Книга - The Sheikh and the Pregnant Bride

The Sheikh and the Pregnant Bride
Susan Mallery


He needed a wife…or at least a fiancéeMaggie Collins had come to the exotic desert of El Deharia to do a job…not to get married. The no-frills American had been burned by love before, and marriage – even to a seductive sheikh – didn’t top her to-do list. But then Prince Qadir made her an offer she should have refused. It was meant to be a temporary engagement…until Maggie discovered she was pregnant.Now Qadir was honour-bound to give Maggie and her child the protection of his name. He never expected to be swept off his feet. Perhaps there would be a romantic royal wedding after all…DESERT ROGUES Passions flare under the hot sun!







“I have a proposition.”

“Which is?”

Qadir smiled. “You may have noticed my father’s efforts to interest me in a woman. He’s determined to get all his sons married as quickly as possible.”

“Typical father behaviour,” Maggie said.

“The only way to get him to back off is to give him the impression I’m involved with someone.”

She nodded. “That would probably work.”

“I’m glad you agree. So I propose an arrangement between us. We would date for a period of weeks. Perhaps three or four months, then say we’re engaged.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying.

“I… You… It’s…”

“A relationship of convenience. You will consent to be someone I become involved with for an agreed-upon period of time, say six months.”

He wanted to fake date? Then get fake engaged to her?!


SUSAN MALLERY

is a bestselling author of more than eighty romances. Her combination of humour, emotion and just-plain-sexy has made her a reader favourite. Susan makes her home in Washington state, where the whole rain thing is highly exaggerated and there’s plenty of coffee to help her meet her deadlines. Visit her website at www.SusanMallery.com.



Dear Reader,

One of the best things about being a writer is creating characters who become so real I want them as friends. Maggie Collins is one of those special people. She’s funny, she’s flawed, she’s very clear on her strong points and her limitations. She’s the kind of friend who would loan you her favourite sweater for a hot date, then not be mad if you spilled salsa on it.

Her first experience with a handsome prince, who just happens to be a sheikh, is a little disappointing. He’s just a normal man. OK, a very rich, good-looking guy. And there’s a teeny tiny chance he makes her heart beat faster when they’re together. But she’s just a ordinary girl from Colorado. Not exactly princess material.

So when Prince Qadir proposes a fake relationship to convince his father he’s unavailable for an arranged marriage, Maggie goes along for the ride. After all, how often does a girl like her get to pretend she could actually belong to a prince? There’s no way her heart is going to get involved. She’s smarter than that…or so she hopes.

This is one of my favourite stories ever. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Susan Mallery




The Sheikh and the Pregnant Bride


SUSAN MALLERY




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Chapter One

Maggie Collins hated to admit it but the reality was, she was a tiny bit disappointed by her first meeting with a real, live prince.

The trip to El Deharia had been great. She’d flown first-class, which was just as fabulous as it looked in the movies. When she’d landed, she’d been whisked by limo to a fancy hotel. Until then, her only other limo experience had been for her prom and then she and her date had been sharing it and the expense with six other couples.

Arriving at the exclusive Hotel El Deharia, she’d been shown to a suite with a view of the Arabian Sea. The living room alone had been about the same size as the two-bedroom house she’d grown up in back in Aspen.

She also couldn’t complain about the palace. It was big and beautiful and historic-looking. But honestly, the offices where she was supposed to be meeting Prince Qadir weren’t anything special. They were just offices. And everyone was dressed so professionally in conservative suits. She’d been hoping for harem pants and a tiara or two. Of course, as she’d mostly seen men, a tiara was probably out of place.

The thought of the older British gentleman who had shown her into the office wearing a tiara made her giggle. She was still laughing when the door opened and a tall man in yet another suit walked in.

“Good morning,” he said as he approached. “I am Prince Qadir.”

Maggie sighed in disappointment. Yes, the prince was very handsome, but there was nothing different about him. No medals, not even a crown or a scepter or some proof of rank.

“Well, darn,” she murmured.

Prince Qadir raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

Had she said that aloud? Oops. “I, ah…” She swallowed and then squared her shoulders. “Prince Qadir,” she said as she walked toward him and held out her hand. “Very nice to meet you. I’m Maggie Collins. We’ve been corresponding via e-mail.”

He took her hand in his and shook it. “I’m aware of that, Ms. Collins. I believe my last note to you said I preferred to work with your father.”

“Yet the ticket was in my name,” she said absently as she dropped her arm to her side, aware that even though she was five-ten, he was still much taller than her.

“I sent you each a ticket. Did he not use his?”

“No, he didn’t.” She glanced out the window at the formal garden below. “My father…” She cleared her throat and returned her attention to the prince. This was not the time to get sad again. She was here to do business. “My father died four months ago.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you.”

Qadir glanced at his watch. “A car will return you to your hotel.”

“What?” Outrage chased away any threatening tears. “You’re not even going to talk to me?”

“No.”

Of all the annoying, arrogant, male ways to react. It was just so typical. “I’m more than capable of doing the job.”

“I don’t doubt that, Ms. Collins. However, my arrangement was with your father.”

“We were in business together.” The last year of her father’s life, she’d run the car-restoration business he’d started years ago. And lost it, although that hadn’t been because of anything she’d done wrong. The medical bills had been massive. In the end she’d had to sell everything to pay them, including the business.

“This project is very important to me. I want someone with experience.”

She wanted to deck him. Given the fact that she was female and he was well-bred, she could probably get one shot in, what with the element of surprise on her side. But to what end? Hitting a member of the royal family was hardly the way to get the job.

“There were exactly seven hundred and seventeen Rolls-Royce Phantom IIIs built between 1936 and 1939, plus ten experimental cars,” she said as she glared at him. “The earlier models had a maximum speed of ninety-two miles an hour. Problems started showing up early because the cars weren’t designed to be run at maximum speed for any length of time. This became an issue as owners took their cars to Europe where they could drive on the newly built German autobahn. The company’s initial fix was to tell the drivers to go slower. Later, they offered a modification that was little more than a higher-ratio fourth gear that also made the car go slower.”

She paused. “There’s more, but I’m sure you already know most of it.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“I’m a professional.” A professional who desperately needed the job. Prince Qadir had a 1936 Phantom III he wanted restored. Expense was no object. She needed the money he offered to pay off the last of her father’s medical bills and keep her promise of starting up the family business again.

“You’re a woman.”

She glanced down at her chest, then back at him. “Really? I guess that explains the breasts. I’d wondered why they were there.”

One corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were amused.

She decided to push while he was in a good mood. “Look. My mother died right after I was born. I grew up in my dad’s garage. I learned to change oil before I learned to read. Yes, I’m female, but so what? Cars have always been my life. I’m a great mechanic. If what they say is true, that classic cars are female, who better to understand them than me? I can do this. I work hard, I don’t get drunk and knock up the local girls. Even more important, with my father gone, I have something to prove. You’re a man of the world. You know what a difference the right motivation can be.”

