The Sheikh and the Surrogate Mum Read Online Free PDF

flight time is fifteen hours, and I thought you might be more comfortable in a bed, so the back of the cabin is set up for your convenience.’
    ‘With a bed?’
    It went beyond Scheherazade’s fantastic stories, and now Liz forgot about hiding her wonder.
    ‘I’ve read about executive jets, but never thought I’d experience anything like this. May I have a look?’
    Was it the excitement in her voice that stirred the man? She had no idea, but at least he’d smiled, and as she felt a slight hitch in her breathing, she told herself it was better that he remained remote and unreachable—far better that he didn’t smile.
    ‘Wait until we’re in the air. The aircraft door is closed and I assume the pilot is preparing for take-off. Because we have to compete with both the international and the domestic flights for take-off slots, we can’t delay. But while we’re on the ground, Saif could get you a drink. Perhaps champagne to celebrate your first flight in an executive jet?’
    ‘I can celebrate with orange juice,’ Liz said, and although Khalifa was sure he saw her right hand move towards her stomach, she drew back before she touched it. The mystery of her pregnancy—or her attitude to it—deepened. He’d seen a lot of Liz Jones in the last ten days, and not by even the slightest sign had she acknowledged the baby she carried.
    Neither had she ever mentioned the baby’s father, and although he had a totally irrational desire to know about this unknown man, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
    Oh, he’d thought of a dozen ways he could bring it up. Does the baby’s father not mind your leaving now? If you’re still in my country, would the baby’s father like to fly to Al Tinine for the birth?
    But every time he thought of a question, he told himself it was none of his business and quashed the desire to ask.
    And it was none of his business, apart from the fact that the woman was coming to work for him and he’d have liked to know what made her tick. Having seen her in action in the Giles neonatal unit, he knew she was deeply involved with all her little charges, and genuinely caring, which made her apparent detachment from her own pregnancy all the more puzzling.
    An enigma, that’s what she was.
    Saif had returned with freshly squeezed orange juice for them both and she smiled as she thanked him—smiled the kind of smile he’d seen her use around the unit, the smile she gave the other staff, the parents and the babies.
    And just as irrationally as his desire to know about her baby’s father came the thought that he’d like her to smile like that at him…
    She’d pulled some papers out of the bag she’d carried on board, and as she sipped her juice she was studying them.
    In order to avoid conversation?
    The thought aggravated him. Most women he’d had aboard his plane had been only too keen to talk to him.
    But, then, most women he’d had aboard his plane had been diversions—pleasant playmates—not work colleagues, and pregnant work colleagues at that.
    And, come to think of it, the days of pleasant playmates were long gone, too.
    Though surely the woman had some conversation.
    ‘The baby in the unit, Alexandra,’ he began, deciding he’d start one himself. ‘Was anything sorted out for her?’
    As the delightful smile flashed across Liz Jones’s face he regretted his impulse, because having had it directed at him once, he immediately wanted to see her smile again, to keep her smiling.
    ‘Alexandra’s grandmother turned up. It was like a miracle. The woman was from Melbourne and her daughter had taken off around Australia, backpacking with a group of friends. Her mother, Rose her name is, suspected there was something wrong with her daughter, who’d been moody and unhappy even while she was planning her trip. It was only when Rose saw something on the television about Alexandra that she began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.’
    Khalifa tried to picture the scenario. In his