Claimed by the Desert Sheikh

Chapter Three

“What 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 can’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.”

She pulled free of his touch and shoved her hand under the water. The wound stung, but wasn’t too bad. She managed to rub on some soap without screaming too loudly, then held still as he applied a bandage he’d found in the medicine cabinet. He was surprisingly competent at the task.

When he’d finished, he took her hand again and examined it. “I think you will survive.”

“Good to know.” Even not thinking about the needle, she felt a little lightheaded. How strange.

Maybe it was the bathroom itself. The space was pretty tight and Qadir took up a lot of room. But even all that didn’t explain the sudden thumping of her heart or the way she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

She was aware of the flecks of gold in his dark eyes and couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his mouth which was, by the way, a very nice mouth. They were close enough for her to inhale the crisp, clean, masculine scent of him.

He smiled at her. “You will be more careful next time?”

She nodded without speaking.

“Excellent. I must return to my office.”

He released her hand and walked away. Maggie stayed where she was, her body oddly tense, her fingers tingling despite the pain from the cut.

What had just happened? She couldn’t seem to focus and the few thoughts that did pop into her brain seemed unrelated to anything. The tiny puncture wound couldn’t be responsible and there was no way she’d lost a significant amount of blood. It was the weirdest thing.

She looked toward the garage to where Qadir had stood only moments before. This couldn’t be about him, could it? She wasn’t attracted to her boss. It was a recipe for disaster. She knew better. And even if she didn’t, she was still mourning the fact that she and Jon weren’t together. She wasn’t interested in anyone else. She couldn’t be.

Maggie stared at the rack of elegant, sophisticated, expensive gowns and felt as if she’d stepped into a movie star’s dressing room.

“I thought they’d be like prom dresses,” she admitted. “These are real gowns.”

“I know,” Victoria said with a sigh. “They’re beautiful.”

“I can’t afford them.”

“Neither can I. Fortunately we get a discount.”

Unless it was an ninety-five percent discount, there was no way Maggie could buy one of these dresses. She needed the money to buy back her father’s business. She couldn’t waste a few thousand dollars on a dress she would wear once.

“Still,” she murmured, not sure how to explain to her friend that there was no way this was happening.

Victoria patted her arm. “You have to trust me. I don’t want to endanger my IRA any more than you do. These are to give us ideas only. Then we’re heading into the back.”

“What’s in the back?”

Victoria laughed. “I can see you’re not going to trust me. Come on. I’ll show you.”

They walked through the elegant boutique with the plush carpeting and soothing music. At the rear of the store, they stepped past heavy curtains and found themselves in a plain corridor. Victoria walked purposefully toward a simple door. She pushed it open and then moved to the side.

“Prepare to be amazed,” she said.

Maggie stepped inside. There were dozens of racks, all crammed with beautiful clothes. Pantsuits and dresses, blouses, skirts.

“I don’t get it. Why are these here?” she asked.

“Consignment,” Victoria told her in a low, amused voice. “The very rich and elegant bring their barely worn clothes here where hardworking young women can buy them for pennies on the dollar. How do you think I can afford to dress like I do? I get a four-hundred-dollar blouse for all of fifty dollars. You can find anything here and the quality is amazing. I love this place. Seriously, the evening wear is discounted the most because so few people have any interest in it. The stuff is practically free.”

That was a discount Maggie could get behind. “They really have ball gowns here?”

“They have everything. Because I’m short and chubby, I’ll be buying used. You, on the other hand, are tall and willowy so you can probably squeeze your tiny butt into a sample. Not that I’m bitter.”

Maggie grinned. “Willowy is a nice way to say flat chested.”

Victoria wove through the dozens of racks until she found one with her name on it. She quickly sorted through the dresses and handed Maggie six.

“Now we try them on,” Victoria said.

Maggie took them into the large dressing room on the left while her friend took the one on the right. As she pulled off her jeans and her T-shirt, she had trouble believing she was really trying on dresses for an actual ball. Three weeks ago, she’d been attempting to sort out her life in Aspen. How could so much have changed so quickly?

Unable to find the answer, she pulled on the first dress. It was peach, with a fitted bodice and a tiered skirt that fell in waves of shimmering fabric. Victoria ripped back the curtain and sucked in her breath.

“I knew you’d look fabulous. That dress is amazing.”

“It’s unusual,” Maggie said, facing her reflection. She had to admit that the color was good for her, but she wasn’t sure about the fluffy skirt.

“It’s couture, honey, and when it looks that good, you say a little prayer. I, of course, am hanging out everywhere and will have to pay to get this sucker hemmed.”

