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Engaged To The Sheikh
Sue Swift
He’d noticed her as soon as she’d walked into the bar.
Her hair, an unusual shade of red-gold, would make her a standout in any gathering. Did Selina Carrington’s red hair reflect a passionate nature?
Her petal-perfect complexion, set off by a few stray freckles, heightened her natural, sexy allure.
And she was mouthy. Many American women were. But Selina’s rosy lips were pretty enough that he preferred to silence her with a kiss.
If only she wasn’t at the resort with her grandfather, Kamar’s associate.
Kam liked women—many women—but he never conducted liaisons with business contacts or their families. With a sigh, he mentally classified the stunning Selina as off-limits….
Engaged to the Sheikh
Sue Swift
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SUE SWIFT
Since 2000, Sue Swift has published five books and two short stories, an amazing feat for someone whose major focus in life is perfecting her slap shot.
It’s fitting that the theme of her books is personal growth and transformation, since Sue has transformed from a librarian to a trial attorney to a novelist. Her books have won awards too numerous to list; her first Silhouette novel reached the finals of the prestigious RITA
Award contest. She’s active in the Romance Writers of America, serving as president of her local chapter in 2001. She also lectures to authors’ groups on various topics about writing.
A self-proclaimed jock, Sue is probably the only Silhouette author to own both a second-degree black belt in karate and ice hockey gear. She and her real-live hero of a husband live in Fair Oaks, California, with two retrievers and several dozen orchids.
She loves to hear from readers, especially through her Web site at sueswift.com. Her mailing address is P.O. Box 241, Citrus Heights, CA 95611-0241.
The Tale of the Robe of Feathers
[Source: F. Hadland Davis, Myths and Legends of Japan
(London: G. G. Harrap and Company, 1913), pp. 127-129.]
Once, a fisherman sat down to enjoy the shore. There he saw, hanging from a pine, a beautiful robe of pure white feathers. No sooner had he taken the robe, then a beautiful maiden from the sea requested he return the robe to her.
The maiden proclaimed that she could not return to her celestial home without the robe, but the hard-hearted fisherman refused to be swayed. The robe was a marvel he intended to keep.
But after further pleading he relented. “I will return it to you, if you will dance for me.”
The maiden agreed. “I will dance the movements that make the Palace of the Moon turn round, but I cannot dance without my feathers.”
The fisherman was at first suspicious, but seeing that she was a heavenly being who would keep her promise, he trusted her.
When she had put on her garment, she danced and sang of the Palace of the Moon. Soon, she lifted into the air, white of her robe shining against the sky. She rose, playing and singing, beyond the mountains and into the ether, until she reached the glorious Palace of the Moon.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Prologue
La Torchere Resort, Florida’s Gulf Coast,
Sunset, late July
As she strode through the resort gardens toward the wharf, Merry Montrose tugged her enchanted cell phone from the side pocket of her navy linen suit.
The result of a curse cast by her godmother, Merry was condemned to remain in the body of a crone unless she brought together twenty-one couples before she turned thirty.
The screen of the magic phone, when correctly charmed, enabled her to check on the nineteen unions she’d arranged over the course of the seven-year curse. She wanted to make sure all was well with “her” couples.
She flipped the phone open and tapped a button. Nothing.
“Cockles and grouse,” she muttered. Unless those nineteen couples stayed happy and married, she’d not reach her goal. She still needed to arrange two more love matches within a few weeks or she’d forever lose everything that had made her life fun.
Merry had been a princess—Princess Meredith of Silestia, an enchanted island in the Adriatic Sea. If she didn’t lift the curse, she could never return to her homeland, which she dearly loved. Instead, she’d be stuck in ElderHell as an old lady with a bad temper and aching joints.
Initially stumped by her situation, Merry had talked her way into a management job at an exclusive Florida resort. A perfect hunting ground, La Torchere featured romantic gardens and beautiful beaches and attracted plenty of singles ready to fall in love. All she had to do was throw together men and women who were eager for romance.
Even better, she’d learned that some people who weren’t happy were often the most willing to take the plunge into matrimony, as though marriage would solve their problems. Formerly cynical, Merry had been startled to see that love often smoothed the road through life.
Despite the occasional interference of her godmother, Lissa, who’d gotten herself a job as a concierge at La Torchere, matters were humming along perfectly.
Or so Merry hoped. With her enchanted cell phone on the fritz, she couldn’t be sure. She shook the wretched thing again.
Having magical gifts wasn’t all the fairy tales said it was. This cell phone, for instance, sometimes worked and sometimes it didn’t. She glared in the general direction of the resort, wondering if her interfering, know-it-all godmother had hexed the phone.
“Cell phone, cell phone, let me see, all the marriages due to me.” Still nothing.
Merry smacked the cell phone against her thigh, and the thing crackled to life. She shuttled through her weekly check of the magic nineteen, dreaming of when she could increase their number. Her fingers danced, tippety tapping on the buttons.
Ah. The phone’s tiny screen showed her latest success, Brad and Parris Smith. They’d been a tough match, he a scruffy scientist and she a socialite too spoiled for her own good. But now Brad was feeding Parris breakfast in bed: a marmalade-laden muffin, followed by a kiss.
