To Kiss a Sheikh

“I’m in favor of it, but I think any punishment should fit the crime.”

At that moment little Hana hit her plate with her elbow, bumping it into her glass, which fell over with a crash. Water went everywhere and the goblet shattered.

“Oh, Nanny,” the little girl said, hiding her face against Crystal’s shoulder.

She put her arm around the child. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Accidents happen.”

“Johara,” the king said sternly. He flashed the teenager an angry look as a server rushed forward to clean up the mess. “The children are your responsibility tonight. Make them behave.”

“But, Father, they have been sitting too long—”

With one hand he waved away her excuse. “Take them to their rooms at once.”

“With pleasure.” The princess threw her napkin on the table and stood. “Hana, Nuri, come with me.”

Crystal gave the little girl a quick hug before letting her go with her teenage aunt. When they were gone, an awkward silence filled the room.

Fariq cleared his throat. “And what punishment would you allot for that crime?”

“First of all that wasn’t a crime, but an accident. If she’d done it on purpose that would be a different story.” She glanced at the king, debating how blunt to be, then decided the whole royal kit and caboodle of them might as well know how she felt. “Second, I agree with Princess Johara. Five-year-olds have approximately forty-five minutes of model behavior in them. Hana and Nuri passed that three quarters of an hour ago. In my opinion they were way past their grace period. They had been sitting too long and needed their space, to be children.”

“What would you have done?” Fariq asked, his expression unreadable.

“I’d have taken them back to their rooms and started the bedtime routine long ago.”

“But they are part of the royal family,” the king protested.

“Children of the royal family,” she stressed. “Not just short adults. As they mature, they’ll be able to handle the demands of pomp and circumstance. But they’re only five, hardly more than babies.”

“But Johara—”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she interrupted. “The princess is not to blame. Trying to control unpredictable five-year-olds would be like trying to harness the wind.”

“Crystal, you are so right.” Princess Farrah delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin, then set it beside her plate. “I plead ignorance in the art of child rearing, as I have none of my own. Gamil is hardly an expert, since all four of his offspring were raised by nannies and in boarding schools. I knew you would be perfect as soon as I met you.”

Crystal was grateful to the princess as she looked around the table and watched all the royal men mulling over her words and nodding in agreement. A bubble of satisfaction, liberally laced with exhilaration, expanded inside her.

Usually her appearance was what got her noticed. In fact, she’d come way too close to marrying a man who’d decided she would make the perfect accessory wife for an attorney on the way up the ladder of success. He’d actually told her to keep her thoughts to herself, stand up straight with her chest out and look beautiful. She’d told him to stick his proposal in his ear.

It was refreshing to be taken seriously for her brains. In this job her looks were actually a handicap to overcome. But the shiver of excitement that raced down her spine when she found Fariq’s hooded gaze on her made her wish for a little lipstick, mascara and a flattering dress. Unfortunately, she couldn’t have it both ways. Until she’d been there a while and convinced him she was the best person to care for his children, she was forced to keep the secret.

“I appreciate that, Your Highness,” she said to the princess as an ear-to-ear grin threatened. She managed to hold it back.

“Why is it you have no children of your own?” the princess asked her.

Fariq’s eyes gleamed, making her think what a rascal he must have been as a boy. But he was a man and it made him look roguish, masculine and so exciting. That doggone shiver boogied up and down her spine again.

“Miss Rawlins believes in love, marriage and children. In that order,” he added.

“Ah,” the princess said, nodding. “And you have not met a man who makes your heart beat faster? Someone who turns your thoughts to love?”

Against her will, Crystal’s gaze strayed to Fariq. Quickly she averted her eyes and looked at the king’s sister. “No, Your Majesty. I was almost engaged once. But—”

“Almost?” Fariq asked. “And now?”

“He’s out of my life,” she said with a shrug. She was beginning to feel like the key player in the Spanish inquisition.

“So to turn your thoughts from a broken heart you accepted this position far from home?” Kamal asked.

She refused to address the broken-heart portion of the question. “From the time I was a little girl, my mother drilled it into me that it’s best to experience life before you have responsibilities tying you down.”

“Drilled? Interesting choice of words,” Fariq commented.