Victoria’s dress was black, strapless and fit her like it had been painted on. Maggie did her best not to be bitter about the curves spilling over the top. But hemming would be required. At least six inches of fabric bunched on the floor.

“Nadim won’t be able to resist you,” she said honestly.

“Aren’t you sweet? He’s managed to resist me very well so far, but I’m not going to think about that. Instead I’m going to talk you into that dress. You’ll be dazzling. I know you’re not interested in Qadir, but there will be plenty of handsome, successful men at the ball. You can dazzle them instead.”

For a second Maggie wondered if Jon would be dazzled. Then she reminded herself she wasn’t going to think about him anymore. Not that way.

In truth, she didn’t want to be involved with him. She just missed him.

“Uh-oh,” Victoria said as she put her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me? There’s a guy, isn’t there? I can tell just by looking at you.”

“There’s no guy,” Maggie told her.

Victoria kept staring.

“Okay, maybe there’s half a guy.”

“Interesting. Which half?”

That made Maggie laugh. “I mean I’m only half involved. Or less, even. I keep telling myself Jon is just a habit.”

“A bad one, I’m guessing.”

“We grew up next door to each other, so I’ve known him all my life. In high school, we started dating. Everyone assumed we would always be together.”

“Including you,” Victoria said.

Maggie nodded. “Then we started drifting apart. I think we both sensed the change, but neither of us wanted to be the first one to say anything. Then my dad got sick. By then we knew it was over, but Jon didn’t want to break up while I was dealing with my dad’s death, so the relationship went on longer than it should have.”

She drew in a breath. “The thing is, we’ve been best friends forever. That’s the part that’s hard to give up. I miss talking to him. But he’s with someone else and the truth is, we’re not best friends anymore.”

Victoria gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. That has to be hard. You lost your guy and your dad so close together. It’s okay to take the time to deal with that.”

“I know. I’m just ready to be over him.”

“Love sucks the big one,” Victoria said firmly. “It’s why I’m never giving away my heart. I want a sensible arrangement with a man who is all about security and convention.”

Maggie was surprised. Victoria seemed spontaneous and fun loving. “Won’t that be boring for you?”

“Nope. I want safe and practical. Did you know it’s a really big deal for a prince to divorce? So they never do. I like that in a man.”

“Part of Nadim’s charm?” Maggie asked.

Her friend nodded. “A lot of it. Plus, my dad can be … difficult.” Victoria shrugged. “Having a prince on my side would really help.”

Maggie sensed there were a lot of secrets in Victoria’s past, but she didn’t want to pry. The other woman would tell her when she was ready.

“I’m going to think about not making a fool of myself,” Maggie muttered. “Is there a book or brochure telling us how we’re supposed to act and stuff, because I could use some pointers.”

Victoria grinned. “I’ll see what I can find. It will be practice for when we attend the wedding.”

A royal wedding? “I don’t think I’ll still be here,” Maggie told her. “I should have the car done in less than two months.”

“The wedding is in six weeks. Apparently As’ad is very anxious to claim his bride. So you’ll get to be there. If nothing else, you can fly back to dance at mine.”

Standing in the dressing area of her suite, Maggie stared at the peach dress practically floating on the hanger. Victoria had been right. It was the perfect choice.

On the floor by the fluffy hem was a shopping bag containing a pair of high-heeled sandals and an evening bag, also purchased from the consignment room at the boutique.

“I’m really going to a royal ball,” Maggie murmured to herself, unable to believe it was happening. She was just some mechanic from Colorado. Stuff like that didn’t happen to her.

She tucked her hands into her pockets to keep herself from reaching for the phone. The need to call Jon was powerful and she wanted to resist. While they had both claimed they would always be friends, the truth was, they weren’t. Not the way they had been.

Everything was different and there was no going back. Everything was—

The phone rang. Maggie jumped, then walked into the living room and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“You’re hard to track down.”

The familiar voice stole the strength from her legs. She sank onto the sofa and tried to remember to breathe.

“Jon. Is everything okay?”

“Sure. I’m calling to check on you. I haven’t heard from you and wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Everything is fine.”

Which it was—so why was she suddenly fighting tears?

Probably the loneliness, she told herself. She missed her dad and she missed Jon.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Of course. Work on the car is going really well and you’ll never guess. There’s going to be a royal ball here, and I’ve been invited.”

“Good for you.”

“It’s kind of a strange thing, but I think it will be fun. And I’ve made a few friends. There’s a great secretary here who is also American. We’ve been hanging out together.” Maggie talked a little more about her life then said, “How are things there?”

“Busy. It’s quarterly season and you know what that means.”

She did. Jon was a corporate accountant. While she couldn’t relate to his world of numbers and reports, she knew he liked it.

“How’s Elaine?” she asked, because the alternative was to say that she missed him and she refused to go there.

