The Sheikh Who Loved Her: Ruling Sheikh, Unruly Mistress / Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh / Her Desert Dream. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ tell me when I have to sing and I’ll be fine.’ Or she might be, if her upper lip didn’t feel as if it were super-glued to her teeth.

      ‘Here, have a drink of water,’ one of her colleagues said as Lucy licked to no effect with a bone-dry tongue.

      Then they all went silent as the contestant from the opposing chalet company began to sing.

      ‘He’s got a great voice,’ Lucy commented, swallowing hard.

      ‘And he’s hot,’ one of the girls added.

      Better to know she didn’t stand a chance before she headed for the makeshift stage, Lucy reasoned. ‘I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.’ She smiled bravely as a pile of make-up bags hit the counter.

      Then the girls took over, transforming her while she could only watch helplessly. One of them brushed out her hair and curled it with a heated wand, while another made up her face.

      ‘Relax—I do this as a living when I’m not doing the ski season,’ one girl assured Lucy as she applied a brown stripe beneath Lucy’s cheekbones, a white one above and a blob of red on the apple of her cheek.

      Now she looked like a painted doll with exaggerated colouring. She should never have let this happen.

      Lucy closed her eyes, resigned to her fate, so it was a surprise when she opened them to find that once the stripes had been blended in she didn’t look half bad. Her skin looked even, radiant, and her face sculpted. The make-up was like a mask, Lucy realised with relief—a mask to hide behind. Careful work on her eyes and lips had turned her into someone she hardly recognised and Mac would certainly never recognise her if he decided to come in for a drink. ‘I had no idea,’ she murmured, leaning forward.

      ‘No time for that,’ the girls insisted as she continued to stare into the mirror, amazed at her reflection. Taking hold of her on either side, they ushered her outside.

      One last glance confirmed the surprising fact that, left loose, her hair didn’t look half bad either. Thanks to the styling wand it hung in thick waves almost to her waist. She had never worn her hair like this before, because her mother said long hair was untidy, and, of course, in a professional kitchen her hair was always covered. Make-up? She pressed her rouged lips together anxiously—she’d never get used to it, but at least the girls looked pleased.

      ‘You look amazing,’ one of them assured her and they all agreed.

      ‘Amazingly silly?’

      ‘No!’

      ‘Have some confidence,’ one girl insisted. ‘You won our award when you least expected it, and now you’re going to win this.’

      ‘If I could sing better.’

      ‘It’s karaoke, Lucy.’ They all laughed. ‘You’re not supposed to sing—just get into the spirit of it and you’ll be fine.’

      ‘And if you’re not, we’ll hide and pretend not to know you,’ another girl teased her.

      They had left the bar and headed back to the chalet for their skis to satisfy Razi’s whim to expend a small part of his energy skiing down the black slope with just the ultra-lights on their helmets to show them the way. With precipices on either side and at the speeds they travelled it was like playing Russian roulette with a loaded gun that had no bullets missing. It was both exhilarating and dangerous. Irresponsible, maybe, but it had left him on a high. The five of them had been doing this since school when they had first climbed out of a chalet window at midnight, leaving the school masters on the trip snoring. These days Razi pleased himself. He owned the chalet and could leave by the front door, but the thrill had not diminished.

      They were all down safely, but with adrenalin surging through his veins he still had energy to burn.

      ‘Champagne?’ Theo suggested.

      ‘Lead me to it,’ Razi agreed, snapping off his skis in anticipation of a short stroll to his favourite bar.

      ‘Do you think we could drop by the chalet? Let Lucy know what we’re up to? Invite her along?’ Tom questioned with a knowing wink.

      As Razi might have anticipated, this drew comment from the other men. They were experienced men of the world, but they had all seen something in Lucy—just as he had. His hackles rose. ‘Lay off her, boys,’ he warned, lifting off his helmet. ‘You could all see Lucy was overwhelmed when we rocked up.’

      This drew a second chorus of knowing smirks, which he ignored. ‘The least we can do is give her a chance to get used to us.’

      ‘To you, don’t you mean?’

      He refused to dignify Theo’s comment with a reply.

      Tom drew alongside him to observe discreetly, ‘That’s extremely thoughtful of you …’

      ‘It’s nothing.’ Razi dismissed the comment with an impatient gesture. ‘Lucy was fine when we left and she’s probably asleep by now. She also left food on the table at the chalet, so if we need anything to eat later we can rustle up something for ourselves.’

      ‘Just like the old days,’ Theo agreed, coming up on his other side.

      Not at all like the old days, Razi’s exchange of glances with Tom confirmed. This trip was not the same as the trips they had enjoyed in their carefree teenage years, but the briefest of stops before the weight of responsibility tied each one of them in their different ways. But for all their machismo they were up to the task, Razi concluded, taking a look around his friends. ‘Last one to the bar buys the drinks.’

      Impossible to imagine their fortunes could be counted in billions as the four friends jostled and wrestled their way across the piste.

      Okay, so this was it. But she needed an urgent trip to the ladies’ room first …

      ‘No looking back,’ the girls warned Lucy as they accompanied her to the stage.

      ‘I feel sick.’

      ‘There’s a fire bucket in the wings,’ one of the girls pointed out helpfully.

      ‘I can’t remember the words.’

      ‘You don’t have to remember the words,’ the girls reminded her in chorus. ‘This is karaoke, Luce.’

      ‘What if I can’t see the screen?’

      ‘We’ll sing along with you.’

      ‘What if I can’t hear you?’

      ‘You’ll hear us,’ they promised.

      The compére was already on stage, waiting for the crowd to quieten so he could introduce Lucy. Would they ever quieten enough to hear her? It seemed unlikely, thank goodness. Freeing herself from her supporters, Lucy stepped reluctantly up to the red curtain someone had hastily drawn across the makeshift stage and peered through. She couldn’t see anything; the light was so bright—much better backstage in the dark where no one could see her. ‘Couldn’t I sing from back here?’

      ‘That’s a no, then,’ Lucy muttered as her friends exclaimed in protest.

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