Читать книгу Desert Rogues Part 1 - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 7

The lobby of the elegant hotel stretched up at least three stories. Dora tried not to gawk as she took in the fine furniture, the expensive rugs, and the chandeliers that sparkled like cut crystal…which they probably were.

She’d never been part of an entourage before, and the sensation was slightly disconcerting. Or maybe the attention they received had more to do with her attire than Khalil’s wealth. Dora attempted to look casual as they crossed the marble floor and headed to the registration area, but it was tough.

They were interrupted before they could reach the clerk waiting there. A small, well-dressed man bowed low before Khalil, then introduced himself as the night manager of the hotel. They were instantly whisked into the elevator, where the manager inserted a key before pushing a button for the top floor.

So the rich didn’t have to check in, Dora thought with a slight smile. How nice. They probably got to keep the plush bathrobes as well.

When the elevator doors opened, a discreet brass plaque listed only three room numbers. Dora swallowed. Three suites took up the whole floor? That wasn’t possible. Maybe there was a private club or a banquet room or something. There had to be. The hotel was huge. If there were only three suites on one floor, then they would be incredible, not to mention very large.

The manager turned left and walked a few feet before opening double doors. Khalil paused and motioned for Dora to go first. She did so, trying not to think about the fact that the sight of her bra strap and a triangle of bare flesh was anything but appealing.

She was so caught up in feeling self-conscious, she almost didn’t take in the dimensions of the main room. Then she saw the floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the city and Central Park that made her gasp in disbelief.

The living room was the size of a basketball court and decorated to befit visiting royalty. There were marble pillars and huge sofas. Original art including paintings and a nearly life-size bronze of a horse. Tucked in the corner by the window was a baby grand piano. Hallways ran both left and right. The manager pointed to the left.

“The dining room is next door, and beyond that, the full kitchen. Please let us know if you’ll require the services of a chef. At the end are the offices. We’ve installed the office equipment you requested, along with the phone lines.” He motioned to the right. “Four bedrooms, including the master suite. A light supper is set up, and several items were delivered from the boutique. We put the latter in one of the bedrooms.”

Khalil nodded. “Thank you, Jacques,” he said, barely paying attention to the other man. “That will be all.”

The manager bowed again. “It is our great pleasure to have you as our guest, Prince Khalil. My staff is here to serve you.”

“Yes. Good night.”

Dora still couldn’t believe she was in this room, listening to this conversation. She had to keep telling herself to press her lips together so that her mouth wouldn’t fall open in shock. She hadn’t known that suites like this existed, let alone ever dreamed that she might spend the night in one. Or maybe Khalil planned to give her a small room somewhere else. Who cares, she thought, suppressing a grin. Any room in this place was going to be fabulous.

Khalil spoke to the two suits, and they disappeared down the hall. Then he turned to her. “I find the bodyguards tiresome,” he said. “However, my father insists my two brothers and I are protected when we travel away from El Bahar.”

“It seems like a sound precaution,” she offered, not sure if a comment was expected.

“I suppose. They stay in the suite and accompany me when I leave. But they are discreet and won’t be in your way.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. How nice to know that the bodyguards wouldn’t inconvenience her. And to think she’d been so darned worried about that, too.

“As you heard, your clothes are in your room. I ordered a light supper. That should be in your room, as well. I would like to begin our work day promptly at eight. The office is over that way.” He pointed to the hallway on the left.

“I’ll be there,” she told him. “If I get lost, I’ll phone for one of the maids to show me the way.”

“I think you’re intelligent enough to find it on your own.”

As he spoke, he smiled at her. She suddenly found herself slightly breathless and had to clear her throat before she could speak.

“I’ll do my best.” She took a step toward the bedrooms, then paused. “What do I call you? Your Highness? Prince Khalil?”

“Khalil is fine.”

She took another step, stopped and turned to face him. He was tall and forbidding in a deliciously handsome way. For a second, Dora wished that she was as beautiful as the Bambis of this world, that God hadn’t been quite so generous with brains and had instead given her a pretty face or a killer body. But He hadn’t, and she really didn’t want to give up her intelligence. Not after she’d gotten used to it being around.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “You were very kind to me today, and I appreciate it.”

