The Sheikh's Son. Kristi Gold

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СКАЧАТЬ at times, evidenced by his absence at the moment.”

      A good thing, since she might have missed the flight if the guy had been punctual. “He has a habit of being late, does he?”

      “He occasionally suffers from tardiness, among other things.”

      Piper wanted him to define “other things” but then she noticed a commotion toward the front of the plane. Assuming the mysterious monarch had finally arrived, she came to her feet along with the rest of the passengers and leaned slightly into the aisle to catch a glimpse. She spotted only A.J. dressed in a crisp, white shirt covered by a navy blue suit emblazoned with gold military-like insignias. Not a sheikh in sight.

      She regarded Mr. Deeb again and lowered her voice. “He must be some kind of pilot to earn that reception.”

      He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Yes, he is quite the aviator.”

      After everyone settled into their seats, Piper followed suit, well aware that her pulse had unwittingly picked up speed as she noticed A.J. stopping in the aisle to speak to one man. A man who oddly addressed the pilot as Prince Adan.

      Reality soon dawned, along with the sense that she might have been completely betrayed by blind faith. She turned a frown on Mr. Deeb. “He’s not the plane’s pilot, is he?”

      Again the man refused to look at her directly. “Yes, he is the pilot, as well as commander in chief of Bajul’s armed forces.”

      “And a Mehdi?”

      Deeb gave her a contrite look. “The third Mehdi son in line to inherit the throne.”

      And a major liar, Piper realized as she watched the sheikh disappear into the cockpit. She thanked her lucky stars she hadn’t made the mistake of climbing into bed with him. Then again, he’d been the one to put an end to that with his fake concerns over being only a royal employee, not a royal prince. And all that talk of honor. Honorable men didn’t deceive unsuspecting women about their identities.

      Fuming over the duplicity, Piper pulled a fashion magazine from her bag and flipped through the pages with a vengeance during takeoff. She didn’t have to deal with the situation now, or ever for that matter. She didn’t have to spend even one minute with A.J. or Adan or whatever his name was. He would be nothing more to her than a cute meet that had gone nowhere, a precautionary tale in the book of her life, a man she would endeavor to immediately forget....

      “May I have a moment with you in the aft lounge, Ms. McAdams?”

      She glanced up and immediately took in A.J.’s damnable dimples and his sexy mouth before visually traveling to his remarkable dark eyes. “Is the plane flying itself, Prince Mehdi?”

      He tried on a contrite look. “I have turned the controls over to the copilot for the time being so we can converse.”

      And if she spent one second alone with him, she might find herself caught up in his lair once more. “I do believe the seat belt sign is still on, and that means it’s not safe to move about the cabin.”

      Of course said sign picked that moment to ding and dim, robbing her of any excuse to avoid this confrontation. Nevertheless, he happened to be resident royalty, not to mention he could hold the power to grant—or reject—her grandfather’s bid. For that reason, she shoved the magazine back into the carry-on and slid out of the seat, putting her in very close proximity to the fibbing prince. “After you,” she said in a tone that was borderline irritable, to say the least.

      As the princely pilot started toward the rear of the plane, Piper followed behind him with her eyes lowered in an attempt to avoid the two female attendants’ curious stares. He paused to open a sliding frosted-glass door and gestured her forward into a narrow corridor before he showed her into a lounge containing dark brown leather furniture.

      “Make yourself comfortable,” A.J. said as he closed the sliding door behind her.

      Comfortable? Ha! Piper chose the lone chair to avoid inadvertent physical contact, while the sneaky sheikh settled on the opposing sofa.

      He draped his arm casually over the back cushions and smiled. “Have you enjoyed your flight so far?”

      In an effort to demonstrate some decorum, she bit back the harsh words clamoring to come out of her mouth. “Since it’s been less than fifteen minutes into the flight, I prefer to reserve judgment until landing.”

      He gave her a lingering once-over. “You look very beautiful today, Piper.”

      She tugged the hem of her black coatdress down to the top of her knees. Unfortunately she couldn’t convert the open collar to a turtleneck. “Thank you, but if you believe compliments will put you in the clear after you lied to me, think again.”

      “I am being completely sincere in my admiration.”

      “Forgive me if I question your sincerity. And by the way, what am I supposed to call you?”

      “What would you like to call me?”

      He’d walked right into that one. “Jackass?”

      He had the audacity to grin. “I believe I have been called that before.”

      She had the utterly stupid urge to kiss that grin off his face. “I don’t doubt that a bit. And where did you come up with A.J.?”

      “My given name is Adan Jamal. My classmates called me A.J., but as an adult I do prefer Adan.”

      “I would have preferred you explain all of this to me last night.”

      His expression turned serious. “When I discovered you were involved with the water project, I was completely thrown off-kilter.”

      Not a valid excuse, in her opinion. “And after learning that, did you seriously believe you could hide your identity from me indefinitely?”

      He sighed. “No. I had hoped to speak with you before takeoff. Unfortunately, traffic detained our driver on the way to the airport and I had to adhere to the original flight plan.”

      She couldn’t reject that defense when she’d experienced the same delays. Still... “You still should have told me before I left your room, at the very least.”

      He leaned forward, draped his elbows on his parted knees and studied the carpeted floor. “Do you know what it’s like to be judged by your station in life even though it has nothing to do with who you really are?”

      Actually, she did—the rich girl born to a spoiled, partying socialite and an unknown father. “I can relate to that in some ways.”

      He finally raised his gaze to hers. “Last night, I wanted you to see me as an average man, not a monarch.”

      There was absolutely nothing average about him. “I don’t base my opinions on a person’s social status.”

      He straightened and streaked a palm over his shadowed jaw. “I believe I recall you mentioning you have an aversion to wealthy men, and specifically, the Mehdis. Is that not so?”

      Darned if he wasn’t right. “Okay, yes, I might have said that. My apologies for making generalizations.”

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