The Sheikh's Borrowed Baby Page 15

  “Chief among them was horse’s ass,” his wife reminded him crisply. “Which you were. And still are, until you’ve done what you promised to do.”

  Karim, smiling a secret smile at the power this woman wielded, sat back in his upholstered seat and prepared to enjoy himself while the big man was forced to follow her demands.

  “Indeed?” he murmured.

  “Huh.” Griffin sent her a look from under his bushy brows that said he didn’t like this one bit. “Well, when she heard that I’d made such a fuss with Hallie—the nurse takin’ care of me—she was s’posed to be your wife, damn it!” he burst out again.

  “Chip.”

  It was like watching a circus performer, whip in hand, sending a snarling lion diving through a ring of flame by sheer power and force of will.

  Griffin squirmed again.

  “All right. So there I was, on my bed of pain, not knowin’ if I’d even survive. You can imagine the shock. You can understand why I was mad enough to chew ten-penny nails. You can see why I canceled the damned contract once and for all.”

  “What my temperamental husband is saying,” Annemarie cut in smoothly, “is that any fool might have behaved that way, cutting off his nose to spite his face. Any hard-headed businessman, looking to sell his business and retire—to please his wife—would have given the matter plenty of thought, and done some consulting, before making such a rash move.”

  “Huh. That, too.” Chip’s expression had grown sheepish, as it always did whenever his astute spouse chastised him. “Well, anyway. So I wanted to tell you that I’d changed my mind—”

  “Again,” Karim and Annemarie chorused.

  “—and I’m not lookin’ to cancel anything. I want to go through with the sale and purchase of Griffin Oceanic, and I’d appreciate it if you’d honor our agreement.”

  Karim shifted his injured leg. “You will forgive me if I have become—I believe your phrase is—gun-shy about proceeding as planned?”

  “Okay, okay, I can understand that. I’ve dilly-dallied back and forth over this deal, even after I thought I’d made my final decision, so it makes sense it’d be hard to take me at my word now. But, darn it, you lied to me!” Chip suddenly burst out like a cantankerous old water buffalo. “Why did you go through all that malarkey about being married, havin’ a son, when it was nothin’ but an out-and-out invention?”

  In that, his wife felt she must support him.

  “I’ve wondered about that, too, Karim. Do you have some explanation for telling us that white lie, which wasn’t such a small thing at all?”

  Their guest looked straightforwardly from one to the other.

  “I have no idea why,” he admitted, hands outspread. “It was a ridiculous boast that I should never have uttered. You were speaking of your family, both of you; your sons and their wives, and how important they are. And I believe I was simply carried away by the moment.”

  “Carried away.”

  “And then, of course, when I realized the situation I had created for myself,” Karim paused for a shrug and a deprecating chuckle, “I knew I had to find a solution as quickly as possible.”

  “And Hallie?” Annemarie, who had served so ably as her champion during that formal anniversary night, asked quietly.

  No point beating about the bush, now. All cards must be laid on the table.

  “We became acquainted shortly after. Reluctant though she was to agree at first, Hallie finally accepted to pose as my wife, and her baby, Aaron, as my son. I believe—” Karim rested one hand atop his cane, considering, “—I believe that is the only time in my life I have ever been dishonest. And I have regretted my lapse more than you will ever know.”

  “Damn fool stunt,” grumbled Chip, sliding down in the chair to clomp his feet upon the coffee table with an emphatic thump.

  “And yours wasn’t?” Again, it was Annemarie who took up the cause—and the cudgel. “You backed out of what you said you wanted so many times my head was spinning. The two of you are as pigheaded as each other. Neither of you should be allowed to cross the street against traffic, let alone run billion-dollar companies.”

  Ouch. The lady was a formidable opponent. Anyone conferring with her across a boardroom table, about any type of business transaction at all, would be well-advised to tread carefully.

  Karim’s laugh eased the tension building up once again in the office.