He hesitated. “Maggie, I …”

“I’m allowed to ask and you’re supposed to answer,” she told him. “Don’t we at least have that much left?”

“It’s not that. I hate how things ended between us. I want it to be better and I’m not sure talking about Elaine is the best way for that to happen.”

Heat burned on her cheeks. She knew he was thinking about the last night they’d been together. When she’d called him sobbing about her father and he’d come over, because that’s the kind of man he was. Then she’d kissed him and …

She pushed the memory away. In theory, they were equally at fault. It wasn’t as if Jon had said no. But somehow she always felt that she was the one to blame.

“I’ve let it go,” she told him and realized she meant it. She still felt stupid, but she wasn’t longing for a repeat performance. “You’ve let it go. We’re moving on. So answer the question. How’s Elaine?”

“Good. Great. We’re spending a lot of time together.”

She could hear his affection in his voice. Maybe it was more than affection; maybe it was love.

“I’m glad,” she said firmly. “You deserve someone great in your life.”

“You, too. But watch out for those princes at the ball. They play by different rules.”

That made her smile. “I’m hardly in danger, Jon.”

“You’re exactly what they’re looking for.”

She glanced at her scarred hands and thought about the long days she spent in a garage working on cars. She doubted a lot of princes dreamed about a woman like her. “If you say so.”

They talked for a few more minutes, then said goodbye and hung up. As Maggie replaced the phone, she realized she didn’t hurt as much as she thought she would. That talking to him had actually been … nice.

She probed her heart, trying to figure out if she had regrets that things were over between them. There was tenderness there, but it was a whole lot more about missing her friend than missing her lover. Maybe she hadn’t been lying when she’d said they’d both moved on. And wouldn’t that be a good thing?

“They’re not comfortable,” Maggie grumbled as Victoria rolled her hair with heated curlers.

“Beauty is pain. Suck it up, honey.”

Maggie eyed her friend. Victoria was a blond stunner, with her hair piled on top of her head and makeup emphasizing her beautiful features.

“So you practically had to cut off a leg to look like that?” Maggie teased.

Victoria laughed. “What a sweet thing to say. Hold on to that thought because when I’m done with your hair, I’m going to pluck your eyebrows.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re going to have to trust me.”

An hour later Maggie stared at herself in the mirror. “Wow.”

“I know. You had all that potential just lurking. Maybe now you’ll take a second or two and put on mascara in the morning.”

Maggie knew that was never going to happen, but she had to say she’d cleaned up a lot better than she’d ever imagined she could.

Her hair had been pinned up in a loose style that allowed a few curls to tumble down to her shoulders. Makeup made her eyes look big and her mouth all pouty. Victoria had lent her a pair of dangling earrings that sparkled, and the dress fit her perfectly, emphasizing the few curves she had.

“I like it,” she said slowly, then shifted her weight and winced. “But the shoes are killing me and don’t say beauty is pain again.”

“You’ll get used to them.” Victoria linked arms with her and stared at their reflection. “Damn. I’m still short.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“We both are.”

Her friend was being generous, Maggie thought, but she was in the mood to accept the compliment.

There was a knock at the door. The two women looked at each other.

“It’s your room,” Victoria pointed out. “So I’m not expecting anyone.”

Maggie walked to the door, nearly falling off her high heels as she moved. She opened the door and found Qadir standing there.

“Good evening,” he said. “I am here to escort you two ladies to the ball.”

Maggie stared at the handsome prince in his tuxedo. He looked perfect, but then he always did. “Really? That’s so nice. Thank you. We’re about ready.”

She stopped talking and held in a groan. That’s so nice? Could she have said something more stupid?

He stepped into the suite. “Hello, Victoria.”

“Prince Qadir. You’re looking especially royal this evening.”

He smiled. “Thank you. You’re both very beautiful.”

Victoria grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her into the bedroom. “You know he’s here for you, don’t you? I’m just a pity date.”

“What? No. He’s not. He’s my boss.”

“So he’s carrying on a time-honored tradition. Be careful, Maggie. You lead with your heart.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Please. Qadir isn’t here for me. He’s just being polite.”

“Uh-huh. Do you see Nadim being polite and taking me to the party? Qadir is intrigued and when the man in question is a prince, you need to be careful.”

Maggie appreciated her friend’s warning, but there was no need. Qadir would never see her as anything other than his employee. Not that she wanted him to.

The two women collected their evening bags and returned to the living room. Qadir escorted them both downstairs and led them to the elevator.

When the doors opened on the main floor, she could hear music. There were dozens of people in the wide hallway, all moving toward the massive open doors at the far end.

