The Sheikh’s Accidental Heir (Sharjah Sheikhs Book 2) Read online

  The Sheikh’s Accidental Heir

  The Sharjah Sheikhs Series Book Two

  Leslie North

  Contents

  Sharjah Sheikhs

  The Sheikh’s Accidental Heir

  Blurb

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  End of The Sheikh’s Accidental Heir

  Thank You!

  Sneak Peek

  Sharjah Sheikhs

  The Sheikh’s Forced Bride

  The Sheikh’s Accidental Heir

  The Sheikh’s Secret Son

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied or stored for public or private use in any information retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any mechanical, photographic or electronic process, including electronically or digitally on the Internet or World Wide Web, or over any network, or local area network, without written permission of the author.

  Cover Design by LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, FEBRUARY 2017

  Copyright © 2017 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  www.relaypub.com

  The Sharjah Sheikhs Series

  Book Two

  Leslie North

  Blurb

  Sheikh Ahmed Al-Qasimi is used to playing by his own rules, but when his father decides that his lifestyle of excess is becoming a threat to his future, he has to work fast to clean up his image, or face the consequences. Ahmed is resigned to an arranged marriage to a woman with whom he feels no romantic spark, until another ghost from his past comes back to haunt him: his American ex-lover.

  Melanie is working to prove her catering business is a world class operation, so when she is offered the opportunity to provide the food at Ahmed’s wedding, she can’t say no—even though they once shared a night of passion. When a stranger offers her $100,000 to stall the wedding, it’s hard to refuse, especially when the connection between them is reigniting with a vengeance.

  Letting go of the past isn’t so easy, though, when Melanie reveals a secret of her own.

  Now, Ahmed will have to choose between being with the woman he’s falling for and saving his fiancée from a loveless marriage to another man. With his entire future at stake, can Ahmed find happiness for himself and the women in his life?

  Mailing List

  Thank you for purchasing ‘The Sheikh’s Accidental Heir’

  (The Sharjah Sheikhs Series Book Two)

  Get SIX full-length, highly-rated Leslie North Novellas FREE! Over 548 pages of best-selling romance with a combined 634 FIVE STAR REVIEWS!

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  1

  Ahmed Al-Qasimi was watching the only thing of interest in the entire penthouse. In fact, he’d been watching the brunette with the stunning green eyes all afternoon as she worked silently with the rest of the catering staff, carrying trays of finger foods to the clusters of businessmen about the room, clearing plates, and filling pitchers.

  More than once, he tried to catch her eye as she tucked her shoulder-length dark hair behind an ear to keep it out of her face. The smiles she gave the guests as she paused to check on them caused an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. Wishing she’d turn her smile his way, he’d watched, admiring the way her black pants hugged her legs and hips. Her white, button-down blouse did not show off her breasts as well as he would like, but the hint of soft curves intrigued him.

  She remained focused, paying more attention than any of the staff to fanning out the paper napkins artfully, wiping the condensation from the pitchers of ice water, or pulling a wilting flower from one of the arrangements. If she wasn’t the supervisor, she ought to be.

  He’d been waiting for a chance to strike up a conversation with her, but he wanted more privacy than afforded by a room full of Americans whom he and his brothers had been sent to meet. While their father, Sultan bin Mohammed Al-Qasimi, had spared no expense, renting out the entire top floor of the hotel to introduce his sons to various vendors and businesses, Ahmed found himself unable to focus on anything except the scenery.

  Golden afternoon light poured into the spacious room through windows that overlooked Manhattan’s West Side. From the lush couch where he sat, he could see an infinity pool that seemed to plunge over the edge of the roof. He almost wished this visit was for pleasure.

  Such a waste to spend the afternoon stuck inside, listening to the plans and ideas of men in designer suits, when they all could have better enjoyed a dip in the pool as they sipped from the delectable beverages the bartender was serving.

  Shaking his empty glass and interrupting the conversation he wasn’t listening to, he stood. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m parched.” He nodded to everyone and walked to the bar. Placing his empty glass on the counter, he turned. The slender brunette was slipping through the glass doors and out onto the patio. Her gaze slid across the room as she slid the door closed. When she saw him, she paused for a moment, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. He held her gaze. The way the color went up in her cheeks was lovely, but he didn’t wait for her to break the spell.

  He strolled through the penthouse, maintaining the easy carelessness that had become his habit—and for which his father had chastised him many times. He nodded to those who made eye contact and brushed past the others.

  His brothers were working the room quite efficiently, and he saw no need to duplicate their efforts. He also didn’t want to stop to talk. He might have to work later—right now he only wanted to personally thank the woman who’d been working tirelessly to make sure this event ran smoothly.

