She paused while he scanned the document. His eyes were large and dark brown. Sometimes she would swear that he could see all the way to her soul, which was ridiculous and wishful thinking on her part. The man barely noticed she was alive. To him, she was efficient office equipment. A robot disguised as a woman.
She brushed her hand against the soft wool of her skirt and smiled at the feel of the supple fabric. As it had that first night, her new wardrobe continued to be a marvel. Today she wore a dark brown straight skirt and a fawn-colored, cropped, boxy cardigan. She would never have thought to put the two different silhouettes together, but they worked perfectly. The dark skirt created the illusion of long, lean lines, while the square-shaped sweater balanced her hips. Last Friday she’d ducked out early and had gone shopping, treating herself to a pair of riding-style boots that completed the ensemble. For the first time in her life, Dora felt vaguely attractive.
Khalil put down the fax. “What else?”
She told him about his new appointment with the scientists working on water reclamation. Khalil turned to his computer and touched a few keys, bringing up his schedule for the next day. Dora’s recent entry was highlighted.
“Very good,” he told her. “As a desert nation, we are especially concerned with providing enough water for our growing population and for irrigation. It is my belief that we will eventually reclaim the desert, although I’m sure she’s going to be most reluctant to be tamed.”
“I didn’t realize the desert was considered female.”
“Most definitely. All things unpredictable have that designation. Boats, planes, Mother Nature.”
She wondered if he had trouble with the women in his life. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t had any more company since the first night they’d arrived. Did the prince have someone special in his life? For all she knew, he was married.
The thought was vaguely disquieting. She pushed it to the back of her mind. “I’ve confirmed the arrangements for dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll have the wine shipped over in the morning.”
“How much did they protest at us bringing our own?”
She smiled. “Mr. Boulier squawked, but eventually he saw reason.”
“I’m sure you had something to do with that,” he said, then passed her three thick envelopes. “More invitations to charity functions. I only have time for one. Which would you recommend?”
She flipped through the elegant invitations, then shrugged. “It’s your call. Personally I would pick the one that funds Pediatric AIDS research, but there are likely to be more attractive young women at the fashion show to help the homeless.”
She glanced at him from under her lashes, but Khalil didn’t crack a smile. While she wasn’t expecting a knock-knock joke festival, didn’t the man have a sense of humor? Still, she refused to complain. In the past five days, she’d found herself becoming an important part of his team here in the United States. She didn’t just hand out papers or get coffee. Last night she’d dined with Khalil and two senators who had wanted to talk to the prince about the progress El Bahar had made in developing drought-resistant crops. While her official function had been to take notes and keep track of what information he agreed to send to the senators, when the meeting was over, Khalil had stayed up to talk with her for a few minutes, asking her opinion on the meeting.
A quiet knock at the open door broke through her thoughts. She glanced up and saw a waiter standing there with a room service cart. She and Khalil frequently shared a working lunch.
“The dining room, please,” she said.
She picked up the folders she’d brought with her. Khalil collected a few of his own, along with a legal pad. They walked down the long hallway to the dining room, where lunch was being set up.
“Accept the invitation to the Pediatric benefit,” he said. “Refuse the others.”
“Sure,” she said, a little surprised that he was doing as she’d suggested. But then, he frequently surprised her.
The first day, when he’d invited her to dine with him at lunch, she’d gotten all flustered and nervous. But Dora had quickly learned Khalil simply didn’t like to waste time. They had much to discuss, they had to eat—why not accomplish both tasks at the same time?
She pulled out a chair and took a seat. Khalil did the same, then opened his first folder. “About the embassy party,” he began.
Two hours later the table was clear, and she had enough work to keep her busy well into the night. However, she didn’t mind the long hours. If nothing else, they kept her from thinking about the mess she’d left behind. Unfortunately she couldn’t avoid it forever. When it was obvious their meeting was nearly over, she cleared her throat.
“Khalil, I need to take a little time off this afternoon.” She hesitated. “I think an hour should do it. I have several phone calls to make to Los Angeles. I don’t have a telephone credit card with me, of course. Perhaps you could deduct them…”
He was already waving away her offer. She figured he would, but she had to make the attempt.
“The calls are not an issue,” he said. “Are you having problems replacing the contents of your wallet?”
“Not really. A couple of credit cards have already been delivered. Someone I know at work has express-mailed my passport to me, so I have a picture ID and can fly home when the time comes. But it’s time for me to pick up the pieces of my personal life.”
Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to Khalil that his new assistant might have a personal life. She was so good at her job that he barely thought of her as a person. He frowned as he remembered the circumstances of their meeting—;the airport in Kansas, her wedding dress that didn’t button up the back, the lack of luggage.
“I assume this has something to do with why you were alone at the Salina airport.”
Dora flushed slightly. She folded her arms over her chest and tugged at the hem of her sweater. “Yes, well, it does of course.” She hesitated.
He was about to tell her that she was welcome to keep her private life to herself when he found himself wanting to know the details. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Dora looked startled. She had brown eyes, like many of the women in El Bahar, but the similarity ended there. Dora’s skin was pale, her face more round than angular. She had that undeniable quality that set American women apart from women in other countries.
