Читать книгу The Nanny and The Sheikh - Barbara McMahon - Страница 8

MELISSA FOX threw down her pencil and rubbed her eyes. Arching her back, she tried to relieve the tense muscles. Translating business documents wasn’t the most stimulating activity. She shook her head and took a deep breath, glancing around the crowded office of Bella Lucia. The headquarters for the famous London restaurant group was a busy place. The accountants had their own row, quieter than where she was working. The general manager had a private office. She was seated in an extra desk near the receptionist who fielded a gazillion phone calls a day.

But she shouldn’t complain. She was between jobs and thankful to have something to do. Her mother had obtained this assignment for her through her new husband. It was only temporary, until mid-February when she flew to the United States to take on a new family.

A professional nanny, Melissa had recently quit her job as childcare resident at a large international hotel in Lake Geneva. She’d been there for five years, and had loved every minute. Or, almost every moment. Until the debacle with Paul. Now she planned to move on to working as nanny to a single family. The McDonalds were expecting their third child in February. When they had met her last fall in Switzerland, they’d talked her into accepting an assignment with them when the new baby arrived. After the end of her relationship with Paul, she was ready to change. Their current nanny was planning to marry in late January and the timing would be perfect.

Melissa looked back at the lengthy document. She was almost finished. She would complete the translation today before heading home. At loose ends since quitting her job just before the holidays, she was grateful for the chance to earn some money until she took up her new position. But she missed the children and the activities and her friends in Switzerland. Still, the chance to spend some time with her mother was great.

Staring at the page, she let her mind wander a bit. When her mother had prevailed upon her new husband, Robert Valentine, to offer Melissa a temporary job, Robert’s oldest son, Max, had come up with a spot in the office for the exclusive Bella Lucia restaurant business. She’d started by filing, then answering the phones. Once Max had discovered she was fluent in French, he had immediately started her on translating a stack of documents he had received from Sheikh Surim Al-Thani who lived in Qu’ Arim, an Arabic country on the Persian Gulf. Apparently the two men had been corresponding for some time about the feasibility of opening a Bella Lucia restaurant in Qu’ Arim. Sheikh Surim Al-Thani and Max wrote their letters in English. It was the construction firm giving preliminary bids who used French.

Working with the translations, Melissa was learning a great deal about the restaurant business and how Max envisioned the operations to run. She cross-referenced the documents with the correspondence between Max and the sheikh. It was a new venture for the family-owned and -operated restaurants—expanding in a foreign market. She knew Max had mentioned opening a few more worldwide if this one proved successful. Maybe he’d open one in Boston one day—near enough that she could visit while she was employed by the McDonald family.

She picked up her pencil to begin again. Only a few more paragraphs.

The sheikh was building a luxury resort right on the Gulf. The restaurant would be the jewel in the crown of the new holiday destination, he’d said. He had plans to make the entire seaside complex the premier place to visit in that part of the world.

Melissa wished wistfully that she could visit herself. It was rainy and cold in London. Switzerland, where she’d lived the last few years, was buried in snow. How wonderful would it be to visit a tropical resort in January, laze around on the beach, visit souks and find exotic goods at rock-bottom prices?

The McDonald family lived in Massachusetts, which was also under snow. Apparently she was destined to live in cold climes.

Max came up to her desk.

“Got a moment?” he asked.

“Sure, what’s up?” She still wasn’t used to the fact that Max Valentine was her new stepbrother, but already liked him very much. He was tall, dark and handsome, and, though her own feelings toward him were purely platonic, she could see why Max had more than one woman in the office preening every time he walked through.

“Come back into my office if you would.”

Melissa followed him into his office and sat on one of the visitor chairs.

He leaned back in his own chair studying her for a moment, a small smile playing around his mouth. “I have to fly to Qu’ Arim on Sunday as I’m meeting Surim for a final session before we sign all the paperwork. They’ve already started building and I’d like to see the setup. It’s thanks to the translations you’ve done that we’ve got a lot of the preliminary work behind us, so…” he paused “…how would you like to come with me?”

“To Qu’ Arim? I’d love to!” Melissa felt a surge of excitement. Look out beaches, she was on her way! How terrific of Max to offer her the chance. It would be more like a vacation than work. And a fabulous opportunity to see more of the world.

