Claimed by the Desert Sheikh. Оливия Гейтс

interest on getting you married, I suspect you would change your mind.”

      “Maybe,” she murmured thinking she wouldn’t mind a little meddling from her own father. It would mean he was still around to bug her. Right now that sounded lovely.

      “So he wants a good breeder,” she said, “and you want to fall in love?”

      “Love is not required. I would settle for mutual respect and shared interests.”

      Neither sounded very romantic, Maggie thought, but then she wasn’t royal. She wanted a lot more than that. Passion, excitement. She wanted to be swept away. She wanted a deep love that would last forever.

      Qadir walked around the edge of the dance floor, both watching Maggie dance with his cousin and avoiding Sabrina, Natalie and any other woman of whom his father would approve.

      Nadim danced with Maggie as he did everything in his life—with great competence and little real interest.

      Nadim was sensible. In truth he lacked personality. Even as a child, Nadim had been boring.

      Qadir, As’ad and Kateb had been close, always getting into trouble together, playing tricks on unsuspecting palace staff and causing their father to constantly threaten them with banishment. Nadim had always followed the rules.

      Even now, as the song ended, Nadim bowed politely to Maggie, then turned away, never once noticing her bare feet or the way she adjusted her dress to make sure no one caught sight of her toes.

      His gaze shifted to the left where he saw Natalie—or was it Sabrina?—glancing around the room as if searching for someone. He moved deeper into the crowd.

      While he was pleased his brother As’ad was celebrating his engagement to Kayleen, Qadir wished only for the ball to be over. If he had to meet one more “appropriate” young woman, he would ride into the desert and join his brother Kateb, living in the villages, far from the palace.

      It wasn’t that he objected to marriage … at least not in theory. But practice was a different matter. While he wasn’t waiting for the fantasy of falling in love, he wanted to feel something when he chose his future wife. Anticipation would be good. Pleasure.

      Even a comfortable level of fondness. So far, he hadn’t felt anything.

      He’d been in love once, he reminded himself, and once had been enough. He wasn’t interested in love, as he’d told Maggie, but he insisted on something more than simple disinterest in a marriage of convenience.

      He saw As’ad bend down and say something to Kayleen. They looked happy. Not only had his brother found the right woman, but he’d managed to get their father off his back. If only Qadir could do that, as well.

      What he needed was an engagement, he told himself. Or at the very least, a serious relationship. While he knew dozens of women who would be interested, he found himself not the least bit intrigued by any of them. One of life’s ironies, he supposed.

      He saw Maggie move toward the buffet. She ignored the caviar and went right for the tiny quiches. She popped one in her mouth, then licked her fingers.

      The action was quick and unstudied, yet he found it erotic. The flick of her tongue against her skin made him think of doing the same to her himself. All over.

      The heat that accompanied the thought was nearly as surprising as the image now planted in his brain. Maggie? Sexy?

      She was competent and he enjoyed speaking with her. He liked teasing her and the sound of her laugh, but nothing more. She worked for him. She wasn’t the type of woman who played his kind of game. She was …

      Perfect, he thought as he studied her. Sensible, hardworking and not the least bit pretentious. While she hadn’t come out and said money was an issue in her life, he knew she’d wanted the job because of the high fee involved. Was she willing to sell other services that might help him distract his father?

      “It’s almost like Christmas,” Maggie breathed as she stared at the stack of boxes waiting right outside her office. She’d arrived a little late this morning. The party had gone on long into the night and she’d stayed far later than she’d expected. It had made getting up with her alarm a bit of a challenge. But now that she was here, she stared at the packages and forgot to be tired.

      She wasn’t sure where to start, she thought happily as she dug through her desk for a utility knife to slit open the first box. There were so many choices, so many possibilities.

      “You look happy.”

      She turned and saw Qadir walking toward her. While the tux was gone, he still looked pretty darned good in his tailored suit.

      “I love fast delivery,” she said, pointing to all the boxes. “It’s like a miracle. I don’t know where to start. There are so many possibilities. Headlights, gears, pistons, brackets.”

      He stared at her for a long time. “You’re a very unusual woman.”

      “I know. I’ve heard that before.” She found the utility knife and moved toward the first box. It was small and light. The possibilities were endless!

      She pressed the knife to the seam, then looked at him. “You want to open the first one?”

      “Not especially.”

      “Okay.” She slit the tape, then dug into the box. She pulled out the clear plastic bag within. “O-rings. Aren’t they beautiful?”

      Qadir laughed. “As I said—unusual. I would like to speak to you for a moment, Maggie.”

      “Okay.”

      She put the O-rings back in the box and followed Qadir into her office, where she settled on the corner of her desk and looked at him.

      She told herself it was silly to be nervous. She hadn’t done much on the car yet so it was unlikely he was upset about anything. Not that he looked upset. His expression was as unreadable as ever, although not in a hostile way. He looked very … princelike. And handsome, she thought absently, liking the firm set of his jaw and the way his eyes seemed to see so much more than they should.

      “What do you think of me?” he asked.

      The unexpected question made her blink. “Um, what?”

      “We get along, do we not?”

      Was that a trick question? “Yes.”

      “Good. I agree.”

      With what? What were they talking about?

      “We have much in common,” he continued.

      That nearly made her laugh. What did they have in common? A love of fine Arabian horses? Jetsetting around the world? Hardly.

      “Cars,” he added. “We both like cars.”

      “Okay,” she said slowly. “Sure. Cars.”

      “I mention this because I was thinking about your business back home.”

      The one she’d lost, she thought sadly. “It’s not exactly what it was,” she told him.

      “The loss of your father would have changed things.”

      More than he knew. “It was hard while he was sick. He was in the hospital a lot and I was with him. It was hard to stay on top of things.”

      “Of course. When you return, you’ll have more time.”

      She nodded, thinking she would also have a fair amount of money, although not enough to buy back the business. Still, she could start over with her own small shop. Continue the work.

      “More money would help,” he said.

      “It usually does.” A hopeful thought appeared. “You have a second car?”

      “Not exactly.”

      “Then …”

      “I