  Slipping out the glass doors, he took in a breath as the noise of the city and lingering heat of the day hit him. It was not as hot as his homeland, but New York clung to a muggy humidity that stuck his shirt to his back. The sounds of car horns and traffic and the wail of emergency vehicles echoed from the other buildings, distant and far below the penthouse. Turning, he walked away from the pool, past a large sitting area and fire pit. He found the brunette just around the corner, leaning against the wall and staring at her phone. Her ankles were crossed, emphasizing both her slender legs and the curve of her hips.

  “Beautiful,” he muttered.

  Glancing up at him, she frowned and lowered her phone. “I’m sorry, what?”

  He gestured to the skyline. “The view. It’s beautiful, yes?”

  She looked where he was pointing and nodded. The sun pulled rays of gold and red from her dark hair and touched a little gold to her skin. “When you live here, you don’t often get the view from the thirtieth floor.”

  “Would you like a drink?” He waved back toward the bar. “I could fetch us each something wet, miss…?”

  “It’s Melanie, and no, thank you.” She smiled with just a curve of her lips, an
d he noticed her lower lip was full and sensual. “I’m still on duty.” Her voice was light, but her words carried a tinge of sharpness.

  Ahmed chuckled and put out his hand. “I’m Ahmed. And now you sound like one of my father’s security men. My father would certainly prefer the bartender serve only our American business partners.”

  She shook his hand, her grip firm. He liked her utterly Western attitude. Pulling her hand from his, she asked, “A traditionalist?” She tucked her phone back into a back pocket.

  He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to her. This close, he could smell a hint of something like lemon—her shampoo perhaps. “Old fashioned is a better description. And angry.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “Sounds like there must be a story there.” She nodded again, but didn’t ask questions.

  Gesturing back to the door behind them, he found he wanted to tell her more. Something about those sparkling green eyes, shimmering with intelligence and a touch of sympathy invited a confidence. “My brothers and I aren’t above enjoying a good party or three. Things got out of hand at one of them, and word got back to him. So now we must work—and report back daily as if we are all still boys.”

  She gave a laugh, and he liked the sound of it. A throaty chuckle, deep and genuine. “Dads always find out. But…aren’t you three pretty big to be doing what Dad always wants?”

  He shrugged. “Habits are hard to break. Our father has trained us well to do as he asks—and to risk his temper…well, it is not always us who suffer but those around him. So we try carefully to protect them.”

  “Ah, more of a when the cat’s not looking, the mice—” She broke off the words and looked him over, her eyes warming and the smile lifting the corners of her mouth again. “Okay, that image won’t work with any of you guys… Foxes loose in a hen house? Wolfs in the fold?”

  Laughing, he shook his head. He forced his mouth down and tried to look serious. “We are most definitely not foxes.”

  “Ah, I noticed you didn’t say anything about wolves.” Her voice was lovely, like music drifting past on a warm, summer night. Her lips perfectly formed every word as she spoke, taking their time as if carefully tasting each sound as it passed.

  Ahmed looked her up and down again, making sure she saw his gaze was drifting over her body. “I’d like to make use of that pool at some point. Seems a shame to waste such a temptation. You should join me.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she met his stare, her own equally assessing and—he thought—interested. But she shook her head and her mouth pulled down ever so slightly. She had a very straight nose—almost a little too strong for her face—and strong bones. And a determined chin. “A swimsuit isn’t part of my uniform.”

  Leaning toward her, he let his arm brush hers. “Perfect. We can—”

  She put a hand over his mouth. Her fingers weren’t soft, but were roughened by work. She also smelled of champagne and shrimp. “Don’t say it. Let’s not spoil the evening with clichés about skinny dipping. I gave that up in my college years.”

  Taking her hand, he held onto the tips of her fingers. “I was going to say, we can sit with our feet in the water, looking over the city as if we owned it.”

  She gave another soft, deep laugh. “Sure you were.”

  “Now I am determined to figure out how to get you away from work. What if I pay your boss to let you take the rest of the day off?”

  Pulling her hand out of his, she lifted one dark eyebrow. She had high, arched eyebrows, perfectly shaped—her one vanity, he thought, for she wore little makeup. “My boss is a total slave driver—always has to put the catering business first and never even gives me a full weekend off. In fact, I usually have to work extra on the weekends and maybe get a few hours during the week to simply crash.””

  Ahmed tucked his hands into his pockets—the temptation to touch her, to tuck that stray strand of dark hair back behind her ear, to stroke a finger down her cheek, to try and take her hand back was almost too much. “And yet here you are, lounging outside?”

  She patted her back pocket and he glanced down at her, wishing he could do the same to that lovely, round ass. “Juggling business calls. As I said, work never ends.”

  “But you must eat, yes?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what? You must eat, as must I. And who does not want to show off their homeland? What one place must I not miss while I am here? Some place with New York pizza or a street hot dog or some delicacy I could never obtain anywhere else.”

