone she would try to get the business back. He hated that his illness had caused them to lose everything. She’d never blamed him, never wished for anything except his recovery. She knew he would want her to have a financial cushion. He would probably find the whole situation with Qadir funny. Then he would squeeze her shoulder and tell her not to do anything he wouldn’t do.

The memory made her both happy and sad. With her father gone, she was alone in the world. The deal with Qadir offered her a level of financial freedom she’d never experienced. She would be a fool to walk away.

“I’ve never been to a wedding shower,” she told him. “I’m sure it will be fun.”

“Excellent.”

They discussed other possibilities. There was a car show in neighboring El Bahar. They both agreed that would be a good choice.

“Will you want to pick out the engagement ring?” he asked.

She stabbed her fork into the pasta salad and sighed. “I’d deliberately forgotten about that part of the deal. Do we have to get engaged?”

“If I am to be crushed by your leaving, then yes.”

She tried to imagine him emotionally crushed, but her imagination failed her. Qadir was too strong and in charge.

“You know, you could make this a lot easier by just falling in love with some woman and getting married for real.”

“I am aware of that.”

“You shouldn’t be so picky,” she told him.

“Thank you for that extraordinary advice.”

They returned to the list, but Maggie wasn’t really paying attention. Once again she was remembering the mystery woman from Qadir’s past—and wondering why it hadn’t worked out.

Maggie stared at the clothes in her closet and wished desperately that she’d asked Victoria to help her get ready. She also wished she had at least a couple of nicer outfits. But dining with princes hadn’t been on her weekly agenda in Aspen so her wardrobe tended toward supercasual with the odd somewhat less casual piece thrown in.

Her choices seemed to fall into two categories—long-sleeved T-shirts and short-sleeved T-shirts. She had a couple of blouses, one pair of black slacks and a ball gown that seemed as inappropriate for dinner as one of the T-shirts.

“I came here to work on cars, not date a sheik,” she muttered as she flipped through the meager selection again, desperately hoping to see something she’d missed the first three times.

There was actually one other choice. A simple knit dress that she’d packed on a whim. It was burgundy, plain and a little too fitted for her taste. She’d bought it a couple of years ago when she’d wandered through a mall shortly after finding out her father had been diagnosed with cancer. It had been on sale. She’d tried it on as a distraction and then had purchased it because explaining why she didn’t need it required too much effort.

Maggie wasn’t sure why she’d tossed it in her suitcase. Fortunately the fabric traveled well.

She pulled off the tags, then brought the dress into the bathroom and started getting ready.

Once she’d showered and blown her hair dry, there wasn’t all that much for her to do. She put on a little mascara, then lip gloss. Victoria had done a lot more to her the night of the ball, but Maggie had neither the skill nor the makeup. Qadir was going to have to suffer with her natural look.

She pulled on the dress, then stepped into a flat pair of sandals that weren’t nearly as pretty as the ones she’d worn with her ball gown, but were a whole lot more comfortable. Then she glanced at the clock. It had taken her twelve minutes from stepping into the shower until she was ready to go. That included four minutes blow-drying her hair. Victoria would be horrified.

Thinking about her friend made her wonder what the other woman would think about the deal. Which made Maggie nervous. She put her hand to her stomach, as if that would help settle her nerves. Then someone knocked.

She opened the door to her suite and saw Qadir standing in the hallway. He looked as he always did—tall, handsome, well-dressed. Nothing was different. Except the tension in her stomach increased until she thought she might have to throw up. Just as intense was her need to have him pull her close and kiss her.

“Good evening,” he said and smiled. “You are prompt. I should not be surprised.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” She collected her purse and followed him into the hallway. “It doesn’t take me long to get ready.”

“And yet the result is lovely.”

A compliment? She didn’t know what to say. “Ah, thank you.”

He chatted about something on the walk down to the front of the palace, but between her spinning head and swirling stomach, she had no idea what. When they entered the courtyard, a limo was waiting.

“I happen to know you have regular cars,” she said as he held open the rear passenger door for her.

“Agreed, but this makes a better entrance.”

Right. Because this was all for show.

