The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh by Ros Clarke
For the Queen of Fluff, the Duchess of Drama, the Empress of Angst, and her Highness of Horror. I love you guys.
Chapter One
Khaled leaned back against the mirrored wall, folded his arms, and tried not to think of all the places he would rather be this morning than in the lift on his way to the boardroom. He was here because his father had asked him to come. When the Emir of Saqat asked, his son knew better than to refuse. So Khaled was in the embassy, speeding up to the twelfth floor to meet the CEO of an oil company.
Oil. He practically choked on the word. It was the very thing that made this meeting such a waste of time. There was no way on Earth that Oliver McInnes of MCI Oil could persuade Khaled to let him drill in the unspoiled waters in his part of the Persian Gulf.
The door pinged and he strode out of the lift. He nodded politely at Saleema, the receptionist. It wasn’t her fault he’d been sent on this fool’s errand.
“Good morning, Your Highness.”
“Morning, Saleema. Is my appointment here?”
“Not exactly.”
Before he could ask what she meant, a woman—a new secretary, he presumed—stepped out of the photocopying room and hurried toward him.
“Excuse me,” she said, without looking up at Khaled. He stepped aside automatically to let her pass. She had to be new if no one had informed her of the correct etiquette when addressing him.
He turned his head to watch her disappear along the corridor and into the ladies’ loo. Not a Saqati woman, which was unexpected here. English, he guessed, with her pale skin and dark hair, and smartly dressed for a secretary in an extremely well-cut trouser suit that clung beautifully to the curves of her backside. A shame she worked for him.
“Sheikh Khaled?”
Saleema’s question dragged him back from his contemplation of the secretary’s curves to the reason for his visit.
“You were saying about Oliver McInnes?”
“Yes, sir. I am afraid he is indisposed. He has sent a representative instead.”
“Fine. Send him in and arrange for some coffee, please.”
“Actually…”
Saleema paused. Khaled gave her a curious glance. “What is it?”
“That was her.” She tilted her head down the corridor where the secretary had gone. “He sent his daughter.”
Khaled’s gaze ran up and down, lazily assessing his opponent in the boardroom. Expensive, charcoal-gray pinstriped suit. Smart, polished shoes. Blue and lavender striped silk tie. White, perfectly laundered shirt. Not Oliver McInnes.
Olivia.
Although, if he were judging by appearances, he’d have guessed that she would have preferred to be Oliver. This businesswoman was dressed in the nearest thing to a man’s outfit that she could get away with. If she was hoping to disguise her femininity, he could have told her it wasn’t working. Earlier he’d noticed her curves from behind, and now that she was facing him, he had a whole different set of curves to appreciate, all of which were wholly feminine and utterly alluring. Noticing that was not helping Khaled concentrate on her presentation, nor was the way her short dark hair showed just a hint of curl at her collar. She wore discreet gold studs in her ears and barely a trace of makeup, which allowed Khaled to see exactly how her cheeks flushed delicate pink with nervousness. Ms. McInnes was not quite as in control as she would have liked him to believe.
For the hundredth time, she tucked a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear and glanced down at her notes. Khaled watched in silence. The boardroom might not be his natural environment, but he’d been involved in enough negotiations to know when to let his opponents speak. It was usually easier to let them dig their own grave than to surge into battle head on.
He had to admit that the MCI Oil presentation was impressive. Olivia McInnes had done her research. He wondered whether she really was a last-minute substitute for her father, or whether the exchange had been deliberately planned to set him off guard. She spoke confidently about the engineering required and gave cogent reasons for the proposed figures. She even knew a little about Saqat. Not much, but more than a glance at a Wikipedia entry could have told her. He was impressed. Most people Khaled met in England had barely heard of the tiny nation on the shores of the Persian Gulf that was his home.