“I have four brothers who followed my parents’ example and married young, then started families right away. I’m the only one who hasn’t and my mother’s last hope to do as she said not as she did. I’m hoping to make her proud.”

The first man to tempt her into overlooking her mother’s tenet had only been interested in her as a tool to advance his career. There wouldn’t be a second temptation. That game needed two players. Without warning, her thoughts fixed on Fariq. Silly. Because he wasn’t likely to participate. Especially with a plain woman.

“So your mother’s advice is our gain,” Fariq commented.

“I hope you continue to feel that way.” She removed her glasses for a moment and rubbed just above the bridge of her nose where the eye pads chafed. She missed her contacts—

Princess Farrah leaned toward her. “Crystal, do you really need your glasses to correct your vision?”

The question stunned her. Just when she’d thought it was safe to let her guard down, there was an unexpected zinger. Hurriedly she put her glasses back on and nearly poked herself in the eye.

“Why d-do you ask?”

“Because your eyes are quite lovely. And your skin is absolutely flawless—from what I can tell you aren’t wearing cosmetics of any kind.”

“I’m not.” She sighed, deciding to leave it at that. “I’m blind as a bat without corrective lenses. Near sightedness combined with astigmatism distorts my vision terribly.” At least that much was the honest truth. “Without my glasses I wouldn’t be able to see across the table.” She met Fariq’s penetrating gaze and decided maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. “Although in my own defense I’d like to point out it’s quite a large table.”

“Yes it is,” the princess answered. “But how unfortunate. Without such eyewear, I believe you have the potential to be quite pretty. Have you ever considered looking into contacts?”

Crystal grinned. “Good one, Your Highness.”

“What?” The woman’s brow furrowed as she thought.

“Your pun—looking into contacts—”

“What does it matter?” Fariq’s voice was edged with annoyance. “She’s fine as she is. Beauty is a highly overrated quality.”

Rafiq leaned his forearms against the table. “So, my brother, you would prefer a woman with a face that would stop a clock?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“If beauty does not move you, what female attributes do you find enticing?” Kamal asked, the corners of his mouth curving up slightly.

“Honesty,” Fariq said without hesitation.

Of all the attributes he could have named, that was the one Crystal could have done without. Not only that, this man had a high profile all over the world. His name had been linked with some of the world’s most stunning women. But he was more interested in candor than comeliness. That pretty much shocked her right out of her support stockings.

So she said the only thing she could think of. “My mother always says beauty is as beauty does.”

After several moments of silence the king asked, “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Crystal shook her head. “I think it has something to do with using genetic gifts only for good.”

Everyone laughed, including Fariq, and she was glad to have lightened a moment quickly becoming awkward and tense. With luck, Princess Farrah would stop trying to make her over. And what was that all about anyhow? What about the whole “plain” nanny scenario? It didn’t take a billboard ad on the interstate for her to get the message that the king frowned on his sons pursuing anything of a personal nature with the hired help.

Crystal finally chalked it up to a chick thing. Women couldn’t resist make-overs. She could only hope the matter would be dropped. Because she wasn’t a superhero. She had no tricks up her cape to preserve her alter ego. And she didn’t want to think about what would happen if Fariq found out she could look better if she wanted.

Chapter Three

Fariq tossed the file he’d been reading onto the coffee table in his suite. The more he tried to concentrate on work, the more his thoughts turned to his children’s new nanny. At dinner several hours before, he’d found her to be a curious yet intriguing mixture of spirit and intelligence.

He had sworn on the honor of his ancestors not to be taken in by a beautiful face ever again. Was it breaking his promise to think about this woman? She was certainly not the stunning sort with whom he was constantly and erroneously linked. But he’d found her pleasant and surprising.

He looked at the open French doors leading onto the balcony as a noise from outside drifted to him. After rising from the sofa, he walked to the doorway and glanced out. The night was dark as clouds covered the moon. But in the shadows to his right, he saw a figure leaning on the balcony railing outside the rooms where his children slept.

“Hello,” he said.

Crystal whirled at the sound of his voice. Dim light from inside the suite illuminated her as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Good grief,” she gasped, “I thought I was alone.”

