The Sheikh's Convenient Bride

“Not even I’m that nuts.” Briana sat back. She crossed her legs, bounced one foot up and down, then cleared her throat. “So, how’s the big job hunt going? Anything good today?”

Megan sighed, tossed her pen aside and looked at Briana. “No.”

“Nobody wants accountants in L.A.?”

“They want bookkeepers who think they’re accountants, and accountants willing to be paid like bookkeepers.”

“Which means?”

“Which means, I’m overqualified.”

“How about trying a headhunter? Don’t you need to go through a lot of mumbo-jumbo to find the really good listings?”

“I’m listed with somebody.”

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nope.” Megan stood up. “How about if I phone in the pizza order?”

“Fine. Just make sure you don’t ask for bacon. Or anchovies. Or—”

“Sausage,” Megan said, and grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m not nuts, either.”

Briana smiled back at her. Then she rose, too, unlocked the door for the pizza guy, and followed Megan into the kitchen.

“How about that economics degree of yours?” she said, after Megan had phoned in their order. “Why not look for a job in that field?”

“I told you the reason.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bree said, opening the fridge and taking out a container of orange juice.

“Yes, I did.”

“You said the turkey at Tremont, Burnside and Macomb would never give you a decent reference.”

“See? I did tell you.”

“You said he wouldn’t. You didn’t said why he wouldn’t.” Bree opened the OJ and took a sniff. “I always thought you were good at your work.”

“I am.”

“But?”

“But…” Megan hesitated. “But, I sort of quit in the middle of an assignment.”

“Whoa. Doesn’t sound like you.” Bree sniffed the juice again. “This stuff smells funky.”

Megan rolled her eyes, grabbed the container and dumped the contents into the sink. “You should have told me you were coming, Bree. I’d have had time to shop.”

“I didn’t know I was coming, remember? I’d have to be psychic to know they were gonna ground all planes west of the Rockies because of bad weather in Colorado.” Briana pushed out her bottom lip. “You want, I’ll go to a hotel…”

“No!” Megan grabbed her sister and hugged her tight. “Of course I don’t want that, Sis. I’m just—” She drew back. “I’m edgy, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Bree said wryly, “I noticed.” She leaned back against the sink and folded her arms. ‘‘So, why’d you quit?’’

“Huh? Oh. Oh, well, I—I just did.”

“Try again.”