To Kiss a Sheikh

She was a small-town girl from eastern Washington. Tonight her surroundings included the entire royal family of an oil-rich country swiftly emerging onto the world stage. She was in a large room filled with the most expensive furnishings she’d ever seen. Candles flickered in crystal wall sconces, and fragrant flowers graced the dining table, as well as numerous arrangements artfully placed on occasional tables. The cloth covering the dining table probably cost more than she could earn in a month. It would be just her luck to spill something on it in front of the entire royal family and stain the sucker so badly even homemaker high priestess Martha Stewart would have no removal remedy.

Hysterical laughter threatened. Crystal managed to hold it back as she glanced around the table, a surface so long and flat it made her wonder if the royal pilot could land the royal jet on it. She wasn’t a country bumpkin by any means, but these surroundings were intimidating. Her frame of reference lacked anything on this scale.

For goodness’ sake, the china was edged in gold, the real, honest-to-goodness, solid twenty-four karat variety. Intimidated? She felt like a sumo wrestler in a tearoom.

“Now that you mention it,” she said meeting Fariq’s amused gaze, “I am a tad overwhelmed by my surroundings.”

“Please don’t be,” Princess Farrah said. “We’re just normal people.”

“Define normal.” Crystal laughed. “Your Highness, My family has never had a cocktail hour before dinner and formal dress is T-shirt, jeans and sneakers.”

She glanced down at her plain, unflattering drab brown dress and sighed. Even if she’d known after-five attire was required for the job, she couldn’t have worn anything that flattered her. Beside her, Hana slid from her chair and ducked beneath the table to retrieve the napkin that had slipped off her lap.

The king frowned as he cleared his throat. “Perhaps we are a bit more formal that the average family. But I join with Farrah in urging you to relax and be yourself. May I say my sister did an admirable job in hiring you. I think you’ll make a splendid nanny for Nuri. And perhaps Hana if she comes out from beneath the table,” he said disapprovingly.

The little girl put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle as she looked up at Crystal. She wished she’d already assumed her full duties so she could rescue these restless children and get them ready for bed. But she wasn’t to take over until tomorrow. At least the two five-year-olds were still in good spirits. If that changed, she would have to say something. After winking at the little girl, she patted the chair beside her and the child scrambled into it.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I appreciate your endorsement.” She smiled at him and let out a breath.

Her adrenaline was beginning to settle after spiking off the scale from the “fraud” remark. So far, so good. No one had seen past the ugly glasses and tasteless clothes. She should be grateful. She should be exhilarated. She should be doing the dance of joy. But she wasn’t. And that confused her.

“May I inquire where you went to school?” Kamal asked. He was more serious than his brothers. Rafiq was friendly and charming. Fariq was sedate, although he’d revealed the humor lurking behind his reserved exterior. But she had yet to see Kamal crack a smile.

“I went to the University of Washington.”

“What did you study?” he asked.

“I majored in elementary education with a minor in childhood behavior.”

“What other attributes qualify you to look after my niece and nephew?” he asked.

She glanced at Fariq and was sure there was the hint of amusement in his gaze. Here we go again, she thought. It felt like yet another interview. This was the third time. Dare she hope it was the charm?

“I worked my way through college taking care of children for well-to-do families during summer and winter breaks. I believe my references are included with the rеsumе I gave Princess Farrah.”

“I will look them over,” Kamal said.

Crystal wondered if these people ever communicated with each other or simply repeated everything because they were conscientious overachievers. She couldn’t resist a question of her own as she gazed around the table. “Is there anyone else who wants to interview me and make certain I’m qualified?” she asked sweetly.

Princess Farrah waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t let the Hassan men frighten you, my dear. You had the position when I hired you in New York. My nephews merely have a penchant for posturing.”

Fariq put down his crystal water glass. “It is not posturing to be thorough when it comes to my children.”

“I agree. And the children are very dear to me, as well,” Farrah maintained. “The New York agency has a reputation for being the best. With their help, I conducted a meticulous and painstaking search for the perfect nanny. Hana and Nuri will be in excellent hands. Crystal is an admirable young woman.”

“Time will tell,” he said.

Crystal thought Fariq’s words and especially the cynical expression on his face contained hidden challenges. Before she could decide whether or not she should worry, Nuri slid under the table after his napkin.

Johara didn’t notice. She stared at her father. “I want to go to New York.”

“It’s just a city,” her father commented, dismissing her comment. “You are far better off here. It is your home and where you belong.”

“I don’t want to be safe. I don’t want to belong. I want to have experiences. I wish to live my life without everyone telling me—”

The king waved his hand impatiently. “Nonsense, Johara. It is time you let go of your foolish dreams.”

“They’re not foolish dreams—”

“Enough,” the king said. “I do not wish to hear more of your girlish fantasies. Speak of it no more.”

The young woman shot a dark look in his direction. She obeyed his command to keep silent but hostility radiated from her in nearly tangible waves. And Crystal couldn’t blame her.

She knew the king was heralded as a monarch who listened to his people’s needs and heeded them as best he could. But if he didn’t start listening and heeding under his own roof, there would be hell to pay. El Zafir might be located on the other side of the world from the United States, but she would bet its teenagers shared the same wants, needs and characteristics. One of which was the yearning to be validated and taken seriously, not to mention pursuing happiness…and rebellion in the quest for independence.

“So tell me, Crystal, do you have a political affiliation in your country?” the king asked, completely changing the subject.

Although she wanted to shake him and tell him to ask his daughter what her beliefs were, she held back. In fact, after being grilled like an expensive steak by the male members of the royal family, she was beginning to wish they would treat her more like the teenage princess and ignore her completely.

She met the king’s gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m a Republicrat.”

There was sudden silence around the table, and she felt six pairs of eyes on her. It would have been eight, but the twins were squirming in their chairs and putting their napkins on their heads. They’d lost interest in the conversation right after the entree had been served. It was just a matter of time until they disappeared under the table together.

“Republicrat?” Fariq frowned. “I studied the politics of your country, but I have never heard of this party.”

“Neither has anyone else. It has a membership of one. Basically I take the best from the Democrats and Republicans, then vote my conscience.”

“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.