Crowned For The Sheikh's Baby. Sharon Kendrick

do it.’

      ‘Can’t?’ Kulal frowned, because hesitation was one thing but refusal was something else. Something he wasn’t used to and would not tolerate. ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because members of staff aren’t allowed to fraternise with the guests. It’s a hotel rule and grounds for instant dismissal.’

      His smile grew wolfish. ‘Only if they get to know about it.’

      ‘Everyone will know about it!’

      ‘How? This is a very exclusive party and it’s on the other side of the island. I doubt whether anyone else from the hotel will even be invited and even if they are, they aren’t going to recognise you.’

      Again that suspicious look. ‘Why not?’

      Kulal slanted her a smile, her genuine reluctance fuelling his determination. ‘Because you won’t be in uniform.’

      She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

      ‘Wouldn’t you like to put on something pretty for a change?’ he continued. ‘To dress like a princess, even if it’s only for one night?’

      ‘I don’t have anything remotely princess-like in my wardrobe,’ she said woodenly.

      ‘Then let me fix it so that you do.’

      Again, those aquamarine eyes narrowed with suspicion rather than the gratitude he would have expected.

      ‘How would you do that?’

      ‘Easy.’ Kulal shrugged. ‘All I have to do is pick up the phone and have one of my staff find you someone who deals with such matters. Someone discreet who can transform you into someone even you won’t recognise.’

      ‘You mean like Cinderella?’ she said slowly.

      His lips curved, for his tutor had also taught him about the English obsession with fairy tales and their need to transpose them onto real life. ‘If you like.’

      She tilted her chin upwards and, for the first time, he saw a flash of spirit in her aquamarine eyes. ‘Does that mean my clothes will turn back into rags at midnight?’

      ‘You can keep the dress, if that’s what you’re angling for.’

      ‘I wasn’t!’ she said, before shaking her head. ‘Look, it’s very nice of you to offer but it’s...it’s a crazy idea and I can’t do it. It’s too risky.’

      ‘Haven’t you ever taken a risk, Hannah?’ he questioned softly. ‘Haven’t you ever done something you shouldn’t?’

      And that was what got to Hannah—the definite challenge in his voice, which was laced with slight contempt. She looked into the gleam of his hard eyes and thought about it. Of course she’d never done anything dangerous, because keeping to the straight and narrow had been the only way she and her sister had been able to survive. And that way of living had stuck to her like glue. She’d got the first job she’d applied for and kept her head down. She’d been cautious and careful and saved what little money she could and used her leisure time trying to make up for her woeful lack of education by studying.

      Just as she kept fit by taking scenic hikes through the English countryside, which were beautiful as well as free. But she’d never done anything impetuous or stepped outside her comfort zone, and maybe it was starting to show. Was her attitude making her old before her time? Was that why she was considered a no-risk temptation for the sexy Sheikh? Frumpy Hannah Wilson who would one day look in the mirror and discover she’d become the lonely middle-aged woman she’d been channelling all these years.

      She met the desert King’s mocking gaze, trying to ignore the sudden thrill of possibility which had started bubbling up inside her. Trying to dampen it down with her habitual sensible attitude, but suddenly the temptation was too strong for her to resist and she licked her lips.

      Could she do it?

      Should she do it?

      And then she looked at him and her heart gave a dangerous leap. How could he manage to look so edgy even when he was doing something as benign as sitting in a chair, drinking coffee? With his black eyes and faintly mocking smile, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever set eyes on and nobody like him was ever likely to make such a proposition to her again. So what if she was just there to protect him from predatory women, or if he was insisting on giving her some kind of makeover in case she disgraced him? Wouldn’t this be something to tell the grandchildren, if she ever found a man she wanted to marry and vice versa? Something to mention casually to Tamsyn next time her sister nagged her about leading such a boring life?

      ‘Very well, I’ll do it,’ she said, and, because he seemed to be waiting for something else, she stumbled out her thanks. ‘Th-thank you very much indeed, Your Royal Highness.’

      ‘You’re welcome,’ he drawled, eyes gleaming. ‘But if you’re going to do a convincing impression of being my date, you’re going to have to stop using my title—especially in that deferential way. Call me Kulal. Try to talk to me as if I was a normal date.’

      As colour flooded into her cheeks Hannah wondered what he’d say if he knew she wasn’t really the kind of person who had normal dates. Nor any kind of date, really. ‘I’ll try.’

      ‘Go on, then. Say my name.’

      He was gazing at her expectantly and Hannah found herself complying. ‘Kulal...’ she whispered, thinking how strange it felt to use his first name. More than strange. Just the sound of it coming from her lips felt...sexy.

      ‘Very good,’ he said, and smiled. ‘That wasn’t too difficult, was it?’

      A look of complicity flowed from his black eyes and Hannah was aware that, with that simple exchange, something had been forged between them. A secret which separated them from the rest of the world. Wasn’t that called collusion?

      The enormity of what she was about to do washed over her. ‘Nobody must...’ She looked at him and swallowed.

      He raised his dark brows. ‘Nobody must what, Hannah?’ he prompted silkily.

      ‘Nobody must find out,’ she finished quickly. ‘Or I’ll lose my job.’