Pregnant By The Desert King

‘I doubt there’ll be one.’

‘Too much of a security risk for you to keep taking up with strangers?’ she suggested.

‘Something like that.’ He stared at her intently, but there was no sign that she’d recognised him.

‘I guess you have to be careful in the security business.’

‘My involvement is in the security of a country,’ he explained.

‘Big stuff,’ she said.

‘You could say that.’ He grinned.

‘You must be pretty powerful. And yet you look so normal.’

He tried hard not to laugh. ‘Why thank you.’

‘Well, this has all been very nice.’ She sighed as she gathered up her things. ‘But now it’s time for me to go. Some of us have to work,’ she added.

‘Let me walk you back—where do you work?’ He wasn’t ready to let her go.

‘At Miss Francine’s laundry,’ she said with a touch of defiance.

He got it. Some of the rich yachties could be real snobs. If he turned out to be one of them, she’d rather know now. ‘The laundry on the marina?’ he prompted, having noticed the bustling establishment on his walk.

‘Yes.’ She pulled another of her comic faces. ‘We’ve moved on from banging out dirt with stones at the stream.’

‘Uh-huh. So, what’s your job at the laundry?’

‘Ironing and finishing.’

‘You any good?’

‘You bet I am.’

His lips twitched and then she laughed. It must have dawned on them both at the same moment that two strangers could share a table and chat over coffee, without things getting heavy.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a graceful flutter of her slender hands. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just that some visitors to King’s Dock are snobby idiots and I wanted to be sure you weren’t one of them.’

‘I’d never have guessed,’ he said dryly.

‘So long as you’re not a trust-fund yachtie with nothing better to do than spend your inherited money, I guess I’m okay with that.’

‘Touchy about money?’ he probed as they navigated their way out through the crowded café.

‘Every sensible person cares about money,’ she said.

‘Well, I can reassure you on that score. Everything I’ve got I’ve earned. All I inherited was debt.’

‘There must be something else wrong with you,’ she said as they reached the door. ‘No one’s perfect.’

‘Feel free to examine my faults,’ he invited.

‘Not likely! So, who left the debt?’ she asked with her hand on the door. ‘A close relative?’

‘My uncle.’ As he spoke and took over opening the door, he realised that he hadn’t been this frank with anyone ever, let alone on such short acquaintance.

‘So you repaid your uncle’s debt as a matter of honour,’ she guessed as they stepped out into icy air from the steaming warmth of the busy café.

He shrugged as he thought back to when Qalala’s future had depended on a financial rescue package, and how lucky he was to have already made a fortune in tech. This had allowed him to vastly improve the lot of his people, and save the sapphire mines his uncle had been plundering for years.

‘Let’s just say my uncle almost ruined the family business,’ he told her as they walked along.

‘And you saved it,’ she said confidently.

‘You’ve got a lot of faith in a man you’ve only just met,’ he commented.

Her extraordinary green eyes shot him a penetrating glance. ‘I don’t feel like this about everyone.’

For some strange reason, he felt the same, and wanted to tell her more about the history of his country, and how deeply he felt for Qalala. Meeting Lucy had turned out to be a real wake-up call. The type of wife his royal council was urging him to take would be a matter of business for both parties, whereas a mistress like Lucy would give as good as she got. ‘So now you’ve got me all worked out, what’s next for you?’ he probed.

‘I’d like to hear more about you,’ she said.

‘Some other time,’ he proposed as they reached the marina.

‘There you go again,’ she said with an amused sideways look. ‘That would mean seeing each other again,’ she explained. ‘So, where do you come from? You don’t have an office pallor, so I’m guessing somewhere hot...’

‘Somewhere far away,’ he said.

‘Come on, Mr Security Man. I need specifics.’

‘So you can tell your friends?’

‘Can’t I be interested?’

Was he going to talk about the billions he’d made in tech? She’d run a mile. Lucy just wasn’t the type to be impressed by money. And he wanted to keep her around a little longer. Should he tell her that he used to be known as the Playboy Prince, and his people, who had been downtrodden for years by his profligate uncle, hadn’t expected anything of him? They couldn’t have guessed that he’d been waiting for this chance to serve his country, and would seize the opportunity with both hands. Putting his business acumen to its most demanding test yet, he had transformed Qalala, and would continue to put the country before himself.

