скачать книгу бесплатно
“To welcome you—properly—to El Zafir.”
“Thank you—” She tipped her head to the side and said, “You still haven’t told me what to call you.”
“Prince Rafiq in public. In private, when we are working, my given name is appropriate.”
Rafiq. The name raised shivers on her arms that scurried over her chest and abdomen. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met. Just his name conjured up visions of mystery and magic, enchantment and romance. For the first time, she believed what the travel posters had claimed about his country.
“Prince Rafiq,” she said, testing the name.
“Since it has fallen to me to train you—”
“But I’m supposed to work for Princess Farrah.”
“There’s been a change of plan. My father has appropriated my secretary and my aunt—”
“Princess Farrah?”
He nodded. “My father’s sister. She has given you to me.”
The shivers, which had barely disappeared, kicked up again at the suggestion that she’d been given to him. Lordy, why did her mind have to go there? It wasn’t really such a stretch. This was an exotic country with a different history and culture. Myths of women being swept off their feet and literally carried away by mesmerizing men had been widely romanticized in movies and books. Feminists might object, but Penny had the feeling if any of them took one look at Rafiq, bras would go up in flames and not because anyone was protesting.
“So I’m to work with you?”
He nodded. “If you wish I can arrange for chocolate to be brought. We can do the bonding thing.”
“You really are different from other men,” she blurted out.
Good Lord! She couldn’t believe she’d said that. It was completely inappropriate. Granted she’d said something similar when she’d thought he was an assistant like herself. But now she knew who he was. Besides that, it was flirtatious. She’d never been a flirt. Partly because she’d never had the time. Partly because her nature didn’t lean toward flirting. But her remark had come dangerously close. Was it something in the air of exotic El Zafir? Something in the water? Or was it a mysterious something in the man that unleashed her inner flirt?
“Different?” he asked. He didn’t look shocked or offended, merely curious.
“Where I come from, there are talk shows dedicated to the fact that most men don’t listen, let alone remember,” she explained.
“Perhaps cowboys leave something to be desired as the masculine standard in your country?”
He really had listened, she thought, as heat surged into her cheeks. “Maybe listening and remembering are highly overrated skills.”
He smiled. Were his teeth really white enough to be featured in an ad for dental bleaching? Or did they just look that way because his skin was so very tanned?
“With all due respect,” he said, “I have yet to meet a woman who prefers a man to ignore her.”
She couldn’t help wondering how much research he’d done on women. Quite a bit according to what she’d read about the royal family. She’d seen articles in the tabloids detailing the romantic exploits of Prince Rafiq. She’d even seen his picture, which made her feel all the more ridiculous for not recognizing him. But in person, the flesh-and-blood hunk bore no resemblance to the one-dimensional Don Juan she’d seen in the papers.
How many women had he been involved with? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? And how many cowboys had she been with? Zero. Zilch. Nada. So who was better qualified to judge?
“Okay. You get points for listening and remembering,” she agreed.
“Thank you.” He looked around her suite. “I trust the accommodations are satisfactory?”
“Oh, yes.” She followed his gaze. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
“As compared to Texas?”
“As compared to anywhere. Even the hotel where I met your aunt.”
“It is more spartan than the New York hotel she prefers.”
Penny nodded. “But there’s something to be said for simplicity. Sometimes less is more.”
“I know precisely what you mean.” He met her gaze and his own darkened. His irises were blacker than midnight—smoldering.
There was that word again. It took the air from her lungs. But didn’t fire do that, steal oxygen? Where was an extinguisher when you really needed one?
“Tell me about yourself, Penny.”
The question surprised her. She wasn’t sure why, except that it seemed odd for a member of the ruling family to care about someone like her. The hired help. Then she remembered the cartoon Band-Aid. He must have interacted with his brother’s children and forgotten it was on his finger. She took courage from that. He was a flesh-and-blood man who put his pants on one leg at a time.
Speaking of legs, he’d been standing for a really long time. “Would you like to sit down?”
He only hesitated a moment before saying, “Yes. Thank you.” With athletic, catlike grace he sat on the sofa then indicated the space beside him. “Please.”
She did as he requested, but left an appropriate distance between them. “So what would you like to know about me?”
“Why did you leave your country and take a job halfway around the world in El Zafir?”
There were so many reasons. “Your country is very progressive.”
He nodded. “We’re working hard to make it so. What else?”
It was as if he could read her mind. “I believe we’ve already established that a position in the palace pays well,” she said, smiling.
He grinned in return. “Yes, I believe we did. Is money important to you?”
“Only someone who’s never needed it would ask that question.”
“Is that a yes?” He lifted one dark eyebrow.
“It is.”
“Tell me why.”
“You don’t really want to know.”
“On the contrary.”
“Money is important to me because my mother worked very hard for it.”
“Your father?”
“I never knew him. It was always only my mother and me. She died when I was young.”
He looked very grave. “Mine did as well. Aunt Farrah filled the void when my mother was gone.”
“You’re lucky. I didn’t have anyone to fill the emptiness. The small nest egg she managed to leave me didn’t take away the pain when she was gone. I was raised in an orphanage.”
