The Sheikh's Tempting Nanny (Khalid Sheikhs Series Book 1), page 1
Khalid Sheikh Series
The Sheikh’s Tempting Nanny
The Sheikh’s Contract Wife
The Sheikh’s Pregnant Teacher
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, MAY 2021
Copyright © 2021 Relay Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.
Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations.
www.relaypub.com
Blurb
First rule of working for a Sheikh: never fall in love…
To help his older brother, wealthy and handsome Sheikh Imran Khalid is determined to hire a nanny for his beloved niece and nephew. And American Sarah Jenner might just be the answer he’s looking for. She’s smart, good with the children… and just happens to stir Imran’s blood like no other woman he’s ever met. He knows he should keep their relationship strictly professional. But the attraction between them quickly grows hotter than the scorching desert sands.
No matter how many times Sarah reminds herself to be sensible, she just can’t help being attracted to Imran. Falling for her boss would be monumentally stupid, and Sarah refuses to give in. But her heart seems to have other plans, and she finally succumbs to her desire. When she discovers Imran’s past, though, she’s left to wonder… Is she just another notch in his belt?
Can these two star-crossed lovers put aside their doubts and learn to trust each other? Or will they both end up alone…
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
End of The Sheikh’s Tempting Nanny
Thank you!
Make an Author’s Day
About Leslie
Sneak Peek: The Sheikh’s Contract Wife
Also by Leslie
1
High above New York's noise and bustle, Imran Khalid felt utterly trapped in one of the most exclusive penthouse offices the great city had to offer.
The strange part, he thought with a growing sense of unease, was that he usually loved New York, and he loved women. Right now, however, neither pleased, and he only stared in growing dismay at the prim middle-aged woman sitting in front of him.
“And of course, I pay very strict attention to diet for the children in my care,” the woman went on. “I have had to be very strict with kitchens that will persist in feeding children behind my back, and while the children do not know better, the adults around them should.”
She glared as if a child getting a little unauthorized snack between meals was totally beyond the pale, and Imran cleared his throat.
“Ah, so your experience with babies…”
“I am very good at setting a schedule. It is never too early to impose a sense of discipline…”
Imran wanted to ask what sense of discipline a baby could have, but she was off again, droning on in a way that left him feeling dazed with disbelief.
This was the best that the five-star agency could provide? This woman, and the dozen or so like her he had already interviewed, were considered the best of the best when it came to providing children with loving and attentive care?
He reached his breaking point when he imagined the woman droning on about discipline to his new niece while holding a baby, his new nephew, and he shook his head.
“Ah, yes, thank you. That will be all,” he said, rather more sharply than he intended. At her slightly offended look, he shook his head.
“I'll be in touch,” Imran said, his voice clipped. “Please ask my secretary to send in the next applicant.”
The woman did not exactly huff in irritation at his pointed words, but her expression wasn't far off, and she swept out of his office with a short thank you. Imran rubbed his eyes wearily. He looked up when the door opened again, but it was only his secretary.
“Your next appointment will be a few more minutes, sir.”
Imran nodded. His last few interviews had ended earlier and earlier as he realized that the candidates were far from suitable, and when the door shut again, he leaned back in his chair, swiveling to face the enormous window overlooking New York.
Surely I can find someone in all this city.
His phone chirped, and he winced at the name on the screen. For a moment, Imran considered not answering, but then taking a deep breath, he hit the respond button.
“Ziad,” he said, putting a cheerfulness into his voice he didn't feel. “How are you?”
“I wanted to hear how things are going,” said his older brother, the sheikh himself. “Have you made any progress in finding the right person?”
I can find the right woman at any nightclub before midnight, Imran thought wryly. Who'd have thought that this would be so much harder?
“It's been going very well,” he said. “We're wrapping things up shortly, and not to say too much too soon, but I should have some good news for you by the end of the day.”
“Good, good,” Ziad said, and Imran felt a guilty pang when he heard the relief in his brother's voice. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you are taking care of this.”
“Of course. Are Jamila and Hasan well?”