He waved off her words. “My act of kindness as you call it, turned into my own good fortune. I would not have survived another day with that woman tormenting me. Good night, Dora.”

His final words were a dismissal, and she took the hint, heading in the direction of the bedrooms.

It wasn’t hard to figure out which was hers. Two doors were already closed and a third led to a huge master suite. She had a brief impression of a four-poster bed large enough to comfortably sleep four, a sitting area, complete with fireplace, and fantasy bathroom beyond. Then she made her way to the open door at the end of the hall.

The large space had been decorated with blues and golds. The furniture looked French and highly polished. A small table in the corner contained a room service tray, and more than a half-dozen shopping bags were lined up in front of the queen-size bed.

Dora hesitated, not sure which to deal with first, then her stomach growled, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning, back in her apartment in Los Angeles. She sat down and made quick work of the salad and roll, then moved on to the delicately flavored chicken, served with baby vegetables and saffron rice. She saved the gooey chocolate dessert for later.

Still sipping her glass of chardonnay, she moved to the bed and settled on the mattress. As she did so, the mirror on the dresser opposite reflected her image. She stared at herself and resisted the need to groan aloud.

She was a mess. Whatever makeup she put on that morning had either faded or drifted under her eyes, leaving her skin sallow and smudgy looking. Her short, dark hair had gone flat, and the ill-fitting wedding dress billowed out around her in a most unflattering way.

“My life is a mess,” she told her reflection and didn’t get a single argument in return.

Twelve hours earlier, she’d been happy and content, planning her wedding, preparing to travel to Boston with her boss-fiancé. Now she was alone in New York, at the mercy of a virtual stranger. Granted, the stranger was a prince, and how many people could say that about their rescuer? But he was hardly more than a temporary refuge. When her two weeks were up, she was going to have to return to the disaster that was her current circumstances. She would probably even have to face Gerald again.

The thought made her shiver, so she pushed it away. Instead of dwelling on something horrible, she bent over and pulled the first shopping bag onto the bed, then dumped the contents. She did the same with the next bag and the next until they were all empty and a huge pile of wonderfully expensive new garments surrounded her.

There were shoes and bras and nightgowns and dresses and skirts and blouses. A tissue-wrapped box contained an entire set of makeup and brushes. Another zippered case had been filled with toiletries.

She stood up and yanked off the wedding gown, tossing it into a heap in the corner, then pulled on the first dress, a soft blue silk shift that skimmed over her full hips. Delicate roses in a slightly darker shade of blue had been embroidered into the shoulder and upper bodice, drawing the eye higher on her body and actually making her looked balanced.

She looked more closely at the clothes and realized the blouses were all light or bright colors, while the skirts were more subdued. At first she marveled at the insightfulness of the boutique’s manager, then she remembered that she’d given them her sizes—the top half of her body differing from the bottom by a full size less.

Dora shrugged and returned her attention to her reflection. She’d never looked better. The boutique’s manager had created an attractive illusion, sight unseen. Then Dora glanced at the price tag hanging from the sleeve of the dress. Her mouth dropped open and she made an audible gasp.

Twelve hundred dollars.

She blinked. Twelve hundred dollars? For a dress she would wear to the office? She looked at the crumpled wedding gown, the one she’d bought on sale at an outlet.

She stared at the clothes she’d tossed carelessly on the bed and realized she didn’t dare calculate how much all this had cost. It would make her nauseous. Instead she hung them up in her walk-in closet, then washed her face, changed into a plain cotton nightgown, which probably cost more than her wedding gown, and got into bed.

As she settled back against the fluffy pillows, she thought about her day. Which was a mistake because it forced her to think about Gerald. The man was a weasel. A walking, breathing snake of a weasel. She was better off without him. Better to live alone than to live a lie.

She believed what she was saying, even as the words broke her heart. It was one thing to find out that her fiancé had never loved her, it was another to have that information thrown in her face. She rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. Was it her? Had she been to blame? After all, in her whole life, no one had ever wanted her.

Gerald hadn’t wanted her, either, she thought as the first tears formed beneath her closed lids. He’d only pretended. He—

The sound of soft, female laughter drifted through her closed door. Dora raised her head, then relaxed as she realized her handsome prince had company for the evening. What kind of woman would Khalil Khan of El Bahar have in his bed? Someone beautiful, she thought, but the woman would have to be bright. After all, Bambi had driven him crazy.

