Claimed by the Desert Sheikh: The Sheikh and the Pregnant Bride / Desert King, Pregnant Mistress / Desert Prince, Expectant Mother. Susan Stephens
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luck with the car.”
As Maggie watched her go, she wondered if Victoria really meant what she said—about wanting to marry Prince Nadim. She supposed there were women who were more interested in what the man could provide than the character of the man himself. Not something that would interest her.
Unfortunately, thinking about men made her think about Jon. She hated that she still missed him and that seeing everything around the palace made her want to call him. He would appreciate what she was going through. Knowing him, he would even understand her ambivalence about their situation now.
But calling wasn’t an option. He was in love with Elaine. That fact shouldn’t mean she and Jon couldn’t be friends, but the truth was, things were different. They could never go back and she couldn’t figure out a way to go forward.
“Don’t think about it,” she told herself, then looked at the credit card Victoria had left with her. She didn’t enjoy shopping for girly stuff, but when cars or car parts were involved, she could really get into it. “So let’s take you for a test drive,” she told the card, “and see what you can do.”
Maggie typed in the amount, held back a wince and pushed Enter on the computer. Less than a second later, her bid amount showed on the page. She clapped her hands, then groaned when someone outbid her by two dollars.
She wanted that part. She needed that part. Maybe she should just offer the full price and get the stupid thing now, without worrying about it.
Practicality battled with how she’d been raised and frugality nearly won. It was ridiculous to pay the full amount when she might be able to get the part for less. However, she did have to budget her time and as Prince Qadir was incredibly rich, she wasn’t sure he would care that she’d saved him twenty bucks.
Still, it took a couple of deep breaths before she typed in the “pay this amount and buy it now” price. She writhed in her chair a couple of seconds before pushing Enter.
“Are you in pain?”
She turned toward the speaker and saw Prince Qadir stepping into her office.
“Is it serious?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She hesitated, not sure if she should rise or bow or what. “I’m ordering parts online.”
“A simple enough action.”
“It’s an auction. I’ve been bidding all morning. Someone else keeps topping me by a couple of dollars.”
“Then offer enough to push him out of the battle.”
“That’s what I did.”
“Good.”
“I probably could have gotten the part for less if I’d waited.”
“Do you think that is important to me? The bargain?”
She looked at him, at his tailored suit and blinding white shirt. He looked like a successful executive … a very handsome executive.
“No one likes to be taken,” she said.
“Agreed, but there is a time and a place to barter. I doubt there is a huge market for parts for my car, but what market there is will be competitive. I want you to win.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“But you do not approve.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Your expression. You would prefer to bargain and wait.”
“I want you to get your car at a fair price.”
He smiled. “An excellent idea. I appreciate the fairness of your concern. Perhaps a balance of both would be easiest.”
He had a great smile, she thought absently. She hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about princes, but she supposed she would have assumed they were stern and serious. Or total playboys. She’d seen plenty of those during the season in Aspen. But Qadir didn’t seem to be either.
“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “It’s just I’m used to getting the best price.”
“While I am used to getting the best.”
With his family fortune, he always did, she thought humorously.
“Must be nice,” she murmured.
“It is.”
Maggie smiled. “At least you’re clear about it.” She rose and walked to the printer. “Here’s a list of all the parts I’ve ordered so far. I’ll start disassembling her tomorrow. I haven’t seen much rust, which is great. Once I get her into pieces, I can figure out exactly what needs replacing. For now, I’ve just been ordering the obvious stuff.”
She handed him the printout. Qadir studied it, even as he was aware of the woman next to him. She was an interesting combination of confidence and insecurity.
He knew from personal experience that many people were uncomfortable around him at first. They did not know what was expected. He’d asked one of the American secretaries to help Maggie get settled, but only time would make his new mechanic comfortable in his presence.
He reminded himself that being comfortable wasn’t required for her to complete the job.
She was nothing like the women who drifted in and out of his life. No designer clothes, no artfully arranged hair, no expensive perfumes and jewels. In a way she reminded him of Whitney. There had been no pretense with her, either.
He pushed the memory away before it formed, knowing there was no point in the remembering.
“I’ll want to pull out the engine in the next couple of weeks,” Maggie was saying. “You told me you could help with that.” She paused. “Not physically, of course. I mean hiring people. Not that you’re not terribly strong and manly.” She groaned. “I didn’t just say that.”
Qadir laughed. “You did and it is a compliment I will treasure.
Not enough people comment on my manly strength. They should do so more often.”
Maggie flushed. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Because you earned it.”
“Hey, back off. You’re the prince. I get to be a little nervous around you. This is a strange situation.”
He liked that she didn’t back down. “Fair enough. Yes, I have a team you can use to pull out the engine. I have several local resources. I will e-mail them to you. Mention my name—it will improve the response.”
“Do you have a little crown logo you put in your signature line?” she asked.
“Only on formal documents. You may have to go to England for some of your purchases. I have contacts there, as well.”
“Any of them with the royal family?”
“I doubt Prince Charles will be of much help.”
“Just a thought.”
“He’s too old for you, and married.”
Maggie laughed. “Thanks, but he’s also not my type.”
“Not looking for a handsome prince? Some of the women here have exactly that in mind. Or perhaps a foreign diplomat.”
Maggie glanced away. “Not my style. Besides, I work with cars. Not exactly future princess material.” She held out her weathered hands. “I’m more of a doer than someone who is comfortable just sitting around looking pretty.”
“That is the monarchy’s loss.”
She laughed again. “Very smooth. You’re good.”
“Thank you.”
“The women must be lined up for miles.”
He