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And that was it.
Goodbye, Sheikh Karim.
Hello, brand-new life.
Rachel scooped Ethan up and bundled him in a crib blanket printed with prancing blue giraffes. Then, the baby in the curve of one arm, her purse over that shoulder, the diaper bag over the other, she hoisted the suitcase from the bed and walked briskly through the apartment to the front door, shoved the chair out from under the knob, undid the locks and without a single backward glance headed down the stairs.
She was happy to be leaving Las Vegas. She’d been planning on it, only waiting to save a little more money, but what had happened this morning made that irrelevant.
Rachel paused on the ground floor landing.
Dammit. The taxi. She’d neglected to phone for one. And she hadn’t called Mrs. Grey to say she wouldn’t be needing her to babysit anymore.
No problem.
She could do both things as soon as she got outside and dug her cell phone from her purse.
Wrong.
She couldn’t dig out her phone, or call Mrs. Grey, or phone for a taxi.
She couldn’t do anything because when she opened the door to the street the first thing she saw was a shiny black car at the curb, its rear door open.
The second thing was the Sheikh, leaning against the fender, arms folded, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a thin line.
Rachel stopped dead. “You,” she said.
It was a painfully clichéd reaction and she knew it.
He seemed to think so, too, because a smile knifed across his lips.
“Me,” he said, in a voice that reminded her of steel swathed in silk. His gaze dropped to her suitcase. “Going somewhere?”
She felt her face heat. “G
et out of my way.”
He smiled again, moved toward her, took the suitcase from her suddenly nerveless fingers, the diaper bag from her shoulder, and dumped them into the back of the car.
That was when she saw the baby seat.
Her stomach dropped.
“If you think—”
“Put the boy in the seat, Rachel.”
“How did you—?”
