To distract herself from that unpleasant thought, she cleared her throat, then began practicing her sultry, low voice. It hurt her throat to talk that way, but at least it meant Jamal wouldn’t recognize her voice. But what if he did? What if he knew it was her the second he walked in the door? The humiliation would kill her. She sighed. At least then many of her present problems would be solved.
A knock at the door broke through her scattered thoughts. Her stomach lurched once, then settled down. Heidi sucked in a breath, sent up a heartfelt prayer and walked toward the door.
Jamal waited impatiently in the hallway. He didn’t want to be here at all. He didn’t have time to deal with a woman who had a thing going because he was a prince. If she’d claimed possession of anything but his new Lamborghini, he would have let one of his staff handle her. But he’d been waiting for the car for months. When the mystery woman announced it had been delivered to her by mistake, he’d wanted to get it away from her as quickly as possible. With his luck, she’d already taken it for a test drive.
He could only hope the woman wasn’t going to be too much trouble. He wasn’t in the mood to reject anyone gently. If she planned to come on to him, she was going to find herself on the receiving end of his short temper. In fact…
The door opened to reveal a young woman in a pitiful excuse for a dress. Jamal quickly took in the red hair, bright green eyes and well-shaped but trembling mouth. She was pretty enough, he thought, but so were thousands of others.
“Prince Jamal,” she said, her voice low and almost familiar. “I’m Honey Martin. Please come in.” She stepped back to allow him to enter.
Jamal held in a sigh. So she wasn’t just going to hand him the car keys and let him go. Why wasn’t he surprised? No doubt this was her one chance to meet a prince. He might as well play along. The quicker he did that, the quicker he could leave.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Martin,” he said and reached out to take her hand.
Apparently his gesture surprised her. She gave a little start, then put her hand in his. As she did, a warning sounded in his brain. Something wasn’t right.
He studied the woman more closely. Her red hair curled around her face and neck in a way that brought attention to her nearly bare shoulders. Her green eyes regarded him with a mixture of anticipation and panic. She blinked several times. He couldn’t tell if she had something in her eye or if she was flirting with him. He decided he didn’t really care about either.
He released her hand and lowered his gaze to her body. She was impressive, he admitted to himself. High, full br**sts, a narrow waist and long, lovely legs. But the information was simply that—information. He didn’t care about her appearance.
“Thanks for coming by,” she said and gave him a quick smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “I mean, I guess you had to. I have your car. It’s a great car,” she gushed. “Looks like it goes really fast. Not that I drove it, of course. I wouldn’t. I mean, I would, but I didn’t and…would you like a drink?”
She turned tail and hurried to the bar tucked into the corner. Jamal stared after her. The woman—what was her name—was surprisingly unsteady on her feet. Was she drunk?
“I don’t need anything except my car keys,” he said quickly. “I have a busy afternoon planned, so if you don’t mind, I need to get going.”
The woman—Honey, he thought as he remembered her name—stopped by the bar and turned to face him. “Oh, you can’t go yet. The afternoon is young and so am I.” She gave a little trill of a laugh.
Jamal stared at her. This wasn’t happening, he thought desperately. Women had come on to him before. Dozens of times. But at least most of them were more subtle and practiced. Honey acted like an innocent schoolgirl determined to change her status. He wanted no part of that.
The good news was, if she wasn’t going to be subtle, he didn’t have to be either. “Miss Martin,” he began, then gave her a contemptuous once-over. “While I appreciate the thought…”
His voice trailed off because at that moment Honey Martin folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head back. Her nose got scrunchy as she stared at him. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Heidi? His Heidi? The Prune Princess, as Malik liked to call her? What was going on?
The blood left his head, making him feel as if he was going to pass out. He sucked in a breath as he tried to absorb what was happening. This was Heidi? In that dress? With that body? She’d looked great in her riding clothes but that was nothing compared with this. What the hell was she doing here?
“Jamal,” she asked, sounding concerned. “Are you all right?”
She’d forgotten to change her voice, he thought with some still-working part of his brain. And she’d called him Jamal, not Prince Jamal. Obviously Heidi was not very good at this game of hers.
“Yes. Thank you. But I will take that drink. Scotch on the rocks, please.”
“Of course.”
While he sank onto a white cushion in the center of the sofa, she poured his drink, then hobbled over to hand it to him.
He couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him. What was she thinking? Was she concerned that he would be unfaithful to her? Was she trying to trap him? Jamal frowned as he took a sip of his drink. While the idea had merit, he couldn’t see Heidi being anything but direct with him. Wouldn’t she just ask first, before attempting this elaborate scheme?