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To Wed a Sheikh
Teresa Southwick
BEWARE TALL, DARK AND HANDSOME SHEIKS IN MOONLIT GARDENS…Too late! Once Kamal Hassan drew her into his arms for a breathless kiss, Ali Matlock was already halfway to losing her heart. Though the sensual sheik was definitely the world's most irresistible bachelor, Ali wanted more than just the passionate affair he was offering! Royal decree demanded that Kamal marry and produce an heir. And ever since that magical moment five months ago, he'd known Ali was everything he wanted in a woman–and a wife. And if he wasn't careful, the alluring commoner from a faraway land could wring from his lips the three words he knew she longed to hear.
“Kamal,” Ali breathed. “I can’t think when you kiss me like this.”
He smiled. “I am glad.” He brushed his lips to her neck and heard her gasp. “Tell me that my touch does not make you want more.”
“Kamal—I don’t know if this is right.”
“Of course it is.”
“For you, maybe. But I’m not so sure about me,” said Ali.
“Then let me show you that this is right for both of us.”
“Without regard for tomorrow?” she asked. “I just can’t.”
He let out a long breath as he released her hand, letting her go. She hurried down the hall.
Kamal closed the door, then walked into the living room. He had hoped by this time to have his feelings for the American nurse under control. But if anything, he was falling more under her spell.
To Wed a Sheikh
Teresa Southwick
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TERESA SOUTHWICK
lives in Southern California with her hero husband, who is more than happy to share with her the male point of view. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Silhouette Books.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
It was just as easy to love a rich man as a poor man. If one was looking for love.
Ali Matlock wasn’t. At least not right now. She’d decided to take a break from romance and concentrate on her career. So she’d traveled halfway around the world from Texas for the job opportunity of a lifetime. She was working in a hospital built by a sheik who definitely fell into the rich-man category. She could earn triple the average stateside salary for a nurse. And the best part was the opportunity for adventure in magical, mysterious, mystical El Zafir.
As she inventoried supplies and equipment at the nurses’ station in the Labor and Delivery Department, she heard the third-floor elevator doors whisper open. Kamal Hassan, the country’s crown prince and the sheik who’d just crossed her mind, stepped out. He was elegantly handsome in his designer suit. Probably out of it, too.
Not that she would ever know. Although five months ago he’d kissed her in the moonlit palace garden. But history had taught her to be wary of men—especially a sheik who kissed an engaged-to-be-engaged woman.
He stopped to speak with one of the workmen putting finishing touches on the recently completed hospital, giving her a chance to study him. With every last dark, wavy hair in place, the prince was approximately six feet two inches of tall, dark and handsome. Black eyes smoldered with intensity in an arresting face featuring a straight aristocratic nose, carved cheekbones and olive skin. He had a wonderfully shaped mouth, and boy, did he know how to use it. The memory made her heart skip at the same time she reminded herself to beware of princes wearing designer suits.
She’d met his formidable aunt, Princess Farrah Hassan, in January when the woman had visited the Texas E.R. where Ali worked. The woman had been visiting Sam Prescott, of Prescott International, a wealthy friend of the family. While there, she’d experienced chest pain that turned out to be nothing. Farrah had insisted Ali accept an all-expense-paid trip to El Zafir in March to talk about a job in the hospital her nephew was building. It had been impossible to refuse the woman even though Ali had no intention of accepting the position. She’d attended an international charity auction hosted by El Zafir.
Although enchanted by the job and the country, she’d refused the Princess’s offer. Because at the time she’d been in love. Past tense. Past history. Past caring. Now she was only interested in her career. By God, if she couldn’t have love, there would be adventure. Wasn’t it handy that she could combine the two in El Zafir? Career and adventure, that is.
And she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that a key player in her adventure was standing a couple of feet away. Because of that kiss? Her stomach jitterbugged when she remembered what his lips had felt like against her own. But she would bet he hadn’t given her a single solitary thought since that night. It was highly unlikely he even remembered her name. Why would he? She was from the wrong side of the tracks by American standards—way off the royal radar. Which begged the question—why had he kissed her?
He finished his conversation, then looked in her direction. “Hello.”
“Your Highness,” she said, clutching her pen until her knuckles turned white.
He walked toward her and stopped, his gaze never leaving hers. The scent of his aftershave drifted over the stack of boxes separating them. That and the clipboard on top of the stack was all that stood between her and the heat of his body. Her palms started to sweat.
“It’s nice to see you again, Alexandrite.”
She winced. “Thank you, I think. Remind me not to underestimate your powers of recalling inconsequential details, like a name no one should be burdened with.”
“On the contrary. Your given name is lovely. A jewel, is it not?”
She nodded. “But Ali is so much simpler.”
“On the contrary. Ali, I think, is very complicated.” He held her gaze for another thundering heartbeat, then glanced around. “What do you think of it?”
“The hospital? In a word? Awesome.”
On her first day of work, she’d received an in-depth tour. Now she recalled the lobby with the marble pillars and walkways, cherry-wood information and reception desks. The ground floor contained the emergency room, lab and X-ray. The second floor housed administrative offices. From there up were patient rooms and an ICU filled with the most advanced equipment money could buy. It was a seven-storied, high-tech marvel.
“A good word. Most appropriate,” he answered, one black eyebrow lifting as he smiled.
Pride outlined the set of his mouth and shone in his eyes as he looked around again. Following his gaze, Ali could understand why. The brightly lit circular nurses’ station was designed with technology as well as efficiency in mind. Cozily decorated labor rooms surrounded it. Serviceable low carpet covered the floor, and the hallway to her right led to comfortable patient rooms. She was impressed by the facility, but the elevators had her atwitter, agog, amazed. They were framed in gold. She couldn’t decide whether or not it was the fourteen-carat variety, but that wasn’t out of the question.
