Chosen As The Sheikh's Royal Bride. Jennie Lucas

meet with him?

      Her earlier words came floating back: I don’t know why any of these women would want to marry the sheikh.

      Was it possible that, even though he was so attracted to her, she wasn’t attracted to him at all?

      No, surely not. Women always fell at his feet. He was the King of Samarqara, billionaire, absolute ruler of a wealthy kingdom.

      But then, was Dr. Edith Farraday, child prodigy, high-minded scientist, the sort of person to be impressed by money and power? For all he knew, she had a boyfriend back home. An ordinary but perfectly satisfying man who was content to let her be the superstar, while he cooked her dinners and rubbed her feet. She might find that sort of man much more appealing to her lifestyle than some playboy king who, until this very moment, had been unable and unwilling to commit to anything beyond his own rule.

      It was a discomfiting thought.

      “Oh. Hello again,” Edith said uneasily, her eyes darting to the right and left, as if she felt guilty. Guilty?

      Was there a boyfriend?

      The question set him on edge.

      “It’s a pleasure to finally be properly introduced,” Omar said gravely. He looked over her outfit, the exact same hoodie and jeans that she’d worn when he’d knocked on her hotel room door that morning, and tilted his head curiously. “Did the new wardrobe I had sent to your room not meet with your approval?”

      “The clothes are beautiful, thank you,” she said, her eyes guarded.

      “And yet you are not wearing them.”

      “They really weren’t necessary. I’m only going to be here one more day.”

      “And a night,” he pointed out.

      She looked away evasively. “I suppose. But I knew if I wore them, your people couldn’t return them to the store. So I didn’t touch them.”

      Omar stared at her incredulously. “You’re worried about the cost?”

      She actually blushed. “I suppose it’s silly but... I don’t like taking advantage of people...”

      Then her voice abruptly cut off. Her cheeks turned from pink to bright red.

      He frowned, puzzled by her reaction. “You’re not taking advantage. You’re my guest. I want you to be comfortable.”

      “Oh, I am,” she said in a strangled voice. She tried to smile, but her face was stiff and awkward.

      “Is there some reason you wish to rush back to Houston?” He watched her. “A boyfriend back home?”

      Her eyes flashed wide. “What?” she said quickly. “No!”

      Omar relaxed. “So you miss your work at the lab, then.”

      “Oh. Yes. Of course I do.” She paused, then blurted, “I’d hoped to see more of Paris today. But I was just told that we won’t be allowed to leave the mansion this afternoon?”

      “An unfortunate circumstance, with all the paparazzi outside the gate.”

      She bit her lip. “I know I’m being silly, it’s just... I didn’t get a chance to see the Louvre yet, or climb the Eiffel Tower. The line for tickets was too long. I was hoping...” Squaring her shoulders, she shook her head. “Ah, well, it doesn’t matter.”

      “The Louvre? You like art?”

      “I wanted to see the Mona Lisa. Who doesn’t?”

      “You’ve never seen it?” It seemed strange she’d never been to Paris before. He was sure the other women had visited many times, for school trips or family vacations, or, as in the case of Laila al-Abayyi, because their families owned lavish penthouses with a view of the Seine.

      Dr. Farraday was indeed very busy in the lab, it seemed. Totally and utterly dedicated to her cause since she was a teenager.

      Not a bad quality for a queen, an important part of him argued. Sadly it was the part of him that wanted her in his bed.

      But Dr. Farraday had a quiet beauty, in a way that perhaps a man wouldn’t notice right away, especially in those baggy jeans and hoodie, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wasn’t even wearing makeup.

      As accustomed as Omar was to women constantly trying to get his attention, it was strange indeed to meet a woman who seemed determined to evade it. In fact, if he hadn’t seen her in that tight red dress yesterday, he might have easily overlooked her even now.

      Surely not. Was he so shallow as that?

      When she didn’t sit down beside him, Omar rose abruptly to his feet. “Thank you for coming to Paris to meet me, Dr. Farraday.”

      “No problem.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Thanks for the two million for cancer research.”

      He couldn’t look away from her smile, or the way her eyes suddenly sparkled beneath the chandeliers. “You must tell me about your latest scientific breakthroughs.”

      The smile on her face dropped away. Why? Because he’d reminded her of the important cancer research she was neglecting to be here? She gave an awkward laugh. “I, uh, don’t like to talk about it. Most people find the details very dull.”

      “Try me. I’m not a scientist, but I do keep up on developments in the search for the cure for biphenotypic acute leukemia.”

      Her voice was a croak. “You do?”

      Omar gave a short nod. “Perhaps later, while discussing your research, we could also discuss an additional donation from my country’s charitable fund.”

      There. The perfect bait to make any scientist talk.

      And yet she still didn’t.

      “Uh—maybe later,” she managed. She glanced around the salon, then leaned forward to whisper, “Why did you really want me to stay in Paris? For an insider’s opinion on your potential brides? Or just for comic relief?”

      “Maybe I like your company,” he said. “I enjoyed talking to you in the garden.”

      “You should have told me who you were...” Then she shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”