The Nanny and the Sheikh

by Barbara McMahon

  Happy New Year!

  I hope 2007 is going to be a great New Year for you. It certainly is going to be an exciting year for Harlequin Romance! We’ll be bringing you:

  More of what you love!

  From February, six Harlequin Romances will be hitting the shelves every month. You’ll find stories from your favorite authors, as well as some exciting new names, too!

  A new date for your diary…

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  Most important, Harlequin Romance will continue to offer the kinds of stories you love—and more! From royalty to ranchers, bumps to babies, big cities to exotic desert kingdoms, these are emotional and uplifting stories, from the heart, for the heart!

  So make a date with Harlequin Romance—in the middle of each month—and we promise it will be the most romantic date you’ll make!

  Happy reading!

  Kimberley Young

  Senior Editor

  BARBARA MCMAHON

  The Nanny and the Sheikh

  THE BRIDES OF BELLA LUCIA

  A family torn apart by secrets, reunited by marriage

  Having the Frenchman’s Baby—Rebecca Winters

  Coming Home to the Cowboy—Patricia Thayer

  The Rebel Prince—Raye Morgan

  Wanted: Outback Wife—Ally Blake

  Married Under the Mistletoe—Linda Goodnight

  Crazy About the Boss—Teresa Southwick

  The Nanny and the Sheikh—Barbara McMahon

  The Valentine Bride—Liz Fielding

  To Pat McLaughlin—a long-distance friend dear to my heart! Thank goodness for phones!

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  MELISSA FOX threw down her pencil and rubbed her eyes. Arching her back, she tried to relieve the tense muscles. Translating business documents wasn’t the most stimulating activity. She shook her head and took a deep breath, glancing around the crowded office of Bella Lucia. The headquarters for the famous London restaurant group was a busy place. The accountants had their own row, quieter than where she was working. The general manager had a private office. She was seated in an extra desk near the receptionist who fielded a gazillion phone calls a day.

  But she shouldn’t complain. She was between jobs and thankful to have something to do. Her mother had obtained this assignment for her through her new husband. It was only temporary, until mid-February when she flew to the United States to take on a new family.

  A professional nanny, Melissa had recently quit her job as childcare resident at a large international hotel in Lake Geneva. She’d been there for five years, and had loved every minute. Or, almost every moment. Until the debacle with Paul. Now she planned to move on to working as nanny to a single family. The McDonalds were expecting their third child in February. When they had met her last fall in Switzerland, they’d talked her into accepting an assignment with them when the new baby arrived. After the end of her relationship with Paul, she was ready to change. Their current nanny was planning to marry in late January and the timing would be perfect.

  Melissa looked back at the lengthy document. She was almost finished. She would complete the translation today before heading home. At loose ends since quitting her job just before the holidays, she was grateful for the chance to earn some money until she took up her new position. But she missed the children and the activities and her friends in Switzerland. Still, the chance to spend some time with her mother was great.

  Staring at the page, she let her mind wander a bit. When her mother had prevailed upon her new husband, Robert Valentine, to offer Melissa a temporary job, Robert’s oldest son, Max, had come up with a spot in the office for the exclusive Bella Lucia restaurant business. She’d started by filing, then answering the phones. Once Max had discovered she was fluent in French, he had immediately started her on translating a stack of documents he had received from Sheikh Surim Al-Thani who lived in Qu’ Arim, an Arabic country on the Persian Gulf. Apparently the two men had been corresponding for some time about the feasibility of opening a Bella Lucia restaurant in Qu’ Arim. Sheikh Surim Al-Thani and Max wrote their letters in English. It was the construction firm giving preliminary bids who used French.

  Working with the translations, Melissa was learning a great deal about the restaurant business and how Max envisioned the operations to run. She cross-referenced the documents with the correspondence between Max and the sheikh. It was a new venture for the family-owned and -operated restaurants—expanding in a foreign market. She knew Max had mentioned opening a few more worldwide if this one proved successful. Maybe he’d open one in Boston one day—near enough that she could visit while she was employed by the McDonald family.

  She picked up her pencil to begin again. Only a few more paragraphs.

  The sheikh was building a luxury resort right on the Gulf. The restaurant would be the jewel in the crown of the new holiday destination, he’d said. He had plans to make the entire seaside complex the premier place to visit in that part of the world.

  Melissa wished wistfully that she could visit herself. It was rainy and cold in London. Switzerland, where she’d lived the last few years, was buried in snow. How wonderful would it be to visit a tropical resort in January, laze around on the beach, visit souks and find exotic goods at rock-bottom prices?

  The McDonald family lived in Massachusetts, which was also under snow. Apparently she was destined to live in cold climes.

  Max came up to her desk.

  “Got a moment?” he asked.

  “Sure, what’s up?” She still wasn’t used to the fact that Max Valentine was her new stepbrother, but already liked him very much. He was tall, dark and handsome, and, though her own feelings toward him were purely platonic, she could see why Max had more than one woman in the office preening every time he walked through.

