To Kiss a Sheikh. Teresa Southwick

      “Ah,” he said, nodding. “You are a hybrid.”

      Mongrel, mixture, mutt. That described her to a T. “Exactly,” she said, nodding emphatically.

      “Crossbreeding in politics.” The king nodded approvingly. “Shows responsibility as well as intelligence. You do not simply follow like a sheep. A woman who can think for herself.”

      “That’s me,” she agreed. “Crossbred in politics and ancestry. Nothing pedigreed about me.”

      “Thank goodness,” Rafiq interjected, his expression serious. “I have much experience with horses, and it is my opinion that Thoroughbreds are a great deal of trouble.”

      “I’ll let you know,” she muttered, wondering what it would be like working with Fariq, whose bloodlines were probably impeccable.

      “Excuse me?” he said, his gaze piercing as he met hers.

      Thinking fast, she answered, “I said, I’ll bet you know. Since your brother is an accomplished horseman, he would have firsthand knowledge of how much trouble purebreds are.”

      “Yes.” Fariq sipped his champagne. “And people are much like horses in that regard.”

      Crystal’s cheeks and neck grew hot. Was it possible he’d heard her mumbled words? Had he actually understood she’d been referring to the fact that his royal bloodlines could make him a pain in the neck?

      “I’m not sure I follow you,” she said.

      “Thoroughbreds can be difficult and demanding. Not unlike my own children. I require someone of intelligence, strength and quality to guide them. One thing we have not discussed is your views on raising children.”

      Thank goodness they were leaving the subject of horses behind. She felt confident and qualified to discuss her views on child rearing. “I would be happy to review my philosophy whenever you’d like.”

      “What about now?” he asked, glancing around the table.

      “Fine. It will save time since everyone is here. What would you like to know?”

      “What are your views on discipline?” Fariq set his fine linen napkin beside his plate.

      “I’m in favor of it, but I think any punishment should fit the crime.”

      At that moment little Hana hit her plate with her elbow, bumping it into her glass, which fell over with a crash. Water went everywhere and the goblet shattered.

      “Oh, Nanny,” the little girl said, hiding her face against Crystal’s shoulder.

      She put her arm around the child. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Accidents happen.”

      “Johara,” the king said sternly. He flashed the teenager an angry look as a server rushed forward to clean up the mess. “The children are your responsibility tonight. Make them behave.”

      “But, Father, they have been sitting too long—”

      With one hand he waved away her excuse. “Take them to their rooms at once.”

      “With pleasure.” The princess threw her napkin on the table and stood. “Hana, Nuri, come with me.”

      Crystal gave the little girl a quick hug before letting her go with her teenage aunt. When they were gone, an awkward silence filled the room.

      Fariq cleared his throat. “And what punishment would you allot for that crime?”

      “First of all that wasn’t a crime, but an accident. If she’d done it on purpose that would be a different story.” She glanced at the king, debating how blunt to be, then decided the whole royal kit and caboodle of them might as well know how she felt. “Second, I agree with Princess Johara. Five-year-olds have approximately forty-five minutes of model behavior in them. Hana and Nuri passed that three quarters of an hour ago. In my opinion they were way past their grace period. They had been sitting too long and needed their space, to be children.”

      “What would you have done?” Fariq asked, his expression unreadable.

      “I’d have taken them back to their rooms and started the bedtime routine long ago.”

      “But they are part of the royal family,” the king protested.

      “Children of the royal family,” she stressed. “Not just short adults. As they mature, they’ll be able to handle the demands of pomp and circumstance. But they’re only five, hardly more than babies.”

      “But Johara—”

      “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she interrupted. “The princess is not to blame. Trying to control unpredictable five-year-olds would be like trying to harness the wind.”

      “Crystal, you are so right.” Princess Farrah delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin, then set it beside her plate. “I plead ignorance in the art of child rearing, as I have none of my own. Gamil is hardly an expert, since all four of his offspring were raised by nannies and in boarding schools. I knew you would be perfect as soon as I met you.”

      Crystal was grateful to the princess as she looked around the table and watched all the royal men mulling over her words and nodding in agreement. A bubble of satisfaction, liberally laced with exhilaration, expanded inside her.

      Usually her appearance was what got her noticed. In fact, she’d come way too close to marrying a man who’d decided she would make the perfect accessory wife for an attorney on the way up the ladder of success. He’d actually told her to keep her thoughts to herself, stand up straight with her chest out and look beautiful. She’d told him to stick his proposal in his ear.

      It was refreshing to be taken seriously for her brains. In this job her looks were actually a handicap to overcome. But the shiver of excitement that raced down her spine when she found Fariq’s hooded gaze on her made her wish for a little lipstick, mascara and a flattering dress. Unfortunately, she couldn’t have it both ways. Until she’d been there a while and convinced him she was the best person to care for his children, she was forced to keep the secret.

      “I appreciate that, Your Highness,” she said to the princess as an ear-to-ear grin threatened. She managed to hold it back.

      “Why is it you have no children of your own?” the princess asked her.

      Fariq’s eyes gleamed, making her think what a rascal he must have been as a boy. But he was a man and it made him look roguish, masculine and so exciting. That doggone shiver boogied up and down her spine again.

      “Miss Rawlins believes in love, marriage and children. In that order,” he added.

      “Ah,” the princess said, nodding. “And you have not met a man who makes your heart beat faster? Someone who turns your thoughts to love?”

      Against her will, Crystal’s gaze strayed to Fariq. Quickly she averted her eyes and looked at the king’s sister. “No, Your Majesty. I was almost engaged once. But—”

      “Almost?” Fariq asked. “And now?”

      “He’s out of my life,” she said with a shrug. She was beginning to feel like the key player in the Spanish inquisition.

      “So to turn your thoughts from a broken heart you accepted this position far from home?” Kamal asked.

      She refused to address the broken-heart portion of the question. “From the time I was a little girl, my mother drilled it into me that it’s best to experience life before you have responsibilities tying you down.”

      “Drilled? Interesting choice of words,” Fariq commented.

      “I have four brothers who followed my parents’ example and married young, then started families right away. I’m the only one who hasn’t and my mother’s last hope to do as she said not as she did. I’m hoping to make her proud.”

      The first man to tempt her into overlooking