The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain. Susan Carlisle
for Zentar. I have overseen the building of a state-of-the-art laboratory. I intend for my country to be a leader in finding a cure for hemophilia.”
Really. That was interesting. She couldn’t help but have her curiosity piqued.
“I have vetted you and you come with the highest of recommendations.”
“Thank you but I have no idea who you are.” Why was the Prince of some nation she’d never heard of focusing on hemophilia? “I appreciate your confidence in me but I’m happy here.” She wasn’t the adventurous type and she’d had that fact driven home in no uncertain terms. The idea of even living in another state, much less some far-flung country, terrified her. “I don’t even know where Zentar is.”
Finally, there was a spark of emotion in those dark penetrating eyes. Was it pride? “It’s an island in the Arabian Sea. We have beautiful white beaches and stark mountains that are amazing in their own right. We are a small independently wealthy country and progressive in many aspects. My brother, the King, worked hard to make it so. Still, we remain very traditional in others.”
What would it be like to have a man talk about her with that same admiration? She shook that shocking idea away. “It sounds nice but I have my work here.”
He leaned forward. “I can offer you anything you desire. The best of equipment, assistants and endless funding.”
“But why me? Why hemophilia?”
He paused, looked away from her so long she felt uncomfortable. “I have my reasons.” That sounded like a dismissal more than a confession.
Laurel started to rise.
His expression still remained shadowy when he turned back to her. “Hemophilia is a problem in my country.”
Laurel now knew what drove him. “I see.”
Those eyes pierced her with a look. “I am not sure you do. In my country the number of children born with the disease is increasing. As the Minister of Health I must find out why. You can help me.”
Apparently he’d believed she would accept without question but it wasn’t going to happen. Just the idea of getting on a plane made her shudder. She could not and would not pick up her entire life and move to a faraway country. “I can’t go.”
“Is there something keeping you here?” His brows formed a V.
“No.”
“Then why not?” He watched her too closely.
“I don’t fly.”
His silent steady examination lasted a heartbeat too long. “Ever?”
“More like never.”
“You would be taking my private plane. Every luxury would be afforded you. All I ask is that you come and have a look at our facility. Then you could decide.”
Laurel appreciated him thinking so highly of her but she had no interest in going to Zentar. She wasn’t a daring person. Her work, her life, her security was here. She stood and he did as well. “Thank you for the offer but I cannot accept. So I really shouldn’t waste any more of your time. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my lab now.”
The Prince’s lips thinned and his eyes were emotionless again, more telling than if they had held some. She’d just refused a man who was clearly used to getting his way. It took a great deal of willpower, but she stepped between the chairs into his personal space. A whiff of his citrus aftershave tickled her nose. A shiver ran along her spine as she hurried to the door. She was unsure if her body’s reaction was in response to his close proximity or from the irritation gusting off him.
“Dr. Martin.”
Laurel turned.
In a low, even voice he informed her, “I make a point of getting what I want.”
* * *
That evening in his hotel suite Tariq poured himself a finger of whiskey. Perplexed, he pondered where his interview with Dr. Martin had gone awry. She had proved intelligent, but more than that she was forthright to a fault. He rather liked that quality in a person. Few people he was around did not have an agenda and said what they meant. Dr. Martin had impressed him with her directness. More than that, she had dared to refuse him!
To his great vexation her shy green eyes had captivated him, too. Behind those silver wire-rimmed glasses they had been wide and clear, as if they had never hidden a secret. Otherwise she was a nondescript slip of a woman. He was both irritated and intrigued. In his world, no one other than the king would tell him no, yet a wallflower doctor who lived most of her life closed up in a glass laboratory had done so. He was confounded. What had gone wrong in the meeting he’d so carefully planned? Worse, why did that haunted look he’d glimpsed in her eyes before she’d come out of the lab still disturb him?
Leaning back in his chair, Tariq stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles, swirling the transparent copper-colored liquid in his glass. He’d done his homework. In fact, he’d even called a couple of research facilities to verify she was the person he should focus his efforts on. It had never occurred to him she would turn down his offer. What research scientist wouldn’t want to head their own lab and have access to all the funding they wanted? Apparently he had overlooked some pertinent fact about Dr. Martin. He didn’t have a Plan B formulated but by evening’s end he would. He wanted Dr. Martin in Zentar and he would have her.
After his brother’s death in a car accident, Tariq had taken over the responsibility of his sister-in-law’s and Roji’s welfare. Tariq would give anything to have Roji grow up with his father there. That wouldn’t happen now, but if Tariq had anything to do with it no more of his family would have to endure what Roji would. The future members of the royal family would be free of hemophilia. The cure was out there and he’d built a lab in which to find it. Now he needed the right person to lead it, and that was Dr. Martin.
He would never put a wife and child in the same position as Zara and Roji. Despite being the only male in his family who did not have the malformed gene, he refused to take the chance on having a family. He didn’t deserve one when the others had to deal with the disease. As a doctor he understood that the ailment was thought to be passed by the female. What if he picked the wrong woman? He already lived with enough guilt.
As a small child he had seen the suffering his brothers had gone through. Always having to have intravenous injections of replacement factor after an injury. Yet that had not helped his brother when the bleeding could not be stopped after the accident. Even with his fancy Harvard medical degree, Tariq had still been unable to save his brother’s life. That weight became heavier with each passing day.
Medical advances were being made but not fast enough. Now Roji took the IV factor every three days prophylactically. Still a boy should be able to run and play and have no worries. Tariq wanted that for his family and others with the disease. To do that he needed Dr. Martin, yet she’d made it clear she had no interest in his offer. He must come up with some way of convincing her, make her an offer she could not refuse. Besides, he never took no for an answer when he had his mind made up.
He had some phone calls to make. Dr. Martin must have something she wanted badly enough that he could use it to make her agree.
* * *
Two days later Laurel picked up the phone in her lab on the second ring.
“Laurel, when you can get away I need to see you in my office,” Stewart said.
Was the Prince back? She’d thought of little else since his visit. For some reason he’d stuck with her. It wasn’t as if she would ever see him again yet he’d had an effect on her. “Okay, I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
She knocked lightly then entered Stewart’s office. They’d had a strong, friendly relationship since she had joined the lab staff five years earlier. Stewart had always left her to do her work and she’d appreciated that.
“What’s up?”