“It will only be for a week and I expect to return home by the following weekend. We’ll stay with Surim.’ Max smiled. “His home is large enough for a battalion.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Several times. He stays with me when he’s in London. He and I went to Eton together. Until our final year.”

“What happened then?” Melissa asked, intrigued to learn she might get to meet a real-live sheikh and that he had actually gone to school in her country.

“His father died and he had to return home and assume the role of leader before we graduated.”

“At sixteen or seventeen? How could anyone that young rule a country?”

“He was young, but had lots of advisors,” said Max. “By diligently working with the various factions in his country over the years, he’s been able to pull the country into a united front. Which probably saved its economy at the same time.”

“Isn’t Qu’ Arim known for oil and pearls?” she asked. She’d read up on the country when she’d first begun the translations.

Max nodded. “And fishing. Their pearl industry used to contribute a bigger percentage to their wealth, but money from oil far outweighs it now. Consequently that industry gets bigger press. But high-quality pearls from Qu’ Arim are well known and sought after by experts.” He stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. “Anyway, plan on staying a week. And you’ll need to bring something dressy—if I know Surim, we’ll attend at least one reception. We’ll leave early Sunday.”

Melissa nodded and rose, almost dancing with delight. “I appreciate this, Max.”

“You’ll be helping me out. If that contractor has anything new to report, I’ll need to have an instant translator. You’re up to speed on where we stand, so you’ll be more valuable than anyone new to the project who could translate,” Max said, grinning at her obvious excitement.

Melissa smiled back and left, and as she tidied her desk her bright smile refused to fade. She was going to Qu’ Arim! She loved to travel and see new sights. She’d visited much of Europe on holidays, but she’d never been to the Middle East with its exotic and mysterious settings. And what better time of year to escape the rain and cold of London?

It was dark by the time she left the building a short time later. She stared at the dreary January weather, wondering if she could catch a cab or was destined to take the underground and then walk the few blocks to the house. She had her umbrella, but the thought of splashing through cold puddles for several blocks held no appeal. Instead, she dwelt on the thought that in only a few days she’d be in sunshine and warmth.

When Melissa reached home, she was disappointed to find it empty. She was anxious to share her good news. Her mother and Robert had probably gone to an afternoon matinee or something. Robert and her mum were in the honeymoon stage, having been married less than a year. While she was glad for her mum—it had been far too long since her own father had died—nevertheless sometimes she felt left out.

Had things gone differently with Paul, Melissa might have been the one in the early stages of marital bliss. She’d been so wrong in her judgement. It made her wary now of trusting her instincts. She refused to think about the man any longer. He was in her past, and she was a wiser woman because of it.

Shaking off gloomy thoughts, she went upstairs to her room. She had time to shower and change before dinner. She wondered if she could find further information about Qu’ Arim on the Internet. It was one thing to read casually about the country for work, something else to learn all she could before actually visiting the place.

Sunday morning, Max and Melissa caught an early flight to Rome where they changed for a plane to Qu’ Arim. It was late afternoon when they landed. Immediately after exiting the plane, Melissa raised her face to the sun. Its warmth felt fabulous! The air was perfumed with the sweet scent of plumeria mixed with that of airplane fuel. The soft breeze that wafted across her skin felt as silky as down. Soon they’d be away from the airport and she could really enjoy scents that vied for identification.

“I already love it here,” she said as they walked across the tarmac.

“Did you say something?” Max asked, a bit distracted. He was in full business mode, having worked on the plane and now carrying his briefcase almost as if it were a part of him. Melissa wasn’t surprised. The man loved his work. He ate, slept and breathed it as far as she could tell. Though, he wasn’t a hermit. He did his fair share of dating, according to her mother.

“It’s nice here,” she said, trying to match his businesslike attitude. Inside, however, she felt sheer excitement. She hoped she had some free time to explore while she was here. And maybe spend an afternoon at the beach. The Persian Gulf had been a heavenly blue when they had circled preparing to land.

They were met inside the terminal by a tall man with dark hair and almost black eyes. He smiled at Max when he spotted him and Melissa felt her heart skip a beat. She’d thought Max handsome, but this guy was something else! His charcoal-gray suit and red power tie were very western. She glanced around; most of the men wore suits, few wore the more traditional Arab robes.

