Engaged To The Sheikh. Sue Swift

      “And you, sir?” the server asked Jerry.

      Jerry ordered a full breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, while Kam, like Selina, ordered a croissant. “And fresh fruit compotes for the lady and me.” He smiled at her as the server left.

      She smiled back at Kam. “Thanks. What did you do in Japan?”

      “What I am doing here. Opened diplomatic relations, rented an embassy, found markets for our diamonds.” Though he’d lowered his voice, Prince Kam had evidently accepted that Selina was Jerry’s confidante.

      “We have a few minutes before our orders arrive, so…” Jerry opened his briefcase and took out a stack of printouts.

      “Yes, let us get to business.” Kam looked toward the paperwork. “Are these from your multiple listing service?”

      “Yes.” Jerry slid the printouts across the table to Kam. “I weeded out the obviously unsuitable properties, but—”

      Jerry broke off when Kam’s gaze left their table to focus on the bridge to the café. He said something in Arabic that sounded vaguely irritable before flipping over the printouts so no information showed. He said, “Let me handle this, all right?”

      A brunette with narrow, pale features and a chin-length bob neared, whipping out a small black box from a side pocket of her gray pantsuit. Thrusting it at Kam’s face, she clicked a button. The box began to whir, and Selina guessed it was a tape recorder.

      “I’m talking with Prince Kamar ibn-Asad, emissary from Zohra-zbel, labeled by People magazine as the ‘sexy sheik.’ Prince Kamar, are you here in Florida to close a deal involving diamond futures on the world market?” the brunette asked.

      “I beg your pardon.” Kam gently moved the box away from his face, pressing the button to stop the recorder. “I am not in the habit of discussing business with women I do not know.”

      The brunette stuck out her hand. “Marta Hunter, from the National Devourer magazine.”

      “Ms. Hunter, I am not authorized to make a statement for your magazine. Please forgive me.” Kam’s voice was polite, but he barely touched the woman’s hand.

      “Our readers have a right to know if your country’s machinations will alter the world diamond market.”

      Kam raised his brows. “I am not involved in any machinations, I assure you. I am only eating breakfast with my friends.” His gesture encompassed Selina and Jerry.

      “And you are…” Marta Hunter’s avid gaze fixed on Selina.

      Remembering the need for security, Selina said with a smile, “I’m just someone who’s eating breakfast.”

      Kam grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

      “I smell a story here,” Hunter said.

      “I smell tea here.” Although she preferred coffee, Selina picked up her cup and sipped, waiting for the reporter to leave.

      The server, laden with filled plates, came to their table. “Shall I set another place?” She eyed Hunter while setting out the breakfasts, including Selina’s coffee.

      “No,” Kam said. “This lady was just leaving. Ms. Hunter, are you a guest at this resort? I was told that only guests and employees were allowed on this island. Otherwise, I would not come here.”

      The server scrutinized the reporter. “If you aren’t a registered guest, ma’am, I’ll have to call security. They’ll escort you to the ferry.”

      Hunter reared back defensively. “I’m a guest here, just like these folks.” From another pocket, she hauled out a card key embellished with the candelabra-shaped resort logo.

      Kam grimaced. “Can’t you get rid of her?” he asked the server, who paled.

      “You’re in a difficult position,” Selina said to the server, mentally chastising Kam for again mistreating staff. “Sorry.”

      “Just our luck,” Jerry said. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag, Kam. We might as well come clean.”

      Selina stared at her grandfather. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kam’s brown eyes widen. The server fled.

      “Yep,” Jerry said. “She’ll get us dead to rights.”

      Kam exchanged an uneasy glance with Selina, who sensed that one of her grandfather’s surprises was about to be unveiled.

      “Ms. Hunter, my granddaughter, Selina, and Prince Kamar have been corresponding via e-mail for some months.”

      Marta’s eyes bugged out, and she clicked on the tape recorder. “Keep talking! Keep talking!”

      “There’s not much more to say.” Jerry picked up his fork. “You must understand that negotiations between our families are of a very sensitive nature. We’re willing to give you an exclusive if you respect our privacy until arrangements are concluded.”

      Selina gaped at Kam.

      Kam gaped back. What on earth was the old man implying? That he, a prince of the House of Zohra-zbel, courted Selina Carrington?

      She was a pretty enough woman, but before heaven, she was trouble on a plate. Though he’d dreamed about her gorgeous neck last night, she was exactly the kind of female he’d never consider as a wife. He shuddered to imagine Selina and her smart mouth at a state dinner.

      Truly, he didn’t intend to wed at all, at least not until his royal duties required it. He knew that at some point in his life—hopefully in the distant future—his father, the king, would arrange for Kamar’s marriage to a suitable girl. She would be a virgin of good family, of course, and the union would bring political advantage or riches to the House of Zohra-zbel, the royal family of the Diamond Mountain.

      Selina was beautiful and smart, but she was a nobody. Not marriage material. Never.

      “An exclusive? What terms?” Marta asked Jerome Carrington.

      Carrington gestured expansively. “You leave us alone until after the wedding, and you get the whole story before anyone else.”

      The reporter’s cold green eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’ll keep the bargain?”

      Kamar found his voice. “You don’t.”

      “Without some assurances, no deal. As far as I’m concerned, the two of you are fair game.” Marta dug into her pocket and took out a cell phone.

      “That’s enough.” Kamar stood. “My friends, I am sorry. Let us go back to our suites and I’ll make other arrangements to meet later today.”

      “The suites? You’re in the suites?” Marta flipped the phone open and began punching buttons.

      Kamar sighed. “Add the breakfast to my bill,” he said to the server.

      As he left The Greenhouse, escorting the Carringtons, he could hear the pesky reporter talking on the phone to her superiors.

      When they got outside, he exploded. “What in The Almighty’s holy name was that about?”

      “Don’t yell at my grandfather,” Selina snapped. “He had a good reason for saying what he did. Um, you did, didn’t you?”

      She turned to Jerome, who put a finger to his lips. “Not here, and not now. Kamar, can you find us someplace private to talk? Not our rooms. That woman knows where we’re staying.”

      Chapter Four

      What Jerome Carrington had said to the reporter kindled Kamar’s desire to corner the old man and find out what silly game he was playing.

      If the story got out, Kamar would face a lot of trouble at home. His father had warned him time and again against sullying the family’s reputation. When People magazine had named Kamar