  “You are absolutely correct, Mrs. Griffin. It is a fair judgment that you give there. Meanwhile, I hope that—even though this is much after the fact—you will accept my sincere apology.”

  “I will, by God, if you accept mine!” The magnate instantly straightened his spine, stood up, and took the Sheikh’s hand for a hearty shake. “Now, let’s finalize this damned deal, get Oceanic sold once and for all, and have a drink on it! My wife wants me to retire so we can take some crazy round-the-world cruise she’s been hankerin’ for.”

  It wasn’t until many hours later that Karim was able to put in a call to his new girlfriend.

  The drink had become two, and those had become lunch at one of the Griffins’ favorite restaurants, and that had become an after-lunch drink and celebration.

  Feeling slightly dizzy and light-headed after too much alcohol—not to mention the champagne fizziness of the whole encounter—he waited with impatience for Hallie to answer the phone.

  “You do know I’m at work right now, don’t you, you exasperating man?” she giggled. “I’m in the middle of—”

  “Put it down, and stop what you’re doing,” chortled Karim in glee. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Their wedding had taken place on December 1.

  After that dramatic, movie-star kiss that would eventually become the stuff of Café Mud legend, Hallie and Karim had been inseparable. He’d proposed just a month later, on another picnic in the park, and Hallie had accepted, knowing beyond all doubt that this was the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

  Anxious parents had warned them that five months was no time at all to plan a wedding, but the couple hadn’t wanted to wait, and Hallie had argued that they could make it work if it meant being able to wed at her most favorite time of year.

  And work, they had.

  Holly, poinsettias and pine had filled the cathedral with scent and color; Hallie had worn an exquisite princess-style dress, its skirt a mass of tulle, its sweetheart neckline beaded and bejeweled, its design accentuating every curve. After the ceremony—during which Karim had held back tears, telling her again and again how beautiful she was, and how ecstatic he was—everyone had headed to the ballroom of a five-star hotel for a wonderful night of celebration.

  Even Aaron had enjoyed (and behaved) himself, being shifted back and forth between his mother and stepfather, his new step-grandparents, and his grandparents. It had been almost as entertaining to watch him toddle about in his miniature tuxedo as to watch the dancers themselves.

  “Ah, Jaali, it’s perfect,” Hallie had sighed, looking around with the utmost admiration at her surroundings.

  Each table had been covered in snowy-white linen with silver undertones, decorated by a towering centerpiece full of white branches that had been hung with glitter and silver icicles and strings of miniature white lights. Truly a stunning winter scene.

  The only splashes of color in the immense room could be seen in the beautiful gowns of the beautiful people attending, in the red flower accents, and in the enormous red velvet bows hung on the back of each chair.

  “You really are extraordinary, aren’t you? And with an extraordinary amount of money, too?” Hallie had asked curiously, out of the blue.

  He had laughed, nearly choking on his champagne bubbles. “Yes, my love, I do. I thought you were aware of that.”

  They had been sitting at the head table, taking a break from the dance floor. Others had swirled around them, however, in a veritable kaleidoscope of song and sound. Hallie had be
en reminded of the bright-plumaged birds in a tropical rain forest: hues of brilliant turquoise and scarlet, iridescent orange, yellow, and vibrant green.

  With their out-of-this-world dinner finished, china and cutlery had been cleared, the enormous wedding cake had been cut and served, and everyone seemed to be having a delightful time.

  Reaching for his hand, which he’d gladly given her, she’d mused for a minute before continuing. “Will it be okay with you if I start spending it like mad?”

  “You are now my wife—we are, with the ceremony completed and the certificate signed—officially wed. What is mine is yours, also. Always.”

  “Good.” She’d smiled and settled more comfortably beside him. The outspread tulle skirts rustled, and the diamond-and-emerald rings sparkled in their settings. “I have a lot of charities in mind that I’ve never been able to help out with cash. Is it all right for me to donate to some of them?”

  He’d brought her hand, still holding his, to his lips. “I will support anything you want to do, my love.”