  “Come back into my office if you would.”

  Melissa followed him into his office and sat on one of the visitor chairs.

  He leaned back in his own chair studying her for a moment, a small smile playing around his mouth. “I have to fly to Qu’ Arim on Sunday as I’m meeting Surim for a final session before we sign all the paperwork. They’ve already started building and I’d like to see the setup. It’s thanks to the translations you’ve done that we’ve got a lot of the preliminary work behind us, so…” he paused “…how would you like to come with me?”

  “To Qu’ Arim? I’d love to!” Melissa felt a surge of excitement. Look out beaches, she was on her way! How terrific of Max to offer her the chance. It would be more like a vacation than work. And a fabulous opportunity to see more of the world.

  “It will only be for a week and I expect to return home by the following weekend. We’ll stay with Surim.’ Max smiled. “His home is large enough for a battalion.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Several times. He stays with me when he’s in London. He and I went to Eton together. Until our final year.”

  “What happened then?” Melissa asked, intrigued to learn she might get to meet a real-live sheikh and that he had actually gone to school in her country.

  “His father died and he had to return home and assume the role of leader before we graduated.”

  “At sixteen or seventeen? How could anyone that young rule a country?”

  “He w
as young, but had lots of advisors,” said Max. “By diligently working with the various factions in his country over the years, he’s been able to pull the country into a united front. Which probably saved its economy at the same time.”

  “Isn’t Qu’ Arim known for oil and pearls?” she asked. She’d read up on the country when she’d first begun the translations.

  Max nodded. “And fishing. Their pearl industry used to contribute a bigger percentage to their wealth, but money from oil far outweighs it now. Consequently that industry gets bigger press. But high-quality pearls from Qu’ Arim are well known and sought after by experts.” He stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. “Anyway, plan on staying a week. And you’ll need to bring something dressy—if I know Surim, we’ll attend at least one reception. We’ll leave early Sunday.”

  Melissa nodded and rose, almost dancing with delight. “I appreciate this, Max.”

  “You’ll be helping me out. If that contractor has anything new to report, I’ll need to have an instant translator. You’re up to speed on where we stand, so you’ll be more valuable than anyone new to the project who could translate,” Max said, grinning at her obvious excitement.

  Melissa smiled back and left, and as she tidied her desk her bright smile refused to fade. She was going to Qu’ Arim! She loved to travel and see new sights. She’d visited much of Europe on holidays, but she’d never been to the Middle East with its exotic and mysterious settings. And what better time of year to escape the rain and cold of London?

  It was dark by the time she left the building a short time later. She stared at the dreary January weather, wondering if she could catch a cab or was destined to take the underground and then walk the few blocks to the house. She had her umbrella, but the thought of splashing through cold puddles for several blocks held no appeal. Instead, she dwelt on the thought that in only a few days she’d be in sunshine and warmth.

  When Melissa reached home, she was disappointed to find it empty. She was anxious to share her good news. Her mother and Robert had probably gone to an afternoon matinee or something. Robert and her mum were in the honeymoon stage, having been married less than a year. While she was glad for her mum—it had been far too long since her own father had died—nevertheless sometimes she felt left out.

  Had things gone differently with Paul, Melissa might have been the one in the early stages of marital bliss. She’d been so wrong in her judgement. It made her wary now of trusting her instincts. She refused to think about the man any longer. He was in her past, and she was a wiser woman because of it.

  Shaking off gloomy thoughts, she went upstairs to her room. She had time to shower and change before dinner. She wondered if she could find further information about Qu’ Arim on the Internet. It was one thing to read casually about the country for work, something else to learn all she could before actually visiting the place.

  Sunday morning, Max and Melissa caught an early flight to Rome where they changed for a plane to Qu’ Arim. It was late afternoon when they landed. Immediately after exiting the plane, Melissa raised her face to the sun. Its warmth felt fabulous! The air was perfumed with the sweet scent of plumeria mixed with that of airplane fuel. The soft breeze that wafted across her skin felt as silky as down. Soon they’d be away from the airport and she could really enjoy scents that vied for identification.

  “I already love it here,” she said as they walked across the tarmac.

  “Did you say something?” Max asked, a bit distracted. He was in full business mode, having worked on the plane and now carrying his briefcase almost as if it were a part of him. Melissa wasn’t surprised. The man loved his work. He ate, slept and breathed it as far as she could tell. Though, he wasn’t a hermit. He did his fair share of dating, according to her mother.

  “It’s nice here,” she said, trying to match his businesslike attitude. Inside, however, she felt sheer excitement. She hoped she had some free time to explore while she was here. And maybe spend an afternoon at the beach. The Persian Gulf had been a heavenly blue when they had circled preparing to land.

  They were met inside the terminal by a tall man with dark hair and almost black eyes. He smiled at Max when he spotted him and Melissa felt her heart skip a beat. She’d thought Max handsome, but this guy was something else! His charcoal-gray suit and red power tie were very western. She glanced around; most of the men wore suits, few wore the more traditional Arab robes.

