The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(86)

And she looked so miserable there, I almost wished I could go back in time and take back what I’d said, or at least have the courage to hug her. Instead, I just patted her hand.

“Ah, forget what I said. You’ll be fine.”

Glancing up at me, she visibly brightened.

“You think?”

I almost wanted to chuckle, it was so touching. Just how oblivious to her magnetism she was.

“I know it. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders.”

Her smile was so wide that dimples appeared in her cheeks.

“Thanks. You probably get this all the time, but you seem to, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And a good brain, and heart, and eyes and…”

Suddenly remembering herself, she fell silent.

“Sorry. I got carried away. You’re my boss and—”

I patted her hand again.

“Lucy, really, it’s fine. We’re just having an ice cream, a nice chat. It’s nothing.”

But the mood was ruined, now.

Rising, her face still red, Lucy could barely look at me.

“I really have to get going. I need to walk my dog; he’ll be waiting for me.”

I rose as well.

“Okay. Thanks for a fun time; it was nice running into you. See you tomorrow.”

She smiled, this time the dimpled grin spreading even to her eyes, turning them into upside-down half-moons.

“Thanks again. See you.”

As she walked out the door, I sat back down to watch her go. Poor woman, she had no idea, probably figured that was the end of it. Because really, I was just getting started.

On my car ride home, I called Donna.

“Bethany Griffiths can still make it as my date to the car launch, right?”

“Yes, sir. She called a few hours ago to confirm.”

“Okay, great. Tomorrow morning, call her to cancel.”

“Sir?”

“I have other arrangements. She’ll understand.”

I hung up to emphasize how sure I was. Yes, I had a much better idea for who I’d have on my arm tomorrow night. Something more fun, more…risky.





Chapter Seven





Lucy




By Friday, I’d mostly kept my word to myself. Despite my little ice cream setback with Khabib, I’d been good at work. I’d kept my conversations with the Sheikh as brief and professional as possible. I’d kept my distance, and done my job. It wasn’t that hard; it had been a busy week after all. We’d been planning almost non-stop for Samara Motors’ biggest car launch of the year, so calls and meetings had pretty much consumed my entire week.

Now, however, my hand on my glass door, I was face-to-face with Khabib, who looked as surprised as I was. With a laugh, he stepped back and gestured for me to come out.

“My apologies, Lucy. I just came to ask you something.”

“Oh, sure. What’s up?”

“About our big launch tonight—”

“Yes, I know you said I’ve done enough already, and if you really don’t want me to be there, I won’t come. I just think with all the happenings and events…” I trailed off, seeing his amused face.

“Sorry for cutting you off.”

He shook his head.

“Not at all. It’s just funny. I was actually here to ask you something to that effect.”

“Oh. To come?”

“Yes, but not in the way we discussed. As…my date.”

I gaped at him. My study of his face—gaze flicking to the right corner of his lips, which lifted when he joked with me—revealed nothing. The longer I scrutinized Khabib’s face, the more I saw that he was not joking.

“My date—a beautiful yet unreliable Hollywood starlet who will remain unnamed—dropped out at the last minute. And, while I was sitting at my desk over there—” he swept his arm over in the direction of his marble artwork of a desk, “I glanced over here and thought to myself: why don’t I invite a woman who is both more reliable and beautiful?”

For a moment, I stared blankly at him. Then, as my face transformed with comprehension, Khabib’s smile broadened.

“So?”

When I opened my mouth, I had to stop myself from bursting out with hysterical laughter.

“Khabib, sir, are you sure?”

He grinned again.

“Nope.”

“Uhh…”

“Well, Lucy, how can I be sure, when you’re rejecting me already?”

I caught his merry eye and we laughed together.

“Fair enough. All right then, I’ll go. I just… Thank you, Khabib.”

He waved his hand.

“And don’t worry about a dress. I chose one out a few minutes ago online. It should go beautifully with that beautiful golden mane of yours. You’ll have it on your doorstep by the time you get home tonight.”

We stood there for a few more seconds, grinning stupidly at each other.

“You’re making me feel like Cinderella or something.” I giggled nervously. “Well, I’m gonna go on my lunch.”

Khabib nodded.

“Yes. You should. I’ll be leaving early again today, though. Got lots to do.”