  “Oh, Jaali.” She’d sighed rapturously. “I’m gonna like being married to you. You’re such a sweet pushover. I can just twist you around my finger and get whatever I want.”

  “You think so, eh? My dearest Hallie,” his own smile had showed just a hint of mischief, “I will do my best for you at all times. But you will not find me such a pushover as you think.”

  “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you say.”

  The elder Jamesons might have been in awe of everything that had been going on for the past few months, and the tidal wave of activity that had swept them up, along with their daughter, and carried them along into places and through events they could never have imagined. But both of them had handled the flurry with surprising aplomb.

  “May I have this dance?”

  It had been her father, standing beside the table, looking more remarkably dapper than she had ever seen him, in a satiny black tux that might have been made to his measurements. Perhaps it had.

  Immediately, Hallie had sprung to her feet.

  “Of course you can, Daddy. That is, if you really feel up to it.”

  “It’s just a very slow two-step, honey. I think I can manage that much.”

  As they’d carefully circled the room, she’d closed her eyes and started humming in tune with whatever slow ballad was being played by a very capable small orchestra.

  “Now that we’ve finally gotten to this point, you and Karim can relax and enjoy the rest of the evening,” Frank had commented, after a blissful few minutes. “The worst of the craziness is done with.”

  “Believe me, there were times when I wondered if we’d make it,” his daughter had laughed. “What with the delays on setting up the final fitting on my dress, and Aaron getting his first cold, and the accidental canceling of our reception date here, and our flowers being sent to the wrong address…I figured my evil star was working overtime! But we did it, thank goodness.”

  “Good thing Karim is such a nice, steady fellow,” her father had said, after successfully completing a complicated turn. “He’ll keep your feet on the ground.”

  “Yep, we’re polar opposites in some respects. But it’s a good balance. It’s you and Mom that have surprised me.”

  His brows had arched. “Your mother and I?”

  Leaning back slightly in his arms, she’d smiled up at him.

  “Talk about distinguished! I’ve never seen either of you so dressed up. Look at Mom, will you?”

  From her seat at the head table, near her new son-in-law and her grandson, Joanne had sent a loving, twinkling wink their way. She was dressed—like her husband—in fancy formal wear: a navy, floor-length A-line in soft chiffon, with one single ruffle flowing diagonally from waist to hem, and a wide row of lace across bodice and cap sleeves.

  “I’m lookin’,” her father had replied, grinning and winking right back.

  Fakhira Al Ahsan, Karim’s mother and an extremely proud and handsome woman in her early sixties, had arrived in somewhat more flamboyant fashion, as was her style. She’d shimmered and shone in a royal blue caftan, belted at the waist, heavily embroidered in gold at neckline, sheer sleeves, and hem. Diamonds and sapphires adorned her ears, wrists, and neck. Both she and Dhakaa, Karim’s father—in his black velvet suit—presented a charming, if quite formal, image to the guests.

  Some of whom—those invited by the Jameson branch of this union—were of decidedly middle class. Still, friends and relatives from the Philadelphia area seemed unintimidated by any apparent rank or royal status. They ate and drank; they chatted; they danced; they laughed. It was a party, after all.

  One of the most honored couples had been given a table nearby: Chip and Annemarie Griffin, both lit up in happiness like Christmas trees with delight. Once, when Karim had glanced their way, Chip had given him the universal signal of approval—two thumbs up. And all had fared well, in this culmination of a fairy-tale wedding, with just a dusting of snow outside and soft music in the air.

  Meanwhile, Karim had not been sitting idly by, these past few months, during the time his wife-to-be had been wedding planning (with his input, of course). His primary concern had been, of course, the smooth transition of Griffin Oceanic into Al Ahsan Enterprises. In between office and work demands, he had consulted with Justin Obarra, of Central City Real Estate, to begin a search for the perfect family home. In late August, after looking over several dozen possibilities, he’d found it—just sitting there, waiting for the perfect family.