She smiled at the memory of his encounter with the former centerfold. Who was this man who had changed her life, if only for a few days? What was he like? Was he a weasel, too, the same as Gerald? Were all men? Or was he different? Was he honorable and did he tell the truth?

She didn’t want to think about him too much, preferring not to risk her temporary job by creating a fantasy world. But if she didn’t think about Khalil, she would have to think about all she faced back in Los Angeles. At least she could cancel the wedding long distance. That would be humiliating enough, but better than doing it in person.

Tears came again, and she fought them. She was done crying over Gerald. He wasn’t worth a single one of her tears. Except, she thought as she pulled the covers higher, she’d wanted so much for him to love her. No man ever had. But he’d only pretended. And she’d believed him. It was a sad statement about both herself and her life.

“Yes, I understand, Mr. Boulier. The restaurant’s wine list is most impressive, however the prince prefers to make his own selections from his private cellar. These wines have been flown in from El Bahar. He is happy to pay the corkage fee to use his wines, but if this is too much of an insult to you and your staff, then we’ll simply have to reschedule the dinner elsewhere.”

Dora heard the spluttering on the other end of the phone, but she wasn’t listening. Instead her attention focused on the fax coming over the second line. She caught the phrase “developments in memory chips” and knew it was the information she’d been waiting for.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Boulier, what did you say?”

“Of course I understand the prince’s preference. We will be honored to accommodate his request.”

Dora gave a little smile, although she kept any note of triumph out of her voice. “I’ll be sure to inform him of your cooperation. The final count is thirty-five for dinner.”

“But you’re closing my restaurant, and we can easily accommodate twice that many. The price I quoted you was for seventy-five dinners.”

“I understand. However, privacy is of the utmost importance to the prince. You’ll be paid for seventy-five dinners, but you need only prepare thirty-five. Is that a problem?” She could practically hear the man tapping on his calculator keys. He was about to make a small fortune for very little work.

“Of course not,” Mr. Boulier said, his voice quivering slightly. “We’ll be ready.”

“Thank you so much for your help. See you tomorrow evening.”

She hung up the phone, then picked it up when it rang immediately. The man identified himself. Dora checked his name against a long list, then accessed the scheduling program on her computer, made an appointment, and hung up again. Before the phone could ring a third time, she flipped the switch that sent calls to voice mail and rose from her desk. On her way out, she grabbed the waiting fax, three folders and her notebook.

Khalil’s office was next to hers. He left the door open and had told her to feel free to interrupt with information or questions. In the past five days, they’d developed a rhythm in their working style, with her giving him updates once in the morning, then again in the afternoon.

She crossed the Oriental rug and took a seat in front of his desk. He gave her an acknowledging nod. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said.

“No problem.”

She let her gaze move to the open windows behind him, through which she could see south, across the city. It was a clear but cold January morning, and from this many stories up, the city was beautiful. She’d never been a fan of New York, but the past few days had changed her mind. There was so much to do. When her temporary job with Khalil ended, she just might spend a few days here on her own…in a slightly less expensive hotel, of course, she thought with a smile.

Khalil continued to type, staring at his screen with fierce concentration. As usual, he wore a well-tailored suit that emphasized the animal strength and grace of his body. Looking there for too long was a dangerous occupation, so she moved her gaze higher. His dark hair hung to the edge of his collar. He wore it brushed straight back, and the thick strands seemed inclined to obey his wishes. She rarely saw a hair out of place.

He had a commanding profile, all sharp edges and lines. When he at last turned to face her, she took in the uncompromising set of his mouth, the faintly stern expression that drew his eyebrows together, the narrow, pale scar on his left cheek.

Occasionally she was able to forget that she was currently employed by royalty, but most of the time it was easy to remember. Khalil held himself slightly apart. He didn’t encourage familiarity and rarely responded to her humor. His keen intelligence kept her from dismissing him as pompous, and his incredible good looks gave her heart a regular workout. He was in many ways, the most complex person she’d ever met.

“How was your morning?” he asked politely as he gave her his full attention.