“I see.”
She found his matter-of-fact response strangely appropriate. “I’m sorry” was a meaningless, conditioned response and brought little comfort. “At eighteen, the state says you’re an adult and on your own.”
“The state is wrong,” he answered. “Such an age is still a child.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But I was determined to get a degree.”
“And you did—in early childhood education and business. My aunt tells me you interned for Sam Prescott in Dallas.”
“Yes. The Prescotts have been very good to me. In fact Sam is the one who suggested I might think about working in El Zafir.”
Because she’d planned to start her own preschool. And she’d foolishly given away her seed money. But as comfortable as Rafiq made her feel, she still didn’t think he would want to hear about all that. Or maybe it was more that she didn’t want to confess how stupid she’d been. Taken in by a handsome man. She’d vowed never again to be suckered by a good-looking game player.
He was staring at her and the intensity of his gaze made her wonder if he could see all the way to her soul. She hoped not. He wouldn’t want someone so gullible working for him.
“I have known Sam Prescott since we were boys. Is there a particular reason that earning a lot of money is important to you?” he asked.
Because a promise was a promise. The vow she’d made a long time ago meant everything to her. But he wouldn’t want to hear about that. He was a businessman. “It’s my dream to open a preschool, possibly in a corporate environment. That way it could be subsidized by the company.”
“Why?”
“As a businessman yourself, I should think that would be obvious. Corporate sponsorship would increase the success ratio—”
“No. I meant why a preschool?”
“Oh. Well. I like children.” She met his gaze and was surprised he didn’t look bored. In fact, he gave a good imitation of being interested, which gave her the courage to continue. “I think that’s hereditary. My mother loved teaching elementary school. Before I was old enough to go to school, she struggled with the cost of child care. She always said a mother shouldn’t have to choose between a safe place for her child at the expense of a stimulating environment.”
“A preschool would do both?”
“Yes. As long as women are part of the workforce, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon, quality care for children will be an issue.”
“In my country as well.”
“Really?”
Rafiq watched as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. She scooted back and, though it was low, her short legs didn’t allow her feet to touch. Small feet, he noted and bare so he could see her red-painted toe-nails. Strangely unexpected—and appealing. She tucked her legs to the side and rested her elbow on the back of the furniture. Her golden hair was no longer pulled severely back from her oval face and secured in a bun at her nape. The waist-length strands cascaded around her like a silky sunshine curtain, begging a man to run his fingers through it.
He’d struggled with his reaction to her ever since she’d opened the door to him. Oddly enough, the shapeless khaki dress she’d worn earlier had been distraction enough. But jeans outlined her small waist and slender legs. As body types went, she was the complete opposite of the women who caught his eye. Speaking of eyes, hers regarded him through huge glasses. Obviously, she expected him to continue the conversation. And he would. As soon as he remembered what they’d been discussing.
“I didn’t think many women worked outside the home in El Zafir,” she said.
Ah, he thought. Preschools. “More and more educated women are choosing careers in this country. We’ve overlooked this great natural resource and vital addition to our workforce far too long.”
“Then child care becomes a problem.”
“Exactly.”
“I would still like to know why your brother specifically requested a homely nanny for his children.”
How could he get her to forget that particular question? His gaze settled on her mouth. Earlier, when she’d talked so much, he hadn’t noticed how very lush and full her lips were. He had a sudden inclination to taste her. That might make her forget about homely nannies. But he forced the thought away. She was his temporary assistant. Nothing more. And he would do well to remember that and forget how curvy she looked in her jeans.
He was her employer. And she was hardly more than a child. He was twenty-nine years old, but she made him feel ancient.
“I need to go.” He stood up. “About work.”
“Yes?”
She stood also. So small. Her head barely came to his shoulder. He felt a sudden strange burst of protectiveness for her. The same as he would feel for a child, he amended. This surprising reaction was merely the result of being with much taller women. None of them had ever evoked this reaction of wanting to stand between her and whatever storms life would blow into her path.
Penny had been hurt. Because his aunt had revealed that to him, he’d recognized the disillusionment in the depths of her eyes when she’d talked about her dream. Rage flared inside him. Again he wanted to make the jackal who had taken advantage of this innocent pay for his unforgivable sin.
“What about work?” she asked.
“Yes, work.”
“What time do you want me to report to the office?”
“Nine.”
She smiled. “At least there won’t be commuter traffic.”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “About your attire—”
“Your aunt already filled me in on that. No pants in public. She said in this country a woman covers her arms, and skirts must be worn well below the knee.”
“Yes.”
He should be relieved that she was aware. But he found himself strangely heavyhearted that jeans were inappropriate and Penny was aware of it.
“Tomorrow then,” she said.
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
As was he. Far more than he should.
Chapter Three
Penny closed the door to her suite and set off to dine with the Hassans. Other than feeling like Dorothy making her way to the Emerald City or a wide-eyed whacked-out character from a fractured fairy tale, she was looking forward to it. Really and truly. Eating with the royal family. Every last one. All in one place. All at the same time.
Yeah. And any minute now she would flap her wings and fly like a fairy godmother.