‘And you accuse me of daydreaming,’ Lucy accused.

He linked arms with her as they crossed the road. It was a gesture that came as naturally as breathing.

Tadj was gorgeous. And yes, she was smitten. She’d have to be a block of wood not to be affected by his firm touch on her arm, or those amazing eyes, scanning the street to make sure they were safe before he crossed. He was so rugged and tall and tanned, it felt amazing to be linking arms with him.

‘Watch out,’ he exclaimed as, distracted, she almost tripped over the kerb.

As his grip tightened and their faces came dangerously close, she determined to discover Tadj’s true identity when she returned to the laundry. Someone was bound to know. Gossip was rife on King’s Dock, and spread like wildfire. A man like Tadj would hardly go unnoticed. Her workmates would have all the juice, which would almost certainly include the fact that she’d been seen drinking coffee with him.

‘I’m afraid this is where we part,’ she said as they approached her workplace.

‘Afraid? You?’ he queried with a wry look. ‘Those two things don’t fit.’

‘I’m not a thing,’ she said, warming under his gaze. ‘And I’m not afraid of you,’ she added.

‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he said, making her a mock bow.

Everything about this encounter was new to her. She’d never had so much fun with a man. She’d never had fun at all. It was such a shame they would probably never meet again.

He frowned deeply. ‘Do you have to go straight back to work?’

Her pulse raced. So he felt the connection too. ‘Yes,’ she said, instinct telling her not to make things too easy for him. ‘Some other time, perhaps...’

‘When?’

She hadn’t expected him to be quite so direct. ‘Soon,’ she said airily as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. ‘I’d like that,’ she added honestly, feeling she’d been a bit harsh. ‘And you don’t have to walk me to the door.’

‘But I insist,’ he said.

‘Do you always get your own way?’

‘Always,’ he said in a way that made a quiver of excitement tremble low in her belly and her nipples tighten to the point of pain.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ she said when they reached the laundry.

‘Just tell me one thing before you go,’ he insisted.

She looked at his hand on her arm. He let her go. ‘Okay,’ she agreed.

‘What would you do if you had all the money in the world?’

She didn’t even have to think about it. ‘I’d buy new machinery for Miss Francine’s laundry and make sure she took a proper holiday. Did I say something funny?’ She frowned.

‘Only what I expected of you, I suppose.’

Lucy’s heart pounded even faster as Tadj’s magnificent shoulders eased in a casual shrug. ‘Your wish is highly commendable,’ he added, staring down at her with warmth and laughter in his eyes.

‘But you’re not the genie in the bottle,’ she observed sensibly.

‘I could be...’

‘Not this time,’ she said, warning him off with a mock-stern look.

As she was speaking, she was digging around in her shopper to find her purse.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, frowning as she brought it out.

‘Paying for my coffee,’ she said. ‘I don’t like to be in debt to anyone—and you’ve had enough trouble, from what you’ve told me. I would have paid at the café, but you got in fast. Here. Take it,’ she insisted, thrusting some cash towards him.

‘I’ll leave it as a tip for the wait staff when I walk past,’ he agreed.

‘Brownie points to you,’ she said approvingly. ‘Well, I can’t be late for work.’

‘Don’t forget tonight—’

‘Tonight?’ she interrupted.

‘When I see you again.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve got studying to do when I finish work.’

‘Studying what?’ he pressed, frowning.

‘History of art. My dream is to be a curator, or a conservator one day,’ she explained.

‘Working in a museum or an art gallery?’ he proposed.

‘Exactly.’

Tadj stared at her long and hard. ‘Anything else?’ he said at last.

‘I’ll let you know if I think of something,’ she promised cheekily with a glance inside the laundry.

‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Tadj said dryly.

‘I won’t.’

‘Just one thing,’ he said.

‘Which is?’ she pressed.

‘You’ll need a party dress for tonight.’

‘I’ve already told you, I’m not coming out tonight.’

‘But you’ve got a party to go to.’

‘No, I don’t,’ she argued, enjoying the game. How could she not, when Tadj’s wicked black eyes were full of amusement?

‘Yes, you do,’ he insisted, acting stern.