Qadir stared at the woman before him and wondered if he should let himself be convinced. If Maggie Collins restored cars with the same energy that she was using on him, he had nothing to worry about. But a female in the garage?

He reached for her hand and took it in his. Her fingers were long, her nails short. She was attractive, but not delicate. He turned her hand over and stared at her palm. There were several calluses and a couple of scars. These were the hands of someone who worked for a living.

“Squeeze my hand,” he said, staring into her green eyes. “As hard as you can.”

She wrinkled her nose, as if she couldn’t believe what he was asking, then she did as he requested.

Her fingers crushed his in a powerful grip.

Impressive, he thought. Perhaps she was who and what she claimed.

“Should we arm wrestle next?” she asked. “Or have a spitting contest?”

He laughed. “That will not be required.” He released her hand. “Would you like to see the car?”

Her breath caught. “I would love to.”

They walked through the palace to the garage. Along the way, Qadir pointed out some of the public rooms along with a few of the more notable antiquities. Maggie paused to look at a large tapestry.

“That’s a lot of sewing,” she said.

“Yes, it is. It took fifteen women over ten years to complete it.”

“I don’t have the patience for that sort of thing. Seriously? I would have killed someone within the first six months. One night I would have snapped and run screaming through the palace with an ax.”

The vivid image amused him. Maggie Collins was not a typical woman and he had met more than enough to know the difference. Although she was tall and slim, she moved with a purpose that was far from feminine. She had striking features, but wore no makeup to enhance them. Long dark hair hung down her back in a simple braid.

He was used to women using flattery and sexuality to get what they wanted, yet she did not. The change was…interesting.

“This is my first palace,” she said as they continued walking down the long corridor.

“What do you think?”

“That it’s beautiful, but a little big for my taste.”

“No dreams of being a princess?”

She laughed. “I’m not exactly princess material. I grew up dreaming of racing cars, not horses. I’d rather work on a fussy transmission than go shopping.”

“Why aren’t you racing cars? Women do.”

“I don’t have the killer competitive instinct. I like to go fast. I mean, who doesn’t? But I’m not into winning at any cost. It’s a flaw.” She pointed at an ancient Sumerian bowl and wrinkled her nose. “That’s a whole new level of ugly.”

“It’s over four thousand years old.”

“Really? That doesn’t make it any more attractive. Seriously, would you want that in your living room?”

He’d never paid much attention to the ancient piece of pottery, but now he had to admit it wasn’t to his taste.

“It’s better here, where all can enjoy it.”

“Very diplomatic. Is that your prince training?”

“You are comfortable speaking your mind.”

Maggie sighed. “I know. It gets me into trouble. I’ll try to be quiet now.”

And she was, until they reached the garage. He opened the door and led her inside. Lights came on automatically.

There were only a dozen or so vehicles in this structure. Others were housed elsewhere. Maggie walked past the staff Volvo, his Lamborghini, two Porsches, the Land Rover and Hummer to the battered Rolls-Royce Phantom III at the far end.

“Oh, man, I never thought I’d see one of these up close,” Maggie breathed.

She ran her hands along the side of the car. “Poor girl, you’re not looking your best, are you? But I can fix that.” She turned to Qadir. “The first one of these was seen in October 1935 at the London Olympia Motor Show. They brought nine Phantoms, but only one of them had an engine in it.” She turned back to the car. “She’s a V-12, zero to sixty in sixteen-point-eight seconds. That’s pretty fast for this big a car. Especially considering how quiet the engine runs.”

Maggie circled the vehicle, touching it, breathing in, as if trying to make it a part of her. Her eyes were wide, her expression one of wonder. He’d seen that look on a woman’s face before, but usually only when giving expensive jewels or shopping trips to Paris and Milan.

“You have to let me do this,” she told him. “No one will love her more than I do.”

George Collins had been one of the best restorers and mechanics in the business. Had he passed on his greatness to his daughter or was she simply trading on his name?

Maggie opened the passenger door. “Rats,” she muttered, then looked at him. “They’ve chewed the hell out of the leather. But I know a guy who can work miracles.”

“How long would it take to restore her?” he asked.

She grinned. “How much money do you have?”

“An endless supply.”

“Must be nice.” She considered the question. “With express delivery and my contacts, six to eight weeks, assuming I can find what I need. I’ll want to fly in someone to do the upholstery and the painting. I’ll do everything else myself. I’m assuming I can get metal work done locally.”

“You can.”

She straightened and folded her arms over her chest. “Do we have a deal?”

Qadir had no problem working with women. He liked women. They were soft and appealing and they smelled good. But the Phantom was special.

“You can’t refuse me because I’m female,” Maggie told him. “That’s wrong. You know that’s wrong. El Deharia is forward and progressive.” She looked away, then turned back to face him. “My father is gone and I miss him every moment of every day. I need to do this for him. Because that’s what he would have wanted. No one is going to care more about doing this right than me, Prince Qadir. I give you my word.”

An impassioned plea. “But does your word have value?”

“I’ve killed a man for assuming less.”

He laughed at the unexpected response. “Very well, Ms. Collins. You may restore my car. The deal will be the same as the one I negotiated with your father. You have six weeks to restore her to her former glory.”

“Six weeks and an unlimited budget.”

“Exactly. Someone on my staff will show you to your room. While you are employed here, you will be my guest in the palace.”

“I need to collect my things from the hotel.”

“They will be brought here to you.”

“Of course they will,” she murmured. “If the sun is a little too bright, can you move it?”

“With the right motivation.” He eyed her. “I do not appear to intimidate you. Why is that?”

“You’re just some guy with a car and a checkbook, Prince Qadir.”

“In other words, a job.”

“A really great job, but a job. When this is done, I’ll go home to my real life and you’ll have the sweetest ride in El Deharia. We’ll both get what we want.”

Qadir smiled. “I always do.”

Maggie refused to think about how much per minute she was paying on her calling card as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jon, it’s me.”

“Did you get it?”

Maggie threw herself back on the massive bed in her large suite. A suite that was even bigger than the one at the hotel. “Of course. Was there any doubt?”

“He was expecting your dad.”

“I know, but I dazzled him with my charm.”

Jon laughed. “Maggie, you don’t have any charm. Did you bully him? I know you bullied him.”

“He’s a prince, which makes him immune to the whole bullying thing. Besides, I’m a nice person.”

“Mostly, but you’re also driven and determined. I know you.”

“Better than anyone,” she agreed, keeping her voice light despite the sudden tightness in her chest. Losing her dad had been the worst thing that had ever happened to her, but losing Jon had been nearly as bad. Jon had been her best friend, her first lover…pretty much everything.

“How’s the car?” he asked.

Maggie launched into ten minutes of praise complete with technical details. She paused only when she recognized Jon’s “uh-huhs” for what they were. Lack of interest.

“You’re writing an e-mail, aren’t you?” she demanded.

“No. Of course not. I’m mesmerized by, ah, the V-8 engine.”

