The Sheikh's Pregnancy Proposal Page 8

Yawning, she picked up the pad and grimly ignored the way her mind kept constantly replaying Gabe’s few words, the curtness of his voice, which had sent an automatic thrill through her. She began reading through the names she’d so far chosen, mentally linking each of the names with Duval because without a husband that would be her baby’s surname.

  Hours later, the doorbell chimed, pulling Sarah out of a restless sleep. Belting on her robe, she dragged fingers through her hair and hurried to the door. Her heart sped up at the breathless thought that it could be Gabe, that the reason he had rung was that he was back in New Zealand and wanted to see her again.

  Flinging open the door she was met by an enormous basket of fragrant red roses that matched the other bunches filling her porch. A short, bald deliveryman stared at her with undisguised curiosity as he requested her signature for the flowers.

  Feeling dazed, confused and angry—because the dark red, deeply fragrant tea roses sent from the same expensive florist that had delivered the last lot, had to be from Gabe—Sarah scribbled her name. When the deliveryman had driven away, she lugged the flowers inside. After a brief search, she found a note attached to the enormous basket filled with roses and boxes of expensive chocolates. When she opened the note she stared blankly at Gabe’s full name, which was unexpectedly long, and a number.

  A red mist obscured her vision for long seconds. She was finally over him and now he decided to provide his phone number? When the mist cleared she found herself out on her deck, the myriad shreds of paper that had once been the note whipping away in the wind.

  Legs suddenly weak, she walked back inside and sat down. Her skin kept going hot then cold. Her heart was beating way too fast. Rage, she decided, was definitely not good for the baby. Taking a deep breath, Sarah stared at the small fortune in roses and chocolates. She felt stunned that after all this time Gabe had decided not only to contact her, but apparently, to woo her.

  Squashing the weak, wimpy kernel of hope that was unfurling irresistibly inside her, she decided that if Gabe had wanted to send her roses, he was too late.

  Just like he was way late sending his contact details.

  If he had genuinely cared for her and valued her, he would have given her his number months ago, or showed up at her door. Neither of those things had happened. He hadn’t even bothered to check to see if she had gotten pregnant.

  She went still inside. Or maybe he finally had.

  That would explain the flowers and the sudden desire to be in contact, which, now that she was thinking straight, smacked of damage control.

  Mood plummeting, she unconsciously cradled her abdomen, protecting the small life inside. She frowned at the thought that Tarik had seen through her visit to the consulate, that he had been suspicious enough to contact Gabe. The scenario seemed a likely explanation for both the call and the roses, given Gabe’s unreliable behavior in disappearing so completely after their one night together.

  Pushing to her feet, she decided that under those circumstances she didn’t want the roses Gabe had deliberately chosen to remind her of the night they had spent together.

  She began ferrying the roses back out onto the porch. She would give them to the pretty little church down the road, and the chocolates could go to the rest home near her school. If Gabe thought he could charm her and buy her off so she wouldn’t make trouble, he could think again.

  * * *

  The following morning, just as she’d finished dressing for work, a knock at the door made Sarah tense. Assailed by a curious sense of déjà vu, as if she would find the same deliveryman with a new consignment of flowers, she opened the door. When she saw Gabe, she froze, too shocked to speak.

  Before she could slam the door, he jammed his foot in place and planted one large palm flat on the door, holding it open. “I just need a few minutes of your time.”

  Chest tight, heart pounding, she did her best not to be mesmerized by his amber gaze or his fascinating scar. She was fiercely glad she had made an effort with her hair, which was wound up in a sexy knot that showed off the new caramel streaks her hairdresser had insisted she try. She was also wearing a high-waisted pale turquoise dress that was not only short enough to show off her legs, but also cleverly disguised the thickening at her waist. “You sound like a salesman.”

  “Technically, I’m an accountant, not a salesman.”

  The freely given fact about his life startled her enough that she almost weakened and let him in before she remembered that was one of the ways he had gotten her before. He had told her he had gone to Harvard to study business and she had been silly enough to think that with the prosaic nature of both of their occupations they had something in common. Determined to ignore the fascination of a man who looked like a battle-hardened warrior but had an affinity for figures—and who had been a breathtaking lover—she kept a firm grip on the door. “Why are you here?”

  His gaze locked with hers for a burning moment that transported her back to a pitch-black night, rain pounding on her window, a breathless tangle of sheets and the heat of his skin against hers...

  “I had to see you.”

  For a split second she was startled enough by the flat, declarative timbre of his voice that she almost weakened. It almost seemed as if he had missed her and really had desperately needed to see her.

  He frowned at her stubborn lack of response. “Did you get my roses?”

  “I did.”

  “Let me guess, you gave them away.”

  “They were not exactly a happy reminder, since you left without saying goodbye and haven’t bothered to keep in touch.”

  “But you knew I had to leave.”

  And she’d known that there were no promises made, on either side. Avoiding his gaze and concentrating instead on a point somewhere to the right of one mouthwatering cheekbone, she tried to nurture the fiery anger that flared whenever she considered just how much time had passed. But it was a fact that the night had been what it was: two people recognizing a mutual attraction and agreeing to sleep together. The only problem was she had been emotionally involved from the beginning.