In fact, she could have been in any airport in Europe. For a moment she was disappointed. She wanted to see more of the exotic aspects of this country, not find it was just like any other capital she’d seen.

Melissa spotted two men standing nearby, scanning the crowd. The local equivalent of guards, she guessed from the way they behaved.

Max turned and made the introductions. Sheikh Surim Al-Thani inclined his head slightly, reaching for Melissa’s hand and bringing it to his lips. The warmth of his lips startled her, but it was the compelling gaze in those dark eyes that mesmerized. She felt her heart race, heat flooded through her and she wondered if he came with a warning label—dangerous to a woman’s equilibrium.

“Welcome to Qu’ Arim,” he said formally, his voice deep and smooth with the faintest hint of accent. “I hope your stay will be enjoyable. Please let me know if there is anything I can provide for you while you are here.”

“Thank you,” Melissa mumbled, feeling halfway infatuated by the sheer animal magnetism she sensed in the man. She could listen to him all day. His hand was warm and firm, almost seeming to caress before he released hers. She felt a fluttering of awareness at his intensity when he looked at her. Giving herself a mental shake, she tried to think of the mundane reason for her visit. She was definitely not here to get a crush on Max’s friend.

She glanced back and forth between the two men as they spoke. Both carried an air of assurance and confidence that was as appealing as their looks. But it was Surim who captured her attention. Before she could think about it further, their host gestured toward the entrance.

Their small group began to move toward the front of the airport. She gladly let Max and Surim talk together while she looked eagerly around, taking in the crowds of travelers in the various dress. There was a mixture of languages, some she recognized as European. She wondered how hard it would be to learn some Arabic while she was here.

Melissa and Max were ushered into a luxurious stretch limousine while one of the men attending the sheikh went to fetch their luggage. Melissa settled back in her seat and gazed at the landscape, trying to ignore the growing sense of awareness she felt around the sheikh. He joined them after speaking to his men and Melissa was hard-pressed not to stare. Resolutely she gazed out the window.

Flowers and soaring palms lined the avenue, softening the austere lines of the airport terminal.

As the sheikh continued his discussion with Max as the limo pulled away from the airport she occasionally glanced in his direction, intrigued as never before. Surim Al-Thani was slightly shorter than Max, but at six feet still towered over her own five feet three inches. His dark hair gleamed. She wondered if it was as thick and silky as it looked.

When he met her gaze she felt flustered. She had been rude. Yet when his eyes caught hers for an instant she continued boldly staring—this time directly into his dark gaze. Growing uncomfortably warm, Melissa finally broke contact and again looked out the side window. Her heart skipped a beat, then pounded gently in her chest. Concentrate on the scenery, she told herself, meaning that outside view, not the handsome sheikh who sat opposite her.

She wished she’d questioned Max more about their host. While working with the children in the resort in Switzerland, she’d met all levels of society. This attraction wasn’t due to his wealth, or even his power. He was simply one sexy man and Melissa wondered how much she’d get to see him during their visit. The less the better, she was starting to think.

The thoroughfares were wide and straight, with banks of flowers in the center islands. Because the limousine’s windows were closed to contain the air-conditioning, she couldn’t tell if the flowers she saw were the ones that smelled so fragrant at the airport. But their bright blossoms danced on the breeze.

She wasn’t listening to the conversation, but became aware of when it stopped. Glancing away from the window, she saw both men looking at her.

“Did I miss something?” she asked.

“I was telling Surim that your fluency in French is why I brought you,” Max said.

“It is the second language here in Qu’ Arim, though English is gaining favor,” Surim said in French.

She wondered if he was testing her. She replied in the same language, “It was the primary language where I worked before, so I have become quite proficient. I’m the one who translated the documents from the construction firm that you sent to Max recently.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. Returning to English, he glanced at Max. “I hope you will be pleased with the site I’ve chosen for Bella Lucia. It is right on the water, with palm trees framing the view. We can drive by before heading home if you like.”

Max quickly agreed.

Melissa felt she wouldn’t mind seeing the site herself. Right on the water—it sounded fabulous.

And it was. The construction site was quiet. The framing of the main building had begun, concrete had been poured, pipes were sticking up in various locations. Max and Surim donned hard hats and headed for the far end of the building.