“It’s a V-12 and I’ll stop talking about it now. I should let you get back to work.”

“I’m glad you got the job. Let me know how it goes. Or if you need anything.”

“I will. Say hi to Elaine.”

Jon didn’t answer.

Maggie sighed. “I mean it. Say hi to her. I’m happy for you, Jonny.”

“Maggie—”

“Don’t. We’re friends. That’s what we’re supposed to be. We both know that. I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

She hung up before he could say anything else.

Despite the late hour, she was too restless to go to bed. Jet lag, she thought, knowing the twelve-or fifteen-hour time difference had messed up her body clock.

She’d traded in her pantsuit for jeans and a T-shirt. After slipping her feet into a pair of flip-flops, she opened the French doors and stepped out into the cool night air.

Her rooms faced the ocean, which was pretty exciting. Back home she had great views of the mountains, but vast expanses of water was its own special treat.

“Don’t get used to living like this,” she reminded herself. She’d rented out her house for the next couple of months. It was the end of ski season in Aspen and rentals still went for a premium. But once the job was done, she would be returning to the small house where she’d grown up, with its creaky stairs and single bathroom.

She breathed in the smell of salt air. There were lights in the garden below and the sound of voices in the distance. From what she could tell, the balcony circled the entire palace. Curious and eager to explore, Maggie closed her door behind her and started walking.

She passed empty rooms and a lot of closed and curtained windows. One set of doors stood open. She caught a glimpse of three girls cuddling on the sofa with a man who looked a little like Qadir.

A brother, she figured. From what she remembered reading, the king had several sons. No daughters. One wouldn’t want a mere woman getting in the way, she thought with a grin. What would it be like to grow up here? Rich and pampered, being given ponies from the age of three. It must be—

“Qadir, I expect more,” a gruff voice said in the darkness.

Maggie skidded to a halt so quickly, she nearly slid out of her sandals.

“In time,” Qadir said, his voice calm.

“How much time? As’ad is engaged. He will be married in a few weeks. You need to settle down, as well. How is it possible I have so many sons and no grandchildren?”

Maggie knew the smartest thing would be to turn around and head back to her room. It’s what she meant to do…except she couldn’t help wanting to listen. She’d never heard a king speak to a prince before. She couldn’t believe they were arguing, just like a regular family.

She slipped behind a large pole and did her best to stay completely silent as Qadir said, “As’ad brings you three daughters. That should be enough for a start.”

“You are not taking this seriously. With all the women you have been with, you should have found at least one you’re willing to marry.”

“Sorry. No.”

“It’s that girl,” the king murmured. “From before. She’s the reason.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

Woman? What woman? Maggie made a mental note to get on the computer and check out Qadir’s past.

“If you cannot find a bride on your own, I will find one for you,” the king said. “You will do your duty.”

There was the sound of footsteps, then a door closed. Maggie stayed in place, not sure if both men had left.

She breathed as quietly as she could and was about to go back the way she’d come when she heard Qadir say, “You can come out now. He’s gone.”

Maggie winced as heat burned her cheeks. She stepped into view. “I didn’t mean to listen in. I was taking a walk and then you were talking. I was really quiet. How did you know I was here?”

Qadir nodded toward the plate-glass window that reflected the balcony. “I saw you approaching. It does not matter. My quarrel with the king is common knowledge. It is an argument my brothers and I share with him.”

“Still, I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose.”

“You seem intent on repeating that fact.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m rude.”

“But I have already hired you. What does it matter what I think?”

“Because you’re my boss. You could fire me tomorrow.”

“True, but per our contract, you would still get paid.”

She fought against the need to roll her eyes. “While the money is important, so is doing a good job. I don’t want to leave until the car is finished. It’s a matter of pride.”

Maybe being über-rich and a sheik meant he wouldn’t understand that. Maggie doubted Qadir had ever had to work for anything.

“Will your father really find you a wife?” she asked.

“He will try. Ultimately the choice is mine. I can refuse to marry her.”

“Why would he think anyone would agree to an arranged marriage?”

Qadir leaned against the railing. “The woman in question will be marrying into a royal family. We trace our bloodline back more than a thousand years. For some, the dictates of history and rank matter far more than any matters of the heart.”

A thousand years? Maggie couldn’t imagine that. But then she’d grown up under relatively modest circumstances in a fairly typical medium-size town. Over the past few years movie stars showed up every winter to ski, but she didn’t have any contact with them. Nor did she want any. She preferred regular people to the rich and famous. And to princes. Even one as handsome as the man in front of her.

“You must have all kinds of women throwing themselves at you,” she said. “Aren’t there any you want to marry?”

Qadir raised his eyebrows. “You take my father’s side in this?”

“You’re royal. Doesn’t having heirs come with the really plush surroundings?”

“So you’re practical.”

“I understand family loyalty and duty.”

“Would you have agreed to an arranged match if it had been expected?”

Maggie considered the question. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I’d always known it was going to be that way. I’m not sure I would have liked it.”

“Such an obedient daughter.”

“Not on purpose. I loved my father very much.” He’d been all the family she’d ever had. She still expected to see him in the house or hear his footsteps. One of the big advantages of her job in El Deharia—besides the money—was that she could escape the sad memories for a few weeks.

Qadir shook his head. “I am sorry. I had forgotten your recent loss. I did not mean to remind you of your pain.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kind of bringing it with me everywhere I go.”

He nodded slowly as if he understood what it meant to lose something so precious. Did he? Maggie realized she knew nothing about Qadir beyond what she’d heard on television. She didn’t read gossip magazines. Or fashion magazines for that matter. Her idea of a great evening was when Car and Driver arrived in the mail.

“You must have other family back in Aspen,” he said. “How will they cope with you gone?”

“I, ah, I’m kind of alone. It was just my dad and me. I have a few friends, but they’re busy with their lives.”

“So you had no one to call and tell about your new job?”

“I called Jon. He worries about me.”

Qadir’s dark gaze settled on her face. “Your boyfriend?”

“Not anymore,” she said lightly. “He’s someone I’ve known forever. We grew up next door to each other. We played together when we were kids, then kind of fell in love in high school. Everyone assumed we’d get married, but it never seemed to happen.”

She’d always wondered why they hadn’t taken that last step. They’d dated for years, been each other’s first time. He was the only man she’d ever been with and until Elaine, Jon had only been with her. She still loved him—a part of her would always love him.

“I think we fell out of ‘in love,’ if that makes sense. We still care for each other, but it’s not the same. I think we would have broken up a long time ago, except my dad was sick and Jon didn’t want to dump that on me, too.”

But she’d sensed the changes in their relationship. “I ignored the obvious because of my dad dying. After he was gone, Jon and I talked and I realized it had been over for a long time.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “He’s met someone else. Elaine. She’s great and they’re crazy about each other. So that’s good.”

She mostly meant that. Jon was her friend and she wanted him to be happy. But every now and then she wondered why she couldn’t have met someone, too.

