“As you said, he knows how to get on an airplane,” Maggie replied firmly. “Now let’s talk about something cheerful.”
Gretchen didn’t say another word. But she hoped most sincerely that Maggie knew what she was doing. It was one thing to be a tourist, quite another to be dependent in a foreign country. The job sounded almost too good to be true. And wasn’t Qawi a very male-dominated society where women had separate quarters and separate lives from men? It did seem odd that the sheikh would want not only a female public relations officer, but one from a foreign country known for liberated women. Perhaps there was a subtle revolution in progress in Qawi. Gretchen hoped so. She didn’t want her best friend in danger. But, she cheered herself, they still had a week in Tangier to enjoy. It was going to be a perfect trip. She just knew it.
Chapter Two
But all Maggie’s plans for her vacation and her new job went up in smoke the next morning as she accepted an unexpected long-distance call from Jacobsville, Texas. “I hate to have to tell you this,” Eb Scott, a friend of hers told her quietly. “Cord’s been hurt. He was doing a job in Florida a week ago, putting a small explosive device in a barrel for remote detonation and it went off in his face.”
Every drop of blood drained out of Maggie’s face. She gripped the telephone receiver like a lifeline. “Is he…dead?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
An eternity of seconds later he said, “No. But he wishes he was. He’s blind, Maggie.”
She closed her eyes, trying to see that proud, independent man walking with a cane or a guide dog, trying to pick up the pieces of his life alone. “Where is he?” she asked.
“Gretchen’s brother, Marc, was in Miami when it happened. He picked up Cord and brought him home when he was released from the hospital. Cord’s at his ranch outside Houston.” There was another hesitation. “I didn’t know until Marc phoned me on his way back to Miami.”
“Is Cord alone?”
“All alone,” Eb said irritably. “He wouldn’t come down here and stay with Sally and me in Jacobsville, or even with Cy Parks. He doesn’t have any family of his own, does he?”
“Only me,” Maggie said with a hollow laugh, “if I qualify as family.” She hesitated, thinking fast. “I suppose he’d kick me out if I came home to stay with him.”
“Actually,” Eb said slowly, choosing his words, “Marc said he was calling for you when they took him to the hospital.”
Her heart jumped. That was a first. She couldn’t remember a time in their lives when Cord had needed her. He had wanted her, but only once, and he hadn’t even been sober…
“I phoned Cord as soon as Marc said he’d taken him home. Cord told me he didn’t think you’d want to look after him, but that I could call you if I wanted to,” Eb added dryly. “So I’m calling you.”
“What incredible timing,” Maggie said, her nerves raw. “I’m on my way to a new job and I have a week’s vacation left…” She glanced at Gretchen, who was eavesdropping unashamedly, and grimaced. “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll fly out this afternoon if I can get a flight to Brussels and then a nonstop flight home.”
“I knew you would,” Eb said gently. “I’ll let Cord know.”
“Thanks, Eb,” she said sincerely.
“My pleasure. Have a safe trip. And Marc said to tell Gretchen to be careful about going anywhere alone while she’s over there.”
“I’ll tell her. Cord…the blindness…is it going to be permanent?” she asked.
“They aren’t sure yet.”
She thanked him and hung up. “Cord’s been hurt,” she said without preamble, “and I have to go home, today. I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch…”
Knowing how Maggie felt about Cord, Gretchen would have allowed herself to be carried off by bandits rather than express any fear at being alone in a foreign country. “Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself,” Gretchen said with more confidence than she felt after Maggie explained what was going on. “But what about your job, Maggie?”
Maggie stared at her friend and her mind went into overdrive. A plan was forming…
“You can do it.”
Gretchen gaped at her. “What?”
“You can go to Qawi and take the job. Just listen,” she said when Gretchen started to protest. “It’s exactly what you need. You’ll vegetate in that little law office in Jacobsville. You’ve already given up most of your life to nurse your mother. It’s time you got a look at the real world. It’s the chance of a lifetime!”
“But I’m a paralegal,” Gretchen groaned. “I don’t know how to organize parties and write press releases. And the sheikh is expecting a widow with dark hair…!”
“Tell him you’ve dyed it, and don’t mention that you’re a widow,” Maggie said, dragging out her suitcase and heading for the closet where her clothes were hung. “You can use my ticket and I’ll give you all my spare cash.”
“This is a very bad idea…”
“It’s a wonderful idea,” Maggie countered. “You’ll have the time of your life. You may even find an eligible bachelor.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Gretchen mused whimsically. “I can be wife number four wrapped up from head to toe in somebody’s harem!”
Maggie shot her a dry look. “You’ve got a lot to learn about Muslim women. They live by values we used to, and they have their own power. They have the vote in Qawi and several other countries, and their own independent finances. But there are plenty of Christian women and men in Qawi. Rumor has it that not only are the majority of the people Christian, but that the sheikh himself is one. His parentage is mixed.”
“As I recall, there was a rumor about the sheikh’s perverse sexual appetite,” Gretchen reminded her friend. “You told me yourself.”
“That was cleared up on the INN interview,” her friend said absently. “Senator Holden said that the sheikh himself had started those rumors to get Pierce Hutton’s wife to safety before her stepfather could harm her. They say he never got over Brianne Hutton.” She started pulling clothes off hangers. “Mrs. Hutton isn’t really pretty at all, but she has a beautiful smile and she wears clothes with a real flair. Maybe the sheikh was attracted because she’s so blond.”
“I suppose he’s very dark, isn’t he?” Gretchen asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him, and there aren’t many photos of him floating about. Even at his investiture, he was wearing a ceremonial bisht over his robes, along with a headcloth and an igal, and he managed to keep his face partially hidden from the international press.” Maggie finished packing, her mind still on Cord even as she organized her papers and her purse.
“Maybe he’s got warts,” Gretchen said wickedly.
Maggie wasn’t paying attention. She looked around the room. “If I’ve forgotten anything, send it back to me, will you? Here.” She handed Gretchen a handful of Moroccan paper money and some coins. “I can’t take this out of the country, anyway, and I won’t have time to change it. You spend the next week here and then fly on to Qawi. By the time the sheikh finds out you aren’t me—if he ever does—you’ll be so comfortably situated that he’ll probably keep you on anyway.”
“Optimist.” Gretchen hugged her friend.
Smiling, Maggie picked up the phone and spoke briefly and urgently