a baby only seven months after the wedding. Rafe and I managed to sneak away a month ago when we spent that week in London, but since then…” She shrugged. “Let’s just say my fiancé is getting the tiniest bit crabby.”
Cleo tried to laugh along, but Zara’s crack about getting pregnant had hit a little too close to home. What would her sister say if she knew the truth? What would the king say? She shivered slightly, not wanting to go down that road. It was important that she remember to—
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She and Zara were walking down a long corridor that led to the east wing of the palace. Behind them two servants trailed along with Cleo’s luggage. Zara continued to talk about the wedding.
Cleo stopped suddenly and turned. A door opened and a man, a tall man, stepped out from behind it. He walked purposefully, as if he knew exactly where he was going. As if he knew she was standing there.
Sadik.
Cleo sucked in a breath. Her heart seemed to flutter in her chest, and adrenaline poured through her. She tried to remain calm—for the baby, if nothing else—but it was impossible. Every nerve in her body went on alert. She couldn’t see or hear anyone but him.
An unbearable combination of pleasure and pain filled her. Pleasure at seeing him again and pain for how much she’d missed him in the time they’d been apart.
He approached slowly, steadily, as if she were prey he stalked. The man was impossible, she thought frantically. Impossibly tall, impossibly good-looking, impossibly tempting in bed.
The last time she’d been here, desire had overwhelmed good sense. She had hoped that her months away would have given her a little more backbone. Obviously, she’d hoped in vain. Her first impulse was to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her right there up against the wall in front of God and everyone. Her second impulse was to run.
Sadik paused in front of her. His perfectly tailored suit probably cost more than she’d made in the past couple of months. She didn’t doubt his shoes cost more than her yearly rent. She had nothing in common with this man, and forgetting that would only lead to heartache.
“Cleo,” he said. His low, sexy voice made her break out in goose bumps.
“Sadik. Nice to see you.” She tried for a casual smile and had a feeling that she fell short. Oh, well.
His dark gaze swept over her, starting at the top of her head where he frowned slightly at her spiky blond hair, past her face to her body where he lingered on her breasts and hips.
She didn’t have anyone’s ideal of the perfect figure, unless one studied Rubensian paintings, yet Prince Sadik had made it very clear that he found every inch of her desirable. Even now, just looking at her, he spoke his pleasure in her curves and softness. His desire made her melt. She wanted to beg him to pick up where they’d left off. A last flicker of common sense kept her silent.
Aside from the fact that getting involved with him again would be incredibly stupid, one look at her naked body would tell him there had been some pretty significant changes since they’d last done the wild thing.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. It was a small betrayal of his tension, but it gave Cleo courage. At least she wasn’t the only one hanging on by a thread.
He nodded at Zara, then turned on his heel and returned the way he had come. Cleo was left with the feeling that he’d wanted to check her out—maybe to see if their passion was alive and well, which it was. She wasn’t sure if he’d found that good or bad news.
Chapter Two
“W ell?” Zara asked when they resumed their stroll to the guest quarters. “Any sparks left between you two?”
“Not really,” Cleo lied. “I mean, dating a prince was interesting the first time around, but it’s so not me.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m hardly princess material.”
“You could be.”
“On what planet?”
Zara smiled. “Okay, I get your point. Fitting in here isn’t that easy, and believe me, I’ve been trying for the past four months. I guess the rich and powerful really are different.”
Cleo couldn’t help laughing. “Zara, you’re the college professor in the family and you just now figured that out? There’s something wrong with you.”
Zara grinned. “Hey, I’m a princess. You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Excuse me, but I’m your sister. I can do whatever I want.”
Zara sighed and linked arms with Cleo. “I’ve missed you so much. It’s so great to have you here. I finally feel as if I have someone on my side in this crazy place. It’s taken a whole lot longer to adjust than I would have thought.”
“Why are you surprised? You went from being a small-town girl to living in a royal palace, halfway around the world. Oh, and you happened to find your long-lost father and fall in love. That’s hardly a situation designed to make you feel normal.”
“Agreed. While it’s nice to finally find roots, I have to admit I spend most of my time with my head spinning.”
Cleo didn’t doubt it. Just walking the corridors of the royal palace was enough to upset anyone’s equilibrium. They moved past bubbling marble fountains and priceless tapestries. There were statues, paintings, open courtyards, alcoves, anterooms and servants. There were also King Hassan’s cats who were allowed to go anywhere in the palace by royal order of the king. It was not a world designed to make one feel grounded.
“At first I envied you this,” Cleo admitted. “But now I’m not so sure I’d want to be a member of the royal family.”
“You’d get used to it.”
“Maybe.”
Cleo knew that it didn’t matter one way or the other. If all went well, she would be out of here in a couple of weeks. As for her own personal fantasy of home, hearth and family…that wasn’t going to happen.
She shook off her sad feelings before they could blossom into a full-fledged pity party. No time for that, she reminded herself. This was Zara’s special time, and she was determined to do everything she could to make it wonderful.
She glanced at her sister and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t forget your promise. I want first chance at all your jewelry castoffs. Anytime you get tired of your diamonds or sapphires, pass them my way.”
Zara laughed. “I promise. And if I find an old tiara lying around somewhere, I’ll send it over.”
Cleo fingered her short, spiky hair. “I’d look good in a tiara. Maybe it would make me look taller.” She had a sudden image of herself at her job in Spokane. There she would be, manning the copy machine, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt and a tiara. It would certainly get the customers talking.
The image was both comical and tragic. Fortunately, they reached their room before hormones could overwhelm her. She might be able to explain her slight weight gain, but sudden bouts of sobbing would definitely get Zara’s attention.
Zara opened the door to the suite and stepped inside. Cleo walked into the open space.
“It’s just like I remember,” she said, taking in the cream-colored walls and the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors with a view of the Arabian Sea. The water was as beautiful as she remembered.
“Not bad,” she said, glancing at the deep-blue-and-rose tapestries decorating the walls, and the comfortable sofas and chairs that made up a large seating area in the center of the room.
“Everything is as you left it,” Zara said, pointing to the right.
Cleo walked toward the room she’d called home for a couple of weeks. This time she was prepared for the luxury of the four-poster bed in the center of the room. She had double French doors that led out onto