The Sheikh's Convenient Bride

“I may have misjudged you.” Wrong choice of words. He saw her reaction in her eyes. “All right,” he said quickly, I did misjudge you. Now, do you think you could stand aside and let me step into your living room before I go down for the third time?”

He smiled, but he didn’t mean it. Megan could see the banked anger in his eyes. What had happened? Why was he here?

There was only one way to find out. She stepped back and motioned him inside.

“You have five minutes.”

“Thank you.”

The “thank you” had all the sincerity of a cobra thanking a mouse for agreeing to dinner. What was going on here?

“Do you think you could put those scissors aside?”

“Why?” Megan smiled thinly. “Do they make you nervous?”

“Perhaps we can sit down, like civilized people.”

“Me at your feet?”

“Miss O’Connell. I understand that you’re angry—”

“Me?” Megan slammed the door, strode past Qasim and tossed the scissors on a table. “Don’t be silly. What possible reason would I have for being angry?”

“I suppose I should have called first.”

“Yes, you should. You’d have saved yourself a trip.” She folded her arms. Her heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Well, why wouldn’t it? It surely had nothing to do with the way he looked, tall and incredibly handsome with drops of rain glittering like diamonds in his dark hair. “What’s the problem, your highness? Why would you possibly think you’d misjudged me?” She smiled tightly. “Last I saw, you and your flunky had me all figured out.”

“Hakim isn’t anybody’s flunky. He’s an old and trusted friend.”

“Friends don’t click their heels and salute.”

“Hakim does neither.”

“A matter of opinion.”

“A matter of fact.” Caz ground his teeth together. Why was he letting her sidetrack him? Bad enough he’d had to beg to come in out of the rain, that he was going to have to plead for forgiveness. Did he have to take this woman’s insults, too?

Yes, he thought glumly, he did. He was, as the Americans said, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Megan O’Connell had an attitude problem. Thanks to her employer’s duplicity, he was going to have to get used to dealing with it.

Caz forced a smile to his lips.

‘‘I haven’t come to talk about Hakim.’’

“No?”

“No. As I said, I came to tell you I misjudged you.”

Her eyes flashed. “Stop dancing around the subject, your highness. Say what you mean.”

“I had dinner with Frank Fisher.”

“And? What’s the problem. Did Frank eat his peas with a spoon?”

He took a quick step forward. Megan’s breath caught, but she stood her ground.

“I warn you,” he said softly, “I’m not in a good mood.”

“Good. Neither am I. I take it your meal didn’t go well.”