Hastily Merry closed the cell phone with a snap, ruminating.
She cast her eye toward the ferry dock. Sunset flamed across the sky, casting brilliant ribbons of coral and peach across a few puffy clouds.
On this, a Monday evening, she didn’t expect many newcomers to La Torchere. A shame, given the glorious sunset, but most folks arrived for the weekend.
But what was this? A red Porsche roared off the ferry, driven by the impatient hand of a darkly handsome man. Following more sedately on foot came a willowy beauty whose hair reflected the reddish lights of the sunset. She was with a distinguished older fellow. Perhaps father and daughter?
Merry hurried to the front desk and pushed aside a surprised clerk. “I’ll see the register now, Gordon.”
“Right away, ma’am.”
“And get ready to check in three guests. They are…” Merry let her voice trail off as she looked through the computerized register. “Kam Asad.” An odd name, that. She frowned, but continued. “And, um, Selina and Jerome Carrington.” She moved the computer’s mouse and double-clicked. “All three are staying in penthouse suites, Asad in one and the Carringtons in another.”
Merry retreated from the front desk to her office, again pulling out her cell phone. Pressing buttons with frantic fingers, she focused on the trio’s hands. No wedding rings. Good.
Kam Asad…there was a mystery there, she guessed, but did she really care? What mattered to Merry was that the dark man in the fast car could match nicely with pretty Selina Carrington. And for Jerome, a silver fox all the way, Merry would find someone.
“You’re getting good at this, my girl,” she told herself. “Soon…” Sitting back in her chair with closed eyes, she lost herself in memories of her beloved Silestia.
Chapter One
Selina Carrington’s hobby was breaking hearts, and she’d just spotted fresh prey.
Two stools away at a seaside bar, he was blocked from her direct view by a touchy-feely couple in the heated throes of romance. Just as well; Selina preferred to observe him covertly, watching his reflection in the mirror behind the bar’s glittering shelves of bottles and glasses.
Ignoring the gentle sea breezes and the moonlit night, Selina’s target held a cell phone clamped to his head. Speaking in a foreign tongue she couldn’t identify, he was conducting business loudly enough to mask the soft sigh of nearby ocean waves.
A jazz combo started to set up at the other end of the bamboo-paneled room. As the guitarist tuned his instrument, Selina’s prey swung around on his bar stool, a glare crossing his otherwise handsome face.
Handsome was good; in fact, handsome was essential. She never bothered with nerds. Taking them down was neither fun nor kind, but handsome, arrogant asses were legitimate victims. This one was a dead ringer for George Clooney and, without a doubt, knew it.
Selina finished her mojito and smiled. The bartender stopped polishing glasses to ask, “Another?”
“Thanks, Janis.” Selina read the bartender’s name from the tag pinned to the young woman’s white blouse.
While Janis mashed fresh mint leaves, she asked, “Just arrived, ma’am?”
“It’s Selina, and yes,” she said. “What’s there to do around here?” She sucked on an ice cube.
Janis sported a short rasta hairstyle, a Jamaican accent and a wide, white smile. “Anything and everything, mon. We pride ourselves on providing de complete resort experience. You can walk by de ocean or swim in it, sail on it, or even parasail above it.”
“Parasailing sounds fun.”
Janis’s hands remained busy as she clinked ice, poured, stirred. “It is. Scary-excitin’, ya know what I mean?” She winked. She put the fresh drink in front of Selina while clearing the drained glass.
The couple next to Selina left, arms around each other’s waists, and Janis scooped up the two twenties that lay on the bar.
Selina sipped. The drink slid, cool and sweet, down her throat. “Mmm, this is good. The fresh mint leaves make all the dif—”
“Pardon me.” A male voice broke into their conversation, distinguished by a British accent and undisguised annoyance. “But just for kicks and giggles, how about a little service over here?”
Janis’s dark brows shot to the top of her forehead, disappearing beneath her jet-beaded rasta braids. Selina set down her glass and swiveled her bar stool toward the interruption.
Having finished his conversation, the Clooney clone now glowered at them down the length of the bar.
“Excuse me,” Janis said to Selina. As the bartender headed toward the man, she stopped, pulled a small towel from the belt on her black pants and wiped a puddle.
He tapped impatient fingers on the bar. Selina noticed that his nails weren’t merely manicured, but buffed. Her smile broadened. Not only arrogant, but her target was too wealthy, judging by the gleaming nails, expensive watch and bad attitude.
On top of all that—as if he weren’t enough of a jerk—he wore a diamond stud in his left ear. How last millennium.
This was getting better and better. The Clooney clone would be a perfect diversion while she was stuck on the Gulf Coast away from her job and her life.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Janis asked the clone.
“Oh, don’t give me that jibber-jabber, now that you’ve decided to do your job,” the clone snapped.
Janis leaned on the bar and smiled at the clone. “What can I bring you, suh?” Belying her deferential tone, she turned her head and winked at Selina, who stuck her fist over her mouth to keep from laughing.
