The Sheikh's Son

“A prince with benefits. That does sound intriguing.”

She tapped her chin and pretended to think.

Adan had resisted her long enough—his last thought before he reeled her into his arms and kissed her. Piper didn’t reject the gesture at all. She didn’t push him away or tense against him. She simply kissed him back like a woman who had not been kissed enough.

Bent on telling her what she was doing to him, he brought his lips to her ear. “If we had no care in the world, and all the privacy we needed, I would lift up your dress, lower your panties and take you right here.”

She pulled back and stared at him with hazy eyes. “I could think of worse things.”

He could think of something much better. “You deserve a bed and champagne and candles our first time.”

“You’re certainly not lacking in confidence.”

Subtlety had never been his strongest suit. “Provided we decide to take that next step.”

“Provided we could actually find the time to do it while adhering to your son’s schedule.”

Right on time, the sound of a crying baby filtered out through the nursery’s open window.

* * *

The Sheikh’s Son is part of the No. 1 bestselling series from Mills & Boon® Desire™—Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men … wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.

Dear Reader,

If you’re a romantic at heart, you know the fantasy. You’ve probably heard the setup in a song or two. You see a handsome stranger seated across the room. He gives you more than a passing glance. A conversation ensues, and you assume this chance encounter will only last one night. Dare you hope it could last a lifetime? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing the fantasy might lead to a future. Maybe you’ll be one of those lucky couples that meet and marry ten days later, and stay married at least fifty years. Hey, it happens.

Of course, you have to worry that the gorgeous man occupying your time isn’t all he claims to be, even if he is the consummate charmer. And he has to-die-for dimples. But you also sense he has secrets. Major secrets. Heaven forbid if you learn a few other things he failed to mention, like he’s not only a pilot, but an Arabian prince. Of course, there is that baby issue, and as everyone knows, a baby changes everything.

That scenario might sound implausible, but when it comes to a love story—or love in general—anything is possible. And the whole “strangers in the night” fantasy is the basis for this book featuring Adan, the youngest son of the royal Mehdi family, who meets his match in Piper McAdams. He’s a sexy devil who’s determined to prove he’s honorable. She’s a natural beauty with a nurturing soul. Neither have lofty relationship expectations, but they certainly can’t ignore chemistry, or the emotional connection that develops as a result.

I truly hope you enjoy tracking Adan and Piper’s journey as much as I enjoyed writing it. But hang on to your book—it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Happy reading!

Kristi

The Sheikh’s Son

Kristi Gold

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KRISTI GOLD has a fondness for beaches, baseball and bridal reality shows. She firmly believes that love has remarkable healing powers and feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of love and commitment. As a bestselling author, a National Readers’ Choice Award winner and a Romance Writers of America three-time RITA® Award finalist, Kristi has learned that although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from networking with readers. She can be reached through her website, at www.kristigold.com, or through Facebook.

To Bob … for giving me a quiet place to finish this book, and for showing me that new beginnings do happen when least expected.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

If a woman wanted a trip to paradise, the gorgeous guy seated at the bar could be just the ticket. And Piper McAdams was more than ready to board that pleasure train.

For the past twenty minutes, she’d been sitting at a corner table in the Chicago hotel lounge, nursing a cosmopolitan while shamelessly studying the stranger’s assets, at least those she could readily see in the dim light. He wore an expensive silk navy suit, a pricey watch on his wrist and his good looks like a badge of honor. His dark brown hair seemed as if it had been intentionally cut in a reckless—albeit sexy—style, but it definitely complemented the slight shading of whiskers framing his mouth. And those dimples. She’d spotted them the first time he smiled. Nothing better than prominent dimples on a man, except maybe...

The questionable thought vaulted into Piper’s brain like a bullet, prompting her to close her eyes and rub her temples as if she had a tremendous headache. She chalked up the reaction to her long-standing membership in the Unintentional Celibacy Club. She wasn’t necessarily a prude, only picky. She certainly wasn’t opposed to taking sex out for a spin before saying, “I do,” in the context of a committed relationship. She simply hadn’t found the right man, though not from the lack of trying. But never, ever in twenty-six years had she considered ending her sexual drought with a complete stranger...until tonight.

The sound of laughter drew her gaze back to said stranger, where the pretty blond bartender leaned toward him, exposing enough cleavage to rival the Grand Canyon. Oddly, he continued to focus on Blondie’s face, until his attention drifted in Piper’s direction.

The moment Piper met his gaze and he grinned, she immediately glanced back to search for a bathroom or another blonde but didn’t find either one. When she regarded him again and found his focus still leveled on her, she started fiddling with her cell phone, pretending to read a nonexistent text.