Dora knew him well enough to know that the question was a courtesy, not a request for information.

“Things are going well,” she said, handing him the fax. “Here’s the update on the new computer chips.”

She paused while he scanned the document. His eyes were large and dark brown. Sometimes she would swear that he could see all the way to her soul, which was ridiculous and wishful thinking on her part. The man barely noticed she was alive. To him, she was efficient office equipment. A robot disguised as a woman.

She brushed her hand against the soft wool of her skirt and smiled at the feel of the supple fabric. As it had that first night, her new wardrobe continued to be a marvel. Today she wore a dark brown straight skirt and a fawn-colored, cropped, boxy cardigan. She would never have thought to put the two different silhouettes together, but they worked perfectly. The dark skirt created the illusion of long, lean lines, while the square-shaped sweater balanced her hips. Last Friday she’d ducked out early and had gone shopping, treating herself to a pair of riding-style boots that completed the ensemble. For the first time in her life, Dora felt vaguely attractive.

Khalil put down the fax. “What else?”

She told him about his new appointment with the scientists working on water reclamation. Khalil turned to his computer and touched a few keys, bringing up his schedule for the next day. Dora’s recent entry was highlighted.

“Very good,” he told her. “As a desert nation, we are especially concerned with providing enough water for our growing population and for irrigation. It is my belief that we will eventually reclaim the desert, although I’m sure she’s going to be most reluctant to be tamed.”

“I didn’t realize the desert was considered female.”

“Most definitely. All things unpredictable have that designation. Boats, planes, Mother Nature.”

She wondered if he had trouble with the women in his life. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t had any more company since the first night they’d arrived. Did the prince have someone special in his life? For all she knew, he was married.

The thought was vaguely disquieting. She pushed it to the back of her mind. “I’ve confirmed the arrangements for dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll have the wine shipped over in the morning.”

“How much did they protest at us bringing our own?”

She smiled. “Mr. Boulier squawked, but eventually he saw reason.”

“I’m sure you had something to do with that,” he said, then passed her three thick envelopes. “More invitations to charity functions. I only have time for one. Which would you recommend?”

She flipped through the elegant invitations, then shrugged. “It’s your call. Personally I would pick the one that funds Pediatric AIDS research, but there are likely to be more attractive young women at the fashion show to help the homeless.”

She glanced at him from under her lashes, but Khalil didn’t crack a smile. While she wasn’t expecting a knock-knock joke festival, didn’t the man have a sense of humor? Still, she refused to complain. In the past five days, she’d found herself becoming an important part of his team here in the United States. She didn’t just hand out papers or get coffee. Last night she’d dined with Khalil and two senators who had wanted to talk to the prince about the progress El Bahar had made in developing drought-resistant crops. While her official function had been to take notes and keep track of what information he agreed to send to the senators, when the meeting was over, Khalil had stayed up to talk with her for a few minutes, asking her opinion on the meeting.

A quiet knock at the open door broke through her thoughts. She glanced up and saw a waiter standing there with a room service cart. She and Khalil frequently shared a working lunch.

“The dining room, please,” she said.

She picked up the folders she’d brought with her. Khalil collected a few of his own, along with a legal pad. They walked down the long hallway to the dining room, where lunch was being set up.

“Accept the invitation to the Pediatric benefit,” he said. “Refuse the others.”

“Sure,” she said, a little surprised that he was doing as she’d suggested. But then, he frequently surprised her.

The first day, when he’d invited her to dine with him at lunch, she’d gotten all flustered and nervous. But Dora had quickly learned Khalil simply didn’t like to waste time. They had much to discuss, they had to eat—why not accomplish both tasks at the same time?

She pulled out a chair and took a seat. Khalil did the same, then opened his first folder. “About the embassy party,” he began.

Two hours later the table was clear, and she had enough work to keep her busy well into the night. However, she didn’t mind the long hours. If nothing else, they kept her from thinking about the mess she’d left behind. Unfortunately she couldn’t avoid it forever. When it was obvious their meeting was nearly over, she cleared her throat.

“Khalil, I need to take a little time off this afternoon.” She hesitated. “I think an hour should do it. I have several phone calls to make to Los Angeles. I don’t have a telephone credit card with me, of course. Perhaps you could deduct them…”

He was already waving away her offer. She figured he would, but she had to make the attempt.