“More or less,” Ziad said glumly. “Hasan is as well as I suppose a baby can be, but I think he can tell that something's wrong. Jamila's not crying all the time, because sometimes she needs to sleep. I wish I had more time to spend with them. It is hard to think of them losing their parents and then being alone on top of it. A few more weeks, and I can give them more time, but they need care now.”
“Ziad,” Imran said, as confidently as he could, “stop worrying. Take care of that diplomatic mess in Italy that has everyone all up in arms. I'll be back with…with Mary Poppins herself. Jamila and Hasan will be cared for, I swear.”
That at least won a laugh from Ziad, and for a moment after they ended the call, Imran was pleased with that. His oldest brother had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and being able to make him laugh was an accomplishment.
Then Imran remembered that he had made his brother laugh with something that was nearly an all-out lie, and he swallowed hard.
Before he could dwell on what had just happened, however, the door opened, and a tall, slender woman walked in. She came across his office with a brisk air. Though she looked like a recent college graduate, everything about her—her neat new clothes, her tidy haircut, and her sensible heels—screamed professional. Imran was startled and amused to see a green leaf stuck in her honey-blonde hair, clinging to the pale strands like a stubborn hitchhiker unwilling to give up its berth—a bright contrast to her smooth presentation. He started to tell her, so she could brush it away, but she spoke first.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Khalid,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Thank you for granting me this interview. I hope the children are well. I saw in my brief that Jamila is six and having a difficult time of things since her parents died. I know Hasan is very young, but even at that age, they pick things up quickly, and it wouldn't surprise me if he was having a tough time of it too.”
Imran blinked, taking a closer look at the newest candidate.
“Sarah…Jenner?” he asked. At her nod, he smiled. There was something warm and welcoming about her, something that had been missing from the other women he had interviewed for the position. Maybe it was that leaf.
“Sounds like you've done your homework. So you know about my niece and my nephew's situation. What would you do about it?”
That was far more direct than the carefully curated list of questions he had prepared for the other candidates, but the applicant—Sarah—nodded as if there was nothing wrong at all with how he began.
“Children at that age need stability,” she said, and he frowned, wondering if he had been tricked after all.
“Discipline?” he asked acidly, and she shook her head.
“Discipline may need to be involved if a child is being willfully naughty, but for the most part, I find that children aren't. They may be hurt or confused or unaware of how their actions affect others, but they're not malicious. No. When I said stability, I meant a ground they can't fall below. Even children who are living in good circumstances can be knocked for a loop by a change as small as switching out furniture.”
She paused, and Imran could see her looking for a way to explain what she meant. He had the shape of it, but he waited to see what she might say.
“Children like Jamila and Hasan, who have undergone such a traumatic change so early in their lives, need kindness and to have the adults around them spending the time it takes to help them feel safe again. Their whole world has been shifted, and they want…no, they need to know that the adults around them, the ones who are with them every day, are people that they can count on.”
There was something to Sarah's voice, a kind of urgency, that Imran responded to. She wanted to make sure he understood, even if he didn't hire her. Though he had heard some similar things from the women he had interviewed before, it was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that she believed it. She exuded a warmth that he had not felt at all since the interviews had started, and he leaned towards her curiously.
“And how would you give them that safety?”
She smiled at him, and Imran blinked. It was a little like being blinded by a ray of sunshine when you least expected it.
“Well, absolutely first just by being there. I saw that this is a live-in position, and that's great. A friend of mine, Laura, does a lot of live-in work, and she's very clear on the benefits of being there for kids, especially ones who are stressed or hurt in some way. More than that, I'm hoping that I'll get the support I need to work with other members of the household staff to make this transition as smooth as possible.”
Somewhat to his own surprise, Imran found himself listening intently to Sarah's plans, nodding along as she talked about small, carefully organized trips and activities designed to both nurture a sense of curiosity as well as a sense of safety.
“And they should feel like they have control and value,” Sarah said. “One of my favorite ways to help children is to let them help you. I saw that Jamila speaks Arabic and English, so perhaps getting her to 'help' me with my Arabic could be something that makes her feel strong and confident.”
“You speak Arabic?” asked Imran, raising his eyebrows.
