The Nanny and The Sheikh. Barbara McMahon
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on the sand. Alaya stood, running to the water to scoop some in her hands and carry it, dripping all the way, back to the ditch they’d built around the castle.
But the person he had the most difficulty recognizing was Melissa Fox. She looked like one of the children. Gone was her suit and her business attitude. Her hair was flying in the breeze, and her trousers were damp and sandy. He could see the joy in her expression. He was struck by how beautiful she was. Suddenly he was gripped with an urge to see her dressed in a designer gown, with pearls from Qu’ Arim at her throat.
Every one of them was having so much fun a pang of envy struck. Surim couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Or spent a carefree afternoon doing nothing more important than building a sandcastle.
Hamid rolled to his knees and caught sight of Surim. The merriment dropped instantly from his face. He said something and the others looked his way. Alaya stopped smiling and stepped closer to Melissa. Nadia popped her thumb back into her mouth and regarded him warily.
Was he frightening to these children? He remembered his cousin Mara fondly. They’d played together when he was younger—not any older than Hamid. He’d seen her often when home from school, before his father had died and his life had changed so drastically. He’d never expected her to die young, or for himself to wind up responsible for her children.
Melissa rose, dusting some of the sand from her clothes.
“Are we late?” she called. She spoke to the children and as one they turned to walk to the water and swish their hands clean. Picking up their shoes, they moved to stand just behind her. In a moment, the little line headed his way, almost like a mother duck with her ducklings following in a row.
Surim watched, fascinated at the change in his guest and the laughter he’d seen from the children. He had only seen them sad or scared or defiant. Melissa still looked carefree and happy, but the children had become solemn.
“Annis was worried when they didn’t return for dinner,” he said when Melissa drew close.
“Sorry about that. I forgot my watch. Guess my estimating the time from the sun isn’t very accurate.” She laughed. “But we were having such fun time seemed to fly.”
He looked at the pile of sand, then at the children. “A very fine castle,” he said awkwardly.
“I bet you and their mother made sandcastles when you were young,” Melissa said.
He was startled. He hadn’t said anything about Mara or her husband, fearing to upset the children.
“Did you?” Alaya asked hesitantly.
Surim regarded the little girl and nodded. “We did. And when we grew older, we had swimming races, and went waterskiing together. She and I were great friends during the summers when I was home,” he said, remembering back before the world had changed and his childhood had ended abruptly.
“Where were you in not summer?” Hamid asked.
“I went to school in England. Where you used to live.”
“I miss home,” Hamid said forlornly.
“This will feel like home in no time,” Melissa said bracingly. “Right?” She smiled brightly at Surim.
He raised an eyebrow at her comment.
She smelled like sunshine and salt air. He noticed the deep green of her eyes, the glossy shine to her hair. There was a faint hint of pink on her cheeks—from the sun? She was shorter than most of the woman he dated, and much too young. But for a moment awareness flared.
Intellect didn’t rule the body all the time. He remembered how soft her skin had felt when he’d kissed her hand at the airport, a gesture foreign to him. Had he been making a show for Max’s friend?
Instinctively it had seemed right.
The children marched quietly into the house, all evidence of the joy he’d seen subdued by his presence. Surim wished he could change that.
“I’ll run up with the children and give Annis a hand getting them cleaned up,” Melissa said when they reached the stairs.
“Our own dinner will be in thirty minutes.”
“Then I’ll have to hurry.” She herded the children up the stairs without another glance in his direction.
For an instant, Surim wished she’d been as eager for his company as she was for the children’s. He had no trouble in the romance department. Though none of the women he knew held the same appeal that Melissa held.
He was being pressured by several factions to take a wife, and have children to insure the dynasty. These days he seemed to be looking at every woman with the same question—could he live with her for the next fifty or so years? So far he hadn’t found anyone.
Melissa slipped into the dining-room chair just as Surim and Max came in from the study. Once they were seated, a servant entered from the kitchen with a platter of meat. Melissa had rushed through her ablutions; her hair was still damp. But she had not kept the sheikh waiting for his meal.
She listened as Surim and Max discussed business, wondering what other activities the sheikh participated in. He had to take women out if he was looking for a wife. Did he discuss business with them? Or was it all romance?
She wondered what a date with him would be like, what they would talk about. Did he discuss the orphan children in his care with them? Or maybe he concentrated on wooing the woman, delaying any talk of family until he decided she was the one.
In the meantime, perhaps she should offer some suggestions to getting to know the children? She shook her head, hiding a wry smile. As if he’d listen to her. Who was she to advise the ruler of Qu’ Arim? He had advisors galore. And a perfectly qualified nurse in residence. Though what the children needed was love and devotion and fun. And a chance to get to know Surim and establish new family routines and traditions.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Surim said, addressing her. “Too much activity today?”
Melissa looked up. “Oh, no. I enjoyed seeing the actual site of the new restaurant, and the plans you have for the resort. I’m sure it will be spectacular.”
“Of course it will,” Max said. “Surim doesn’t do things by half measures.”
“I thought to have a small gathering of friends and advisors before you leave. Most of them speak English, the ones who don’t speak French,” Surim said.
“I would like the opportunity to meet your friends here,” Max said. “I already know most of your friends in England.”
“And you, Melissa, would that please you?” Surim asked.
“I should be delighted to attend.” She wondered if he would bring one of his potential wives with him, and she was disturbed to realize how much the thought bothered her.
When dinner finished, they moved to the drawing room. As they walked Surim and Max continued their discussion of the possibility of expanding Bella Lucia beyond this one overseas restaurant.
Passing through the wide entry hall, Melissa heard a noise. Neither of the men seemed to notice. Glancing up, she spotted Hamid peering between the railings of the balustrade. She looked at Surim and Max. They were too engrossed in their conversation to hear such a slight noise.
When they reached the living room, Melissa paused at the doorway.
“If you two will excuse me, I think I’ll go on up.”
Surim looked at her, frowning. “I apologize that our conversation centered on business. You must be tired of it after the long day we put in. We will change the topic.”
“No, you two talk all you want. Max won’t be here that long and I know you’re friends from way back. I’ll see you in the morning.”
His dark eyes seemed to hold her gaze as he weighed her words. “Very well.”