“And so you were until I came outside. This balcony runs the length of my suite. All the rooms are connected by it, and from here we can see the ocean. My bedroom is there,” he said pointing to the room past the living area.

“Oh. I didn’t actually understand the layout. I just came out for some air. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t,” he lied.

She’d disturbed him even before he’d discovered her outside his window, a wraith in the night. He noticed that her hair was no longer pulled away from her forehead in the excruciatingly severe style she favored. A breeze from the Arabian Sea blew the strands across her face. Although the exact shade was still hidden by the shadows, he could tell that the length hung down her back and the ends caressed her waist.

Most contemporary women of fashion did not wear such a long style. Clearly, Crystal was not a woman of fashion. Her long hair was lovely. But the temptation to run his fingers through the glossy length annoyed him.

As his eyes adjusted from the light inside to the darkness of night, he noted further details about her. His pulse jumped when he realized she was dressed for bed. Her sleeping attire was high-necked and demure. Looking more closely, he saw that her nightgown was white, fashioned from satin and lace. Somehow that made it more erotic.

She wasn’t wearing a robe—because she’d thought she was alone? Life with his wife had taught him to question everything, and he wondered if Crystal truly hadn’t known of his presence. Or if she had another agenda. But the manner in which she clung to the shadows hinted of a guileless quality that complemented the virginal image she portrayed in her innocent, high-necked nightgown. He swallowed hard, telling himself it was past time to go back inside. But he found that to do so required more energetic determination than he possessed just now.

Moving closer, he stopped just close enough to inhale the seductive scent of her skin.

“It’s late,” she said. “I’d better go in.”

Her voice held a breathy, husky quality that he found pleasing and far too appealing. “Of course. You are still adjusting to the time difference. You must be tired.”

“Oddly enough, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Then please stay,” he said. “Keep me company.”

What had made him ask that? It was unwise and foolhardy to voluntarily seek out a woman’s company—any woman. What was it about this one that dissolved his common sense?

“Okay.”

The single word spoken in her soft tone chafed his nerve endings. He shook his head. Enough of this nonsense. She was nanny to his children. He would discuss them with her.

“Hana and Nuri—are they asleep?”

She nodded. “Like little angels.”

“I wish to thank you for taking their part tonight—with the king.”

“You needn’t thank me. They were behaving exactly like average five-year-olds and doing nothing wrong. Your father has four children. He should understand that.”

“It has been many years since my brothers and sister and I were small. As my aunt said, he left our care to others.”

“Of course. Because he was busy running the country.” She folded her arms over her bosom and leaned back against the wrought-iron railing.

“I am their father and protector. I should have intervened on their behalf.”

“It’s difficult to know what behaviors are age appropriate when you’re not trained in the care of children.”

“Miss Rawlins, is that an attempt to cut me some slack, as you Americans say?”

Her teeth flashed white when she smiled. “It’s just the truth. Most fathers work and only see their children in the evening. It’s the primary caregiver who knows them and can make a judgment about whether or not they’re trying to pull a fast one.”

“Not my children,” he said wryly.

“Of course not,” she agreed. “It’s a parent’s job to think their children are perfect and work twenty-four/ seven to make it so. It will take me some time to get to know them. To interpret what they know and what they’re capable of understanding. I don’t believe it’s right to hold them accountable for something if they can’t comprehend what’s expected of them.”

“They will be held to standards beyond those of the average child.”

“But they are still children,” she protested.

“Royal children. Hana and Nuri will have many more pressures just because of who they are. More will be expected of them because of their high-born status.”

“Too much pressure will crush them if they’re not prepared.”

“It is your job to make certain that doesn’t happen,” he said.

“And I will do my best. But they will also need the influence and guidance of someone who’s been where they are and knows how it feels.”

“Someone like their father?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And their uncles. And aunt. Johara really has a way with children, an instinctive understanding and empathy.”

“As do you.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Her sensible approach and protectiveness toward his children pleased him.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I was wondering why—”

“Yes?”

“They say curiosity killed the cat. But I can’t help wondering what happened to the other nannies. Why five in a year?”

“It is wise to know the blunders of those who have gone before in order to avoid the same mistakes.”

“I’ll make new ones,” she teased.

“Let us hope they are not beheading offenses.”

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