The Sheikh and the Surrogate Mum Read Online Free Page B

remember. I can just imagine the damage a fizzy orange drink could do to this upholstery. Besides, I’ve just had my coffee fix so I should manage an hour’s drive to the airport without needing further refreshment.’
    It was the laugh that surprised him every time, Khalifa realised. He hadn’t heard it often in the last ten days but every time it caught his attention and he had to stop himself from staring at his new employee, her face transformed to a radiant kind of beauty by her delight in something. Usually something absurd.
    ‘So tell me about Najme,’ she said, a smile still lingering on her lips and what sounded like genuine interest in her voice.
    He seized the opportunity with both hands. Talking about Najme, his favourite place on earth, was easy.
    And it would prevent him thinking about his companion and the way she affected him—especially the way she’d affected him when he’d caught her in his arms…
    ‘Najme means star. It has always been considered the star of the south because of the beauty of the oasis on which it is built. Date palms flourish there, and grass and ferns, while reeds thrive by the water’s edge. When oil was discovered, because Al Jabaya was a port from ancient times, used for trading vessels and the pearling fleet, it seemed right that the capital should be built there. So my brother and his advisors laid out plans and the city grew, but it virtually consumed all his time, and the south was not exactly neglected but left behind. Now it is up to me to bring this area into the twenty-first century, but I must do it with caution and sensitivity.’
    He looked out the window as the sleek vehicle glided along a motorway, seeing houses, streets, shops and factories flash by. It was the sensitivity that worried him, bringing change without changing the values and heritage of his people.
    It was because of the sensitivity he’d married Zara, a young woman of the south, hoping her presence by his side would make his changes more acceptable.
    And then he’d let her down…
    ‘Is the hospital your first project there?’ his colleague asked. Pleased to be diverted, he explained how his brother had seen to the building of better housing, and schools right across the country, and had provided free medical care at clinics for the people in the south, but he had deemed the hospital in Al Jabaya to be sufficient for the country, even providing medical helicopters to fly people there.
    ‘But the people of Najme, all the people of the south, have always been wary of the northerners. The southern regions were home to tribes of nomads who guarded trade routes and traded with the travellers, providing fresh food and water, while Al Jabaya has always been settled. The Al Jabayans were sailors, pearl divers and also traders, but their trade has been by sea, so they have always been in contact with people of other lands. They are more…worldly, I suppose you would say.’
    ‘And you?’
    The question was gentle, as if she sensed the emotion he felt when talking of his people.
    ‘My mother was from the south. My brother’s mother was from the north, so when she grew old, my father took a second wife—actually, I think she was the third but that’s not talked of often. Anyway, for political reasons he took a wife from a southern tribe, so my ties are to the south. My wife, too, was a southerner…’
    He stopped, aware he’d spoken to no one about Zara since her death, and none of his friends had used her name—aware, no doubt, that it was a subject he wouldn’t discuss.
    ‘Your wife,’ Liz Jones prompted, even gentler now.
    ‘She died in childbirth. The baby was premature, and she, too, died.’
    Liz heard the agony in his voice, and nothing on this earth could have prevented her resting her hand on his.
    ‘So of course you want the unit. It will be the very best we can achieve.’ She squeezed his fingers, just a comforting pressure. ‘I know it won’t bring back your wife or child,