The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain. Susan Carlisle
DR. LAUREL MARTIN placed the test tube into the rack with great care, her pulse racing in anticipation. This could be it. The breakthrough she’d devoted her career to finding. The process to stop the mutation in the factor IX gene in the X chromosome. If it could be tested for during pregnancy and corrected then thousands of lives could be changed, in some cases even saved. The key was discovering that link.
To find the answer she had to have funding. That money was difficult to come by. She’d already been put on notice that hers was running out. Still she held out hope that would change. She’d submitted another grant application and should hear about it any day.
The study of hemophilia had become her life’s calling. In medical school it hadn’t taken her long to realize her comfort zone didn’t include interacting with patients and their loved ones. She didn’t like to tell them bad news. Being an introvert further hindered her ability to do so. Research had become her safe spot.
A tap on her lab window drew her attention. She pushed up her goggles in an effort to adjust them on her nose. Stewart, the director of the lab, stood on the other side of the glass. His medium height was dwarfed by the tall, lean man standing beside him.
Oh, my. Laurel’s heart jumped then adjusted. She stared. The stranger was gorgeous. She hadn’t had that type of reaction to a man in years. Not since college when she’d first seen her ex-boyfriend, Larry. A college football player, he’d been shockingly good looking as well. She’d learned the hard way that good looks didn’t always equate with being a kind person.
The man beside Stewart looked as if he might be of Middle Eastern decent. His skin had a warm pecan tint as if he spent a great amount of time in the sun. His proud bearing gave him an aura of authority, as if he knew his place in the world and had no trouble holding it. The black tailored suit jacket covering his broad shoulders matched his hair and his equally dark, meticulously groomed beard screamed wealth and power. His gaze locked with hers.
To her surprise his eyes weren’t like ink. Instead they were chestnut, reminding her of the color of a racing stallion she’d seen once as a girl. One of his well-shaped brows rose slightly as if he suspected the effect he had on women and wasn’t surprised by her reaction.
His look bored into hers, making her feel like one of her petri dish specimens under a microscope. The devil of it was, he was the kind of man she’d always been attracted to. The type of male who had always looked past her mousy, too-serious and impossibly intelligent personality in favor of a tall blonde, with perky breasts, long legs and an engaging giggle that stood just behind her. Laurel was wallpaper and his sort was interested in the chandeliers.
Men like him didn’t seriously consider her worth noticing. The one time someone had, she’d been traumatized. Larry had damaged her that much. So much so she’d sworn off men and had stuck to that vow for ten years. Long enough to become so absorbed in her work she had little life outside it. Laurel mentally shook her head. None of that had anything to do with the man before her.
The wave of Stewart’s hand, indicating he wanted her to come out of the lab, drew her attention away from the arresting stranger. Laurel checked her test tubes again and pushed the rack further away from the edge of the table before rolling her chair back. She exited the room door with a swish of the airlock seal behind her. In the outer room she removed her goggles and adjusted her glasses. She pulled her mask, gloves and gown off, leaving her in a simple round neck T-shirt and jeans.
Shrugging into her starched lab coat, she touched the bun at the back of her head, making sure it was in place. She glanced over her shoulder. The stranger’s intense gaze remained on her. A ripple of heat went through her, disconcerting her even more. What was he seeing? Thinking?
Shaking off the response, she moved with cool proficiency into the main lab. It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the men that she noticed the two larger ones standing a few paces behind the man. How had she missed those intimidating figures? Because she’d been so absorbed by her reaction to the man front and center. These guys were larger, with bulkier shoulders and had even grimmer faces, if that was possible. Their hands were clasped in front of them and legs apart as if ready to move into action. Who were these people and what did they want with her?
Laurel’s hands trembled. She shoved them in the pockets of her lab coat. Had she done something wrong? Her eyes narrowed and she gave Stewart a questioning look, relieved to have an excuse to break off eye contact with the others there.
Stewart’s voice shook slightly as he said, “Laurel, this is Prince Tariq Al Marktum, and he would like to speak to you.” Stewart enunciated the man’s unusual name carefully, as if he’d been practicing in order not to stumble over it.
Prince? What would a prince want with her? A “lab rat”, according to her siblings. Astonishment made her blurt, “About what?”
“I’ll be glad to share that in private,” Prince Tariq answered in a deep smooth voice like velvet with a thread of steel running through it. His accent made Laurel want to hear him say more.
She wrinkled her nose as alarm washed through her. “Stewart, what’s this about?”
“I’ll let the Prince explain. Why don’t we go to my office?” Stewart turned and started toward the swinging doors separating the main lab from the offices. The Prince stepped aside, allowing her to precede him. Acutely aware of him and his security men, she walked stiffly. At the doors, he quickly stepped ahead of her and held one open. Laurel gave him a quick glance as she passed. His inscrutable look revealed nothing. She wouldn’t want to deal with him on a daily basis. How could she ever discern what he was thinking? Feeling?
As they walked down the tiled hall her low sensible clogs made a tap-tap but there was no sound behind her. How did such immense men move with such agility? That thought didn’t comfort her.
Stewart swiped his card and pushed the office door open. She entered, expecting him to follow, but instead Prince Tariq joined her and closed the door behind him. The already small space shrank in proportion to his large presence. She faced him and shoved her hands into her lab coat pockets, bracing herself.
“Please, Dr. Martin, have a seat.” He indicated the chairs in front of Stewart’s desk.
“No, thank you. I need get back to my lab as soon as possible.” She wanted to return to her safe place. “How can I help you?” Laurel couldn’t imagine how but it seemed like the right thing to say to hurry this along.
“Sit, please.” The Prince’s tone implied she had no choice.
She hesitated but eased into a chair, noting too late that it put her into closer proximity to him. To her surprise he took the other chair. At this point she fully expected he might try to lord it over her. After all, he acted as if he owned the place. Stewart didn’t allow just anyone to take over his office. She clasped her hands in her lap and waited for the Prince to speak.
“Dr. Martin, I would like you to come to Zentar with me.”
“What?” she yelped, leaping to her feet. Had this man lost his mind? Why had Stewart allowed this crazy person into their lab?
The Prince raised his hand. “Just hear me out for a moment. Please.”
Laurel eased back into her chair more from shock than trying to please him. She glanced at the door.
“I assure you, you are safe. What I meant to say is that I would like to offer you a position. And chance to further your research.”
Laurel shook her head in confusion. That sounded completely different than his earlier statement. She already had a place to do research, one in which she was very close to a breakthrough. Her family lived near. She already had a settled and secure life and cared nothing about working somewhere else. Where was Zentar anyway? She had no intention of going anywhere with a stranger. “Thank