  A beautiful brownstone, the property was located in a substantial neighborhood, several miles away from Hallie’s small apartment, but actually closer to her parents’ house. With a city park just two blocks away, and a shady, private fenced garden in the back, the place certainly lived up to its seller’s boast of being a desirable piece of real estate. One tour of the place, and the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Al Ahsan had fallen in love.

  “Oh, these hardwood floors!” Hallie had gushed.

  “And the windows in each room—such a sense of light and openness,” Karim had agreed. Although his slightly more formal personality would not allow him to stoop to gushing, his enthusiasm had come close.

  “Oh, Karim, I love, love, love this kitchen! Look, white cabinets everywhere. And black-and-white marble countertops. And brand-new appliances. And, look at this—there’s actually a deck attached!”

  Their fervor had continued on through the bedrooms and baths on the second story, and extra bedrooms and storage on the third.

  The realtor had been beaming when they’d finally returned to meet in the study.

  “So. Kinda like it here, huh?”

  The couple had exchanged enraptured glances, and Karim had cleared his throat.

  “Well, there are a few issues…”

  “We’ll need to repaint a few of the rooms,” Hallie had nicely pointed out.

  “And add some crown molding here and there. The front door seems to be sticking; we’ll have to replace that. And I noticed that repair work must be done on the back steps, and we’ll plan to bring in some landscapers…”

  The realtor had not been fazed, and his beam had not faded. He merely repeated, “So. Kinda like it here, huh?”

  Like two giddy school children, Hallie and Karim had grabbed hands and begun nodding.

  “Well, then.” Mr. Obarra had whipped an ever-ready ballpoint pen from his jacket’s breast pocket. “I just happen to have the paperwork with me…”

  With a contractor hired, and Karim to oversee the painting, the maintenance, the repairs, and the landscaping, the house had been completed with just a couple weeks to spare before the wedding. Another item crossed off their joint “to-do” list; and one more after that, once personal belongings and some new furniture had been moved in.

  “Am I the luckiest girl in the world, or what?” Hallie had crowed with delight, as the four of them—bride and groom, baby, and newly hired nanny, Beatrice—had boarded the familiar jet to fly away, after the we
dding reception, on their honeymoon.

  Karim had already arranged a fortnight’s rental of a palatial home in Key West, and Hallie had been almost as excited about that as about the accomplished fact of her marriage.

  “You are.” He had snatched a quick kiss, then another, not so quick. “I shall see that you always will be, my love, even on your crankiest days.”

  Now, here they were, preparing to celebrate a housewarming and six-month anniversary on June 1, with a whole gaggle of relatives, friends, and coworkers about to descend upon them. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d ordered it directly from a catalogue—sunny (but not too sunny), warm (but not too warm), and breezy (but not too breezy).

  “Stop working on that platter, please,” Hallie ordered her husband, supervising. “You’ll scrub the silver right off.”

  “That was not my intention.” Karim gave her a meek smile, allowing her to boss him around. “But I shall desist, if that is your wish. Besides, I just heard Aaron call out through the baby monitor. It’s time for our date.”

  As he gladly put aside his tools and started for the hall and upstairs, Hallie shook her head in resignation. “You’re spoiling that child somethin’ fierce, Karim. And, count on it, Bea won’t be happy.”

  Turning briefly, he waggled his brows and stuck out his tongue before disappearing. It might be said that his wife’s own unconventional attitude was having a deleterious effect upon the Sheikh’s once sterling behavior. In other words, she was rubbing off on him.

  She smiled, whispering to herself. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

  Luckiest or not, Hallie still had an enormous amount of work to do for this party—work, she would admit, for which only she was responsible. It was important for her to prove that she could handle all these tasks on her own (with help from her willing husband) without the services of caterer or cleaning crew.

  True, her stubborn streak ran a mile wide. This determination had to do with the fact that she wanted to show that wealth hadn’t spoiled her—that, softened by the ease of a good life, she could yet handle whatever must be done, when it came to her home and family.