Great. Just great. He’d caught her staring like a schoolgirl, and she’d just provided a big boost to his ego. He wouldn’t be interested in her, a nondescript, ridiculously average brunette, when he had a tall, well-endowed bombshell at his disposal. He could probably have any willing woman within a thousand-mile radius, and she wouldn’t be even a blip on his masculine radar. She took the mirror out of her purse and did a quick check anyway, making sure her bangs were smooth and her mascara hadn’t gone askew beneath her eyes.

And going to any trouble for a man like him was simply ridiculous. History had taught her that she more or less attracted guys who found her good breeding and trust fund extremely appealing. Nope, Mr. Hunky Stranger would never give her a second look....

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Piper’s heart lurched at the sound of his voice. A very deep, and very British, voice. After she’d recovered enough to sneak a peek, her pulse started to sprint again as she came up close and personal with his incredible eyes. Eyes that were just this shade of brown and remarkably as clear as polished topaz. “Actually, no, I’m not waiting for anyone,” she finally managed to say in a tone that sounded as if she was playing the frog to his prince, not the other way around.

He rested his hand on the back of the opposing chair, a gold signet ring containing a single ruby circling his little finger. “Would you mind if I join you?”

Mind? Did birds molt? “Be my guest.”

After setting his drink on the table, he draped his overcoat on the back of the chair, sat and leaned back as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Then again, this was probably the norm for him—picking up someone in a bar. For Piper, not so much.

“I’m surprised you’re not keeping company with a man,” he said. “You are much too beautiful to spend Saturday night all alone.”

She was surprised she hadn’t fainted from the impact of his fully formed grin, the sexy half-moon crescent in his chin and the compliment. “Actually, I just left a cocktail party a little while ago.”

He studied her curiously. “In the hotel?”

She took a quick sip of her drink and nearly tipped the glass over when she set it down. “Yes. A party in honor of some obscenely rich sheikh from some obscure country. I faked a headache and left before I had to endure meeting him. That’s probably a good thing, since for the life of me, I can’t remember his name.”

“Prince Mehdi?”

“That’s it.”

“I happened to have left there a few moments ago myself.”

Lovely, Piper. Open mouth, insert stiletto. “Do you know the prince?”

“I’ve known him for a very long time. Since birth, actually.” He topped off the comment with another slow smile.

She swallowed around her mortification while wishing for a giant crevice to open up and swallow her whole. “I’m sorry for insulting your friend. I just have an aversion to overly wealthy men. I’ve never found one who isn’t completely consumed with a sense of entitlement.”

He rimmed his finger around the edge of the clear glass. “Actually, some would say he’s a rather nice fellow.”

She highly doubted that. “Is that your opinion?”

“Yes. Of the three Mehdi brothers, he is probably the most grounded. Definitely the best looking of the whole lot.”

When Piper suddenly realized she’d abandoned her manners, she held out her hand. “I’m Piper McAdams, and you are?”

“Charmed to meet you,” he said as he accepted the handshake, and then slid his thumb over her wrist before letting her go.

She shivered slightly but recovered quickly. “Well, Mr. Charmed, do you have a first name?”

“A.J.”

“No last name?”

“I’d like to preserve a little mystery for the time being. Besides, last names should not be important between friends.”

Clearly he was hiding something, but her suspicious nature couldn’t compete with her attraction to this mysterious stranger. “We’re not exactly friends.”

“I hope to remedy that before night’s end.”

Piper hoped she could survive sitting across from him without going into a feminine free fall. She crossed one leg over the other beneath the table and tugged at the hem of her cocktail dress. “What do you do for a living, A.J.?”

He loosened his tie before lacing his fingers together atop the table. “I am the personal pilot for a rich and somewhat notorious family. They prefer to maintain their privacy.”

A pretty flyboy. Unbelievable. “That must be a huge responsibility.”

“You have no idea,” he said before clearing his throat. “What do you do for a living, Ms. McAdams?”

Nothing she cared to be doing. “Please, call me Piper. Let’s just say I serve as a goodwill ambassador for clients associated with my grandfather’s company. It requires quite a bit of travel and patience.”

He inclined his head and studied her face as if searching for secrets. “McAdams is a Scottish name, and the hint of auburn in your hair and beautiful blue eyes could indicate that lineage. Yet your skin isn’t fair.”

She touched her cheek as if she had no idea she even owned any skin. “My great-grandparents were Colombian on my mother’s side. My father’s family is Scottish through and through. I suppose you could say I’m a perfect mix of both cultures.”

“Colombian and Scottish. A very attractive combination. Do you tan in the summer?”

A sudden image of sitting with him on a beach—sans swimwear—assaulted her. “I do when I find the time to actually go to the beach. I’m not home that often.”

“And where is home?” he asked.

“South Carolina. Charleston, actually.” She refused to reveal that she currently resided in the guesthouse behind her grandparents’ Greek Revival mansion.

