A thrill of excitement rippled through Alex. Bassam had given her enough hints, but now, she knew for sure: she was working for royalty again. She told herself not to expect it to be magical. After all, as she had told Kate, royals were merely people, like anyone else. Still, there was a romance about working in an actual palace which enticed her.

The wide stone drive brought them to the palace, tall and impressive with sweeping blue arches and intricately carved filigrees over the entrance and windows. Alex’s breath caught in her throat as she followed Bassam up the shallow steps and through the front entrance.

A warm breeze blew through the airy foyer. Sunlight poured through open windows, reflecting off of white pillars and the beautiful glossy stones of the mosaic floor. A fountain poured through the mouth of a lion on one wall, and potted plants waved lazily in the dancing air.

“Ms. O’Hare?”

Alex snapped back to the moment. “I’m sorry, yes?”

As she turned to Bassam, her gaze was captured by the man from the agency coming down the stairs, now dressed in a flowing silk outfit accessorized with glittering jewels. His overwhelming good looks sent heat rushing over her skin, and she felt, once again, as if she were flying to pieces. She shot a bewildered look at Bassam.

Bassam smiled indulgently and repeated himself. “I would like to introduce you to Sheikh Zaiman bin-Tuleb.”

Alex choked on a barely-contained gasp. She knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t help it. Of course he was a sheikh!

She could have kicked herself for not making the connection earlier. She had never once earned a position with a family without speaking to the parents first, and she shouldn’t have assumed that traditions would alter that most fundamental biological fact.

His smile made her heart race, and she hardly noticed when Bassam excused himself.

“Ms. O’Hare. Such a pleasure to see you again.”

His voice rippled through her, and the blush on her cheeks deepened. He smelled like heaven and looked like a dream, and she very much hoped that he would introduce her to his wife in short order so that she could put the wild fantasies dancing through her head to rest.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she said, a little too enthusiastically.

He chuckled, then gestured for her to walk with him.

“Allow me to give you the tour. As I mentioned before, I have only one child. Her name is Amia, and she is wonderfully spirited. Which, of course, makes your job a bit more difficult. She is easily bored, but just as easily distracted.”

He led her up the stairs, and through a drawing room. On the other side were the sleeping quarters, where a wide, sunny hallway opened up to balconies on one side and bedrooms on the other.

“These are my quarters,” he told her, gesturing to a wide, ornately decorated door. “Amia is welcome to enter whenever the door is open, and you with her, of course. If the door is closed, these rooms are off-limits. I would not want her looking for toys and stumbling upon a ceremonial weapon, you understand.”

“Absolutely,” Alex agreed adamantly.

She was curious to see how he lived, but was willing to satisfy herself with the remainder of the house. After all, his wife must be around here somewhere. They came to the next door.

“These are Amia’s quarters,” he told her, opening the door. “Her sitting room, where she begins her lessons every morning. Her tutor indulges her need for movement, however, and you will frequently find them hard at work in the kitchen or garden, or even the ballroom. I believe they are working in the aviary this afternoon.”

“You have an aviary?” Alex asked, her eyes lighting up with delight.

“We do,” he told her with a smile. “And acres of gardens, swimming pools…anything your heart desires. Amia will surely show you all of them in short order; she is a very active child and will delight in keeping you busy.”

Alex laughed. “She sounds like my kind of kid. I thrive on perpetual motion, myself. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Zaiman smiled brightly, and led her into Amia’s playroom. The wide window illuminated more toys and games than Alex had ever seen a single child possess. Caution raised a warning flag in her mind; in her experience, the number of toys a child had was a fair indication of their temperament. An over-stuffed room like this implied a spoiled, tantrum-throwing child, but her father’s easy-going vibe gave Alex hope that, in this case, she might be wrong.

“Her bedroom is through here,” Zaiman said, leading her through another door. “Her dressing room and bathroom are through there. She is to be in bed by eight thirty. Her lessons end at two o’clock every afternoon, at which point she is free to play until supper, which is served at six o’clock.”

“Lessons till two, dinner at six, bed at eight thirty, which means bedtime preparations should begin no later than eight,” Alex repeated, locking the routine into her memory.

Zaiman nodded, his eyes twinkling with some unspoken amusement. He led her through a plainer-looking door, which opened into another sitting room.

“Your quarters,” he told her. “That door opens into the hallway, but this one gives you direct access to Amia, should she need you during an odd hour. She’s only six, and she has nightmares occasionally.”

He led her through into a large room with a big, comfortable-looking bed and a window which opened onto a private balcony. She, like Amia, had her own dressing room and bathroom, the latter of which boasted a big claw-foot tub which made her ache for a soak.

“Do your quarters meet your approval?” he asked her in a low, smooth tone.

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” she breathed. “They’re wonderful.”

