The Sheikh's Stolen Bride-To-Be

He gazed pointedly at me, but I shook my head. “I’m happy with my drink.”

The server smiled and left us. Nervous, I directed my attention back to Jalaal. There was nothing between us now except two drinks and a few feet of empty air. What was I supposed to talk to him about? What could I have to offer a sheikh when it came to conversation?

“So…do you live in Las Vegas?” I asked.

Small talk. Boring but safe.

“I’d much rather talk about you,” he said. “It’s not every day I meet a real-life Lady Luck.”

I blushed and glanced down at my drink. “I’m not that lucky,” I said. “Honestly, I could just as easily have bowled you over and killed you as won you money.”

When I looked back up, Jalaal was smiling at me, exposing two perfectly straight rows of teeth. His smile sent a wave of butterflies galloping through my stomach. Could butterflies gallop? These ones were, anyway.

“I think you underestimate yourself,” he said. “I’m sure there have been plenty of times in your life where your luck has shown through.”

I wanted to tell him how wrong he was. While I loved my son more than anything, the series of events that had led to where I was in life would hardly be considered fortunate by most people. A first, foolish love, a broken condom, a deadbeat boyfriend. Apart from that one serendipitous moment on the casino floor, I’d practically been living from catastrophe to catastrophe.

Not that I would tell Jalaal that.

Wait, should I be telling him about Sam?

In my head, the girls were telling me to let loose and not worry so much. And I did have a habit of worrying my head in. But not worrying would mean not thinking about everything I had to worry about—which meant not thinking about my life in San Diego at all.

“I once won a teddy bear at a county fair,” I offered. “It wasn’t a very big one, mind. And I’m not sure if that counts as lucky since those are technically supposed to be games of skill.”

“I’ll count that,” Jalaal grinned. He took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair, slinging one leg casually over the other. I found it hard not to drag my gaze back and forth along his lean form appreciatively. Judging by the fit of his shirt, he had some nice muscles going on under it.

Not that such a thing mattered to San Diego Skyler, a single and decidedly not-looking mother of one. But Las Vegas Skyler was liking the way this guy looked. And she was feeling a little bit more confident now she’d decided to push San Diego Skyler away for a while.

“So what can you tell me about yourself?” I asked. “You might think I’m interesting, but it’s not every day I meet a real-life sheikh.” After a thoughtful pause, I added, “Or any day, for that matter.”

He chuckled, the sound of it rolling over me like waves against a pebbled shore. It was the kind of laugh you couldn’t help but listen to if you overheard it from close by. It made me lament not being funnier, because I knew I’d never be able to get enough of it.

“Sheikhs are hardly difficult to come by in places like this,” he said. “And you could do to find one a little bit more important than me. I’m only fourth in line for the throne. I’ll hardly be getting my own reality show anytime soon.”

“Only fourth in line?” I frowned. “I’m…hmm, what am I?” I began to count on my fingers. After a moment of staring at my hands in fake consternation, I looked up at Jalaal. “I’m only one billionth in line for the throne.”

This time when Jalaal laughed, I wanted to wrap myself in it like a cozy sweater.

“Point taken,” he said, lifting his glass in front of him. “To distant heirs and lucky nurses.”

“Rarely lucky nurses,” I reminded him, raising my glass.

He grinned. “Okay, then. To beautiful nurses and the very lucky distant heirs that get to spend time with them.”

He clinked his glass against mine, taking a sip. I slowly brought my drink to my lips, still in shock from his charming toast and the revelations it contained.

Jalaal wasn’t just being polite. He thought I was beautiful.