She slid along the leather seat and tried to catch her breath. Fake dating, she reminded herself. Nothing more. She had no reason to be tense.

She forced herself to think calm thoughts. About ocean waves rushing in, then retreating. A cool, green forest. Water flowing in a brook.

“Maggie?”

She turned to him. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying not to throw up.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “You are always honest.”

“I try to be.”

“There is nothing to be nervous about.”

“My stomach doesn’t agree with you.”

He shifted close and took her hand in his. “We are going to dinner at a very nice restaurant. You need to be calm so you can enjoy the meal. It is unlikely that we will be spotted by a photographer, however certain people will see us and that will start the gossip. Other than nodding politely to a few diners, little will be expected of you except eating.”

“I’m a good eater.”

“Then you will be fine.”

His voice was so deep and low, she found herself getting lost in the sound. He rubbed her hand with slow, steady movements. That was nice, too, she thought as she felt herself relaxing.

This was just Qadir, she told herself. Just dinner. Nothing more.

She raised her gaze to his and found him watching her. With their eyes locked, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.

It was a soft kiss that probably meant nothing. It was just … just …

Tension filled her stomach, but this was a whole new kind. It was hot and tight and had nothing to do with the rest of the world and everything to do with the man next to her.

Before she could figure out what she was supposed to do now, the car came to a stop. Talk about timing, she grumbled to herself.

The restaurant was on the water, with a beautiful view and the kind of low lighting that made everyone look good. They didn’t have to wait, but were immediately led to a private table in an alcove.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening, Prince Qadir,” the hostess said, eyeing Maggie with obvious confusion. “I hope you enjoy your dinner.”

The young woman nodded, then left.

Maggie shifted uncomfortably, wanting to explain that she wasn’t really dating the prince. That the other woman didn’t have to worry she would one day really be a princess. One thing for sure—she was going to have to talk to Victoria about going shopping in that secret back-room boutique. Better clothes were required for this whole fake-dating thing.

Still feeling out of place, Maggie picked up the leather-bound menu. As she did, she bumped one of the three different wine glasses set at her place. There was also a waterglass and an assortment of flatware, some of which she didn’t recognize. Couldn’t they have gone for a burger instead?

She opened the menu and stared at the pages and pages of choices.

“Do you have a preference for the wine?” Qadir asked. “French, Spanish, Italian? They also have an excellent selection from California, Washington, Australia and Chile.”

“Whatever you would like is fine with me,” she murmured, knowing she could never admit that the last time she’d had wine, it had been poured from a very lovely box purchased at Target.

She returned her attention to the menu, determined to pick something, but the words all blurred. She couldn’t do this—she didn’t belong here.

She looked up and found Qadir watching her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Pretty much everything.”

He surprised her by smiling. “If it is as awful as all that, then we have many areas where we can improve.”

At least he found the situation amusing. “I’m not the right person for this,” she whispered, leaning forward so he could hear her. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“I have not.” He took the menu from her hands and set it on top of his. “You are unfamiliar with the circumstances. This will get easier.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let me order for you. Do you have any food dislikes?”

This was a fancy restaurant. The possibilities for disaster were endless. “I’d just like something normal. Nothing squishy like sea urchin, or gross like paté.”

“Very well. How about roast chicken with vegetables?”

“I could do that.”

“Then that is what I will order.”

A waiter appeared. He barely glanced at Maggie before bowing low to Qadir and thanking the prince for choosing the restaurant. A fast-paced conversation followed with wine chosen, entrées, salads and either appetizers or desserts picked. Maggie didn’t recognize the names, so she couldn’t be sure which.

The waiter left. Seconds later another man arrived with a bottle of white wine, along with a free-standing ice bucket. The wine was opened, tasted, pronounced excellent and poured. The second man left as quickly as the first.

“One can’t complain about the service,” Maggie murmured as Qadir lifted his glass. She took hold of hers and raised it, as well.

“To new beginnings,” he said. “Let us give them a chance.”

“A sneaky toast.” Still, she touched her glass to his, then took a sip.