“Excellent! The only other quarters in this wing are Bassam’s, on the end. While he is not an official caretaker, he is like family to both myself and Amia. If you ever run into difficulty and I am not available, he will be more than happy to help you. Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

He led her to the end of the hall, which split in two. One fork led to stairs which took them down to the first floor, and the other turned a corner down another hallway filled with doors.

“Servants’ quarters,” he told her, nodding down the hallway. “Smaller than yours, but no less functional. They are empty at the moment; my cook and Amia’s tutor commute, and I hire a cleaning service a few times a week. With so much space and so few occupants, a full live-in staff would be wasted.”

“So, the entire wing is empty? Wouldn’t Bassam enjoy the privacy?” she asked, curious but not judgmental.

“Bassam has been with me since I was born,” Zaiman said with an affectionate smile. “He has earned his place in the family wing, and he is comfortable there.”

“He seems like a good man,” Alex commented.

“The best,” Zaiman said somberly. Alex cast a curious look at him, but the serious weight in his expression lifted quickly, and he smiled. “The kitchen is through here. Amia likes to pretend to cook, and pesters Dabir to teach her things, but the poor man has no patience for children.”

“Would I be permitted to use the kitchen when the cook doesn’t need it? I know a few things; I would be happy to teach Amia.”

“You would?” Zaiman said, obviously pleased. “She would enjoy that immensely, and Dabir will be relieved. We eat breakfast at eight o’clock, and she is to be dressed and ready for her day by the time she reaches the table.”

He led her through the expansive kitchen and pushed through a door which led to a beautiful dining room overlooking a garden. The wide, open windows let the breeze blow through, sending a flowery bouquet spiraling into the room.

“I try to eat with Amia every day, for breakfast and dinner. I manage it most days, but occasionally, duties arise which cannot be postponed. She has learned to live with it, though she may be moody when I cannot be there.”

His voice took on a touch of sadness, which warmed Alex’s heart.

“Now then, general rules of the house. You are to be with her from the time she rises until nine a.m., when her tutor will take over until two. Then, she will be your responsibility until bedtime. I prefer that she watch two hours of television or fewer a day, but she greatly enjoys watching movies, and I will leave the specifics of that rule up to your best judgment. Balance is key, and if she has had a very active day, it won’t do her harm to have a lazy evening once in a while.”

“I agree,” Alex said with a smile. “What sorts of movies does she like most?”

“Adventures, especially ones involving children or pets,” Zaiman said, his eyes gleaming with affection. “She dreams of being a pirate. I’m afraid you will have your hands full, civilizing her.”

Alex laughed, delighted. She did love a wild child.

“But that brings me to the final, and most important rule,” Zaiman said, suddenly stern. “Under no conditions is Amia to leave the palace grounds. She has free rein within these walls. She may ride the ponies and swim in the pools and explore the gardens to her heart’s delight, but she must never—and I feel I must emphasize this clearly—she must never leave the grounds. Do you understand?”

No, Alex thought. Why would you keep a kid locked up like that?

“Of course, I understand,” she said, her brow furrowing. “She is not to leave the palace. But—”

Before Alex could finish her question, a shrieking bolt of orange and pink flew down the hall behind Zaiman, colliding with his knees.

“Papa!”

“Sweetheart!” He scooped the little girl up and hugged her, nuzzling her cheek.

The contrast was striking. Amia had her father’s eyes, but her skin was a great deal fairer, pink with childish joy and exertion. Her round, dimpled face complemented his long, fine-boned features, but did not quite carry them. Alex could see reflections of him in her eyes and silky black hair, but the differences between them made her wonder again about Zaiman’s wife.

If he had a wife.

She mentally backtracked through their conversation, finding every natural moment for him to mention something like that, and realizing that he hadn’t mentioned Amia’s mother at all. She didn’t have time to puzzle over it, though; Amia quickly wriggled out of her father’s embrace and bounced over to her, beaming.

“Are you my new nanny?”

“I am! My name’s Alex.”

She crouched down and held a hand out to Amia, who tilted her little head back with pride and shook Alex’s hand very seriously. Her seriousness melted away quickly, though, and she grinned before throwing her arms around Alex’s neck.

“We’re going to be best friends. Come, come see my room! Papa just bought me a new dollhouse, do you want to see? I like playing; do you like to play? I hope you like to play.”

“I love to play! This house is so big I’m afraid I got turned around—can you show me the way?”

Laughing, Amia took her hand and led her off at a quick pace up the stairs. Alex cast a glance over her shoulder at Zaiman, who was smiling after them. She shot him a grin, then turned her attention back to Amia. She could already tell that this was going to be her favorite job yet.

* * *

Much later that evening, after she and Amia had successfully worked through the details of the bedtime routine, Alex settled into her new space and called her sister.

“Finally! I was about to call you,” Kate answered.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Alex objected.

“It was long enough,” Kate said petulantly. “I’m dying to know about this new job!”

