She opened her mouth, then closed it. His words had actually entered her brain—she knew she’d heard them. But they hadn’t made any sense. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying.
“I … You … It’s …”
He smiled. “A relationship of convenience,” he said. “You will consent to be someone I become involved with for an agreed upon period of time—say, six months. I will, of course, pay you for your time.”
He named an amount that made her already spinning head threaten to fall off and explode.
He wanted to fake date? Then get fake engaged to her? And pay her? All in an attempt to trick his father, the king?
“If he finds out about this, he’d kill me.”
“Not in the traditional sense. He would be unhappy.”
Not exactly comforting, Maggie thought. “Just go out with one of the women he introduces you to. Why won’t that work?”
“None of them interest me.”
“Sabrina seemed really nice.”
He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have to dance with her.”
“Lucky me.” She stared at him. “You can’t mean this.”
“Why not? It’s an arrangement that works for both of us. I don’t have to deal with the king’s matchmaking and you get to make extra money. I know the plan requires you to stay in El Deharia longer than you’d planned, but you will also earn a considerable sum for your trouble.”
More than considerable, she thought, unable to take it all in.
“I’m not princess material,” she said. “I work on cars.”
“You are delightfully different.”
If only. “I don’t know how to dress or say the right things. You should ask Victoria. Nadim’s secretary,” she added when Qadir looked blank. “Pretty, blond, a great dresser.”
“You and I get along. Spending time together would not be a hardship.”
She thought of the dance they’d shared at the ball. Nope, not a hardship at all. Especially if there was more dancing. She wouldn’t even object to kissing.
The image of them pressed together was so intense and so unexpected, she scrambled to the other side of the desk to put some distance between them.
“This is crazy,” she said. “Let’s all take a deep breath and start over.”
“It isn’t crazy. It’s a sensible plan that benefits us both. I get peace and quiet for at least a year. You get to work on my car, then vacation in a beautiful palace, all the while getting paid. I will provide you with an appropriate wardrobe, a chance to meet world leaders. We will travel and attend conferences. In time, the relationship will end and you will return home with a much larger bank balance.”
“It’s a whole lot of trouble just to get your father off your back.”
“You have never had to deal with a monarch as a parent.”
Good point.
She was tempted. Not only by the money, but by the opportunity. When else could she have an experience like this? Plus, a teeny, tiny, shallow part of her, the part that was still ashamed of what had happened with Jon, sort of liked the idea of him thinking she was dating a handsome prince.
“We would need ground rules,” she said.
“Such as?”
“You can’t be going out with someone else while we’re fake-dating. I don’t want to be cheated on.”
“Agreed. Although the same rules apply to you.”
She smiled. “Not a big issue for me, but thanks for worrying.” What else? “I don’t want any of this in the papers. Do you guys have tabloids out here?” The idea of Jon knowing was one thing, but having a fake relationship played out in the media was another.
“We have some local coverage,” he said. “It is nothing like what exists in America and Europe. I would want some minor mention of us dating to convince my father, but nothing more.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “I feel like I should ask more, but I can’t think of what it would be.”
“You’ve dated before,” he told her. “This will not be all that different.”
Except for not falling in love with the guy.
She looked at Qadir. “Are you sure about this? You do remember I’m a car mechanic, right? I don’t do the long-nail thing.”
“Yes, I know and please, do not recommend your friend Victoria again. I thought of this last night at the ball. You did extremely well there. Remember, the Russian ambassador was interested.”
“I don’t think that’s a very high bar,” she said.
“Regardless, you’re the one that I want. Yes or no, Maggie?”
Was she crazy to consider the offer? If she said yes, she would have enough money to buy three shops back home. She would be set for a long, long time. She would also not have to return to Aspen and watch Jon and Elaine fall deeper and deeper in love.
It wasn’t as if there was any pressing reason to say no. She didn’t have to be anywhere or do anything by a certain time. She was sadly free from commitment.
Maggie couldn’t think of a single downside. She supposed there was the remote possibility of falling for Qadir, but honestly—what were the odds of that? He was nothing like Jon and Jon was the only man she’d ever been in love with. So she was perfectly safe.
She drew in a breath. “Yes.”
“Excellent. We will meet again soon to work out the details.”
“Fine.”
“I will let you return to your packages.”
He approached as he spoke. She straightened and started to lift her right hand so they could shake on the deal. Instead Qadir cupped her cheek, bent forward and brushed her mouth with his.
The touch was light, quick and not the least bit sexual. Still, when he stepped back she felt the burn all the way down to her toes. Something sharp and needy twisted in her stomach and made her want to lean into him so he could kiss her again and this time do it like he meant it.
Her reaction stunned her. She hoped she answered as he said goodbye, but she couldn’t be sure. She could only try to breathe through the desperate need to have him kiss her again and know that she had just dropped herself into a level of trouble that she’d never been in before.
Chapter Five
Maggie spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out what she’d gotten herself into. Fake dating a sheik? That sort of thing didn’t happen to anyone, let alone someone like her. Maybe Qadir had a brain disorder that left him confused. Maybe he’d been kidding. Maybe she’d imagined the whole conversation and the next time she saw him he would call her “Ms. Collins” and look right through her.
Rather than make herself crazy with all the possibilities, she opened packages, savored the thrill of her car parts, then started an inventory base. It was nearly one before she noticed she was starving. But before she could cross to the phone and order lunch, Qadir appeared with a folder in one hand and a picnic basket in the other.
“We have much to discuss,” he told her. “Is now a convenient time?”
If