  “Thanks for reminding me.” She glanced at her watch, which had a pretty turquoise band to match her dress. She tried to look as if she really was in a hurry even though the school term had ended days ago, and all she needed to do for the day was prep work for next term. “Now if that’s all you have to say, I think you should go. I need to leave for work in just a few minutes.” Besides that, she was beginning to feel nauseous and dizzy all over again.

  Gabe’s gaze seemed to pierce her, pinning her in place. “You’re still working?”

  His voice sounded oddly muffled, as if it were coming from a distance, although the thing that concerned her most was that something weird was happening to her vision. Vaguely, she realized she had lost her grip on the door and that Gabe had taken advantage of that fact by swinging it wide-open. Stumbling slightly, she reached for the solidity of the wall. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I checked with your school. The receptionist said the school holidays had started.”

  Outrage that he had been sneaking around, poking into her life was tempered by a scary delight that he had wanted to do so. Suddenly, Gabe was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to clutch at one shoulder in a bid to stay upright. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.” She tried to be crisp and stern, but the words sounded muffled.

  His arm came around her waist. Just as everything faded to black she heard him mutter, “Damn, you are pregnant with my child.”

  * * *

  When she came around she was lying on her couch in the sitting room and Gabe was in her house.

  Tense and on edge that he had slipped past all of her defenses she cautiously levered into a sitting position. Apparently the sluggish maneuver had been way
too fast, because her head started to spin again.

  Gabe handed her a glass of water, which she would have refused on principle if she wasn’t so thirsty all the time, and right now her mouth was as dry as a desert. Draining the glass, she set it down on the coffee table and glared at him. She was suddenly glad she had gotten rid of the roses, and hadn’t allowed herself to weaken and keep any. “I don’t remember inviting you into my house.”

  “That would be because you were too busy fainting.” He loomed over her, the dark jeans and loose shirt he wore making him look lean and muscular and vital, while she felt limp and rung out. “I found your doctor’s number by the phone and made an appointment.” He consulted his watch. “If we leave now we might just make it.”

  “I don’t need a doctor, there’s nothing wrong with me—”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, which successfully minimized her tiny bump. “What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

  Gabe dragged distracted fingers through his hair, making him look disheveled, younger and infinitely cuter. “Tarik.”

  Sarah’s jaw tightened. That little man. It was a further confirmation she should never have gone near the consulate.

  Gabe’s gaze flashed broodingly over her. “Are you pregnant?”

  Heat filled her cheeks. She couldn’t lie. No matter how much she wanted to conceal the truth and keep the baby her secret. “Yes.”

  Seven

  Forty minutes later Sarah was sitting in Evelyn’s office while Gabe stood at a window, staring out at a slice of suburban Kilbirnie.

  Evelyn strolled back into the room, throwing Gabe a glance filled with thinly veiled curiosity. Despite the fact that Sarah was still unhappy with Gabe and the way he had bulldozed her into seeing Evelyn, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny glow of satisfaction that he was with her. If nothing else, it proved to Evelyn that while Sarah might have had bad luck with men in the past, at least this time she had chosen one who was certifiably gorgeous.

  Evelyn handed Sarah a slip of paper with the results of her urine test. “It’s not the best news. Your blood sugar is high, which makes you pre-diabetic. That accounts for the dizzy spells. It happens to some women in pregnancy.”

  Sarah stared at the test result. “That would also explain the thirst.”

  Evelyn gave Sarah a sharp look. “From now on you need to call me about anything unusual that happens. You’ll need to manage your diet and I want you to have regular blood tests.” Rummaging in her desk she found a diet sheet, which Gabe commandeered.

  Gabe sent her a narrow-eyed glance then began asking Evelyn rapid-fire questions that indicated he had studied up on pregnancy. Evelyn crossed one elegant leg over the other and sat back in her chair, visibly preening as she smoothly answered his every question. Beginning to feel sidelined, even though she was the patient, Sarah pointedly got to her feet.

  Evelyn stopped midsentence and blushed. Gabe instantly rose and cupped Sarah’s elbow, in case she needed steadying. She didn’t, she felt fine now, but it wasn’t such a bad thing for Evelyn to understand that Gabe was here for her. Although the fact that Sarah should want to make any kind of statement at all was ridiculous because it smacked of jealousy.

  When they reached Gabe’s Jeep, he helped her up into the passenger seat. “You don’t need to be jealous.”

  Sarah busied herself fastening her seat belt to disguise the fact that she was blushing furiously. “Why on earth would I be jealous?”

  There was an odd, tense silence then Gabe closed her door with a soft thunk, walked around the bonnet and slid behind the wheel.

  Enclosed in the intimacy of the Jeep the one burning question she hadn’t had time to ask pushed to the fore. Jaw taut, she stared at Gabe’s faintly hawkish profile as he turned into traffic. “Why are you here?”

  He had already said he’d suspected she was pregnant, but she would have thought that news would make him run, not come back to her.

