Claimed by the Desert Sheikh. Оливия Гейтс
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had a brain disorder that left him confused. Maybe he’d been kidding. Maybe she’d imagined the whole conversation and the next time she saw him he would call her “Ms. Collins” and look right through her.
Rather than make herself crazy with all the possibilities, she opened packages, savored the thrill of her car parts, then started an inventory base. It was nearly one before she noticed she was starving. But before she could cross to the phone and order lunch, Qadir appeared with a folder in one hand and a picnic basket in the other.
“We have much to discuss,” he told her. “Is now a convenient time?”
If it wasn’t, did she really get to say so? “If you brought lunch, then now is fine,” she told him.
“A conditional acceptance?”
“I’m starving.”
“So you can be bought with food.”
“Sometimes.” Based on their deal, she could also be bought with money, but she didn’t want to think about that.
They went into her office where she laid out the lunch he’d brought.
She eyed the white-chocolate macadamia-nut cookie and knew that if she had been alone, she so would have started with that. Next time, she told herself with a sigh, thinking one day she was going to have to go down to the kitchen, find whoever provided the daily baked cookies and give him or her a big hug.
“I had my assistant make a list of possible places and events for us to go to,” Qadir said when she’d taken her first bite of the sandwich. “The choices are divided into events that are purely public and those that will be perceived as private.”
Maggie nearly choked. “You told your assistant about our deal?”
“No. I asked for an updated social calendar. Then he prepared a list of restaurants where photographers were known to frequent. I’m sure he thinks we’ll be avoiding those places.”
She managed to swallow without killing herself. “Okay. That makes sense.” They would have to be seen to convince people—meaning Qadir’s father—that this was all real. “Is the king going to be upset about this? I’m nothing like Sabrina or Natalie.”
Qadir smiled. “Which is a good thing.”
“In your mind. What about in his?”
“He is not the one dating you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Be serious. I don’t want the king hating me or ordering me out of the country because I’m not a known breeder.”
“Don’t worry about anything. My father will be delighted to think I am finally getting serious about someone. It has been a long time.”
How long? Maggie remembered her first night at the palace when she’d overheard Qadir and the king talking about someone from Qadir’s past.
He put the list on the desk between them. “I have marked several events I suggest we attend, but the others are discretionary.”
She glanced from the paper to him. “I don’t understand. You’re saying I get a vote, too?”
“Of course. Why would you not?”
Because he was a royal and she wasn’t. “Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s nice.”
He smiled at her uncertainty. “You keep forgetting, I’m the most charming of all my brothers.”
“So you say. I haven’t actually talked to any of your brothers so I only have your word on this.”
He grinned. “You’ll have to trust me.”
For reasons that weren’t clear to her, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She found herself reliving that brief but powerful kiss they’d shared.
She’d reacted so strongly to the lightest of touches. It had been the strangest thing … most likely brought on by too much champagne—even though she couldn’t remember having more than half a glass. Or maybe it had been because she hadn’t eaten. Whatever the cause, it hadn’t meant anything. Forgetting it had ever happened made the most sense. Except she couldn’t seem to forget.
“Maggie? Did you want to make some suggestions?”
“What? Oh. Sure.”
She glanced down at the neatly printed possibilities. There were plays, sporting events, a hospital wing opening. The shower for Kayleen and the wedding to follow were in bold.
“These are …” she asked.
“Required. The shower for you and the wedding for both of us.”
If she’d been standing she would have backed up a couple of feet. “I can’t go to Kayleen’s wedding shower. I barely know her.”
“If we are together, then you are part of the family.”
“I don’t want to lie to your family.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Deception is the nature of our endeavor.”
Most of the time he sounded like a regular guy, but every now and then he said something princelike.
“I’ve never been a very good liar,” she admitted. “I’d hate to see that change.”
He said nothing, as if giving her the time and space to change her mind. Did she want to go through with this?
She thought of her father fading away. He kept making her promise that after he was gone she would try to get the business back. He hated that his illness had caused them to lose everything. She’d never blamed him, never wished for anything except his recovery. She knew he would want her to have a financial cushion. He would probably find the whole situation with Qadir funny. Then he would squeeze her shoulder and tell her not to do anything he wouldn’t do.
The memory made her both happy and sad. With her father gone, she was alone in the world. The deal with Qadir offered her a level of financial freedom she’d never experienced. She would be a fool to walk away.
“I’ve never been to a wedding shower,” she told him. “I’m sure it will be fun.”
“Excellent.”
They discussed other possibilities. There was a car show in neighboring El Bahar. They both agreed that would be a good choice.
“Will you want to pick out the engagement ring?” he asked.
She stabbed her fork into the pasta salad and sighed. “I’d deliberately forgotten about that part of the deal. Do we have to get engaged?”
“If I am to be crushed by your leaving, then yes.”
She tried to imagine him emotionally crushed, but her imagination failed her. Qadir was too strong and in charge.
“You know, you could make this a lot easier by just falling in love with some woman and getting married for real.”
“I am aware of that.”
“You shouldn’t be so picky,” she told him.
“Thank you for that extraordinary advice.”
They returned to the list, but Maggie wasn’t really paying attention. Once again she was remembering the mystery woman from Qadir’s past—and wondering why it hadn’t worked out.
Maggie stared at the clothes in her closet and wished desperately that she’d asked Victoria to help her get ready. She also wished she had at least a couple of nicer outfits. But dining with princes hadn’t been on her weekly agenda in Aspen so her wardrobe tended toward supercasual with the odd somewhat less casual piece thrown in.
Her choices seemed to fall into two categories—long-sleeved T-shirts and short-sleeved T-shirts. She had a couple of blouses, one pair of black slacks and a ball gown that seemed as inappropriate for dinner as one of the T-shirts.
“I