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Expecting the sheikh’s baby...
When one magical night with gorgeous and enigmatic Majed leaves Sarah pregnant, she’s torn apart over whether to reveal her secret. She already loves this baby, but will confirmed bachelor Majed feel the same?
Discovering he’s going to be a father changes everything for Majed. It’s time to face the music and unveil his true identity as Prince of Keddah Jaleel! He’d love to make Sarah his sheikha, if only he can convince her she’ll be much more than his convenient bride...
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
She stood and wiped her hands down the sides of her trousers. “I think you should come and take a seat and—”
“Stop fudging! Don’t delay any longer, Sarah. Out with it.”
“Fine!” She folded her arms, stuck out a hip. She swallowed, but lifted her chin. “I’m pregnant.”
For a moment her words made no sense. He even momentarily reveled in the relief that she wasn’t planning to leave Melbourne. “You’re—” he rubbed his nape “—pregnant?”
She nodded. “That’s right.”
“And...?”
She flopped down to her stool. She lifted her arms and then let them drop back into her lap. Her mouth trembled and her eyes were full of fear and sadness and tears and, strangely, some laughter. Her eyes contained the entire world. “And the baby is yours, Majed.”
Sarah and the Secret Sheikh
Michelle Douglas
MICHELLE DOUGLAS has been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007 and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books, and an eclectic collection of sixties and seventies vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website: www.michelle-douglas.com.
To my Auntie Ellen and Uncle Reg for letting me run wild on their Mount Vincent property when I was a wee, small thing...and for trusting I’d neither inadvertently drown myself in the dam or be eaten alive by the wildlife.
Contents
SARAH SLID ONTO a stool and held her hand up for a high five as Majed passed on the other side of the bar. The palm-on-palm contact from the sexy barman sent heat ricocheting up her arm.
His raised eyebrow told her he was intrigued and she had to tamp down a laugh of pure, ridiculous exhilaration. His briefly raised finger told her to give him a moment while he served someone down the other end of the bar.
She settled onto the stool. She’d happily wait a hundred moments to share her news with him.
A hundred moments?
She rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms and legs. Maybe not a hundred moments. It wasn’t as though she thought of Majed in that way. Even if he was sexy as all-get-out, with his dark hair, tawny skin, and eyes as dark as a desert at midnight. She bit back a dreamy sigh. Eyes that were edged with long, dark lashes that should be wasted on a man but weren’t in this case as they only made him look more exotic.
But no. It wasn’t because Majed was hot with a capital H that she’d quite happily wait until closing time to tell him her news but because she knew he’d understand. An easy-going friendship had sprung up between them over the past year when she’d barely been paying attention and she gave thanks for it now.
He prepared the order for the three women at the far end of the bar—mojitos—with a casual elegance Sarah envied. The women all flirted with him—flashing smiles and cleavage with a good-natured abandon that had Sarah biting back a grin. He said something that made them laugh, looking for all intents and purposes completely at ease, yet she sensed he held some part of himself back.
Majed: man of mystery, man of contrasts. He managed this bar but he didn’t drink. He attracted women in droves—and some men—and was equally pleasant and courteous to all. He could have his pick from the beautiful people who frequented this inner-city Melbourne bar but she’d never seen him go home with anyone.
Mike, her best friend’s older brother and the owner of the bar, had asked her to keep an eye on Majed, to give him a hand if need be. As he was letting her crash at his swanky inner-city apartment for the six months of his current overseas sabbatical, it had seemed little enough to promise in return. Mike called her his house-sitter but, as he had no cat to feed or houseplants to water, Sarah had secretly dubbed herself his charity case. Mike had simply taken pity on her.
Pity or not, she’d jumped at the chance to cut forty-five minutes each way from her daily commute.
And keeping an eye on Majed had proved no