“You are very understanding,” Qadir said. “Even if it is all a mask.”

She stiffened. “I’m not pretending.”

“You’re saying there is no anger at Jon for replacing you so easily?”

“None at all,” she snapped, then sighed. “Okay, there’s a twinge, but it’s not a big deal. I don’t really want him for myself, exactly.”

“But he should have had the common courtesy to wait a while before finding the love of his life.”

“I can’t agree with that. It makes me sound horrible.”

“It makes you sound human.”

“I’m emotionally tough.” At least she was trying to be. There had been a single breakdown about five weeks ago. She’d called Jon, sobbing and trembling with pain. She’d hurt everywhere, not only from the loss of her father, but from the loss of her best friend.

Jon, being Jon, had come over to comfort her. He’d hugged her and held her and she’d wanted more. She’d kissed him and…

Maggie walked to the balcony and stared out into the night. Thinking about that night made her so ashamed. She’d seduced him because she’d wanted a chance to forget all that had happened in her life. And maybe to prove she still could.

At the time, he’d only known Elaine a couple of weeks, but Maggie had sensed they were getting serious. In a way it had been her last chance with Jon.

When it was over, neither of them had known what to say. She’d apologized, which he’d told her wasn’t necessary. Things had been awkward between them. They still were.

“Life is complicated,” she murmured.

“I agree.”

She looked at him. “You’re not going to get any sympathy from me, Prince Qadir.”

“You’re saying my life of wealth and privilege means I don’t deserve to complain.”

“Something like that.”

“You have many rules.”

“I like rules.”

“I like to break them.”

Hardly a surprise, she thought as she smiled. “Of course you do.”

He laughed. “I still do not intimidate you. What was it you called me? A guy with a checkbook and a car?”

“Is reverence an important part of the job?”

“Not at all. You may even call me by my first name, without using my title.”

“I’m honored.”

“No, you’re not, but you should be.” He took a step toward her, then touched her cheek. “Do not mourn for the man unwise enough to let such a prize go. He was born a fool and he will die a fool. Good night.”

Qadir disappeared with a speed that left Maggie gasping. She didn’t know what to think about first. The soft brush of his fingers on her cheek or what he’d said.

She wanted to protest that Jon wasn’t a fool. That he was actually a really bright guy, which was one of the things she’d always liked about him. Except she liked Qadir’s attitude about the whole thing. She also enjoyed thinking about herself as a prize to be won…by a man who was not a fool.


Chapter Two

Maggie finished getting ready, then hovered by the door, not sure if she was just supposed to go down to the garage or wait to be called or what.

“Palaces should come with instruction books,” she murmured to herself as she reached for the door handle. She might as well see if she could find her way to the garage and…

Someone knocked on her door. She pulled it open to find a pretty blonde about her age in the wide hallway.

“Hi,” the woman said. “You’re Maggie, right? I’m Victoria McCallan, secretary, fellow American and your guide to all things royal. Victoria, never Vicki, although honestly I can’t say why. It started when I was little. I think I was in a mood and I haven’t gotten over it.”

Victoria smiled as she spoke. She was a few inches shorter than Maggie, even in her insanely high heels. She wore a tailored blouse tucked into a short, dark skirt. Her skin was perfect, her nails long and painted and her hair curled to her shoulders. She was the very essence of everything female. Maggie suddenly felt tall and awkward. Not to mention seriously underdressed in her jeans and T-shirt. She didn’t want to imagine what Victoria would think about the coveralls she had in her duffel.

“You are Maggie, aren’t you?”

“Most days.”

Victoria laughed. “Welcome to the palace. It’s great here.”

“Is there a map?”

“If only. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been lost. We need internal GPS or something. They could implant us with a chip and track us.” She wrinkled her nose. “On second thought, maybe not. Are you really here to fix a car?”

“Work on one. I’m restoring an old Rolls-Royce.” She thought about going into more detail, but figured the other woman’s eyes would glaze over.

“On purpose?”

“It’s not going to happen otherwise.”

“I never got the car thing.”

Maggie looked at Victoria’s perfect outfit. “I never got the clothes thing. I hate shopping.”

“I shop enough for two so you’re covered. Come on. I’ll show you the way.”

Victoria waited while Maggie grabbed her duffel.

“Do I want to know what’s in there?” the other woman asked.

Maggie thought about her personal tools and coveralls. “No.”

“Good to know. The El Deharian palace was originally built in the eighth century. There are still parts of the old exterior walls visible. I can show you later, if you’d like. The main structure is broken down into four quadrants, much like the interior of a cathedral, but without the religious implication. There is artwork from around the world on display. At any given time, the paintings alone are valued at nearly a billion dollars.”

Victoria pointed to a painting on a wall. “An early Renoir. Just a little FYI, don’t even think about taking it back to your room for a private viewing. It’s protected by a state-of-the-art security system. However, if you insist on trying, rumor is they’ll take you down to the dungeon and cut off your head.”

“Good to know,” Maggie murmured. “I don’t know much about art. I’ll keep it that way. How do you know so much about the palace?”

“I like to read. There’s a lot of great history here. Plus I’ve been asked to fill in a few times when foreign dignitaries want a private tour after dinner when the regular tour staff has gone home.”

“You live here—in the palace?”

“Just down the hall. I’ve been here nearly two years.” She paused at a staircase. “Look at that hideous baby in the painting.” She pointed to a large oil painting on the wall. “It’s the easiest way to remember your wing and floor. Trust me, most of the other art is much more attractive.”

“Good to know.”

Victoria started down the stairs. “As live-in staff you’re entitled to a whole bundle of goodies. Free laundry, access to the kitchen. I will warn you that you have to be careful with the food. You can really pack on the pounds in a heartbeat. I gained the freshman fifteen when I first moved here. Now I make sure I walk everywhere.”

Maggie eyed her high heels. “In those?”

“Of course. They go with my outfit.”

“Don’t they hurt?”

“Not until about four in the afternoon.”

Victoria led her downstairs, then along a long corridor that led to the rear garden. At least Maggie thought it was the rear garden. It looked a little like what she and Qadir had passed through the day before.

“Back to the kitchen,” Victoria said. “You can call in your request at any time. They do post a menu online, so if you want to just order from that, they’ll love you more. Everything is delicious. Unless you want to weigh four hundred pounds, avoid the desserts.” She looked at Maggie. “Of course, you’re probably one of those annoying women who doesn’t have to watch what she eats.”

“I’m pretty physically active during my day,” Maggie admitted.

“Great. And here I thought we’d be friends.” She pulled a key out of her skirt which, apparently, had a pocket, and passed it over. “You have private access. Very impressive.”

She waited while Maggie unlocked the side door, then they stepped into the massive garage.

Victoria paused by the door as the automatic lights came on, but Maggie walked directly to the Rolls, stopping only when she could touch the smooth lines of the perfect beauty.

Victoria paused behind her. “It’s, um, old.”

“A classic.”

“And dirty. And kind of in bad shape. You can fix that?”

