The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain. Susan Carlisle
She raised her starched linen napkin to her lips.
“Did you work things out with your parents?”
“I did.” Not that she liked deceiving her family.
His attention focused on her. “Tell me about them.”
To her further amazement he sounded as if he genuinely wanted to know. This part of his personality she’d not expected. She cleared her throat. “They live about an hour outside Chicago. Dad is a factory worker and my mother a schoolteacher. They’re very happy together. I have two brothers and a sister. I wish I’d had time to see them. I’ll miss them.”
“You obviously care about them. I am sorry I could not have allowed you more time. If you had taken the job when I first asked, you would have had it.”
So much for his charm. He was right, but she didn’t like him pointing it out. “Are you trying to start an argument?”
His mouth lifted slightly at one side. “I am not. Just stating a fact. So how is your family taking you being away?”
“To say that my parents were surprised is an understatement. Along with concerned, and maybe just a little excited for me. They’ve been telling me for years I need to get out more.” Why was she telling this dark, brooding man that? He should be the last person she would confide in.
“I too am sorry you did not have time to see them, to have been able to say a proper goodbye. Family is important.”
She lowered her chin and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “I appreciate that but I don’t plan to be gone long.”
His expression didn’t waver and he said nothing. What was he thinking? She turned her attention to her plate. “My brothers and sisters were jealous. They all wanted to come with me.” She leaned back as the steward removed her plate then the Prince’s. “About us getting married, are you sure there is no other way?”
The question hung in the air as the steward put a plate down in front of them with a decadent-looking chocolate cake on it.
“Positive.”
After the steward left, she said softly, “Sorry.”
“He is loyal and knows that nothing he sees or hears is to be repeated. But you should still be careful what you say.”
Laurel picked up her fork and concentrated on the cake. “I will be.”
“Good.” Tariq just looked at her a moment with those unreadable eyes. He blinked. “Did you have to give up any other commitments to come to Zentar?”
“You’re asking that now?”
“I just wanted to make sure some man wasn’t going to show up unannounced and create a problem.”
“You don’t need to worry about that happening.” She refused to let him know why it wouldn’t be an issue.
“That’s good to hear. I suspect you live for your work.”
That might be true but she didn’t like the way it sounded out loud. He didn’t think she had a personal life? His attitude made her think too much of her childhood years when she had been made fun of for reading all the time. She glared at him, which she seemed to be doing a lot of. “It would be my guess we both tend to do that.”
“Agreed.” He dug into his cake.
He made it sound like she had given him a compliment. “You mean I actually have something in common with a prince!” Laurel made her tone as cynical as possible. Who was she kidding? She had little in common with him and never would.
Tariq smiled. Her breath caught. Having it directed at her made her feel special, all warm and gooey inside. “It sounds like we do.”
This laid-back, easygoing aspect of his temperament she could learn to like.
“You know, I’ve been wondering about where I’m going to be living. Do I need to rent a car? Can I just walk to the lab?”
“You will be my wife. You will live on the palace grounds, in my apartments. All you have to do is ask for anything you need.”
Live with him? At the palace? She hadn’t thought this through. A palace wasn’t where she belonged. She wouldn’t fit in with royalty. She wasn’t like them. “There’s no other arrangements that can be made?”
“Not if you are my wife. There are plenty of rooms in my apartment. You will not be disturbed. Nasser or one of the other drivers will always be available to take you to and from the clinic.”
“Am I going to need an escort for some reason?” Was there something going on she needed to know about?
“You do not.” He almost sounded hurt. “Zentar is a very safe country. You are welcome to wear Western dress but be aware of the sun. It can often be very strong so you may want to consider a hat and sunglasses whenever you’re out. Cover your fair skin in the middle of the day.”
It gave her a peculiar feeling to have him note something as personal as her skin. As if she mattered to him. That wasn’t possible.
He continued, “I think you will find that everything you might wish for will be at the lab, which will be fully under your direction. I’ve already hired six highly qualified employees. They have impeccable qualifications.”
“Okay.” She wanted to do research, not wrangle people, and she had no intention of starting to do that now.
“The lab is housed in the same building as our public clinic, which will be opened five days a week. You will find that it is extremely busy. Anyone who comes to the clinic with hemophilia will automatically be referred to the lab for testing.” His voice took on a certain ring of excitement as he spoke. “The lab will also handle any special cases, like cancer.” His phone buzzed and he frowned at the screen.
“I don’t know if you have made any notations in your paperwork or talked to people who know me, but I’m not a manager. That’s part of the reason I went into research. I don’t give orders well.”
He glanced at her. “That is hard to believe. You have had no difficulty making it clear to me what you like or dislike.”
She leaned forward in her seat. “Even you have to admit this is an extraordinary situation. Or do you demand women marry you all the time?”
“I do not. You are the first. I think you will be fine in the lab.” Tariq’s attention went back to the phone.
“I don’t want the responsibility of telling people what to do.” That was an aspect of her personality that had always been a struggle.
“You should not have a problem. I have hired professionals who know their jobs. If you do have an issue, let me know.”
“You can bet I will,” Laurel murmured. “My research comes first.”
His attention was on her now. “And I fully intend that it should be.”
“Is there anything else you expect from me?”
Tariq studied her a moment too long, his eyes not wavering. Laurel shifted in her chair. Was Tariq thinking about what they were discussing or had his focus shifted to them being husband and wife? Once again she wished she could have a hint of his thoughts.
“No, I just expect you to do what you have been brought here to do and nothing more.” He stood. “It’s another seven hours before we land. Feel free to use the bath and bedroom. I’ll have the steward wake you an hour before we arrive. There is a TV in the bedroom that you are free to watch. If you are interested in tracking our flight, turn to Channel Three. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a matter to handle.” With that he walked to an office area toward the front of the plane.
Laurel hadn’t felt at ease about this job arrangement or fake marriage from the beginning. Her recent discussion with Tariq hadn’t improved her attitude. Unease filled her.