The Prince and the Working Woman (Desert Prince Book 1) Read Free Page B

there are a lot of men who believe that women should be seen and not heard. You can't go around breaking everybody's toes."
    As she realized he’d been testing her earlier, she signed. "So I guess I am going to have to give up my spiked heels?"
    That would be a start. He’d be spending a lot of time with her in the next six months and he would prefer to deal with her at eye-level.
     
    * * * *
     
    The day of the reception started very early in the morning with a trip to the City Stars mall. The decision to remove the stripes from her hair meant Mandy had to be at the hairdresser two hours earlier than the others. The salon was closed for the day, except for the wedding party. Three employees fussed over her like the hooker in Pretty Woman. Thankfully no photographers were permitted. Between hair dye and bits of foil sticking out she looked like a Star Wars character herself.  If Hamid saw her, she would never live it down.
    She gave up her two tone tresses and sported a French gel manicure that made her nail-bitten fingers look long and slender. She must have sucked down too many fumes in the process because she let the stylist cut layers that framed her face. Wispy bangs touched her tweezed brows.
    “You look like a fashion model,” one of the employees said. They were paid to compliment the customers but the arrival of the rest of the party garnered the same reaction.
    Especially her friend. “I barely recognized you. You are going to cause a stampede among the single men at the reception.”
    “They will all be looking at you, Mona.”
    “For about five minutes. And then it will dawn on them that I’m married and the eyes will start to wander to the beautiful bridesmaid.”
    The compliment touched and embarrassed her.  She’d never inspired admiration in men, but after her marriage, she’d never tried either. When she gazed in the mirror a stranger stared back. The highlights and lowlights in her chestnut hair brought out her eyes. Anticipation tingled in her belly. Could she live up to the woman in the reflection?
    Mona sat in one of the empty chairs. “Don’t forget the pedicure.”
    “Who will see my feet?”
    “You can’t wear shoes into the mosque for the blessing. And when you are dragged onto the floor for the belly-dancing…”
    “What belly dancing? We never discussed this,” Mandy complained as she was pulled to a pedicure station. Granted Mona had taught them the sensual Middle Eastern dance moves during her year in Boston, but that was for fun and cardiovascular therapy. “I am not putting on one of those harem costumes.”
    The Nadiarian wedding customs were so different from America.  Not that she had much experience. Her own backyard nuptials and barbeque extravaganza involved a pig roast and double kegs. The only one drunker than her father was her husband. He passed out before enjoying the marital bliss and blamed her for it the next morning. From there, the marriage went downhill.
    “You seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with Hamid last night. He’s not that bad,” Mona said, but her voice sounded like a plea for confirmation.
    “Well I put my foot in my mouth and he still offered me the job.” As a boss she could deal with him. As eye candy, she would probably sneak surreptitious glances when no one watched. She had a weakness for tall, dark and handsome although she would never admit it to her woman’s studies group. They’d voted her Most Likely to Emasculate a Man. But did she see him as a potential lover?  Never say never .
    “So what’s your plan?” Mona asked.
    “I don’t know. I think Hamid expects me to begin next month. How am I going to find a place to live?”  
    “Stay in Nadiar and study our community center for a few weeks. Get the English version of the Gulf Times and see the apartment rentals in Touzar. Don’t use the internet. Those flats cater to foreigners and they over-charge.”
    “I will be a foreigner.”
    “But a government