Maggie nodded, already visualizing what the car could be. “I’m going to be searching for original parts, if I can find them. It will be a pain, but in the end, I want her exactly as she was.”

“Okay, then. Sounds like fun.” Victoria walked to a door. “This is your office.”

Office? Maggie had expected a bay in the garage and a toolbox. She got an office, too?

The space was large, clean and fully equipped. In addition to the desk with a computer, there were bookshelves filled with catalogs and a wall-size tool organizer.

Victoria opened the desk drawer and pulled out a credit card. “Yours. You are allowed to get whatever you need for the car. Qadir has placed no restrictions on your spending. I’m thinking you’ll want to avoid a trip to the Bahamas, however. What with the whole beheading thing.”

Maggie laughed. “Thanks for the tip. Is this really for me?”

“All of it. I was in here late yesterday and set up your computer. You’re already connected to the Internet.”

“Thanks.” Maggie had been excited about the job before—working on the Rolls would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for her. But to have all this, too, was unbelievable. “Guess I’m not still in Kansas.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Colorado. Aspen.”

“It’s supposed to be beautiful there.”

“It is.”

“How’d you end up in El Deharia?” Victoria asked. As she spoke, she rested one hip on the desk.

Maggie figured with those shoes, she would want to stay off her feet as much as possible.

“My dad had talked to Qadir about restoring the car. They were still working the deal when my dad got sick. Cancer. Things were put on hold, then he died and I decided I wanted the job.”

It was the simple version of the story, Maggie thought, not wanting to tell someone she’d barely met that she had been forced to sell the business to pay for medical bills and that this job with Prince Qadir was her only chance of keeping her promise to her father about buying it back.

“I’m sorry about your loss,” Victoria said. “That has to be hard. Is your mom still alive?”

“No. She died when I was a baby. It was just my dad and me, but it was great. I loved being with him in the shop and learning about cars.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s a handy skill.” Victoria tilted her head so her curls fell. “So that’s all this is about? A job?”

“What else would it be?”

“Marrying a prince. That’s why I’m here.”

Maggie blinked. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Not very well,” Victoria admitted with a sigh. “I work for Prince Nadim—he’s one of Qadir’s cousins. I keep waiting for him to notice me, but so far, it’s not happening. Still, I have faith. One day he’ll look up, see me and be swept away.”

Maggie wasn’t sure what to say. “You don’t sound like you’re madly in love with him.”

“I’m not,” Victoria said with a grin. “Love is dangerous and for fools. I’m keeping my heart safely out of the game. But what little girl doesn’t want to grow up and be a princess?”

There had to be more to the story than that, Maggie thought. Victoria was too friendly and open to only care about money. Or maybe not. Maggie didn’t have that many female friends. Most women were put off by the car thing.

Victoria glanced at her watch. “I have to get back.” She bent over the desk and scribbled down a number. “That’s my cell. Call me if you have any questions, or if you want to have dinner or something. The palace is beautiful, but it can be a little scary at first. Not to mention lonely. We can hang out.”

“Eat dessert?”

Victoria sighed. “Yes, and then I’ll have to take the stairs even more than I do. Good 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 smiled. “There’s a waiting area over by the garden.”

“I hope it’s covered. You don’t want them getting sunburned.”

As she spoke she leaned against the desk. She was tall. He couldn’t see much of her shape under the coveralls she wore, but he remembered how she had looked the previous day and was intrigued. Curves and a personality, not to mention humor. How often did he find that combination?

A flicker of heat burst to life inside him, making him wonder how she would taste if he kissed her. Not that he was going to. He was far more interested in her abilities as a mechanic than her charms as a woman. But a man could wonder…

He amused himself by imagining his father’s reaction if he were to start dating Maggie. Would the monarch be horrified, or would he be pleased to see yet another of his sons settling down? Not that it mattered. Speculation was one thing, but acting was another—and he had no plans to act.

“I come bearing food,” Victoria said as she stepped into the garage. “One of the cooks told me you never get away for lunch. He assumes you don’t appreciate his culinary masterpieces. Trust me, those are people you don’t want to annoy.”

Maggie straightened and set down her wrench, then pulled off her gloves. “Thanks for the warning. I’ve been so busy pulling everything apart, I haven’t stopped to eat.”

Victoria set the basket on a cart. “Let me guess. You’re one of those annoying people who forgets to eat.”

“Sometimes.”

“Then we’ll never be really, really close.”

Maggie laughed. “I think you’re a strong enough person to overlook that flaw. Come on. Let’s go eat in my office. It’s cleaner there.”

While Maggie washed her hands in the small bathroom, Victoria set out their lunch. She’d brought a salad with walnuts, arugula and Gorgonzola. Several mini sandwiches on fresh foccacia bread, fruit, drinks and chocolate-chip cookies that were still warm.

“I thought I was supposed to avoid dessert,” Maggie said as she took her seat.

Victoria settled in the one opposite. “It’s your fault. I had to placate the cooks.” She slipped off her high heels and wiggled her toes. “Heaven.”

“Why do you wear those if they hurt?”

“They don’t all hurt. Besides, without them, I feel short and unimpressive. Plus men really like women in high heels.”

Maggie laughed. “I’ve never thought about being impressive. And I’ve never tried to get a man that way. By being attractive.”

“You could in a heartbeat,” Victoria told her as she speared a piece of lettuce. “I would kill for your bone structure.”

The compliment pleased Maggie. She’d always thought of herself as a tomboy. Girls like Victoria usually avoided her.

“How is it working with Qadir?” Victoria asked.

“Great. He really wants me to make the car perfect, which is what I want, too. I love not having a budget. It’s very freeing. The progress is going to be slow at first, which he understands. I appreciate that. He’s—”

She pressed her lips together as Victoria raised her eyebrows. “What?” Maggie asked.

“Nothing. I’m glad he’s an excellent boss.”

“That’s what you asked me.”

“I meant as a man.”

“Oh.” Maggie grabbed a sandwich. “He’s fine.”

Victoria laughed. “He’s a sheik prince worth billions. He’s one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world and all you can say is he’s fine?”

Maggie grinned. “How about really fine?”

“Better, but still. You’re really not interested in him.”

“Not as anything but the man who pays me.”

“Interesting. Then I guess you won’t be angling for an invitation to the ball.”

Maggie nearly choked. “There’s going to be a ball?”

“Uh-huh. To celebrate Prince As’ad’s engagement to Kayleen. They’ve been together for a while now, but no one was supposed to know. The official announcement was put off until Princess Lina, the king’s sister, married King Hassan of Baharia a few weeks ago. Anyway, the ball is where the news is made public and everyone who works in the palace is invited. Apparently when the guest list is a thousand, what’s a couple hundred more?”

“I’ve never been to a ball,” Maggie admitted. Her only frame of reference was cartoons with princesses as stars and she hadn’t really been into watching them.

