The Sheikh's Rescued Baby - Leslie North Page 0,1

responsible, for that matter. But...that could be a good thing, since I intend to rule. And he comes from a good family. Raihan is a prosperous kingdom. On balance, he should be all right.”

“On balance, he’s also very attractive,” Sanaa pointed out.

“Yes, well.” A flicker of heat moved across her cheeks. “I won’t be appealing to his...baser impulses in this meeting, or ever. That would be false advertising. He’ll get nowhere with me, even if we do marry.”

“You look beautiful.” Sanaa stepped back to allow Aisha out of the dressing room, then followed her down the hall. Aisha took a series of deep, cleansing breaths. He would not get under her skin. She would not allow herself to become frustrated, even if he didn’t live up to the profile his advisors had sent her, or any of their assurances that the youngest sheikh of Raihan was coming into his own. She paused once more outside her office, straightened her skirt and swallowed her anxiety.

Then she went to sit behind her desk.

Sanaa’s footsteps faded down the hall. She’d bring Nadim to the office. Aisha’s pulse thudded with nervousness. There was nothing to be nervous about. She sat at her own desk, in her own palace, and she was the sultana of Kendah. He should be nervous to meet her.

Her right-hand woman appeared in the doorway a moment later, cheeks pink and clearly struggling not to smile. “Sultana Aisha, I present Sheikh Nadim Hasan, prince of Raihan.”

She stood up, prepared to welcome him with a crisp, cool handshake, and froze.

Aisha had spent so much time building a wall around her heart—a shield to protect herself from any more disappointment. That shield was supposed to keep her from the strange flush of feeling that moved through her at the sight of Nadim. Heat. Pure heat. His dark eyes twinkled, meeting hers without an ounce of anxiety. His tall frame filled the doorway, and his muscles filled out the dark suit he wore. She’d expected him to arrive in something less formal—a shirt, open at the neck, perhaps—and for several moments she couldn’t take her eyes off the fine cut of his jacket where it nipped in at his waist and the way the sleeves caressed his biceps.

“Sultana Aisha.” His low, rich voice rolled over the room and bowled into her. Oh, he was handsome. Perfect teeth, a jawline that could cut glass, and a tidy beard to match his neatly trimmed hair. The light scent of cologne, something cedar-like and fresh, got to her a moment before he did. Nadim extended one of his large hands, the set of his shoulders powerful. He’d caught her looking. I know what you’re thinking, his expression said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Aisha shook his hand, forcing herself back into action just in time. “Sheikh Nadim. I’ve been looking forward to our meeting.” She sat down, brushing her hands over the front of her skirt to keep the wrinkles away. He followed her lead, sitting easily across from her as if he were sitting in his own office. “Now. I know you’ve been briefed by your people. We both know this is just the first official meeting before we begin our tour.”

The tour, the tour. Their staff members had arranged a tour of Kendah for the two of them that was set to begin the next day. They would spend about a week together, by the end. Aisha allowed herself only the barest hint of hope that they’d end with a positive outcome. Nadim was the best candidate she had at the moment—or all along—despite his flaws.

Not that she could particularly remember those flaws now, with him looking at her like that, an easy smile on his face. An easy, gorgeous smile. Right—the women. He was a known playboy. And he’d probably try to use those ways against her, too.

Aisha cleared her throat. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?”

He pressed his lips together, studying her, eyes firmly on her face. “Coffee or tea?”

She blinked. “What?”

Nadim leaned one elbow against the arm of his chair and rubbed a hand over his beard. “One thing I wanted to be sure to ask you was whether you prefer coffee or tea in the mornings. I tend to be an early riser, and if I’m the one getting drinks, I don’t want to spend all week bringing you tea when you’d rather have coffee instead.” He laughed. “What kind of impression would that make?”

“I have to say,