The wine was nice. Light and maybe crisp. She didn’t really know the right terms. She knew she liked it and that she would probably faint if she knew how much it cost.

“Perhaps this will go more easily if we get to know each other better,” he said, looking at her over his glass. “Tell me about your family.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she admitted. “I’m an only child. My mom died when I was a baby. Dad always kept pictures of her around, but I don’t remember her. It was just the two of us.” She smiled. “I didn’t mind. I couldn’t miss what I’d never had and my father was great. He was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. He took me with him everywhere, which is where I learned about cars. I grew up playing around them. I got in the way constantly, but then I learned how to help. It was a lot of fun. I learned math by helping with invoices. My dad made everything fun.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He was. He cared about people and loved his work. We lived in a typical middle-class neighborhood. The houses were all the same and the kids played together. I was never into dolls or playing house. I was out with the boys. That was fine when I was young, but became a problem later. I didn’t fit in either place.”

She still remembered the horrible summer when she’d started to get curves. As minor as they were, they still made her feel as if she didn’t fit in with the guys who had always been her friends.

“Feeling out of place made me hang out at the garage even more. It was the only place I felt comfortable.”

She took another sip of wine. “Things got a little better in high school. I started seeing boys as something other than friends and they didn’t seem to mind that I knew more about cars than they did. I never got really close to any of the girls, though.”

She’d tried a few times, but hadn’t known what to talk about. Makeup and clothes didn’t interest her and she’d been too shy to admit to her crushes—a conversation point that might have allowed her to bond with the female half of the population.

“I would think the girls were jealous,” Qadir said.

Maggie laughed. “I wish, but no. Then I started dating Jon. He lived next door. We’d been friends for years. One day I looked at him and everything was different. He asked me out and that was it. Being a couple allowed me to fit in. He was good to me. My dad liked him. We were together all through high school and while he went to college.”

“Your relationship ended recently?”

“A few months ago.”

Qadir studied her. “You are still in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not,” Maggie said quickly, knowing it was true. “I miss him. He was my best friend forever. It was hard losing my dad, then Jon. I miss belonging and having someone to talk to. But I’m not in love with him.”

Which made her behavior that night even more unforgivable.

Stop thinking about it, she told herself. Especially here, with Qadir.

Qadir didn’t look convinced so she decided to change the subject. “What about your past?” she asked. “Yours must be more exciting, what with your being a prince and all. Don’t women throw themselves at you wherever you go? Doesn’t it get tricky, stepping over all those bodies?”

“It can be tiresome,” he admitted, his eyes bright with humor.

She leaned toward him. “I want details.”

“There aren’t any of interest.”

“No great love lurking in your past?” she asked before she remembered the mention of the mysterious woman the night she’d arrived.

Qadir picked up his wine, then put it down. “When I was very young—still in university—I met someone. Her name was Whitney.”

“Was she from here?”

“England. I went to university there, although I did some graduate work in the States.” He shrugged. “She was lovely. Smart, determined. She wanted to be a doctor. We fell in love. I brought her home to meet my father. I thought everything had gone well, but when we returned to England, she told me she couldn’t marry me. She wasn’t willing to give up her dreams to be my wife.” He glanced at Maggie. “There are … restrictions that come with being a member of the royal family.”

Made sense, she thought. “Whitney wouldn’t have been able to practice medicine.”

“Among other things. She’s now in her final year of residency,” he said. “She’s a pediatric neurosurgeon.”

Something that never would have happened if she’d married Qadir. “You still miss her.”

“No. I respect her decision and I wish her well. It was a long time ago. We’ve both moved on.”

Maggie was willing to believe he wasn’t pining for Whitney. Qadir didn’t seem the type to pine for anyone. But were there regrets?

Knowing about his past made him seem more like a regular guy, she thought. But was that a good thing or a bad one?

Qadir watched the play of emotions in Maggie’s eyes. She was trying to put Whitney in context. Perhaps he should not have told her, but there was something about Maggie he trusted.

She wasn’t like the usual women in his life. While she was certainly attractive, she lacked a sophistication he was used to. She didn’t play games. And she knew more about cars than any female he’d met.