Pregnant By The Desert King. Susan Stephens

plan. But why me, when there must be dozens of better qualified companions?’

      ‘Qualified in what way?’ he demanded, pretending to be shocked.

      ‘There must be dozens of people who’d love to go to that party.’ With you, she left out, deciding that with his good looks Tadj probably didn’t need his ego massaging.

      ‘No one with your unique qualities,’ he assured her, straight-faced.

      She hummed and frowned. ‘I’d love to know what they are.’

      ‘That will become apparent as the evening goes on,’ he promised.

      ‘But as I’m not coming to the party...’

      ‘Those unique qualities will force you to,’ he insisted. ‘You won’t be able to resist.’

      He might be right, Lucy concluded. ‘Go on.’

      ‘You work a real job, and meet real people on a daily basis. You’re interested in everything and everyone, and you have your own quirky take on what you see.’

      ‘You’ve gathered a lot about me in a very short time.’

      He certainly had, Tadj thought. ‘My point is you’re real and I like that. You have no idea how rare that is.’

      She thought about this for a moment. ‘You make a very persuasive case,’ she said at last.

      And he wasn’t about to give up. ‘You’ll be my honoured guest tonight.’

      ‘Better that than dishonoured—and you can put that away,’ she flashed when he pulled out his wallet.

      ‘For the dress you’ll be wearing tonight,’ he explained.

      She tightened her lips. Now he’d offended her. ‘I’m not entirely penniless. I’m sure I can rustle something up.’

      ‘Then, you agree?’

      She looked at him and heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘You got me,’ she admitted.

      ‘Just one thing. Don’t keep me waiting when I pick you up tonight.’

      ‘Making conditions now? I can always change my mind.’

      ‘You won’t,’ he said confidently.

      ‘And you can keep the killer smile for someone who will appreciate it,’ she added with a mock-stern frown.

      ‘Someone like you?’ he suggested, staring deep into her eyes.

      ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’d be right out of my depth—and crazy to agree.’

      ‘Too late. The deal is done.’

      ‘No, it isn’t,’ Lucy argued, ‘and now you’re making me late for work.’

      ‘You’re making yourself late for work by taking so long to confirm the details of our date tonight.’

      ‘Please take your hand off the door and let me go in.’

      ‘No sense of adventure?’ he said, going nowhere. ‘I thought a lot more of you than that.’

      ‘I’ve got plenty of sense of adventure,’ Lucy assured him, ‘and plenty of common sense too.’

      ‘Prove it,’ he said.

      ‘I will, by refusing an invitation from someone I hardly know.’

      ‘Every relationship has to start somewhere...’

      Tadj looked so sexy, leaning against the door. Say yes to this ridiculous proposal and she could at least satisfy her workmates’ curiosity about the Sapphire, as well as her own about Tadj. Say no, and she might regret it for the rest of her life.

      ‘I’m not sure about risking my virtue on board that ship tonight,’ she said, voicing her thoughts out loud.

      ‘Your virtue?’ Tadj commented with amusement. ‘I didn’t know that was on offer.’

      ‘It isn’t,’ she said with a steely look.

      ‘Shame,’ he murmured, but with humour tugging at his mouth.

      ‘Okay,’ she said, decision made. She trusted herself to act sensibly if she accepted his invitation, and it was the opportunity of a lifetime. ‘I have decided to come to the party tonight.’

      ‘Excellent.’

      Tadj’s wolfish smile sent tremors to all her erogenous zones, to the point where she almost missed him adding, ‘No tiaras. It’s just a casual get-together.’

      ‘Between billionaires?’ she suggested.

      ‘Between you and me,’ he corrected her.

      All she had to do was laugh it off and walk through that door. She need never see him again. Life would return to normal. But normal could be boring, and Tadj was right about adventure beckoning, but only if the adventure was on her terms.

      ‘Don’t you be late,’ she warned. ‘It’s cold at night, standing in this doorway.’

       CHAPTER THREE

      WHAT HAD SHE DONE? What had she done? How had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Wicked eyes blazing into hers hadn’t helped, Lucy reflected later as she got ready in her small bedsit above the laundry. Nor had feeling as if Tadj and she had known each other longer than it took to drink a couple of cups of coffee. But now was not the time to reflect on why it was possible to feel like that about someone, and not about others. Her decision to go to the party had been made, and she had no intention of skulking in her room, or asking her friends to send Tadj away when he arrived. It would be fascinating to discover how the other half lived, and she could report back to her friends at the laundry.

      The only remaining problem was what to wear. She had one decent dress; a cheap sale-rail spectacular she still wasn’t entirely sure was her colour. Red hair and freckles didn’t always blend well with bright red, especially when the weather turned her skin blue with cold. She’d only worn it once, to the Christmas party when everyone made an effort for the sake of the elderly owner of the laundry. Miss Francine went to so much trouble for them, it was the least they could do.

      So... Tadj was older than she was, and obviously more sophisticated, and much richer, suggesting he’d be used to women in designer clothes. Too bad, she thought as she plucked the dress from its hanger. He’d pressed her to accompany him tonight, so he’d have to put up with her dress being a bit too short and too tight. The sale rail didn’t offer custom made.

      Tadj must be around early thirties, she thought. She was twenty-three, and definitely not glamorous, or sophisticated. Or successful...not yet. But she could keep a roof over her head, which was something to be proud about, and she had the best of friends, which was more important than anything else. And she had no intention of putting out for the price of a gourmet meal, let alone a date on board the flashiest vessel in the harbour, Lucy determined, firming her jaw. A polite thank-you note would have to be enough, she concluded as a noisy group of excited friends, having spied on her from inside the laundry while she was negotiating with Tadj, burst into the room.

      ‘So?’ they chorused, nearly deafening her as they gathered around. ‘You’ve been seen.’

      ‘Really?’ She acted daft.

      ‘With the best-looking man on King’s Dock,’ one of them confided with a jerk of her head to her friends.

      ‘Hmm.’ Staring heavenwards, Lucy pretended to think about this. If she’d had more experience of men, maybe she could have joked along with her girlfriends, but somehow Tadj was special—unique in her experience—and she didn’t want to exchange banter concerning him while the tender green shoot of a first meeting was still so fragile. ‘I did