There were lights everywhere. Bright chandeliers and sconces illuminated the well-dressed crowd. More people pushed toward them and Maggie found herself separated from Qadir and Victoria.

She didn’t mind. Victoria’s well-meaning advice had made her a little uncomfortable. Qadir didn’t see her as a woman and she wasn’t about to get any ideas about him. Sure, he’d been great about the car and he was easy to work for, but there was nothing between them.

She pushed Victoria’s words to the back of her mind and concentrated on the beauty of the ballroom.

There was a dais at one end, with an orchestra playing. There were dozens and dozens of food tables scattered around the outside of the room with an equal number of bars between them. Guests pressed together, talking and laughing.

The women were so beautiful, Maggie thought, not sure where to look first. Regardless of their ages, they were stunning in amazing gowns and glittering jewels.

She reached up and touched the earrings Victoria had loaned her. The stones were glass, the gold merely a colored finish. But that didn’t matter. No one had to know they weren’t real or that she’d bought her gown on consignment. For tonight, she was attending a royal ball and she planned to enjoy herself.

She waited in line to get a glass of champagne, then sipped the bubbly liquid. People stood in groups around her, talking loudly. Some of the conversations were in English, but many were not. She recognized a few of the languages.

She moved closer to a large plant and wished she hadn’t agreed to the high-heeled sandals Victoria had insisted on. She’d only been at the ball a few minutes and her feet already hurt.

Maggie glanced around to make sure no one was paying any attention to her, then she eased back behind the plant, slipped out of her shoes and bent down to grab them. She’d just started tucking them out of sight in the planter when someone came up behind her and said, “I’m not sure the king would approve.”

She spun and saw Qadir standing behind her. His expression was stern, but humor gleamed in his eyes.

“They hurt my feet,” she told him.

“Then make sure you hide them so no one can find them.”

She laughed and slipped the shoes under a couple of large leaves.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.”

“Have you danced yet?”

“No.”

Before she could explain she didn’t know how, he’d taken her glass from her and set it on a nearby tray, then led her toward the dance floor.

“I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” she admitted.

He pulled her into his arms. “I am good enough for both of us.”

He was warm and strong and held her securely. She rested one hand on his shoulder, her tiny evening bag held in her fingers. Her other hand nestled in his. He moved purposefully, guiding her with a confidence that allowed her to believe that maybe she could dance after all.

“See?” he said.

“Don’t test me with anything fancy. Not unless you want people pointing and laughing.”

He chuckled. “Are you always so honest?”

“Most of the time. I try to be.”

“You are charming.”

“Really?” The word came out before she could stop it. “Sorry. I meant to say thank you.”

“So polite.”

“It’s how I was raised,” she told him. “You’re very nice, too.”

“Less arrogant than you’d imagined?”

“Something like that. Although you have your imperious moments. Am I allowed to say that?”

“Tonight you can say anything.”

Was he flirting with her? Was that flirting?

She wanted to believe it was. After spending her entire life as a tomboy, it was nice to be girly for once. Not that she would want to make a habit of all the torture Victoria had put her through.

“I like your country,” she said. “The parts I’ve seen are very beautiful.”

“The city is more modern than many parts of El Deharia. Out in the desert the people still live as they once did.”

“I think I like my modern conveniences too much for that,” she admitted.

“I agree. One of my brothers has chosen to live there permanently, but not me. I, too, want my conveniences.”

They moved together in time with the music, swaying and sliding and turning together. She stumbled once, but he caught her against him. Then they were touching from shoulder to knee, pressed intimately as they moved.

She raised her gaze to his, not sure if this was allowed or appropriate. He was a prince, after all. But he didn’t seem to mind and she found herself enjoying the contact, maybe more than she should.

It was the dance, she told herself. The night, not the man. But the faint tingles in the pit of her stomach warned her that maybe it was the man. Just a little.

“Are you homesick?” he asked.

“Not tonight.”

“But other days?”

“A little. I think being here has been good for me.”

“New adventures?”

She nodded. Tonight was certainly that.

The song ended. Maggie felt a jolt of disappointment as Qadir released her, followed by a distinct coolness. As if all the warmth had faded away.

She found herself wanting him to pull her close again. She’d liked being in his arms.

Victoria’s words of warning flashed into her brain. While Maggie didn’t agree that she led with her heart, she was smart enough to realize that regardless of how good Qadir looked in a tux and how much she’d liked dancing with him, he was light-years out of her league. All tingles aside, nothing was going to happen.

She started to excuse herself when they were interrupted by a tall, older man who looked oddly familiar.

“There you are,” the man said. “I’ve been looking for you.” “Father, may I introduce Maggie Collins. Maggie, my father, King Mukhtar of El Deharia.”