“Me, either, but I’m very excited. It’s sort of a once-in-a-lifetime chance to wear a formal gown and dance with a handsome prince. I’ll be hoping Nadim finally sees me as a person and not his efficient secretary.”

“But you don’t love him,” Maggie said.

“I know. I wasn’t kidding before—love is for suckers. But if he offered me a sensible marriage of convenience, I sure wouldn’t say no. I think I could be a good wife to him. Better than some of those plastic bimbos his father parades around the palace. Anyway, my point is, you should come to the ball. It will be great fun. You can tell your grandchildren about it.”

Maggie wasn’t exactly tempted, although the idea was a little intriguing. She’d come to El Deharia to get away, but also to experience something new in her life.

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

“They lead, you follow. I have an appointment to try on dresses. Come with me. It’ll get you in the mood.”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t actually been invited.”

“You will be. Ask Qadir.”

“Ask me what?”

They both turned and found the prince in her office. Victoria started to stand, which told Maggie she should be doing the same. Qadir waved them both back into their seats.

“Ask me what?” he repeated.

“I was telling Maggie about the ball celebrating Prince As’ad’s engagement. As all live-in employees are invited, Maggie said she would love to come.”

Maggie scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t. I’m not interested in the ball.” She knew Victoria meant well but she, Maggie, didn’t want Qadir thinking she was using him or their relationship. She motioned to the coveralls she wore. “I’m not exactly ball material.”

Qadir nodded slowly. “Perhaps not today,” he said slowly. “But I see possibilities.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Victoria told him.

Possibilities? What did that mean?

Maggie told herself not to read too much into the word. Besides, what did she care about Qadir’s opinion on anything but the car? He was just some guy. Royal, but still.

“I already have some dresses ordered,” Victoria continued. “I could have them send a few more in Maggie’s impossibly skinny size. With her hair up and in high heels, she could be a princess.”

Maggie glared at her friend. What was Victoria up to?

“I agree.” Qadir nodded. “Maggie, you will attend the ball.”

With that, he turned and left.

Maggie waited until she was sure they were alone, then glared at Victoria. “What were you doing?”

“Throwing you in the path of a handsome prince. My quest for a royal connection has failed miserably, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be successful.”

“But I’m not interested in him that way.” She didn’t think she would ever be interested in another man. Loving and losing Jon had been too painful.

“Can you honestly look at me and tell me you aren’t the tiniest bit excited by the thought of dressing up in fancy clothes and dancing with Qadir?”

“We’ll dance?”

“See! You’re interested.”

“No. It’s just I’ve never done anything like that.”

“All the more reason to do it,” Victoria told her. “Come on—it will be fun. We’ll both be fabulous and the princes won’t be able to resist us.”

Maggie had a feeling she would always be resistible, but allowed herself to momentarily wonder what it would be like to dance with a prince.


Chapter Three

“What is the longest river in America?” the guy on the radio asked.

“The Missouri,” Maggie said as she undid the first screw in the window cranks from the door. “The Mississippi is the biggest, but the Missouri is the longest.”

“Ah, the Mississippi,” the contestant said.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Ha!” Maggie crowed as she set the screw into the small labeled plastic container next to her. “You have to pay attention in school.”

“Or have a mind for trivia,” Qadir said from his place at her desk.

She looked at the open office door and sighed. “You can hear me?”

“Obviously.”

The American radio station in El Deharia ran a quiz every afternoon at two. She’d gotten in the habit of listening. Usually she was alone.

But today Qadir had stopped by to check out the parts list she’d put together. She’d sort of forgotten he was still in her office.

At least she’d gotten the answer right, she told herself. It beat getting it wrong.

Qadir stepped out into the garage. “You’ll need access to a machine shop,” he said.

“Along with a good machinist. I can explain what I want, but I can’t make it myself.”

She was rebuilding the engine rather than buying a new one. Unfortunately time had not been kind to many of the original parts and replacements were difficult, sometimes impossible, to find. She would buy what she could and have the others custom-made.

She smiled. “I’m sure you have contacts for me.”

“I do.”

“I figured. The thrill of being royal.”

“There are many.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“It is all I know. But there are disadvantages. My brothers and I were sent away to English boarding school when we were eight or nine. The headmaster was determined to treat us as if we were regular students. It was an adjustment, to say the least.”

“Doesn’t sound like fun,” she admitted, grateful for her normal life. “Were the other boys friendly?”

“Some of them. Some were resentful, and eager to show us they were stronger.”

“Bullies.” She went to work on the second screw.

“Sometimes. My brothers and I learned how to fit in very quickly.”

“At least you had a palace to come home to.”

“And a pony.”

She laughed. “Of course. Every royal child deserves a pony. I had to make do with a stuffed one. It was one of the few girly toys I liked. I was more into doing things with my dad than hanging out with the other little girls in the neighborhood. I hated playing dolls. I wasn’t very popular.”

“Until the boys got old enough to appreciate you.”

He was being kind, or assuming something that wasn’t true. Either way, she didn’t know how to respond. That combined with a particularly stubborn screw caused her to slip and jam the screwdriver into the side of her hand.

“Ouch,” she yelped and set down the screwdriver. Blood welled up.

Qadir was at her side in an instant, taking her hand in his. “What have you done?”

His touch was warm and sure. “Ah, nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Still holding her hand, he led her to the small bathroom and turned on the water. “Is it serious? Will you need stitches?”

Stitches? Just the thought of a needle piercing her flesh was enough to make her woozy. “Not if I haven’t cut anything off.”

She pulled free of his touch and shoved her hand under the water. The wound stung, but wasn’t too bad. She managed to rub on some soap without screaming too loudly, then held still as he applied a bandage he’d found in the medicine cabinet. He was surprisingly competent at the task.

When he’d finished, he took her hand again and examined it. “I think you will survive.”

“Good to know.” Even not thinking about the needle, she felt a little lightheaded. How strange.

Maybe it was the bathroom itself. The space was pretty tight and Qadir took up a lot of room. But even all that didn’t explain the sudden thumping of her heart or the way she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

She was aware of the flecks of gold in his dark eyes and couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his mouth which was, by the way, a very nice mouth. They were close enough for her to inhale the crisp, clean, masculine scent of him.

He smiled at her. “You will be more careful next time?”

She nodded without speaking.

“Excellent. I must return to my office.”

He released her hand and walked away. Maggie stayed where she was, her body oddly tense, her fingers tingling despite the pain from the cut.

What had just happened? She couldn’t seem to focus and the few thoughts that did pop into her brain seemed unrelated to anything. The tiny puncture wound couldn’t be responsible and there was no way she’d lost a significant amount of blood. It was the weirdest thing.

She looked toward the garage to where Qadir had stood only moments before. This couldn’t be about him, could it? She wasn’t attracted to her boss. It was a recipe for disaster. She knew better. And even if she didn’t, she was still mourning the fact that she and Jon weren’t together. She wasn’t interested in anyone else. She couldn’t be.