“The calls are not an issue,” he said. “Are you having problems replacing the contents of your wallet?”

“Not really. A couple of credit cards have already been delivered. Someone I know at work has express-mailed my passport to me, so I have a picture ID and can fly home when the time comes. But it’s time for me to pick up the pieces of my personal life.”

Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to Khalil that his new assistant might have a personal life. She was so good at her job that he barely thought of her as a person. He frowned as he remembered the circumstances of their meeting—;the airport in Kansas, her wedding dress that didn’t button up the back, the lack of luggage.

“I assume this has something to do with why you were alone at the Salina airport.”

Dora flushed slightly. She folded her arms over her chest and tugged at the hem of her sweater. “Yes, well, it does of course.” She hesitated.

He was about to tell her that she was welcome to keep her private life to herself when he found himself wanting to know the details. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Dora looked startled. She had brown eyes, like many of the women in El Bahar, but the similarity ended there. Dora’s skin was pale, her face more round than angular. She had that undeniable quality that set American women apart from women in other countries.

“I’m not in trouble the way you mean it,” she said, then sighed. “The abridged version of this mess is that I was flying to Boston with my boss, who was also my fiancé. The wedding gown had been delivered that morning. I wanted to try it on and see how well it fit. Sometimes they need alterations.” She pressed her lips together. “Anyway, I went into the back to try it on and when I came out, Gerald—he’s my boss—had his hand up Glenda’s skirt, and they were about ready to do the wild thing right there on the plane.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but he could see the hurt in her brown eyes. “At least I found out before we were married.”

Khalil didn’t know what to address first, the fact that her fiancé had so dishonored his intended, that she’d been engaged to her employer, the identity of the mysterious Glenda, or Dora’s use of the phrase “the wild thing.”

He went with the most simple. “Who is Glenda?”

“One of the executives where I worked. HTS is a family-owned company. Mr. Greene does not like his employees fooling around. He actually doesn’t like anyone fooling around. Glenda’s married, which makes the whole thing more sleazy. I just hate it.”

Usually a small, slight smile lurked at the corners of Dora’s mouth, but now her lips pulled straight. Khalil felt a flicker of compassion. Dora had many fine qualities. She was intelligent and hardworking. He enjoyed her sense of humor, although that piece of news would probably surprise her. She was naturally more aggressive and less deferential than he liked his women, but that was because she was American. All in all, she was an excellent employee, and it annoyed him that her previous boss had treated her badly.

“Obviously there was a big fight,” she said. She dropped her hands to her lap, then twisted her fingers together. “I was angry and hurt and humiliated. Glenda just sat there like a little female toad. Smiling her blond-girl smile. I hate her.” She shrugged. “When the plane landed in Salina, I just wanted to get away from them all. I stomped off the jet and refused to get back on. I wasn’t thinking.”

“How unlike you,” he murmured.

“Isn’t it? Gerald demanded that I rejoin him, and when I refused, he told the pilot to take off. There I was, trapped with no luggage, no purse, no money. Nothing. I never thought he would leave me. But then I never thought he would bop Glenda, either.” Her voice dropped to a discouraged whisper. “I guess I never knew him at all.”

Whatever opinion he’d previously had of Gerald dropped even lower. Khalil thought longingly of times in ancient El Bahar when the law allowed a prince to horse-whip a man for any offense.

“Now I have a wedding to cancel,” Dora said. “Three hundred invitations had gone out the previous day. Talk about timing.”

“As you said, better to know now.”

“Right.” She gave him a quick smile, but it was as much of a lie as if she’d told him she’d long since recovered from Gerald’s betrayal.

“Have you spoken with him?” he asked.

“Gerald? No, and I don’t want to. He’s only going to yell at me. I’m not sure how he’s explained my disappearance to Mr. Greene.” She swallowed. “I’m glad we’re through,” she said firmly. “He told me he cared about me, and he was lying. I could never have stayed with someone like that. This is all for the best.”

She spoke the truth, however Khalil doubted if she believed it completely. He knew she would with time, and she would begin to get on with her life. Until then, the greatest kindness would be to keep her busy. That was, at least, something at which he could excel.