‘With you? Not likely!’ she countered, wanting to prolong the moment of parting.

‘On board the Sapphire tonight,’ he tempted.

‘You’re kidding me! You know I can’t resist an invitation like that.’

‘Good.’ His lips pressed down attractively, making her wonder what it would feel like if he kissed her. So much so, she almost missed his next statement. ‘My friend Sheikh Khalid is having a party tonight, and you’re invited as my guest.’

‘That’s news to me,’ she said, heart pounding as she lifted her chin to confront those dangerous eyes.

‘I can’t think of anyone I’d rather take as my plus one. At least we’ll have a laugh. What do you say?’

‘Can’t you find someone else to have a laugh with? Someone more suitable?’ Lucy suggested, as the enormity of what she could be agreeing to struck home. A glamorous party on board a yacht that could slip its moorings at any point? However attractive she might find Tadj, or maybe because of it, her sensible self advised caution.

‘I’m right out of amusing women at the moment,’ he said with a somewhat cynical look that suggested this might actually be the case. ‘And I don’t relish being bored to tears by people trying to find out if the person they’re talking to is as important as they are.’

‘Good plan. But why me, when there must be dozens of better qualified companions?’

‘Qualified in what way?’ he demanded, pretending to be shocked.

‘There must be dozens of people who’d love to go to that party.’ With you, she left out, deciding that with his good looks Tadj probably didn’t need his ego massaging.

‘No one with your unique qualities,’ he assured her, straight-faced.

She hummed and frowned. ‘I’d love to know what they are.’

‘That will become apparent as the evening goes on,’ he promised.

‘But as I’m not coming to the party...’

‘Those unique qualities will force you to,’ he insisted. ‘You won’t be able to resist.’

He might be right, Lucy concluded. ‘Go on.’

‘You work a real job, and meet real people on a daily basis. You’re interested in everything and everyone, and you have your own quirky take on what you see.’

‘You’ve gathered a lot about me in a very short time.’

He certainly had, Tadj thought. ‘My point is you’re real and I like that. You have no idea how rare that is.’

She thought about this for a moment. ‘You make a very persuasive case,’ she said at last.

And he wasn’t about to give up. ‘You’ll be my honoured guest tonight.’

‘Better that than dishonoured—and you can put that away,’ she flashed when he pulled out his wallet.

‘For the dress you’ll be wearing tonight,’ he explained.

She tightened her lips. Now he’d offended her. ‘I’m not entirely penniless. I’m sure I can rustle something up.’

‘Then, you agree?’

She looked at him and heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘You got me,’ she admitted.

‘Just one thing. Don’t keep me waiting when I pick you up tonight.’

‘Making conditions now? I can always change my mind.’

‘You won’t,’ he said confidently.

‘And you can keep the killer smile for someone who will appreciate it,’ she added with a mock-stern frown.

‘Someone like you?’ he suggested, staring deep into her eyes.

‘I’ve changed my mind. I’d be right out of my depth—and crazy to agree.’

‘Too late. The deal is done.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Lucy argued, ‘and now you’re making me late for work.’

‘You’re making yourself late for work by taking so long to confirm the details of our date tonight.’

‘Please take your hand off the door and let me go in.’

‘No sense of adventure?’ he said, going nowhere. ‘I thought a lot more of you than that.’

‘I’ve got plenty of sense of adventure,’ Lucy assured him, ‘and plenty of common sense too.’

‘Prove it,’ he said.

‘I will, by refusing an invitation from someone I hardly know.’

‘Every relationship has to start somewhere...’

Tadj looked so sexy, leaning against the door. Say yes to this ridiculous proposal and she could at least satisfy her workmates’ curiosity about the Sapphire, as well as her own about Tadj. Say no, and she might regret it for the rest of her life.

‘I’m not sure about risking my virtue on board that ship tonight,’ she said, voicing her thoughts out loud.

‘Your virtue?’ Tadj commented with amusement. ‘I didn’t know that was on offer.’

‘It isn’t,’ she said with a steely look.

‘Shame,’ he murmured, but with humour tugging at his mouth.

‘Okay,’ she said, decision made. She trusted herself to act sensibly if she accepted his invitation, and it was the opportunity of a lifetime. ‘I have decided to come to the party tonight.’