  “If you’re pregnant with my child that changes things.”

  “What things, exactly?”

  He braked for a set of traffic lights. “I’m engaged to be married.”

  Fury channeled through her. If she could have found something to break in that moment, she would have broken it. Her reaction upset her. This unstable, passionate creature she seemed to be turning into wasn’t her. She was normally calm and collected; she thought things through. She did not fly into rages. “I knew it. Although my guess was that you were married.”

  His brows jerked together. “I do not have affairs.”

  “But you cheated on your fiancée.”

  “I wasn’t engaged at the time.”

  Her heart pounded even harder. What Gabe had said should have made the situation better, so why did it feel worse? “Let me get this right. You had sex with me then you went back to Zahir and got engaged. At least that explains why you never bothered to call.”

  He’d had more exciting options than a twenty-eight-year-old history teacher.

  Her jaw set. “If you got engaged so quickly, you must have known your fiancée already.”

  Gabe pulled into her driveway. “No. It was an arranged marriage.”

  Horror transfixed her. “So that’s why you slept with me. It was a last fling.” She dragged at her seat belt, trying to unfasten it, but the mechanism wouldn’t cooperate.

  Gabe half turned in his seat, frowning, which only made him look more gorgeous. “It wasn’t like that.”

  She fought against the lure of his fierce, warrior’s gaze. “How was it then?”

  There was a vibrating silence. “You know exactly how it was between us.”

  He tried to help her with the seat belt. Incensed, she pushed his hands away. “I can do this. I’m used to doing things on my own.”

  “You’re not on your own any longer.”

  Even though she didn’t want to feel anything at all for Gabe, his flat statement sent a dangerous hope spiraling through her. He had used the word was with his marriage, as if it was in the past tense. Added to that fact, he could have stayed on Zahir and simply ignored her. Instead he was here, because she was pregnant, taking charge, getting involved.

  She stared at him, feeling crazily emotional, still angry but also on the verge of tears. “So how was it, exactly, between us?”

  “Like this.” Gabe cupped her jaw and out of nowhere the humming, tingling attraction she’d fought to suppress burst into fiery life.

  He lowered his mouth, and foolishly she tossed away any thoughts of being sensible and controlled and let him kiss her.

  * * *

  Gabe closed Sarah’s front door behind him and followed her into her sitting room. The heat that had surged through him at the kiss was still pulling every muscle in his body taut. But, aware of how badly he had mishandled things so far, he grimly controlled the need that had hit him.

  As she opened French doors to let a cooling breeze in, he noticed a pad on the coffee table. Picking it up, he examined a list of names. “Tiffany, Tanesha, Tempeste...” He glanced at Sarah as she strolled out of the kitchen with two glasses of water in her hands. “Are these names for the baby?”

  Setting the water down, she snatched the pad from his fingers. “They’re just ideas.”

  “Any favorites so far?”

  She snapped the pad closed. “It’s just at the formulation stage. Names are important. You can’t just choose any old thing.”

  While Sarah jammed the pad into the drawer of an antique sideboard, Gabe strolled to the French doors that opened onto a tiny deck and stared at the view over Wellington’s harbor and hills. The fact that he was going to be a father hit him again, even more strongly than when Sarah had fainted. The situation was unbelievably complicated because it involved his commitment to Nadia
and his country. But Sarah carrying his child changed everything.

  He desperately needed to order his thoughts, to think like a Sheikh of Zahir and control the dangerous, possessive emotions that surged through him.

  He needed to provide for Sarah and the baby, therefore the only possible solution was marriage. In order to marry Sarah, he would have to end his current engagement and solve Zahir’s financial problems another way.

  Given that his father would finally be a grandfather, and with the possibility of a future male heir to the sheikhdom in the pipeline, Gabe did not foresee that his father would hold to his stance against foreign investment.

  His mind made up, Gabe turned from the view. Sarah was busy plumping cushions and tidying magazines. As she straightened, sexy tendrils of dark hair clung to her flushed cheeks, making her look both gorgeous and vulnerable. The light fabric of her dress swung against her abdomen, giving him his first real glimpse of the gentle swell of her belly. Another surge of fierce possessiveness hit him, and he frowned. Zahir’s financial situation, tricky as it was, would not be a problem, but if he wasn’t vigilant, what he was feeling could be. Marriage was a solution, but it could not be an unstable, emotionally based, marriage. Like the arrangement with Nadia Fortier, this too would be a marriage of convenience.

  “So,” he said carefully, “you’re having a girl.”

  * * *

  Sarah took a deep breath, repressing an uncharacteristic flash of temper that Gabe was extracting information from her about the baby before she was quite ready to tell him. “That’s what showed up on the scan.”

  A curious emotion darkened his expression. Was it disappointment? Instantly she was up in arms on behalf of her child, a female baby who no doubt, in his country, was not as celebrated as a male child.

  “Evelyn said you have a copy of the ultrasound. I’d like to see it.”

  He watched the video file through without a word then almost immediately replayed it again.

  He closed her laptop. “The baby changes things. We need to make arrangements.”