“Well, let me tell you,” Alex said smugly. “Right now I am watching a magnificent sunset from my private balcony while sipping a gloriously delicious alcoholic beverage that I can’t pronounce, while my new kiddo sleeps in the room next door. Oh, and the view just got better!”

“Better how?”

“The rich, young, handsome, single father I’m working for just stepped out of the house wearing some sort of very well-tailored outfit which makes his shoulders look even broader and his waist look even more sharply tapered. God, he’s gorgeous.”

“Ugh, I hate you,” Kate moped.

“Do not,” Alex laughed.

“Maybe not, but I am jealous. Single, you say? You know what, Alex, if you only take one piece of advice from me ever in your life—”

“I’m not going after him,” Alex interrupted.

“Good! No, now you ruined the whole thing. It’s not taking my advice if you say it first.”

“I thought you were going to tell me to pursue him,” Alex laughed.

“No! God, no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sounds absolutely thrilling, but can you imagine how complicated that would get?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your primary relationship is with the daughter, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How does she feel about you?”

“She seems to like me,” Alex said with a grin. “We spent the whole afternoon playing with her dolls, and when I tucked her in, she made me promise to still be there in the morning.”

“And that makes your job a whole lot easier, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you hook up with her dad, that little girl is going to feel betrayed by the two most important people in her life, and she will become an absolute terror overnight.”

“How do you know?” Alex demanded. “You’ve never been in that situation.”

“No, but Kyle has,” Kate told her.

“What? Since when does Kyle date?”

Alex’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember if she had ever seen her little brother express any kind of interest in romance. Granted, he had only been sixteen when she’d gone away to college, and had been obsessed with computers and video games for a decade by then, but she felt like she should have known.

“Oh, stop, he’s been dating people since high school,” Kate informed her. “Weird people, but actual people. Last year, he fell for someone relatively normal—which was a surprise in and of itself—but she had a son who bonded with him almost immediately.”

“But if they were dating before he met the son…?”

“The mother neglected to inform her kid that she was romantically entangled with his new friend,” Kate said, obviously still seething about the whole thing. “Long story short, the whole thing blew up in his face. He’s sworn off women for the time being, and moved in with Jerry.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“Jeez, Alex, you need to come home more often. Jerry is Kyle’s best friend from that robotics club thing he was in during his senior year.”

“Oh,” Alex said, chagrined. “I should probably call him sometime.”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” Kate said gently. “He’s not mad about it or anything, but we all kind of miss the heck out of you when you go on these globetrotting stints.”

“I miss you guys, too,” Alex said sincerely. “Once I’ve established myself here, I’ll take a vacation and come see you. Maybe the family will come along; I’m pretty sure they’ve never been to the States. It could be a whole new experience for them.”

“Oh, no,” Kate said dramatically. “You can’t do that to them!”

“What?”

“A person’s first time visiting the U.S. should be fun,” Kate said wryly. “California or Florida or something. You bring them to Utah, and they’ll never want to come back again.”

“It’s not that bad,” Alex said with a chuckle. “That’s your cabin fever talking again. Did you ever set the kids up at a daycare?”

“I got the paperwork,” Kate said morosely. “I just haven’t filled it out yet.”

“Well, start filling! You need to shake off the momminess and rediscover the Kateness.”

“Kateness? Sounds like a fantasy heroine.”

“You’ve been binge-reading again.”

“Wouldn’t you? I swear, if these walls could talk, they would say, ‘welcome to eternal oatmeal.’”

Alex laughed, and this time, Kate laughed with her.

“Seriously,” Alex said as she recovered. “Get yourself into a class before you combust. Poor Charlie must have the worst relationship anxiety right now.”

“Nah,” Kate said defensively. “I don’t tell him this stuff. That’s what sisters are for. If he knew how absolutely stir-crazy I was, he would—oh, hi, honey! How long have you been home? Yeah, Alex, I gotta go.”

“Be nice,” Alex told her. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

In the few seconds before Kate ended the call, Alex heard her launch into a tangle of reassurances peppered with questions. Alex chuckled and shook her head, sympathizing with Charlie. He wouldn’t get a word in edgewise for an hour, and she would thoroughly expose herself in that time.

I wonder what that would be like, Alex thought as she watched the stars burn through the deep purple fabric of the sky. To be so close to a lover for so long that you know exactly what they will do and say when they’re upset and irrational.

Zaiman was returning, and the view was even better than before. His formal shirt was cut in a deep “V” that displayed his rippling muscles in a tantalizing golden frame. He felt her eyes on him and looked up. She smiled and waved, emboldened by the dim twilight and the distance, confident that he was too far away to see the red blush creep hotly over her cheeks.

He grinned and returned her greeting, then walked out of sight beneath her. She sighed against the flutter of butterflies beating in her chest.

“Off limits,” she told herself firmly. “But there’s no reason I can’t look.”