The royal family of El Zafir had more money than God—or so she’d heard. The expensive decorating statement might have bothered her except rumor also had it that the prince had cut no corners in his quest to build this facility. He was determined to bring his country in line with Western medical technology, knowledge and research in order to give his people the finest health care. It bordered on obsession and Ali wondered why.
On her last visit, she’d talked extensively with Princess Farrah, but his aunt had never confided the reasons, if there were any, for the crown prince’s fixation. After his aunt failed, he had tried to persuade Ali to accept the job offer, but she had turned him down also. Then.
“My aunt informed me just this morning that you’d arrived.” The full intensity of the prince’s black-eyed gaze rested on her.
“A week ago,” she confirmed, settling her palm over her abdomen.
“You’ve met the director of nurses?” he asked, frowning slightly.
Ali nodded. “I like her very much.”
“I regret we were compelled to hire someone else in the position first offered to you. But when you refused me—”
“I’m delighted that there was still an opening on staff, Your Highness. The position as nurse-manager of Labor and Delivery is a terrific opportunity.”
“You are not disappointed you’ll be unable to add something more prestigious to your résumé? As I recall, you found that tempting.” A gleam stole into his eyes as one corner of his mouth curved up.
Her pulse skipped at the implication she hadn’t found him intriguing. She wasn’t about to share that his kiss could tempt a spinster out of her bloomers. But he probably already knew. After all, he had a reputation as an international playboy.
She stuck her hands in the pockets of the white lab coat she wore over green scrubs. “Truthfully, I was a little nervous about that job.”
“I do not understand. Your references are most impressive. You have a master’s degree in nursing, do you not?”
Again his memory for details surprised her. “Yes. A five-year nursing program. But a degree is no substitute for experience. When I get to the top of my profession, I’ll need both.”
“When?” His eyes were keen with intelligence and amusement. “You’re certain of the future?”
She shrugged. “I’ve studied and worked hard. I’m good at what I do. Princess Farrah insisted I was ready now. I like to think she’s right. But I believe she offered the job to me because it’s difficult to get good help to come halfway around the world. I know my age could be a problem. At twenty-five, I’d have difficulty commanding respect from a staff of nurses who probably would have a great deal more practical training.”
“My father ascended the throne of this country at the same age.”
“That’s different.”
“Indeed,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “The director of nurses is child’s play by comparison.”
“Maybe compared to running a country. But still a challenge,” she said, struggling to keep the defensive edge out of her voice.
“I don’t dispute it. And I do not underestimate what you do. My country does not have enough health-care professionals to adequately staff the hospital. No matter how generous the compensation, you’re right that it’s difficult to find skilled, qualified and highly trained personnel willing to uproot their lives and come here to work. I am in your debt.”
She had no life to put on hold, and since her mother’s death a year ago, no family to leave behind. Except a father who wouldn’t miss her since he’d turned his back on her long ago.
“I’m looking forward to all the challenges of the job.”
“My aunt has every faith in your ability to handle it in an exemplary manner.”
“Princess Farrah is very kind.”
“And apparently more persuasive than I. Since she convinced you to accept a job in El Zafir after all.”
Ali absently twisted the cap on her pen. “Actually, I changed my mind about the job. I contacted her a few weeks ago to inquire about a position. She very kindly offered me a different one.”
“Your fiancé must miss you.” His voice held the barest hint of a question.
She stared up at him, noting his serious, interested air. For goodness’ sake, the man was a king-in-training. Didn’t he have more important things to remember than what she’d said almost half a year ago? “My fiancé?”
“Indeed. You mentioned an engagement the night I escorted you to the charity auction. If I remember correctly, your exact words were that your fiancé would not jump up and down with joy if you took a nursing position halfway around the world.”
He remembered correctly and way too much, Ali thought grimly. Unfortunately, she’d discovered after returning home that she and Turner Stevens, M.D., had not been on the same matrimonial wavelength.
“As it turns out, Your Highness—”
“Call me Kamal.”
She blinked. “That doesn’t seem appropriate.”
“In private, as we are now, it’s perfectly permissible. And if I wish, it will be so.”
“Kamal,” she said, testing the name on her tongue. She wondered if he always got everything he wished for. If so, it must be good to be the crown prince. Because if he was trying to be a regular guy, it wasn’t working. There would always be a line in the sand between him and someone like her.
And the whole behavior-with-royalty thing was foreign to her frame of reference. Did private mean just the two of them? That certainly wouldn’t happen often—if at all.
“As it turns out—”
“What?” he prompted.
She sighed. “News of my engagement was greatly exaggerated.”
“Oh?”
“I turned down your job offer on the assumption that the man I’d been dating for a very long time was ready to propose.”
“And did he?”
Anger and pain joined with embarrassment, then formed a gigantic knot in her stomach. She briefly thought about fibbing, but decided against it. Lying to a future king could never be a good thing.
“Yes, he proposed. Just not to me.”
His dark eyebrows pulled together over black eyes brimming with something that looked a lot like male satisfaction. She was about to tell him what he could do with it.
“So the jackal’s idiocy is El Zafir’s gain?”
Then again, he did have a way with words. “What a lovely thing to say.”
“As it turns out,” he said, paraphrasing her, “I do know you well after all.”
She recalled him saying she wouldn’t have come all the way to visit his country if the employment offer was out of the question. She’d challenged his assumption that he knew her so well. But he’d been right. Even formidable Princess Farrah couldn’t have persuaded her to visit if she hadn’t been interested in the opportunity. Had she subconsciously known that a marriage proposal wasn’t in the cards for her? No. If she had, she wouldn’t have been so completely blindsided by the betrayal. And it wouldn’t have hurt so deeply.