“I’m not in trouble the way you mean it,” she said, then sighed. “The abridged version of this mess is that I was flying to Boston with my boss, who was also my fiancé. The wedding gown had been delivered that morning. I wanted to try it on and see how well it fit. Sometimes they need alterations.” She pressed her lips together. “Anyway, I went into the back to try it on and when I came out, Gerald—he’s my boss—had his hand up Glenda’s skirt, and they were about ready to do the wild thing right there on the plane.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but he could see the hurt in her brown eyes. “At least I found out before we were married.”
Khalil didn’t know what to address first, the fact that her fiancé had so dishonored his intended, that she’d been engaged to her employer, the identity of the mysterious Glenda, or Dora’s use of the phrase “the wild thing.”
He went with the most simple. “Who is Glenda?”
“One of the executives where I worked. HTS is a family-owned company. Mr. Greene does not like his employees fooling around. He actually doesn’t like anyone fooling around. Glenda’s married, which makes the whole thing more sleazy. I just hate it.”
Usually a small, slight smile lurked at the corners of Dora’s mouth, but now her lips pulled straight. Khalil felt a flicker of compassion. Dora had many fine qualities. She was intelligent and hardworking. He enjoyed her sense of humor, although that piece of news would probably surprise her. She was naturally more aggressive and less deferential than he liked his women, but that was because she was American. All in all, she was an excellent employee, and it annoyed him tha
t her previous boss had treated her badly.
“Obviously there was a big fight,” she said. She dropped her hands to her lap, then twisted her fingers together. “I was angry and hurt and humiliated. Glenda just sat there like a little female toad. Smiling her blond-girl smile. I hate her.” She shrugged. “When the plane landed in Salina, I just wanted to get away from them all. I stomped off the jet and refused to get back on. I wasn’t thinking.”
“How unlike you,” he murmured.
“Isn’t it? Gerald demanded that I rejoin him, and when I refused, he told the pilot to take off. There I was, trapped with no luggage, no purse, no money. Nothing. I never thought he would leave me. But then I never thought he would bop Glenda, either.” Her voice dropped to a discouraged whisper. “I guess I never knew him at all.”
Whatever opinion he’d previously had of Gerald dropped even lower. Khalil thought longingly of times in ancient El Bahar when the law allowed a prince to horse-whip a man for any offense.
“Now I have a wedding to cancel,” Dora said. “Three hundred invitations had gone out the previous day. Talk about timing.”
“As you said, better to know now.”
“Right.” She gave him a quick smile, but it was as much of a lie as if she’d told him she’d long since recovered from Gerald’s betrayal.
“Have you spoken with him?” he asked.
“Gerald? No, and I don’t want to. He’s only going to yell at me. I’m not sure how he’s explained my disappearance to Mr. Greene.” She swallowed. “I’m glad we’re through,” she said firmly. “He told me he cared about me, and he was lying. I could never have stayed with someone like that. This is all for the best.”
She spoke the truth, however Khalil doubted if she believed it completely. He knew she would with time, and she would begin to get on with her life. Until then, the greatest kindness would be to keep her busy. That was, at least, something at which he could excel.
Chapter 3
The grandfather clock in the corner of the main sitting room chimed the hour. Dora counted along, then had to hold back her surprise when she realized it was already midnight. It seemed only a few minutes had passed since she and Khalil had sat down to talk. But that had been nearly three hours before, and she knew that if she had a drop of sense in her head, she would excuse herself and head off to her own room.
Except she didn’t want to go. Not only did she want to hear how the story ended, but she wanted to continue to sit here, staring at Khalil and allowing herself to pretend that he was so much more than just her boss.
“My grandmother was angry with Malik for disobeying her,” he was saying. “She took his prize stallion and sold him. By the time Malik figured out what had happened, it was too late. The poor animal had been gelded. Malik was so furious he marched up to our father and demanded that Fatima be whipped for her insolence.”
“Error in judgment,” Dora said, imagining an angry twelve-year-old boy whose plans to start a breeding ranch had just been thwarted by fate in the form of his grandmother and an impatient horse seller.
“Exactly,” he told her. “Instead it was Malik who was severely punished. For three weeks, he was only allowed to leave his room for his lessons, and he had to apologize for ‘borrowing’ our grandmother’s mare in the first place.”
Khalil set his brandy down on the coffee table in front of the long sofa and leaned back in his seat. “I remember speaking with him while he was being confined. He told me that when he was finally king, he would create a law that would make grandmothers answerable to their grandsons, especially when the grandsons were crown princes. When Fatima found out, she was most unimpressed. She informed Malik that first he had to grow up to be king, but at the rate he was making mistakes, that wasn’t going to happen.”
Dora laughed. “Let me guess. Now Malik and his grandmother are extremely close.”
“Of course. We all adore her. Our mother died when we were quite young. She raised us. She is an extraordinary woman.”
His large, dark eyes took on a faraway expression. Dora knew that he was no longer in the large New York suite, but had instead returned to El Bahar. What was it like there, she wondered? That mysterious land of which her employer spoke. Was it as wonderful as she imagined?
