you require an American nanny? Why not a woman from your own country, familiar with El Zafirian customs?”
“I will teach my children about their country. As will the rest of my family. But many of our business dealings are in the West, and, by virtue of their birth, Hana and Nuri will be involved in service to El Zafir. They will be required to interact with representatives of America. You will be able to prepare them for this, which someone from my country could not. It is a requirement I think very important.”
She swallowed. “About the position’s qualifications, Your Highness.”
“They were not plain enough?”
“Interesting you phrased it that way. May I ask why a plain woman is required?”
“Actually I believe the phrasing was ‘a plain, unobtrusive American woman with some intelligence, who is good with children.”’
Crystal figured she could be as unobtrusive as the next woman and it had taken a reasonable degree of smarts for her to get through college. She was the youngest of five children, and all of her older siblings had kids she adored. The “good with children” part she wasn’t worried about. It was the “plain” part that puzzled her.
For fun she’d looked up the definition which ranged from discreet and simple to ugly and unattractive. Did he realize that she could be insulted by the phrasing? Mostly she was curious.
“I understand the significance of the rest. But your aunt didn’t explain why ‘plain’ is important.”
“Because beautiful women are…” He hesitated and his eyes turned hard—icy and hot at the same time. His mouth thinned to a straight line.
“Are what?” she asked, shivering at the expression on his face.
“An unwelcome distraction.”
“I see.”
She’d expected arrogance. She’d prepared herself for arrogance. She hadn’t been disappointed. Still, until she’d brought up the current subject, his royal arrogance had exuded a warmth and politeness that she found disarming and completely charming. His sudden coolness told her he had a story, and it wouldn’t surprise her if a beautiful woman was involved. She was curious to know what had happened to him. And she might just be here long enough to find out—if he didn’t see through her disguise and send her packing.
Then his comment really sank in and pushed her buttons. Beautiful women an unwelcome distraction? It was no fault of his if he became distracted? A knot of annoyance tightened inside her. Apparently there was no way to adequately prepare for his brand of arrogance. She was raised to take responsibility for her actions, but maybe a sheik could get away with blaming others for his flaws.
“Your Highness,” she began. “Let me make sure I understand. If you are unable to stay on task, as we say in the education field, it is the fault of the woman—if she happens to be beautiful?”
Again she lifted her chin and met his gaze straight on, letting him get a good look at her. If her disguise couldn’t hold up under scrutiny, it was best to know now. She’d considered a wig, buck teeth and a fake wart on her nose. In this situation, she felt simplicity was the cornerstone of success. Yet she’d always been unable to suspend her disbelief when no one could tell that Clark Kent was who he really was—merely because he slicked down his hair and wore unappealing glasses. There was still that mouthwatering body. A hunk by any other name… Right?
She didn’t consider herself beautiful—not in the leagues Prince Fariq Hassan played in. But back home she’d had her share of attention, not all positive. She had the scars to prove it. She didn’t think her looks, or lack thereof, should be the basis for whether or not she was qualified to care for his children.
They stared at each other for several moments, and she wished he would say something. She figured this was where her mouth had yet again written a check her cockiness couldn’t cash. Still, it was better to know now—for both of them. And especially for the children.
“Let me see if I understand the question,” he said. There was a gleam in his eyes that could be humor. “If I am unable to concentrate in the presence of a beautiful woman you are asking who’s to blame?”
“That about sums it up.”
“It’s her fault, of course.”
Again she didn’t know whether or not he was joking and decided to behave as if he wasn’t. “Then there’s something you need to know about me before we go any further.”
He folded his hands together, then placed them on his desk as he leaned forward. “What is that?”
“The foundation of my philosophy in dealing with children is that one always needs to take responsibility for one’s actions.”
“And there’s something you should know about me.”
“What is that?”
“I’m not a child. And I’m never wrong.”
He was so inherently masculine in such a very primal way that his first statement bordered on ludicrous. “Duh” was her instinctive mental response and nearly distracted her from the swagger in his second statement. Never wrong?
“It’s always good to know where your employer stands on an issue,” she said. “Assuming you still are my employer. Or that I’m your employee.” She held her breath.
“I think my aunt has chosen well. You’ll do nicely.”
Crystal realized she should have been elated that she’d passed muster. She was in. Hired. She’d cleared the hurdle. Before meeting the prince it was what she’d hoped to do. Unfortunately, now that her job was in the bag, she felt oddly deflated at her rousing success. He believed she was as plain as she pretended. How about them apples?
Most people associated all of Washington state with apples. Even Fariq had. Which just goes to show you should never assume anything. But he took her clothes, hair and glasses at face value and looked no further.
She sighed. Oddly enough, she felt that life could be compared to an apple—at its core. You could always count on the fact that there were seeds to spit or swallow and Fariq was hers. And yet she had to respect the man. In spite of a thumbs-up from a trusted family member and the fact that people in his position paid others to raise their children, he loved his kids so much he’d insisted on meeting her. It was obviously important to him to see for himself and approve of the person who would care for them.
“I’m very anxious to meet the children,” she said. If this were an interview, she would be guilty of leading it. But technically it wasn’t. And she was eager to meet her charges.
“I will take you to them and introduce you.” There was a note of pride in his voice and a tender look in his eyes.
He stood and rounded the desk, then held out his arm indicating she should precede him. She stopped at the heavy wooden door. At the same time they both reached out to open it, and their hands touched.
“Allow me,” he said. His butterscotch-and-brandy voice made her shiver.
“Thank you.”
In the
