The Sheikh's Pregnancy Proposal. Fiona Brand

vows or his family’s integrity.

      Xavier looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes I forget the pressure you’re under. But what do you know about this woman? She could be some hard-nosed journalist angling for a story.”

      “Sarah’s not a journalist.” Gabe shrugged into a soft black leather jacket. “And she won’t go to the press.”

      “You can’t know that. You’ve only just met her. You have no idea what she’ll do.”

      Gabe went still inside as a memory flickered. Cold rain scything, a dark-haired woman, head down against the weather, stepping around a corner. As his hands had shot out to stop her caroming into him he had noticed that her hair had been scraped back and her face had been almost bare of makeup. She had looked like a history teacher. But it had been Sarah, her eyes that deep, pure blue, the faintly imperious nose and exquisite cheekbones, the soft, generous mouth.

      Instead of tempering his attraction, the recollection had the disconcerting effect of deepening it. In that moment, Gabe recognized the quality that drew him to Sarah most of all—the fact that in the midst of all the superficiality of the social world he usually moved in she was exactly what she seemed, a refreshingly direct woman unafraid to reach out and take what she wanted. “I met her yesterday.”

      Xavier’s brows jerked together. “That makes it even worse.”

      Everything Xavier was saying was true. Normally he didn’t pursue women he had only just met. Because of his position, he accepted that security checks on the women he dated were a fact of life. But ever since he had woken up that morning he had been restless and in no mood to be controlled. “Relax. She doesn’t know who I am.”