Marriage in Name Only?. Anne Oliver

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      ‘And you agree with that reasoning?’

      Sadiq shrugged, as if it were nothing. ‘I was brought up that way. Marriages have been arranged around business for centuries. My own marriage was arranged when we were ten years old.’ His gaze searched out his wife amongst the women. She looked their way at that moment and they exchanged an intimate smile.

      And Jordan felt something that might have been envy. If he were the type to play happy families. He’d learned he wasn’t the hard way. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘I’m living proof that he’s wrong. What’s more, I’m going to prove it to him.’

      ‘If anyone can, it’s you.’ Sadiq nodded encouragement. ‘Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have an advantage.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘Why don’t you speak to Dana, check out Chloe’s references?’ A speculative gleam flicked briefly in his mate’s eyes. ‘Couldn’t hurt.’

      Frowning, Jordan studied him more closely. ‘What do—?’

      ‘What are you two looking so serious about?’ Zahira appeared as if summoned by the couple’s earlier exchange of glances and laid a hand on Sadiq’s arm. ‘This is no time for business talk—we’ve got a home-made party cake coming up. Tamara helped bake it and she’s been looking forward to lighting the candles for weeks.’ She looked about. ‘I haven’t seen her in a while. Do you know where she is?’

      ‘I saw her heading in the direction of the cubby house with Chloe in tow,’ Jordan said. He’d been watching Chloe all afternoon; he’d known exactly where she was at any given moment. He immediately turned in that direction. ‘You two go ahead. I’ll tell her she’s been summoned.’

      The little door was open and Tamara was still for once, utterly focused. They were cross-legged on the floor, facing each other, and Chloe was telling Tamara a story.

      Jordan stilled too, equally intrigued, watching the way Chloe’s small, slender hands moved as she talked. Listening to the vitality in her voice. Her flyaway hair was too messy for his taste, her eyes incongruously big in her small pixie face. But she could spin an adventure story out of thin air and make it sound believable. She could charm any age group. She could conquer high balconies and risky ropes at a moment’s notice …

      An impossible idea was coalescing at the back of his mind. Now the flicker of expression in Sadiq’s eyes made some sort of sense. Didn’t it?

      Attraction aside, she wasn’t the usual acquiescent kind of woman he dated, just as he very much doubted he was her type of guy—if she had a type. According to her, she didn’t stay long in any one place so she’d probably never formed any close attachments. And that had to be an advantage because they could walk away at the end, no complications …

      He smiled to himself. Not such an impossible idea. Chloe Montgomery might just be the up-for-anything kind of girl he needed.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘… AND THE PRINCESS—’

      ‘Princess Chloe,’ Tamara corrected.

      ‘Not Princess Tamara?’

      ‘It has to be Chloe ‘cos it’s your story,’ Tamara said, then took her crown off, reached across and set it on Chloe’s head. ‘And you have to wear this.’

      ‘Oh. Thank you.’

      Jordan relaxed against the cubby’s frame even as his mind raced ahead with possibilities and potential problems.

      ‘Okay, Princess Chloe wanted to learn to skateboard—’

      ‘A pink skateboard. With sparkles.’

      ‘Exactly.’ She nodded. ‘But her father the king wouldn’t let her.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because he didn’t understand his daughter. He thought she should be learning to do princessy things like practising her curtsey and learning how to wave. And he wanted her to be safe.

      ‘So Princess Chloe left a note—so the king and queen wouldn’t worry—and ran away from the palace. She sold her crown so she could buy food and journeyed to the far side of the kingdom with her sparkly skateboard to find someone who could teach her. She wanted people to like her because she was clever, not just because she was a princess.

      ‘She was away for a long, long time,’ Chloe continued. ‘She knew that the king and queen would worry so she sent messages with the birds about what she was doing. She told them about the man she met who could spin straw into gold—’

      ‘Like in Rumpelstiltskin?’

      ‘Yes. And that she lived in a shining crystal tower. But when she fell out of the tower and had to live in the forest again she didn’t tell them.’

      ‘She didn’t tell the troof?’

      ‘No, Tamara, she didn’t. And that was a very bad thing because one day a wicked witch came and took all the gold and the palace away from the king and queen and made them sleep in the stables with the horses. Princess Chloe found out and wanted to help.’

      He wasn’t hiding—still, Jordan felt as if he was eavesdropping on someone’s private confession, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Nor could he bring himself to interrupt Chloe’s story to tell Tamara she was required for candle-lighting duties. Because the longer he listened, the more intrigued he became. Some gut instinct was telling him this was no ordinary fairy tale.

      He watched her lean close to the child, blonde to brunette. ‘She went home because they were her parents and she loved them and one day they’d get old and d—She’d miss them. On the way she met a handsome prince.’

      Tamara nodded, approval sparkling in her eyes. ‘Ooh, a prince.’

      ‘He promised to help her find some real gold if she’d give him her skateboard. And she was so happy because now she could go home and take the palace back from the wicked witch and they could all live happily ever after.’

      ‘With the prince too?’

      ‘Ah, but he wasn’t a prince, Tamara. He was an evil sorcerer in disguise. He turned her skateboard into a yucky slimy log.’

      ‘Uh-oh …’ Tamara clapped her hands to her cheeks in true drama mode. ‘He didn’t give her the gold?’

      ‘No, he didn’t. He put on his special invisible cloak and Princess Chloe didn’t know where he’d gone …’

      Chloe trailed off, suddenly aware that the light from the doorway had dimmed, and that they were no longer alone. Uncomfortable heat flooded her cheeks. She turned to see Jordan, one shoulder leaning on the doorjamb, hands in his tailor-made trouser pockets, his expensive-looking silk tie flapping in the breeze.

      With his height and the cubby’s elevation, his face was in her direct line of vision and he was making no secret of watching her. Or listening in. And judging by his preoccupied expression, he’d been there for some time. Thinking.

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