Maggie stared at the rack of elegant, sophisticated, expensive gowns and felt as if she’d stepped into a movie star’s dressing room.

“I thought they’d be like prom dresses,” she admitted. “These are real gowns.”

“I know,” Victoria said with a sigh. “They’re beautiful.”

“I can’t afford them.”

“Neither can I. Fortunately we get a discount.”

Unless it was an ninety-five percent discount, there was no way Maggie could buy one of these dresses. She needed the money to buy back her father’s business. She couldn’t waste a few thousand dollars on a dress she would wear once.

“Still,” she murmured, not sure how to explain to her friend that there was no way this was happening.

Victoria patted her arm. “You have to trust me. I don’t want to endanger my IRA any more than you do. These are to give us ideas only. Then we’re heading into the back.”

“What’s in the back?”

Victoria laughed. “I can see you’re not going to trust me. Come on. I’ll show you.”

They walked through the elegant boutique with the plush carpeting and soothing music. At the rear of the store, they stepped past heavy curtains and found themselves in a plain corridor. Victoria walked purposefully toward a simple door. She pushed it open and then moved to the side.

“Prepare to be amazed,” she said.

Maggie stepped inside. There were dozens of racks, all crammed with beautiful clothes. Pantsuits and dresses, blouses, skirts.

“I don’t get it. Why are these here?” she asked.

“Consignment,” Victoria told her in a low, amused voice. “The very rich and elegant bring their barely worn clothes here where hardworking young women can buy them for pennies on the dollar. How do you think I can afford to dress like I do? I get a four-hundred-dollar blouse for all of fifty dollars. You can find anything here and the quality is amazing. I love this place. Seriously, the evening wear is discounted the most because so few people have any interest in it. The stuff is practically free.”

That was a discount Maggie could get behind. “They really have ball gowns here?”

“They have everything. Because I’m short and chubby, I’ll be buying used. You, on the other hand, are tall and willowy so you can probably squeeze your tiny butt into a sample. Not that I’m bitter.”

Maggie grinned. “Willowy is a nice way to say flat chested.”

Victoria wove through the dozens of racks until she found one with her name on it. She quickly sorted through the dresses and handed Maggie six.

“Now we try them on,” Victoria said.

Maggie took them into the large dressing room on the left while her friend took the one on the right. As she pulled off her jeans and her T-shirt, she had trouble believing she was really trying on dresses for an actual ball. Three weeks ago, she’d been attempting to sort out her life in Aspen. How could so much have changed so quickly?

Unable to find the answer, she pulled on the first dress. It was peach, with a fitted bodice and a tiered skirt that fell in waves of shimmering fabric. Victoria ripped back the curtain and sucked in her breath.

“I knew you’d look fabulous. That dress is amazing.”

“It’s unusual,” Maggie said, facing her reflection. She had to admit that the color was good for her, but she wasn’t sure about the fluffy skirt.

“It’s couture, honey, and when it looks that good, you say a little prayer. I, of course, am hanging out everywhere and will have to pay to get this sucker hemmed.”

Victoria’s dress was black, strapless and fit her like it had been painted on. Maggie did her best not to be bitter about the curves spilling over the top. But hemming would be required. At least six inches of fabric bunched on the floor.

“Nadim won’t be able to resist you,” she said honestly.

“Aren’t you sweet? He’s managed to resist me very well so far, but I’m not going to think about that. Instead I’m going to talk you into that dress. You’ll be dazzling. I know you’re not interested in Qadir, but there will be plenty of handsome, successful men at the ball. You can dazzle them instead.”

For a second Maggie wondered if Jon would be dazzled. Then she reminded herself she wasn’t going to think about him anymore. Not that way.

In truth, she didn’t want to be involved with him. She just missed him.

“Uh-oh,” Victoria said as she put her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me? There’s a guy, isn’t there? I can tell just by looking at you.”

“There’s no guy,” Maggie told her.

Victoria kept staring.

“Okay, maybe there’s half a guy.”

“Interesting. Which half?”

That made Maggie laugh. “I mean I’m only half involved. Or less, even. I keep telling myself Jon is just a habit.”

“A bad one, I’m guessing.”

“We grew up next door to each other, so I’ve known him all my life. In high school, we started dating. Everyone assumed we would always be together.”

“Including you,” Victoria said.

Maggie nodded. “Then we started drifting apart. I think we both sensed the change, but neither of us wanted to be the first one to say anything. Then my dad got sick. By then we knew it was over, but Jon didn’t want to break up while I was dealing with my dad’s death, so the relationship went on longer than it should have.”

She drew in a breath. “The thing is, we’ve been best friends forever. That’s the part that’s hard to give up. I miss talking to him. But he’s with someone else and the truth is, we’re not best friends anymore.”

Victoria gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. That has to be hard. You lost your guy and your dad so close together. It’s okay to take the time to deal with that.”

“I know. I’m just ready to be over him.”

“Love sucks the big one,” Victoria said firmly. “It’s why I’m never giving away my heart. I want a sensible arrangement with a man who is all about security and convention.”

Maggie was surprised. Victoria seemed spontaneous and fun loving. “Won’t that be boring for you?”

“Nope. I want safe and practical. Did you know it’s a really big deal for a prince to divorce? So they never do. I like that in a man.”

“Part of Nadim’s charm?” Maggie asked.

Her friend nodded. “A lot of it. Plus, my dad can be…difficult.” Victoria shrugged. “Having a prince on my side would really help.”

Maggie sensed there were a lot of secrets in Victoria’s past, but she didn’t want to pry. The other woman would tell her when she was ready.

“I’m going to think about not making a fool of myself,” Maggie muttered. “Is there a book or brochure telling us how we’re supposed to act and stuff, because I could use some pointers.”

Victoria grinned. “I’ll see what I can find. It will be practice for when we attend the wedding.”

A royal wedding? “I don’t think I’ll still be here,” Maggie told her. “I should have the car done in less than two months.”

“The wedding is in six weeks. Apparently As’ad is very anxious to claim his bride. So you’ll get to be there. If nothing else, you can fly back to dance at mine.”

Standing in the dressing area of her suite, Maggie stared at the peach dress practically floating on the hanger. Victoria had been right. It was the perfect choice.

On the floor by the fluffy hem was a shopping bag containing a pair of high-heeled sandals and an evening bag, also purchased from the consignment room at the boutique.

“I’m really going to a royal ball,” Maggie murmured to herself, unable to believe it was happening. She was just some mechanic from Colorado. Stuff like that didn’t happen to her.

She tucked her hands into her pockets to keep herself from reaching for the phone. The need to call Jon was powerful and she wanted to resist. While they had both claimed they would always be friends, the truth was, they weren’t. Not the way they had been.

Everything was different and there was no going back. Everything was—

The phone rang. Maggie jumped, then walked into the living room and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“You’re hard to track down.”

The familiar voice stole the strength from her legs. She sank onto the sofa and tried to remember to breathe.

“Jon. Is everything okay?”

“Sure. I’m calling to check on you. I haven’t heard from you and wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Everything is fine.”