“You stay out of the construction site,” Surim said to Melissa.

Another time she might have been annoyed at such a high-handed command, but she was too enchanted with the setting to care. She would much rather walk down to the water’s edge than traipse through a construction zone any day.

The driver of the limo leaned against the hood and watched the men. The two men who had been with the sheikh at the airport had followed them in a separate vehicle. One remained with that car, the other hurried to catch up with Surim and Max. Apparently they took their security seriously, though there was not another soul in sight.

Melissa climbed out of the limo and headed for the water. Her shoes were not at all suitable for the sand, so she kicked them off. Her stockings would undoubtedly be sandy when she put the shoes back on, but she’d deal with that later.

The sugar-white sand was soft and warm. She found the going easier when she reached the damp hard-packed sand near the water’s edge. The deep blue of the Persian Gulf stretched before her. She drank in the clean air, relishing the slight salty tang. Turning, she studied the outline of the resort. The main building would be three stories tall, with a high roof. She could see the men at the far end where the restaurant must be situated. Palm trees fluttered in the breeze. It was an ideal setting.

Looking left and right, she was amazed there weren’t scores of families enjoying the beach. But as far as she could see in either direction, it was pristine and empty.

She’d love to go swimming, but that was totally out of the question. At least for today. Would she get time off while they were here? She needed to remember she’d come to work, not vacation. But the water was so tempting.

Glancing around, she saw Max and Surim heading for the car. Reluctantly, she returned as well, dusting off her feet as best she could before donning her shoes.

“Enjoying yourself?” Surim asked when they reached the limousine.

She met his glance as she slipped her feet into her shoes. Did she detect a hint of amusement? “It’s fantastic. But I’m puzzled why the beach is so empty. I’d think hordes of people would enjoy a day here.”

“That is my hope as well, once the resort is completed. In the meantime, construction holds certain danger, so I have closed the area for the duration of building,” Surim said.

“I see.” All that lovely empty beach. She sighed. There went her idea for swimming.

They resumed their places in the limo and in only a short time they turned into a long driveway flanked on either side by tall palms. Melissa looked with interest at Surim’s estate. She had no idea of what kind of place a sheikh might own. Somehow she’d thought maybe a lavish tent like in Arabian Nights.

The edifice surprised her. Max hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it was large enough for a battalion—it was huge. Whitewashed walls with terra-cotta trim reflected the bright sunshine. High arches of windows, outlined by ornate fretwork and mosaics inlaid in bright colours, provided symmetry on the front. A wide veranda seemed to encircle the entire three-story structure. Quite simply, it was stunning.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, now taking in the colorful flowers that grew in profusion right to the edge of the veranda. Gently waving palm trees encircled the house, while a lush lawn stretched out in all directions. Her gaze was drawn to an elegant fountain in the front, providing a focal point to the circular drive. The watery spray made dozens of sparkling rainbows. She sighed wistfully. What a magnificent place to live.

“Are you near the Gulf?” she asked, not seeing any signs of the sea, but still smelling that slightly salty tang in the air even in the car.

“There is a path from the back of the house that leads to a private beach. It is not far, only a short walk,” Surim said. “Perhaps you’d care to go for a swim sometime during your visit.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I would. It’s freezing in London right now.” Would he join her if she went swimming? She looked away, afraid he’d see the hope in her eyes.

As she followed her host into the house a moment later, through large acacia wood double doors carved into intricate designs and polished to a gleaming shine, she wondered why Max had brought her since Surim spoke French fluently. To have an impartial person on his side? Not that she could imagine the sheikh being the slightest bit dishonorable. Of course he was probably too busy to translate mere construction documents.

Or, as her mother had suggested, maybe the trip was a treat for the work she had already done. It didn’t matter; she was thrilled to be here.

The interior of the house was cool, though not apparently due to artificial means. Windows were wide open allowing a balmy breeze to flow through. The tall ceilings allowed the air to circulate freely.

Rich colorful furnishings filled the room to the left. She followed the men and stood in the doorway, her sandy stockings starting to annoy her. How soon could she escape to her room and change?

“You must be tired from the journey,” Surim said. “I’ll have my housekeeper show you to your room. Dinner will be at eight.”

