The Nanny and The Sheikh. Barbara McMahon
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back in her seat and gazed at the landscape, trying to ignore the growing sense of awareness she felt around the sheikh. He joined them after speaking to his men and Melissa was hard-pressed not to stare. Resolutely she gazed out the window.
Flowers and soaring palms lined the avenue, softening the austere lines of the airport terminal.
As the sheikh continued his discussion with Max as the limo pulled away from the airport she occasionally glanced in his direction, intrigued as never before. Surim Al-Thani was slightly shorter than Max, but at six feet still towered over her own five feet three inches. His dark hair gleamed. She wondered if it was as thick and silky as it looked.
When he met her gaze she felt flustered. She had been rude. Yet when his eyes caught hers for an instant she continued boldly staring—this time directly into his dark gaze. Growing uncomfortably warm, Melissa finally broke contact and again looked out the side window. Her heart skipped a beat, then pounded gently in her chest. Concentrate on the scenery, she told herself, meaning that outside view, not the handsome sheikh who sat opposite her.
She wished she’d questioned Max more about their host. While working with the children in the resort in Switzerland, she’d met all levels of society. This attraction wasn’t due to his wealth, or even his power. He was simply one sexy man and Melissa wondered how much she’d get to see him during their visit. The less the better, she was starting to think.
The thoroughfares were wide and straight, with banks of flowers in the center islands. Because the limousine’s windows were closed to contain the air-conditioning, she couldn’t tell if the flowers she saw were the ones that smelled so fragrant at the airport. But their bright blossoms danced on the breeze.
She wasn’t listening to the conversation, but became aware of when it stopped. Glancing away from the window, she saw both men looking at her.
“Did I miss something?” she asked.
“I was telling Surim that your fluency in French is why I brought you,” Max said.
“It is the second language here in Qu’ Arim, though English is gaining favor,” Surim said in French.
She wondered if he was testing her. She replied in the same language, “It was the primary language where I worked before, so I have become quite proficient. I’m the one who translated the documents from the construction firm that you sent to Max recently.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. Returning to English, he glanced at Max. “I hope you will be pleased with the site I’ve chosen for Bella Lucia. It is right on the water, with palm trees framing the view. We can drive by before heading home if you like.”
Max quickly agreed.
Melissa felt she wouldn’t mind seeing the site herself. Right on the water—it sounded fabulous.
And it was. The construction site was quiet. The framing of the main building had begun, concrete had been poured, pipes were sticking up in various locations. Max and Surim donned hard hats and headed for the far end of the building.
“You stay out of the construction site,” Surim said to Melissa.
Another time she might have been annoyed at such a high-handed command, but she was too enchanted with the setting to care. She would much rather walk down to the water’s edge than traipse through a construction zone any day.
The driver of the limo leaned against the hood and watched the men. The two men who had been with the sheikh at the airport had followed them in a separate vehicle. One remained with that car, the other hurried to catch up with Surim and Max. Apparently they took their security seriously, though there was not another soul in sight.
Melissa climbed out of the limo and headed for the water. Her shoes were not at all suitable for the sand, so she kicked them off. Her stockings would undoubtedly be sandy when she put the shoes back on, but she’d deal with that later.
The sugar-white sand was soft and warm. She found the going easier when she reached the damp hard-packed sand near the water’s edge. The deep blue of the Persian Gulf stretched before her. She drank in the clean air, relishing the slight salty tang. Turning, she studied the outline of the resort. The main building would be three stories tall, with a high roof. She could see the men at the far end where the restaurant must be situated. Palm trees fluttered in the breeze. It was an ideal setting.
Looking left and right, she was amazed there weren’t scores of families enjoying the beach. But as far as she could see in either direction, it was pristine and empty.
She’d love to go swimming, but that was totally out of the question. At least for today. Would she get time off while they were here? She needed to remember she’d come to work, not vacation. But the water was so tempting.
Glancing around, she saw Max and Surim heading for the car. Reluctantly, she returned as well, dusting off her feet as best she could before donning her shoes.
“Enjoying yourself?” Surim asked when they reached the limousine.
She met his glance as she slipped her feet into her shoes. Did she detect a hint of amusement? “It’s fantastic. But I’m puzzled why the beach is so empty. I’d think hordes of people would enjoy a day here.”
“That is my hope as well, once the resort is completed. In the meantime, construction holds certain danger, so I have closed the area for the duration of building,” Surim said.
“I see.” All that lovely empty beach. She sighed. There went her idea for swimming.
They resumed their places in the limo and in only a short time they turned into a long driveway flanked on either side by tall palms. Melissa looked with interest at Surim’s estate. She had no idea of what kind of place a sheikh might own. Somehow she’d thought maybe a lavish tent like in Arabian Nights.
The edifice surprised her. Max hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it was large enough for a battalion—it was huge. Whitewashed walls with terra-cotta trim reflected the bright sunshine. High arches of windows, outlined by ornate fretwork and mosaics inlaid in bright colours, provided symmetry on the front. A wide veranda seemed to encircle the entire three-story structure. Quite simply, it was stunning.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, now taking in the colorful flowers that grew in profusion right to the edge of the veranda. Gently waving palm trees encircled the house, while a lush lawn stretched out in all directions. Her gaze was drawn to an elegant fountain in the front, providing a focal point to the circular drive. The watery spray made dozens of sparkling rainbows. She sighed wistfully. What a magnificent place to live.
“Are you near the Gulf?” she asked, not seeing any signs of the sea, but still smelling that slightly salty tang in the air even in the car.
“There is a path from the back of the house that leads to a private beach. It is not far, only a short walk,” Surim said. “Perhaps you’d care to go for a swim sometime during your visit.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, I would. It’s freezing in London right now.” Would he join her if she went swimming? She looked away, afraid he’d see the hope in her eyes.
As she followed her host into the house a moment later, through large acacia wood double doors carved into intricate designs and polished to a gleaming shine, she wondered why Max had brought her since Surim spoke French fluently. To have an impartial person on his side? Not that she could imagine the sheikh being the slightest bit dishonorable. Of course he was probably too busy to translate mere construction documents.
Or, as her mother had suggested, maybe the trip was a treat for the work she had already done. It didn’t matter; she was thrilled to be here.
The interior of the house was cool, though not apparently due to artificial means. Windows were wide open allowing a balmy breeze to flow through. The tall ceilings allowed the air to circulate freely.
Rich colorful furnishings filled the room to the left. She followed the men and stood in the doorway, her sandy stockings starting to annoy her. How soon could she escape