‘Excellent.’

Tadj’s wolfish smile sent tremors to all her erogenous zones, to the point where she almost missed him adding, ‘No tiaras. It’s just a casual get-together.’

‘Between billionaires?’ she suggested.

‘Between you and me,’ he corrected her.

All she had to do was laugh it off and walk through that door. She need never see him again. Life would return to normal. But normal could be boring, and Tadj was right about adventure beckoning, but only if the adventure was on her terms.

‘Don’t you be late,’ she warned. ‘It’s cold at night, standing in this doorway.’

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT HAD SHE DONE? What had she done? How had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Wicked eyes blazing into hers hadn’t helped, Lucy reflected later as she got ready in her small bedsit above the laundry. Nor had feeling as if Tadj and she had known each other longer than it took to drink a couple of cups of coffee. But now was not the time to reflect on why it was possible to feel like that about someone, and not about others. Her decision to go to the party had been made, and she had no intention of skulking in her room, or asking her friends to send Tadj away when he arrived. It would be fascinating to discover how the other half lived, and she could report back to her friends at the laundry.

The only remaining problem was what to wear. She had one decent dress; a cheap sale-rail spectacular she still wasn’t entirely sure was her colour. Red hair and freckles didn’t always blend well with bright red, especially when the weather turned her skin blue with cold. She’d only worn it once, to the Christmas party when everyone made an effort for the sake of the elderly owner of the laundry. Miss Francine went to so much trouble for them, it was the least they could do.

So... Tadj was older than she was, and obviously more sophisticated, and much richer, suggesting he’d be used to women in designer clothes. Too bad, she thought as she plucked the dress from its hanger. He’d pressed her to accompany him tonight, so he’d have to put up with her dress being a bit too short and too tight. The sale rail didn’t offer custom made.

Tadj must be around early thirties, she thought. She was twenty-three, and definitely not glamorous, or sophisticated. Or successful...not yet. But she could keep a roof over her head, which was something to be proud about, and she had the best of friends, which was more important than anything else. And she had no intention of putting out for the price of a gourmet meal, let alone a date on board the flashiest vessel in the harbour, Lucy determined, firming her jaw. A polite thank-you note would have to be enough, she concluded as a noisy group of excited friends, having spied on her from inside the laundry while she was negotiating with Tadj, burst into the room.

‘So?’ they chorused, nearly deafening her as they gathered around. ‘You’ve been seen.’

‘Really?’ She acted daft.

‘With the best-looking man on King’s Dock,’ one of them confided with a jerk of her head to her friends.

‘Hmm.’ Staring heavenwards, Lucy pretended to think about this. If she’d had more experience of men, maybe she could have joked along with her girlfriends, but somehow Tadj was special—unique in her experience—and she didn’t want to exchange banter concerning him while the tender green shoot of a first meeting was still so fragile. ‘I did meet someone who works in security,’ she admitted frankly. ‘He bought me coffee, and that’s all there is to it.’

‘So you won’t be seeing him again?’ her friends pressed, exchanging knowing glances with each other.

‘I didn’t say that. What?’ she demanded when her girlfriends started to laugh.

‘It’s not what you’re telling us, but what you’re not telling us,’ one of them insisted. ‘Unless, of course, you really don’t know?’

‘Don’t know what?’ She’d been warm and safe here, and surrounded by friends since the day she’d arrived. Had she thrown all that away for the sake of a wicked smile and mocking eyes?

‘Didn’t the guy tell you his name?’ one of her closest friends prompted.

‘His name is Tadj. He doesn’t have to hide anything,’ Lucy insisted.

But did he? she wondered. The spear of anxiety had returned, and with it thoughts of her vicious gangland thug of a stepfather, who was currently serving a lengthy term in prison for his crimes. He had plenty to hide, and could still charm the pants off anyone who didn’t know his reputation, and who met him for the first time.

‘Tadj,’ another friend prompted, breaking into Lucy’s troubled thoughts. ‘Did this Tadj have a surname?’

It was a relief when Tadj’s stunningly attractive face swam into Lucy’s mind, completely eclipsing the evil mask of her stepfather. ‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured as she racked her brains. ‘First names are enough at a first encounter over coffee.’

‘Did he tell you about his job?’ another friend pressed.