  She shook her head and waved back to the glass doors. “There’s not enough to tempt you—lobster straight from Maine, Creole sausage rolls, chicken a la—?”

  “A la la—I am speaking of real food.”

  Crossing her arms, she stared at him. “Now I’m starting to feel insulted.”

  Ahmed couldn’t help laughing. “No disrespect meant. The food is wonderful—delicious. But who can live on tiny bites of this or that? I am speaking of real food—the food of the people. Now that is an experience everyone wishes.”

  She gave a soft hum and lifted a hand to tap a finger against her chin. He found the gesture charming. She seemed to realize what she was doing for she dropped her hand, her cheeks warming slightly. Smiling at him, she said, “That’s an idea. I’ll have to think about that. Right now, duty calls. I have to head back inside.” She straightened and smoothed a hand down her blouse, tugging it straight.

  Giving in, Ahmed caught her hand again. “Two minutes more. Let the others deal with everything for just two minutes. Let me show you something.”

  He turned and pulled on her hand, but she hung back. “I can’t leave the work for everyone else.”

  “So serious.” With a grin, he tugged on her hand again. The wind came up and again the stray strand of hair came loose and brushed her cheek. He reached to tuck it back again, wanting to see if it was as silky as it looked. She beat him to it, pushing the wayward strands behind her ear. “Come—the world will not fall apart in two minutes.”

  “You’d be surprised just how fast disaster happens.”

  He glanced back at her, eyebrows lifted, wondering why she sounded so serious. But this time when he tugged on her hand, she came with him. He led her around the patio to the other side of the surrounding terrace. The sun was just setting, a ball of orange in the west, its rays filtered by other buildings, turning the metal and glass into reflections of golden light.

  Next to him, Melanie caught her breath. Ahmed smiled. “See—was it not worth the two minutes?”

  She gave his hand a squeeze and then slipped from his grip again. “Okay, so it was. Thank you—this is a sight you don’t forget.”

  Leaning on the railing, he asked, “You can’t always work. What do you do for fun?”

  She shrugged and grinned. “I work—what else? I’m a driven New Yorker.” A sparkle lit her green eyes, bringing out hints of gold in the depths.

  He straightened and stepped closer, leaning down to put his mouth close to hers as he spoke. “Have dinner with me. Save me from a horrible, boring evening. I want to get to know you better.”

  She stood her ground, not turning away, not stepping back. Instead, she lifted her chin, her lips curving and parting slightly. He could see her chest rise a little faster as her breaths quickened. His pulse did the same. She leaned even closer and for an instant he thought she would put her mouth on his. Her scent wrapped around him—and he caught a hint of musky arousal. But instead of kissing him, she pressed her hand against his chest. “I have to go back to work, and your brothers must be wondering where you are by now. You don’t want to disappoint Daddy, do you?”

  Turning, she dropped her hands and started to walk away. Reaching out, Ahmed touched her arm. She stopped and glanced back. “I live with the idea that what my father does not know does not hurt anyone close to him. Please—take pity on a stranger in your land. One dinner. I’ll buy. Your favorite place.”

  She licked her lips. His hear
t gave a hard thud. With that teasing smile curving her lips, she said, “It’s going to take about an hour to clean up after the party ends.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  Her smile grew. The world had darkened around them. Lights were fluttering on below them and around them on other buildings. Ahmed stood still, his breath held. He could no longer see Melanie clearly now, but when she spoke again, her voice had thickened with what he thought was the same hunger in his veins. “I’d like that.” She turned and strolled back to the party.

  Ahmed smiled. The evening was suddenly interesting.

  Back inside the suite, the noise from too many voices talking was like walking into a wall. He hesitated and then dove in, determined to get through this ordeal. At least he had something to look forward to. He grabbed a bottle of San Pellegrino from the bar and glanced around, looking for his brothers.

  Zaid was the only one really engaging the suits gathered—Zaid had always been the most dutiful of them. Ahmed headed over to where Khalid sat on a couch, thumbing through his phone, checking messages, no doubt—his eldest brother had always been the responsible one. Sitting down, Ahmed draped one arm over the back of the couch and asked, “What vital conversation did I miss?” Khalid opened his mouth to answer, but Ahmed waved a hand. “That was a sarcastic, rhetorical question, brother. I wasn’t paying attention to any of them to begin with.”

  Staring at him, eyes slightly narrowed, Khalid said, “You really don’t like all of this, do you?”

  Ahmed shrugged. “Business is always there, is it not? So why not take the opportunity here for a little fun?”

  Khalid shook his head. “It is time to start taking some of this seriously. Someday soon, Father will lose patience with you. You’re no longer the baby of the family, Ahmed. Father expects you to become a man.”