  In fact, she could have been in any airport in Europe. For a moment she was disappointed. She wanted to see more of the exotic aspects of this country, not find it was just like any other capital she’d seen.

  Melissa spotted two men standing nearby, scanning the crowd. The local equivalent of guards, she guessed from the way they behaved.

  Max turned and made the introductions. Sheikh Surim Al-Thani inclined his head slightly, reaching for Melissa’s hand and bringing it to his lips. The warmth of his lips startled her, but it was the compelling gaze in those dark eyes that mesmerized. She felt her heart race, heat flooded through her and she wondered if he came with a warning label—dangerous to a woman’s equilibrium.

  “Welcome to Qu’ Arim,” he said formally, his voice deep and smooth with the faintest hint of accent. “I hope your stay will be enjoyable. Please let me know if there is anything I can provide for you while you are here.”

  “Thank you,” Melissa mumbled, feeling halfway infatuated by the sheer animal magnetism she sensed in the man. She could listen to him all day. His hand was warm and firm, almost seeming to caress before he released hers. She felt a fluttering of awareness at his intensity when he looked at her. Giving herself a mental shake, she tried to think of the mundane reason for her visit. She was definitely not here to get a crush on Max’s friend.

  She glanced back and forth between the two men as they spoke. Both carried an air of assurance and confidence that was as appealing as their looks. But it was Surim who captured her attention. Before she could think about it further, their host gestured toward the entrance.

  Their small group began to move toward the front of the airport. She gladly let Max and Surim talk together while she looked eagerly around, taking in the crowds of travelers in the various dress. There was a mixture of languages, some she recognized as European. She wondered how hard it would be to learn some Arabic while she was here.

  Melissa and Max were ushered into a luxurious stretch limousine while one of the men attending the sheikh went to fetch their luggage. Melissa settled back in her seat and gazed at the landscape, trying to ignore the growing sense of awareness she felt around the sheikh. He joined them after speaking to his men and Melissa was hard-pressed not to stare. Resolutely she gazed out the window.

  Flowers and soaring palms lined the avenue, softening the austere lines of the airport terminal.

  As the sheikh continued his discussion with Max as the limo pulled away from the airport she occasionally glanced in his direction, intrigued as never before. Surim Al-Thani was slightly shorter than Max, but at six feet still towered over her own five feet three inches. His dark hair gleamed. She wondered if it was as thick and silky as it looked.

  When he met her gaze she felt flustered. She had been rude. Yet when his eyes caught hers for an instant she continued boldly staring—this time directly into his dark gaze. Growing uncomfortably warm, Melissa finally broke contact and again looked out the side window. Her heart skipped a beat, then pounded gently in her chest. Concentrate on the scenery, she told herself, meaning that outside view, not the handsome sheikh who sat opposite her.

  She wished she’d questioned Max more about their host. While working with the children in the resort in Switzerland, she’d met all levels of society. This attraction wasn’t due to his wealth, or even his power. He was simply one sexy man and Melissa wondered how much she’d get to see him during their visit. The less the better, she was starting to think.

  The thoroughfares were wide and straight, with banks of flowers in the center islands. Be
cause the limousine’s windows were closed to contain the air-conditioning, she couldn’t tell if the flowers she saw were the ones that smelled so fragrant at the airport. But their bright blossoms danced on the breeze.

  She wasn’t listening to the conversation, but became aware of when it stopped. Glancing away from the window, she saw both men looking at her.

  “Did I miss something?” she asked.

  “I was telling Surim that your fluency in French is why I brought you,” Max said.

  “It is the second language here in Qu’ Arim, though English is gaining favor,” Surim said in French.

  She wondered if he was testing her. She replied in the same language, “It was the primary language where I worked before, so I have become quite proficient. I’m the one who translated the documents from the construction firm that you sent to Max recently.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment. Returning to English, he glanced at Max. “I hope you will be pleased with the site I’ve chosen for Bella Lucia. It is right on the water, with palm trees framing the view. We can drive by before heading home if you like.”

  Max quickly agreed.

  Melissa felt she wouldn’t mind seeing the site herself. Right on the water—it sounded fabulous.

  And it was. The construction site was quiet. The framing of the main building had begun, concrete had been poured, pipes were sticking up in various locations. Max and Surim donned hard hats and headed for the far end of the building.

  “You stay out of the construction site,” Surim said to Melissa.

  Another time she might have been annoyed at such a high-handed command, but she was too enchanted with the setting to care. She would much rather walk down to the water’s edge than traipse through a construction zone any day.

  The driver of the limo leaned against the hood and watched the men. The two men who had been with the sheikh at the airport had followed them in a separate vehicle. One remained with that car, the other hurried to catch up with Surim and Max. Apparently they took their security seriously, though there was not another soul in sight.