He hesitated a moment as if mulling over the information. “Yet you have no Southern accent.”

“It disappeared when I attended an all-female boarding school on the East Coast.”

He leaned forward with obvious interest. “Really? I attended military academy in England.”

That certainly explained his accent. “How long were you there?”

His expression turned suddenly serious. “A bloody lot longer than I should have been.”

She suspected a story existed behind his obvious disdain. “An all-male academy, I take it.”

“Unfortunately, yes. However, the campus was situated not far from a parochial school populated with curious females. We were more than happy to answer that curiosity.”

No real surprise there. “Did you lead the panty raids?”

His smile reappeared as bright as the illuminated beer sign over the bar. “I confess I attempted to raid a few panties in my youth, and received several slaps for my efforts.”

She was consumed by pleasant shivers when she should be shocked. “I highly doubt that was always the case.”

“Not always.” He leaned back again, his grin expanding, his dimples deepening. “Did you fall victim to the questionable antics of boarding-school boys?”

She’d fallen victim to playing the wallflower, though she hadn’t exactly been playing. “My school was located in a fairly remote area, and the rules were extremely strict. The headmistress would probably have shot first and asked questions later if a boy ever dared darken our doorstep.”

His eyes held a hint of amusement. “I’m certain a woman with your looks had no difficulty making up for lost time once you escaped the confines of convention.”

If he only knew how far off the mark he was with that assumption, he’d probably run for the nearest exit. “Let’s just say I’ve had my share of boys darkening my doorstep. Most had last names for first names and more money than sexual prowess, thanks to my grandfather’s insistence I marry within his social circles.”

“Not a decent lover among them?”

Only one, and he’d been far from decent. She imagined A.J. would be a seriously good lover. She’d seriously like to find out. “Since I’m not into kissing and telling, let’s move off that subject. Do you have a significant other?”

“I did have an ‘other’ almost a year ago, but she is no longer significant.”

“Bad breakup?”

“Let’s just say it took a while to convince her we did break up.”

His sour tone told Piper that topic was also off-limits. On to more generic questions. “When I first spotted you at the bar, I was sure you’re Italian. Am I right?”

Luckily his pleasant demeanor returned. “No, but I am quite fond of Italy, and I do know Italian, courtesy of a former teacher.”

“My second guess would be you’re of French descent.”

“Je ne suis pas français, mais je peux bien embrasser à la francaise.”

A sexy devil with devastating dimples and a wry sense of humor—a deadly combination. “I’m sure the parochial girls appreciated your French-kissing expertise. But you didn’t exactly answer my question about your heritage.”

“I am not of French, but I am impressed you speak the language.”

She laid a dramatic palm over her breast and pulled out her best Southern speak. “Why, sugar, we’re not all dumb belles. I know French and German and even a little Japanese.”

“Should you find yourself in need of an Italian translator, I would be happy to accommodate you.”

She would be thrilled if he did more than that. “I’ve never been to Italy but I’ve always wanted to see Rome.”

“You should make that a priority. I personally prefer Naples and the coast....”

As he continued, Piper became completely mesmerized by his mouth, and began to ridiculously fantasize about kissing him. Then her fantasies took major flight as she entertained thoughts of his mouth moving down her body. Slow and warm and, oh, so...

“...large pink salmon walk down the streets texting on their smartphones.”

She rejoined reality following the odd declaration. “I beg your pardon?”

“Clearly I bored you into a near coma while playing the travel guide.”

He’d inadvertently drawn her into a waking sex dream. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “It must be the booze.”

He reached over and without an invitation took a drink from her glass, then set it down with a thud. “That is bloody awful,” he said. “What is in this unpalatable concoction?”

Piper turned her attention to the drink and momentarily became preoccupied with the fact his lips had caressed the glass. And that was probably as close to his lips she would get...unless she took the plunge and turned the good girl to bad. “Basically vodka and cranberry juice, but the bartender made it fairly strong. It’s gone straight to my head.” And so had he.

He pushed his half-full glass toward her. “Try this.”

She picked up the tumbler and studied the amber liquid. “What is it?”

“Twenty-year-old Scotch. Once you’ve sampled it, no other drink will do.”

She would really like to sample him, and if she didn’t stop those thoughts in their tracks, she might derail her common sense. “I’m not sure I should. I don’t want to have to crawl to the hotel room.”

“If you need assistance, I’ll make certain you arrive safely.”

Piper returned his wily smile. “Well, in that case, I suppose I could have a small sip.”

The minute the straight liquor hit her throat, she truly wanted to spit it out. Instead, she swallowed hard and handed the tumbler back to him.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, sounding somewhat insulted.

“Sorry, but it’s just not my cup of tea. Or cup of alcohol, I should say. But then, I can’t claim to have good drinking skills.”

