Pregnant By The Desert King. Susan Stephens
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you handle security for one of the those big fat potentates on their big fat superyachts.’ She angled her chin towards the window, beyond which a line of imposing vessels loomed like huge white ghosts against the steel-grey sky. ‘What’s it like working for the super-rich, mystery man?’
Her naivety was irresistible, but her innocence compelled him to tell the truth. ‘Actually, I’m one of them.’
‘A big, fat potentate?’ she exclaimed, frowning in a way that made him laugh.
‘I thought it was the yachts you thought big and fat.’
‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’ she said in a very different tone.
‘Your expression does my ego no good at all,’ he admitted.
‘Well, this changes things,’ she said, ‘and I can’t help the way I look.’
‘Having money changes your opinion of me?’
She hummed and frowned again. ‘I don’t have an opinion about you yet,’ she admitted honestly. ‘I don’t know you well enough.’
He would be the first to admit he was touchy about money. His late uncle had plundered the Qalalan treasury, leaving it empty when Tadj inherited the throne. Tadj had built up a bankrupt country brick by brick. Even then, when everything was back on an even keel, a family to whose daughter he’d been engaged since his birth turned up to demand he marry the girl right away. It had cost him a king’s ransom to sort that out. The experience had left him with a horror of state marriages, together with the distinct impression that a mistress was far preferable to a wife. He had to marry one day to provide Qalala with an heir as the constitution demanded, but not yet, and his thoughts regarding taking a mistress in the interim had just taken on a new and vigorous lease of life.
‘IF YOU’VE MADE so much money out of the security business...’ What was coming next, he wondered as Lucy gave him one of her wide-eyed cheeky, teasing looks. ‘Can I ask you for a loan?’
He knew this was a joke, but bridled anyway at the possibility that she might be like all the rest. ‘Ten pounds until pay day?’ she pressed blithely, but she couldn’t hold back the laughter, and, sitting back, she said, ‘You should see your face.’
He adopted a stern look. ‘You’ll get away with that this time.’
‘You mean there’ll be a next time?’ Quick as a whip, he thought as she added, ‘That’s assuming rather a lot, isn’t it? How do you know I’ll want to see you again?’
His groin tightened as he told her, ‘Educated guess.’
Resting her chin on her hand, she stared at him in a way that made him wish he were clothed in flowing robes rather that snug-fitting jeans.
‘Surely, you can run to a miserly ten pounds?’ she pressed.
He reached for his wallet.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she said.
‘Can’t I pay the bill for the extra coffee?’
‘Touché,’ she said. ‘Just bear this in mind, Mr Security Man. I don’t want your money. I don’t want anyone’s money. I’m doing fine as I am. Here—let me contribute. Save your money for your next coffee-shop adventure.’
‘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