Sheikh's Fake Fiancee

He chuckled and she loved watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did so. “There are some, but we have cars and busses too. Home’s only so different. I guess I’m not used to teaming masses anywhere. To be honest, when you’re a sheikh you’re set aside from everything else.”

She dropped her bread and cursed when the oil spilled onto her dress. Grabbing for a napkin, Jennifer would have blotted it herself, but Bahan was there, kneeling before her and placing the linen against her chest. That blush that had first erupted on her cheek had to be neon red by now. She looked away, unsure of where to go from here. Frankly, she didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid that her voice would come out far too raspy and come hither, like Kathleen Turner.

“Did I not mention being a sheikh earlier?”

She swallowed and finally gathered her equilibrium when he was back in his seat across the table. “I think I would have noted that. So like royalty? Like Aladdin?”

“Those are actually sultans, like in Brunei,” he said, winking back at her. “I honestly didn’t mean to hide that from you. I thought it had come up last night. Besides, if it didn’t, I figured you’d Google-search me based on my card and realize exactly who I was.” He shrugged as if he hadn’t just announced he was a royal. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I think it is,” she said. “If I had known, I’d have tried harder not to get oil all over me.”

“I think that was the most charming part so far,” he admitted. “Just be yourself. Trust me, if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have given you the card or told Narjit to let the call go directly through to me. I think you’re amazing.”

“Because I was in a short, tight dress and we were enjoying each other?”

“No. Because you’re honest but you’re also so responsible. You snapped to attention to take care of your sister in a flash. That’s what I like most about you. I know what it’s like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“But you have a massive company, I’m assuming, now that I know you really are who you say you are and then some, and a whole country. One kid sister with diabetes doesn’t compare to that.”

“She has that? She’s so slim,” he asked, taking a sip of the wine that had already been waiting at their table.”

“She’s had it since she was a kid. It’s hard. I just…someone needs to take care of her, and Mom does a great job most of the time. Part of having her out here before Christmas was to give Sydney something to do but also to give Mom a break so she could prep for the holidays, you know?”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Jennifer sighed and pulled a bit on the gold filigree around her neck. “What else could I do? She’s family.”

“I understand exactly how you feel,” he said. “Now, let’s try and figure out what to eat. I’m starving.”

***

She didn’t even know how she’d found herself here. The easy answer was that Sixth Avenue wasn’t that far from Saks. However, she could have chosen any attraction to see in the city. Sheikh Bahan Munir could have gotten them the most elite tickets to the hottest Broadway show, into the VIP section of the best clubs, or in for dessert at a celebrity chef’s crown jewel restaurant. Jennifer didn’t want any of those things. In some ways, her life was simple, but her job wasn’t. This weekend was a respite from the usual strife and shark tank she battled through. She needed the fresh air.

So standing in front of the shop windows, decorated with amazing animatronics and marionettes among other things for the holiday shopping season, was exactly what had appealed to her.

“I didn’t peg you as a Peanuts girl,” Bahan said.

“Well that just happens to be the theme,” she said. “They did a big Mickey Mouse one last year, some team-up-with-Disney theme. Maybe next year it’ll be Looney Tunes or Rudolph or something wholly original. You never know out here.”

“And you grew up on this,” he said. “You saw these windows as a kid and fell in love?”

“Not exactly, not this way,” she admitted. “I’d see them on TV, or Mom would bring home magazines that highlighted style and décor, anything that might have big color pictures of the displays that year. Once the Internet was up and running, we’d search for articles about them, too, from actual NYC papers. It was the cornerstone of our Christmases down in Kentucky.”

“That’s very far away to be so interested in a New York store,” he admitted. If he found her hobby weird or her family’s history somehow off-putting, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, his voice was low and gentle. “Can I ask why you did this?”

“Definitely. I figured you’d think I was very weird if I didn’t explain.”

“No, I’ve learned in all my travels that there are millions of reasons why people do things, some are custom and some are just here,” he said, pointing to her chest. “The heart makes up so many rules.”

“Or maybe just ways to survive. My dad walked out when I was just six and Sydney was a baby. Maybe he couldn’t handle having a sick kid like Syd, or he was just a philandering dick. Maybe both, but we didn’t have much money. We’d celebrate Christmas over New Year’s so we could scrape up a tree someone else threw out and Mom could buy a few discounted gifts and maybe candy. I mean a book here or a stuffed animal there. She tried her best, but the one thing we could do was pretend. We could look at these windows and at least imagine what Christmas could be like if we were rich. Once I got my job and had my first big raise, we had Christmas again, but for the longest time, these window

s and our imagination were what we had.”

Bahan surprised her by reaching out and holding her hand. It was a simple gesture, far more innocent compared to things she’d done with him already, even with the temptation she’d presented dancing last night. “That’s one of the most honest things anyone’s ever told me.”

“It’s just why things are the way they are,” she said, smiling a little as an animatronic Charlie Brown and Snoopy ice-skated their way through a pond in a snowstorm. “But these windows are beautiful either way, and sometimes I just like the simple, quiet things. I like to hear my thoughts.”

“I never do,” Bahan replied, and for just a moment, his grip on her hand grew tighter.