‘Yes—security. I already told you.’

Her stepfather had eyes like a shark, black, dead and cold, she remembered, without a flicker of expression in them. There was no evil in Tadj’s eyes. He could look a bit fierce at times—all right, most of the time—but there was also good humour and warmth. And, of course, the sexual heat that flared off him. Better not to think about that now.

More friends had joined them, and her tiny room was overcrowded. Miss Francine was known locally as the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, because of her generosity towards the women she hired. The bedsits she let out for a peppercorn rent might be cramped and old-fashioned, but, for women seeking sanctuary, not even the finest five-star hotel could compare.

‘So, I’ve been seen with a man,’ Lucy accepted with a good-humoured shrug, making a joke of it as she stared around.

‘With the Emir of Qalala, no less,’ her best friend informed the rest.

Lucy froze like a child playing statues. ‘What did you say?’

She had heard perfectly well, but...the Emir of Qalala? Tadj was the Emir of Qalala?

She tried and failed to process the information. And what was she supposed to say now? I’m a dope—I didn’t recognise him? I didn’t read the papers today? I don’t watch local TV? All true, unfortunately.

‘Oh, come on—potential Emira,’ her friends coaxed. ‘Tell us what the Emir is really like...’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Lucy admitted. ‘He seems nice enough.’

‘And as hot as hell,’ one of her friends put in to an agreeing chorus of raunchy suggestions.

‘Might have been,’ Lucy conceded.

‘His photograph is all over the news,’ another friend insisted, in a tone that said she should have known. ‘And nice doesn’t begin to describe him.’

‘Sex on two hard-muscled legs,’ someone else shouted out.

‘With a body made for sin,’ another drooled as she thrust a magazine cover in front of Lucy’s nose.

Lucy inhaled sharply at the sight of Tadj, tanned and buff, wearing a pair of figure-hugging swim shorts.

‘Either he’s a prize-winning swimmer, or he likes to show that thing off.’

‘Stop,’ Lucy implored her friends. ‘I had a coffee with him, nothing more.’

‘He’d definitely need security if I shared a hot drink with him,’ a friend exclaimed as she read the article over Lucy’s shoulder. ‘And he’s one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs—so-called because they are as rich as Croesus, and as insatiable as a pack of ravening wolves.’

Lucy’s pulse raced off the scale. So Tadj was not only ridiculously wealthy, but all-powerful and royal too. It was too late to refuse his invitation without appearing to be a coward. She didn’t have a number to call him, and she could hardly breach security to ask one of his men to deliver a message. Out of her depth and out of her mind didn’t even begin to cover this mess! Adventure was one thing, but not on this scale.

‘The Emir of Qalala,’ she murmured, biting her lip, turning away as she tried to reconcile the little she knew about a hot guy in a café who had turned out to be one of the world-renowned Sapphire Sheikhs. ‘I had no idea,’ she murmured.

And if she had, would she have accepted Tadj’s invitation?

He was an extraordinary man, and, yes, she probably would have taken the chance. Did his title make a difference? He’d asked if money could change her opinion. She’d never considered a royal title, but she understood that great privilege came with restrictions and complications. Her usual good humour kicked in at this point. No half measures. If she was going to dip her toe in the dating pool, why not go for full-body immersion? She wouldn’t simply be out of her depth at the Sheikh’s party, she’d be like Orphan Annie at the feast, but that chance to peep inside a very different world proved irresistible. Spinning around, she faced her friends. ‘Could you help me get ready for tonight?’

When they chorused, ‘Yes!’ she knew there was no turning back.

Security expert indeed, Lucy thought as her friends jostled around. Just wait until she saw Tadj again! ‘I own one dress, and no high-heeled shoes,’ she explained. ‘My dress is sleeveless and it will be freezing out tonight. If I could also borrow an evening bag, big enough for a lip gloss and my bus fare home?’

Drowned out by laughter and offers of help, she made a silent promise that she would be safely tucked up in her own bed by midnight.

* * *

He’d never been uncertain of a woman. He should have brought Lucy back with him to make sure he’d see her again, Tadj concluded as he strode on board his friend’s superyacht. Lucy was unique and unpredictable. There were no guarantees she’d show up tonight. For once, that really mattered to him.