“Thank you,” Melissa said, glancing at Max to make sure her departure would be all right with him. There wouldn’t be any work today, would there? Surely if he and the sheikh were such old friends they had lots to catch up on.

“Good idea. That’ll give you and me time to look over the plans. I’ve noted some changes I want in the kitchen area,” Max said.

So much for catching up on their personal lives. Was work the only thing these men cared about?

Melissa pulled back the cool sheets from the high bed. It was after eleven and she was tired. Slipping beneath the light covers, she lay back on the mattress, her head still swimming from the conversation at dinner. It had only been the three of them in the ornate dining room that could have seated fifty-four easily. The primary topic of conversation had been the new restaurant and resort.

She would have preferred an alfresco meal on the veranda, with more talk about Qu’ Arim to enable her to learn more about the country. Maybe with another guest or two to round out the numbers. It was apparent the sheikh liked things formal. It was a good thing she was only here a week; the protocol would drive her crazy.

After dinner, she’d excused herself to wander in the gardens. They’d been illuminated with subdued lighting. She’d walked down one path and then another, exploring little nooks and thoroughly enjoying herself. It was such a change from wintery London.

Melissa began settling on the pillow, her eyes closing as she reviewed what she needed to remember for the morning. They would eat at seven and head for Surim’s offices where she and Max would meet with the contractor. Then they would—

A sudden shriek startled her. She sat up. What had that been?

Listening intently, she heard another shriek and then a child crying.

The sheikh wasn’t married, at least not that she knew. But that was definitely a child. She got up and found her robe, pulling it on as she hurried to her door.

Opening it, she could clearly hear the wailing. It came from the third floor.

Her heart hurt to hear a child cry so wretchedly. She ran lightly down the hall to the stairs she had seen earlier and quickly gained the third floor. Rushing to an open doorway, the light spilling into the hall, Melissa halted at the scene before her.

Surim had shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. His hands were on his hips and he glared at three young children huddled on a sofa. An older woman stood near a door on the opposite wall, wringing her hands. The oldest child looked to be seven or eight, a toddler leaned against her. It was the little boy, about four or five, who was crying so hard.

Without a thought, Melissa stormed into the room.

“What is going on?” she asked. Moving past Surim, she gathered the little boy in her arms, brushing back his hair and hugging him as she sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s the matter, little man?” she asked in her most soothing tone.

The other two children looked at her with startled surprise, then glanced nervously at Surim.

Melissa turned, the little boy in her arms, and glared at the sheikh.

“These children should have been in bed long ago; it’s after eleven,” she said in her firmest nanny tone.

“That is what I have been telling them,” Surim said, his own voice showing his frustration. “Their nurse has been unable to control them. When Hamid awoke with a nightmare, he woke the others. Now they won’t return to bed. If they don’t behave, I’ll have to find new accommodations for them.”

“That’s the coldest thing I ever heard a father say!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not their father,” he returned.

The little boy rested his head on Melissa’s shoulder, quieting. She hugged him again and looked at the other two. They looked tired, scared and wary.

“Well, whose children are they and why were they left with you?” Melissa asked. The woman moaned slightly and lowered her gaze.

Surim lowered his hands and took a step closer, anger evident in his eyes.

“My household is not your concern. You are merely a guest. Here because Max requested it.”

“Children are my concern, however, and if you can’t take proper care of these children, I shall report you,” she replied hotly. The foolishness of the comment struck her. Surim was the leader of the entire country. To whom would she report him?

Surim narrowed his eyes, anger threatening to choke him. Then the absurdity of what she’d just said penetrated. His anger immediately cooled. For a moment he thought he’d challenge her on that. He looked at Melissa, then at the children. They shrank away from him. He was not a monster. He would never strike a child. Yet they walked as if on eggshells around him.

No wonder—he had no clue how to care for children. He’d hired Annis to watch them. But they were proving too much for her. Not that he had any intention of sharing that information with his guest. Maybe boarding schools were the answer.

He looked back at Melissa. She might be petite, but she looked as if she’d fight him to the death. And she didn’t even know the children.

“These are my cousin’s children. Nadia, Hamid, and Alaya. They have come to live with me recently and we haven’t found our way yet. I would prefer you not report me.” Surim let the humor of the situation defuse the tension. He had never heard anyone in Qu’ Arim threaten to report him before. The novelty was priceless.

