Cinderella and the Sheikh - By Teresa Morgan Page 0,1

up in her section. When she got off work, he was in the lobby. When she tried to escape to the park across the street to have her lunch, he found her on her park bench. She wanted to scream in frustration. How much longer would the man stay?

Every encounter seemed to get more humiliating. And it had started off painfully enough—with him watching as a stupid teenager tripped her into dropping a tray of drinks. Her stomach churned at the memory of the mortification.

Libby wove past tables full of smiling patrons, catching bits of their chatter as they savored their meals. When she saw her own customer—she'd just relieved the waitress who had taken the order—her happiness nearly made her forget the man staring at her from across the room. Nearly.

The woman wore a faded blue suit that would have been the height of fashion twenty years earlier. Silver streaked the stylish twist of her burnished auburn hair. Not a single strand would dare fall out of place—tidiness was a habit of her long nursing career. Her smoky blue eyes held a sadness that never quite went away.

Losing your true love after only six years of happiness could do that to you.

"Mom." Libby smiled as she set the plate down. "What are you doing here?"

Her mother's smile nearly reached to those sad eyes, but not quite. "I had to see the new restaurant where you work."

"I thought you didn't have time this trip." For Anna to come to New York and not see her daughter had been unusual. Libby sometimes suspected she was her mom's best friend.

"I have to rush off. I'm meeting the girls for a show at two. This was all I could manage, but I just had to come see you." Anna glanced down at her Club sandwich. "Looks lovely. It's a little like playing restaurant, just like we used to. You always loved that game."

"I did," Libby said. Only it wasn't for the reason her mother thought. Being a single mom hadn't been easy for Anna. She'd had to work so hard. And the only time the darkness in her eyes had lightened was the rare occasions they got to go out for dinner. At seven years old, Libby had learned that playing restaurant, even if the gourmet food was peanut butter and jelly, had the same effect.

"That man over there seems to be trying to get your attention. He's very handsome. And well-dressed. Do you think he's a doctor?"

Libby followed her mom's line of sight... straight to the sheikh's table. Her stomach clenched as dark eyes flashed back.

His male beauty came with a knife-sharp edge. Cheekbones that slashed down from those invading eyes toward a fierce jaw. Night-dark brows and sleek black hair. Only the fullness of his lips lent any softness to a face carved by testosterone.

The heat of embarrassment blazed in Libby’s cheeks at being caught looking. A doctor? Like her father had been? Libby stifled a laugh. "No, Mom. He's royalty. Apparently he's next in line to rule Abbas. North Africa. His name's Rasyn." Emphasis on the sin, she added mentally.

Her mother beamed. “A prince. I’ll bet he tips better than a doctor. Something about him reminds me of your father. The eyes, I think."

Libby was shocked. Her father had died when she was five. Libby had only a vague memory of a protector who could scare away any monster, and her mother's stories of their perfect relationship.

Despite her own missteps—a couple of year-long relationships with men who turned out to be anything but charming—a marriage like her mom and dad's was her greatest goal. As her mom had said so often, they’d been perfect for each other, and Libby had vowed to hold out for nothing less. Having that kind of relationship with an arrogant, pushy, self-important sheikh? Libby bit her lip to hold back the threat of laughter.

"The management frowns on us getting involved with the VIPs. There was a lecture." Zahra St. Martin, the hotel’s owner, gave every new female employee a no-holds-barred warning.

Libby couldn’t stand around and chat while customers waited. She said goodbye to her mother, telling her that lunch would be on the house. Anna promised she'd be back soon.

Libby took a deep breath and braced herself. It was no good sending one of the other servers. The sheikh was a patient man, she'd learned, and would wait at the table until she came to him.

Really, it was best to get it over with.

But... she