“Well, just a little. Enough to ask for the bus and to say I don't want radishes in my food. Tourist Arabic, I suppose. I know that Yeni has Arabic, English, and French as its official languages. I took a class years ago, and I brushed up before applying.”
“That's more than most do. Why did you take that class?”
“Oh, the art!” Sarah blinked as if startled by her own boldness, but she continued when Imran gave her an expectant look.
“I've always had an interest in Islamic art,” she said, blushing a little and seeming a little less certain now that they’d wandered off the topic of the children. “The colors, the shapes, the attention to detail…I love it all, and if I hadn't gone into child psychology, I think I would have liked to go into art restoration.”
She looked so nervous that Imran found himself smiling to reassure her. She was lovely, and he had a feeling that the warmth she seemed to radiate was simply a part of her, part of who she was and what she did. Whatever Sarah was interested in, she brought that warmth to it, and simply listening to her talk made him feel better about the entire wasted day.
A glance at his phone told him that it was time to bring the interview to a close, and he sighed, more reluctant than he thought he'd be to end an interview with a nanny.
“I really should see you out,” he said. “I have a few more people to see.”
She nodded, but he couldn't leave it at that.
“I will say that I'm mostly seeing them as a courtesy. I think you're hired.”
She stared at him, and he was struck by her big brown eyes, as warm as the rest of her and so very startled that he almost laughed.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Are you ready to travel? Have you been out of the United States before?”
“No, but I've always wanted to see the world,” she said, just a little breathless.
“Then you can begin with Yeni,” Imran said, strangely eager for her to see his home. “The mountains are gorgeous, rearing up against the sky, and if it is art you want, our conservatories and galleries go back more than eight hundred years…”
Imran had no idea how long they spoke, but then his secretary was at the door, reminding him with just a slightly reprimanding tone that another applicant was waiting for him. For a moment, Imran was startled by an urge to send his secretary away, to send the other applicant away as well, simply so he could have more time with Sarah. Instead, he reminded himself that he was being a good brother and sighed.
“I should send you on your way,” he said, and he shook her hand like a professional. She was just turning to go when he spoke again.
“Though I should tell you…you have a leaf in your hair.”
Startled, Sarah's hand flew up to find the leaf in her blonde hair, pulling it down to look at in dismay. Finally, she simply laughed, shaking her head.
“Was that in there the whole time? You could have told me.”
“You were so eager to get started. I was carried away by your passion.”
It was nothing but the truth, and his gaze lingered on her as she left. The next candidate entered, a woman who seemed even more stiff and unkind after meeting Sarah. As he conducted the interview, he found himself thinking about Sarah.
Imran didn't think of himself as a man who trusted so very easily, but there had been something about Sarah that had comforted him straight away. Now that she was gone, however, he wondered at that strange feeling of rightness he had felt with her. Was it just some trick of empathy, something ephemeral that didn’t mean a thing?
Inwardly, he shook his head. It didn't matter. He had made his choice, and now he needed to let the chips fall where they may.
2
Coming off the plane, Sarah felt a surge of energy travel through her, starting at the soles of her feet and traveling up to the crown of her head. It was a twelve-hour flight from New York to Yeni, and though she could feel the exhaustion biting at her heels, she couldn't get over the excitement that seemed to crackle in the air.
She was met at the airport by an actual chauffeur, who told her that her bags would be handled and who handed her into the sleek Rolls Royce as if she were a princess. On the drive into the city, she couldn't help but peer out of the window like an absolute tourist, taking in the tall skyscrapers of the business district, the elegant buildings of the Old Quarter, and the open-air markets for which Yeni had been famous for hundreds of years.
When the car took a turn down a main boulevard, Sarah was certain that the gorgeous building at the end of the lane was the palace, but the car drove on, passing houses that each seemed more beautiful than the last.
They only stopped when they came to a tall wall of gleaming white, one with an actual guarded checkpoint at the gate. Sarah's heart skipped a beat when she saw the armed guards approach the car, but her driver seemed to take it as business as usual, exchanging a few words with the guard and showing him his ID before driving on.
This is the real thing, she thought. You are working for royalty.
The sheer strangeness of her situation was making her nervous, so when she got out of the car, she was incredibly relieved to see a familiar face waiting for her on the steps.