“Perhaps they should return home,” Melissa said.

“Unfortunately, their parents were killed in a car crash and they have no home to return to. As their guardian, I now provide for them.”

Surim watched as Melissa shifted Hamid in her arms. He had to be growing heavy. At least she had been able to stop his crying, for which Surim was grateful. The nightmares came regularly and Annis seemed incapable of doing anything to stop them. Not that he himself had been any help. Yet Max’s little friend seemed to have the knack of quieting the child. He’d take any help he could get at this point.

He looked at her once more, surprised to see she was in a gown and robe. Her hair looked soft and touchable, her eyes sparkled with righteousness indignation. And the color that rose in her cheeks intrigued him.

Max had asked if his assistant could come, more for a holiday than for needed work. Was there something between the two of them? Surim had not seen anything. Which didn’t mean she was totally unattached. Was there a man waiting for her in London?

“Perhaps you’d help get the children settled for the night,” he said, dragging his speculation back to the matter at hand. With a glance at Annis, he shook his head. The nurse had proved most ineffective when dealing with these children. How hard could it be to put three children to bed at a reasonable time each night? Weren’t nurses supposed to be able to deal with nightmares and other problems Hamid seemed to have?

“Perhaps I should.” Melissa looked at the two girls. “Hi, I’m Melissa. Want to help me get Hamid to bed? Then I’ll tuck you both in and read you all a story.”

“Our room is across the hall,” the older girl said. “Hamid couldn’t hear the story from his room.”

“Then tonight why don’t we have all three of you sleep together, and then everyone can hear at once?”

“I wuv stories,” the littlest one said.

“They speak English,” Melissa said, looking at Surim.

“Their parents lived in England. They were all three born there,” he replied.

“Ah, I’m from England, too,” she told the children. “Let me tell you about the weather when I left, cold and rainy. They even thought there might be snow in the north before the end of the week. It’s much nicer here.”

Surim watched as the Englishwoman seemed to effortlessly gather the children to her and head them to the girls’ room. In a moment all he heard was her soft murmur.

“I’m sorry they disturbed you, Your Excellency. The boy had a nightmare and the girls awoke to come to his aid,” Annis said in Arabic.

Surim sighed. This was the fifth or sixth time since they’d arrived it had happened. When would it stop?

“It is to be expected, I suppose. We will discuss the situation in the morning,” he said.

The older woman scurried away. Surim wished she’d shown a little of the backbone Melissa Fox had when she’d taken him to task. Annis had come highly recommended, but Surim didn’t think much of her abilities with these children. Unlike Melissa Fox, who had miraculously charmed them all.

Himself included?

Report him, indeed.

He crossed the hall and paused near the opened door. The three children were snuggled together in the large bed. Melissa sat in a chair near the head, reading a story. Already little Nadia had her eyes closed. Hamid was fighting sleep.

Surim watched as Melissa seemed to calm them all, and bring much-needed rest.

He waited until she checked the children, gently closed the book, and turned off the light. She made it seem easy. Yet he had no idea of what to talk about to a child.

When she stepped into the hallway, she was surprised to see him.

“Thank you for getting them to sleep,” he said formally. He was embarrassed a guest in his home had had to involve herself with his responsibilities. But the quiet was much appreciated. He hoped they slept through the night this time.

“I apologize for speaking to you as I did earlier. It was not my place,” she said, equally formally, looking just beyond his left ear.

It was a perfect apology, but he didn’t believe she really meant it. From the stiff way she held herself, he had an idea she’d like to tear into him and berate him for not being a better guardian for the children.

“I hope they will not interrupt your visit a second time,” he said politely.

She flashed him an annoyed look and turned to walk down the hall. “Children don’t annoy me.”

Lucky her, that children didn’t annoy her. Or baffle her as they did him. He expected them to do as they were told, but had found in the three weeks they’d been in his home that expectation was not met more times than it was.

He glanced into the darkened room once more, feeling a sharp pang at the thought of his cousin Mara’s death. She and her husband had been too young. And he had never expected to be named guardian of three children under the age of nine. He knew nothing about children. He’d have his secretary begin researching boarding schools in the morning. There had to be some that would take children as young as two.