Teresa Southwick - To Kiss a Sheikh

Her heart was racing and her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t know what to say. “Fariq, I—”

He let out a long breath as he touched the rim of her sunglasses. “My little jewel of the desert…let me see your eyes.”

He was going to take off her glasses? Suddenly adrenaline rushed through her, putting her mental circuits back online. She backed away from him, out of the circle of his arms. Her skin was clear of everything but sunscreen. Not a speck of makeup. But her hair was hanging around her face and she didn’t have on her long, shapeless clothes. Sunglasses were the only part of her disguise in place, her last defense.

And defense was definitely what she needed.

DESERT BRIDES

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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. Teresa has also written historical romances under the same name.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

She felt like Clark Kent on a bad day.

Crystal Rawlins adjusted her large, ugly glasses making sure they covered as much of her face as possible. She wasn’t used to this limitation to her peripheral vision, but it was necessary for her disguise. Now it was showtime.

“I’m Crystal Rawlins,” she said to His Highness, Fariq Hassan, as they stood in his office, his polished, cherrywood desk beside them.

“Yes. The new nanny. Welcome to El Zafir, Miss Rawlins. I am pleased to meet you.”

He was the flesh-and-blood definition of tall, dark and wow. He could be the model for the handsome prince in a fairy tale. Smiling politely, he extended his hand.

Shake hands with the devil.

The unwitting thought raced through her mind as Crystal put her palm in his much larger one. She had no idea if he was a devil. But she discovered that his elegant fingers were warm and strong as he applied firm pressure to her own. For some reason, she hadn’t been prepared for his touch. The contact, although brief, sent her already fidgety nerves into a tap dance.

Normally when she reported for her first day on a job, she was wearing carefully applied makeup and an outfit that made her feel professional and confident. But this wasn’t like any job she’d ever had in terms of circumstances, money or importance. And the stakes had never been so high before. In a twist of fate that defied logic, looking her best could get her fired. If that happened, who would pay her mother’s medical bills? Creditors were threatening to take everything she owned—including the house Crystal had grown up in—and it wasn’t going to happen on her watch.

“I am very pleased to meet you at last, Your Highness. I’ve done some research and discovered many wonderful things about your country. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work here.”

He was studying her. “Even though the contract is for three years? Vacations aside, it is a long time to be away from your home.”

“Job security is a good thing.”

He nodded approvingly. “It is indeed. As is stability for my children.”

“Your aunt said keeping the position filled has been a problem. Five nannies in a year, I believe?”

“Yes.” He frowned.

“I assure you that I have every intention of fulfilling my contract.”

“Good. I can see why my aunt spoke so highly of you after your meeting with her in New York.”

“Princess Farrah has excellent taste—” She stopped. That sounded terribly egotistical, and not at all what she’d meant. “That is, the princess seemed a fastidious and perceptive woman with excellent taste in fashion.”

“Also nannies, I hope.”

“And nephews,” she mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

She looked around, taking a moment to catch her breath before her nerves started to show. Until that slip, she thought she’d managed to sound calm and in control. It was an act to go along with the new look.

“I said ‘and here.’ What a nice place you’ve got.”

“Thank you.”

Fariq was the father of the five-year-old twins she’d been hired to look after. It was important to get off on the right foot—and the left foot. She’d expected first-day-on-the-job jitters, but not like this; he was disturbingly good-looking. But she’d always believed beauty was only skin deep. Character came from within. This was her chance to put her money where her mouth was.

She was face to face with her boss, who, if not the best-looking man she’d ever seen, was certainly in the top three, and all she had going for her was her naked face. What she wouldn’t give for the crutch of cosmetics, or the props of high-heeled pumps and a tailored business suit.

Crystal was trying to pull off a plain appearance, as stated in the list of requirements for this position. That was a challenge for a former beauty queen, the pride and joy of her hometown, Pullman, Washington—population nine thousand when the university was in summer session. In that other life, success was all about appearance. This was the flip side of the coin—her moment of truth. Would the prince see past the hideous glasses, shapeless long-skirted navy suit, sturdy sensible shoes and hair pulled back from her face so tightly she looked like an ad for the facelift doctor not to use?

If he did, she would be sent packing, without the very generous salary that was the main reason she’d come here; the other reason being the opportunity to travel and experience life. That reason was important to her mother and had been the only way Crystal could get her to accept financial help.

“Please have a seat, Miss Rawlins.” He held out his hand, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

“Thank you.”

She sat and resisted the inclination to sigh in ecstasy at the soft, supple leather of the barrel-back chair.

“So,” he said, rounding his desk, then sitting behind it. He met her gaze. “How was your trip from—” he looked down at what was probably her employment paperwork “—Washington? The home of delicious apples, I believe.”

“Not in Pullman. It’s wheat—all wheat all the time. And my trip was very long, Your Highness. I lost track of how many time zones I crossed.”

“Yes.”

Fariq Hassan was the middle of King Gamil’s three sons and apparently didn’t waste words. Her research on the fabulously wealthy royal family of this near-idyllic Middle-Eastern country revealed that they didn’t keep an especially low social profile. His younger brother, Rafiq, was something of a playboy. The eldest son, Crown Prince Kamal, heir to the country’s throne, was considered by the press to be the most eligible royal bachelor. And Fariq was a widower, sought after by some of the world’s most beautiful jet-setting women.

No wonder. It had taken her all of ten seconds to research the fact that Fariq was probably the best-looking prince she’d ever laid eyes on. Not as flippant as it sounded since he was the only prince she’d ever laid eyes on. But she’d seen pictures of all three Hassan brothers in tabloids and magazines. They could be trouble in triplicate to female hearts.