“How are your kissing skills?” Right when she was about to suggest they find out, he straightened, looked away and cleared his throat again. “My apologies. You are too nice a woman to endure my habit of spewing innuendo.”

“Why do you believe I wouldn’t appreciate a little harmless innuendo?”

He streaked a hand over his jaw. “You have a certain innocence about you. Perhaps even purity.”

Here we go again.... “Looks can be deceiving.”

“True, but eyes do not deceive. I’ve noticed your growing discomfort during the course of our conversation.”

“Have you considered my discomfort stems from my attraction to you?” Heavens, she hadn’t really just admitted that, had she? Yes, she had. Her gal pals would be so proud. Her grandfather would lock her up and toss away the key.

“I’m flattered,” he said without taking his gaze from hers. “I must admit I find you very attractive as well, and I would like to know you better. Because of that, I have a request. You are under no obligation to agree, but I hope you will.”

The moment of truth had arrived. Would she be willing to hurl caution to the wind and sleep with him? Would she really take that risk when she knew so little about him, including his last name? Oh, heck yeah. “Ask away.”

When A.J. stood and offered his hand, her heart vaulted into her throat. She held her breath and waited for the ultimate proposition, the word yes lingering on her lips.

“Piper McAdams, would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me?”

* * *

Sheikh Adan Jamal Mehdi did not take women on long walks. He took them to bed. Or he had before he’d taken that bloody vow of celibacy eight months before in order to be taken more seriously by his brothers. A vow that had suddenly lost its appeal.

Yet Piper McAdams wasn’t his usual conquest. She was witty and outgoing, while he normally attracted sophisticated and somewhat cynical women. She was only slightly over five feet tall, he would estimate, were it not for the four-inch heels, when he usually preferred someone closer in height to his six feet two inches. She also had surprisingly long legs and extremely full breasts for someone so small in stature, and he’d had trouble keeping his eyes off those assets for any length of time. The oath of restraint had not silenced his libido in any sense, especially now.

They strolled along the walkway bordering the lake for a good twenty minutes, speaking mostly in generalities, until Adan felt strangely at a loss for words. Conversation had always been his forte, and so had kissing. He thought it best to concentrate on the first. “Do you have any siblings?”

When a gust of wind swirled around them, she pulled her hem-length black cashmere sweater closer to her body. “One. A twin sister whose official name is Sunshine, but she goes by Sunny, for obvious reasons.”

He was immediately struck by the familiar name. “Sunny McAdams, the renowned journalist?”

Her smile showed a certain pride. “That would be her. We’re actually fraternal twins, as if you couldn’t figure that out from our obvious physical differences.”

Yet neither woman lacked in beauty despite the fact one was blond and the other brunette. “Piper and Sunshine are both rather unusual names. Did they hold some significance for your parents?”

Her expression turned somber. “It’s my understanding my mother named Sunny. Unfortunately, we don’t know our father. Actually, we don’t even know who he is, and I’m not sure my mother does, either. You could say we were a thorn in her socialite side. Our grandparents basically raised us for that reason.”

That explained her sudden change in demeanor. But due to his own questions about his heritage, he believed discussing family dynamics in-depth should be avoided at all costs. “You said your mother named your sister. Who named you?”

“My grandfather did,” she said with a smile. “He adores bagpipes.”

Her elevated mood pleased him greatly. “I learned to play the bagpipes at school, but I quickly determined the kilts weren’t at all my style.”

She paused to lean back against the railing. “Tell me something. Is it true that men wear nothing under those kilts?”

“A man needs some reminder that he is still a man while wearing a skirt.” Being so close to this particular woman served to remind him of his manhood at every turn.

She laughed softly. “I suppose that’s true. Why did your parents send you to boarding school?”

He’d asked that question many times, and he’d always received the same answer that he’d never quite believed. “I was an incorrigible lad, or so I’m told, and my father decided I could use the structure a military academy provides.”

“Guess he wasn’t counting on the panty raids.”

Hearing the word panty coming out of her pretty mouth did not help his current predicament in the least. “He never learned about them as far as I know.” His father had never really been close to his youngest son, if the truth were known.

“I’m sure if you’d ask him today,” Piper said, “he’d probably admit he knew everything. Fathers and grandfathers have an uncanny knack of knowing your business.”

He moved to her side, faced the lake and rested his hands on the railing. “My father passed away not long ago. My mother died some time ago.”

“I’m sorry, A.J.,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless.”

“No need to apologize, Piper. You had no way of knowing.” Nor did she know he hailed from Middle Eastern royalty, and that bothered him quite a bit. Yet she had clearly stated she loathed men with fortunes, and he had a sizable one. For that reason, he would continue to keep that information concealed.

Tonight he preferred to be only the pilot, not the prince. “Did you attend university?” he asked, keeping his attention trained on the less-interesting view in order to keep his desire for her in check.