“Will Malik be king?” she asked.
“When our father dies. Malik is a good leader, if a little imperious and dictatorial.”
“That must run in the family,” she murmured as she took another sip of her drink.
Khalil stared at her, then raised his eyebrows. “I know you’re not speaking of me.”
“Of course not.” But she couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.
“It is simply because you are a Western woman,” he informed her gravely. “You’re too used to having your way in all areas of your life. Had you been raised correctly, you would not think ill of me.”
“Raised correctly?” She laughed. “I don’t want to think about what that means. And while we’re on the subject, I don’t think ill of you. I’ve very much enjoyed working for you. The time has gone by very quickly.” She couldn’t believe there were only two more days until he returned to El Bahar. “I’ll be sorry when you’re gone.”
She spoke the last sentence without thinking, then wondered if she’d made a mistake. In the past twelve days she’d gotten to know her employer. He was imperious and dictatorial, but he was also fair. At times he treated her as if she were a computer or a robot, but she didn’t mind that. He was never hurtful—the way Gerald had been. Khalil didn’t comment on her appearance, make snide remarks, or speak down to her. When he asked her opinion, he expected her to have one, and then he listened as she spoke. If the matter involved something strictly “American” more often than not, he took her advice.
He was also a rich, handsome prince and prime female fantasy material. She tried to ignore that information, but occasionally she forgot and found herself getting lost in his eyes, or the perfect tailoring of his suit.
“You have been most efficient,” he told her. “I’ve been told that I expect too much of my staff, but you’ve never once complained. I appreciate that, along with all your hard work.”
She felt herself flush slightly at his compliment. “You’re just grateful not to have to deal with Bambi,” she said teasingly.
He didn’t return her smile. “I believe I would have been forced to strangle her. It would have created an international incident.”
He shifted on the sofa, until he faced her. Several floor lamps cast a warm glow in the room, leaving only the corners in shadow. Despite the late hour and the fact that they were virtually alone, she wasn’t the least bit concerned that Khalil would try anything. Aside from the fact that a fabulously handsome, wealthy prince wouldn’t notice she was a woman rather than a piece of office furniture, she knew in her heart that he was nothing like Gerald. He wouldn’t come on to her simply to relieve an itch.
She’d heard about the passions of men of the desert and watching Khalil, she could believe that he was more close to his animal nature than many Western men. But she still trusted him. He wouldn’t use a woman for sport, which is what Gerald had done.
“What will you do when I leave?” he asked. “Not return to Gerald.”
“Never that,” she promised, then had to clear her throat. It had tightened with a rush of disappointment.
While she’d known that he would be returning to El Bahar in the next couple of days, she’d started to hope he might want to take her with him. A foolish dream on her part. But how could she help wanting to meet his father and brothers, his grandmother, Fatima? She longed to see El Bahar and the palace. Khalil had painted a picture of a wild, untamed land entering the modern age. She found herself wanting to be a part of the transformation. Which was crazy. She was nothing more than a glorified secretary. Women like her didn’t change anything.
He leaned forward and picked up his drink. “I’ll make some inquiries tomorrow,” he said. “I know several e
xecutives across the country. You deserve more than what you had, Dora, and I’d like to help you find that.”
“Thank you.”
His kind words took some of the sting out of being left behind. She told herself it was enough that he would take the time to help her. How many other men would do so after such a short acquaintance? She also told herself that she had better be careful not to make Khalil a saint in her eyes. He was very much a mortal man.
And she was very much a mortal woman, in danger of developing a huge crush on her handsome boss. So the best course of action was to remove herself from temptation.
She rose to her feet. “Good night, Khalil,” she said. “What time tomorrow morning?”
“About eight,” he told her. “Good night, Dora.”
She smiled and left the room. A part of her wanted to believe his low, liquid chocolate voice had lingered over her name, but it was the same part of her that had been willing to believe that Gerald was a man of his word.
As she walked down the hallway toward her bedroom, she decided that despite the late hour, she still wasn’t sleepy. So she would take some time to review her list of what she had left to do to cancel the wedding. If nothing else, dealing with her broken past would remind her how important it was to be sensible in matters of the heart, and that falling for one’s boss was a slick, steep road to disaster.
Ten minutes later she went down the neatly printed list. She’d already had a carefully worded notice canceling the wedding sent out to all three hundred guests. The church, the hall, the caterer, the florist, and the musicians had been canceled. She was stuck with the dress. Dora glanced toward the closet, but she couldn’t see even a hint of white lace. That was because she’d shoved the garment all the way in the back. When she left the hotel, she would give it to the nearest thrift store. She never wanted to see that white gown again.
She left her desk and moved to the bed. Once there, she sank onto the firm mattress. Now, with the clarity of hindsight, it was easy to see how she’d come to be in such a mess, but at the time she’d been blind. Her own loneliness and emotional hunger had allowed her to believe that a slightly handsome, very selfish man was really a charming gentleman in disguise.
The Sheik's Kidnapped Bride Page 3