Which it was—so why was she suddenly fighting tears?

Probably the loneliness, she told herself. She missed her dad and she missed Jon.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Of course. Work on the car is going really well and you’ll never guess. There’s going to be a royal ball here, and I’ve been invited.”

“Good for you.”

“It’s kind of a strange thing, but I think it will be fun. And I’ve made a few friends. There’s a great secretary here who is also American. We’ve been hanging out together.” Maggie talked a little more about her life then said, “How are things there?”

“Busy. It’s quarterly season and you know what that means.”

She did. Jon was a corporate accountant. While she couldn’t relate to his world of numbers and reports, she knew he liked it.

“How’s Elaine?” she asked, because the alternative was to say that she missed him and she refused to go there.

He hesitated. “Maggie, I…”

“I’m allowed to ask and you’re supposed to answer,” she told him. “Don’t we at least have that much left?”

“It’s not that. I hate how things ended between us. I want it to be better and I’m not sure talking about Elaine is the best way for that to happen.”

Heat burned on her cheeks. She knew he was thinking about the last night they’d been together. When she’d called him sobbing about her father and he’d come over, because that’s the kind of man he was. Then she’d kissed him and…

She pushed the memory away. In theory, they were equally at fault. It wasn’t as if Jon had said no. But somehow she always felt that she was the one to blame.

“I’ve let it go,” she told him and realized she meant it. She still felt stupid, but she wasn’t longing for a repeat performance. “You’ve let it go. We’re moving on. So answer the question. How’s Elaine?”

“Good. Great. We’re spending a lot of time together.”

She could hear his affection in his voice. Maybe it was more than affection; maybe it was love.

“I’m glad,” she said firmly. “You deserve someone great in your life.”

“You, too. But watch out for those princes at the ball. They play by different rules.”

That made her smile. “I’m hardly in danger, Jon.”

“You’re exactly what they’re looking for.”

She glanced at her scarred hands and thought about the long days she spent in a garage working on cars. She doubted a lot of princes dreamed about a woman like her. “If you say so.”

They talked for a few more minutes, then said goodbye and hung up. As Maggie replaced the phone, she realized she didn’t hurt as much as she thought she would. That talking to him had actually been…nice.

She probed her heart, trying to figure out if she had regrets that things were over between them. There was tenderness there, but it was a whole lot more about missing her friend than missing her lover. Maybe she hadn’t been lying when she’d said they’d both moved on. And wouldn’t that be a good thing?

“They’re not comfortable,” Maggie grumbled as Victoria rolled her hair with heated curlers.

“Beauty is pain. Suck it up, honey.”

Maggie eyed her friend. Victoria was a blond stunner, with her hair piled on top of her head and makeup emphasizing her beautiful features.

“So you practically had to cut off a leg to look like that?” Maggie teased.

Victoria laughed. “What a sweet thing to say. Hold on to that thought because when I’m done with your hair, I’m going to pluck your eyebrows.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re going to have to trust me.”

An hour later Maggie stared at herself in the mirror. “Wow.”

“I know. You had all that potential just lurking. Maybe now you’ll take a second or two and put on mascara in the morning.”

Maggie knew that was never going to happen, but she had to say she’d cleaned up a lot better than she’d ever imagined she could.

Her hair had been pinned up in a loose style that allowed a few curls to tumble down to her shoulders. Makeup made her eyes look big and her mouth all pouty. Victoria had lent her a pair of dangling earrings that sparkled, and the dress fit her perfectly, emphasizing the few curves she had.

“I like it,” she said slowly, then shifted her weight and winced. “But the shoes are killing me and don’t say beauty is pain again.”

“You’ll get used to them.” Victoria linked arms with her and stared at their reflection. “Damn. I’m still short.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“We both are.”

Her friend was being generous, Maggie thought, but she was in the mood to accept the compliment.

There was a knock at the door. The two women looked at each other.

“It’s your room,” Victoria pointed out. “So I’m not expecting anyone.”

Maggie walked to the door, nearly falling off her high heels as she moved. She opened the door and found Qadir standing there.

“Good evening,” he said. “I am here to escort you two ladies to the ball.”

Maggie stared at the handsome prince in his tuxedo. He looked perfect, but then he always did. “Really? That’s so nice. Thank you. We’re about ready.”

She stopped talking and held in a groan. That’s so nice? Could she have said something more stupid?

He stepped into the suite. “Hello, Victoria.”

“Prince Qadir. You’re looking especially royal this evening.”

He smiled. “Thank you. You’re both very beautiful.”

Victoria grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her into the bedroom. “You know he’s here for you, don’t you? I’m just a pity date.”

“What? No. He’s not. He’s my boss.”

“So he’s carrying on a time-honored tradition. Be careful, Maggie. You lead with your heart.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Please. Qadir isn’t here for me. He’s just being polite.”

“Uh-huh. Do you see Nadim being polite and taking me to the party? Qadir is intrigued and when the man in question is a prince, you need to be careful.”

Maggie appreciated her friend’s warning, but there was no need. Qadir would never see her as anything other than his employee. Not that she wanted him to.

The two women collected their evening bags and returned to the living room. Qadir escorted them both downstairs and led them to the elevator.

When the doors opened on the main floor, she could hear music. There were dozens of people in the wide hallway, all moving toward the massive open doors at the far end.

There were lights everywhere. Bright chandeliers and sconces illuminated the well-dressed crowd. More people pushed toward them and Maggie found herself separated from Qadir and Victoria.

She didn’t mind. Victoria’s well-meaning advice had made her a little uncomfortable. Qadir didn’t see her as a woman and she wasn’t about to get any ideas about him. Sure, he’d been great about the car and he was easy to work for, but there was nothing between them.

She pushed Victoria’s words to the back of her mind and concentrated on the beauty of the ballroom.

There was a dais at one end, with an orchestra playing. There were dozens and dozens of food tables scattered around the outside of the room with an equal number of bars between them. Guests pressed together, talking and laughing.

The women were so beautiful, Maggie thought, not sure where to look first. Regardless of their ages, they were stunning in amazing gowns and glittering jewels.

She reached up and touched the earrings Victoria had loaned her. The stones were glass, the gold merely a colored finish. But that didn’t matter. No one had to know they weren’t real or that she’d bought her gown on consignment. For tonight, she was attending a royal ball and she planned to enjoy herself.

She waited in line to get a glass of champagne, then sipped the bubbly liquid. People stood in groups around her, talking loudly. Some of the conversations were in English, but many were not. She recognized a few of the languages.

She moved closer to a large plant and wished she hadn’t agreed to the high-heeled sandals Victoria had insisted on. She’d only been at the ball a few minutes and her feet already hurt.

Maggie glanced around to make sure no one was paying any attention to her, then she eased back behind the plant, slipped out of her shoes and bent down to grab them. She’d just started tucking them out of sight in the planter when someone came up behind her and said, “I’m not sure the king would approve.”





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