The Sheik & the Princess Bride

To Sharon. Because every woman deserves

a little fantasy in her life. This one’s for you.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

P rince Jefri of Bahania refused to believe he could be beaten by a woman. It was simply not possible. Yet here he sat in the cockpit of his F15, going over five hundred miles an hour and staring into the sun where he’d last seen the other plane soar out of sight.

“You’d better get moving, big guy.”

The amused female voice came through his headset and caused him to grind his teeth.

Where was she? He turned his head, searching for a glimmer of sunlight on metal. Something. Anything that would give him a clue as to her whereabouts. He saw nothing.

Jefri had been flying since he was a teenager and in all that time, he’d never once been anything but confident. For the first time in his life, he felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. Seconds later a high-pitched warning tone sounded in the cockpit. She’d locked on to him. Had this been a real combat situation, he would be dead.

“Bang, bang,” the woman said and then chuckled. “You lasted all of two minutes. Not bad for a rookie. Okay. Follow me down.”

Suddenly her jet swooped in from his left. The machine turned gracefully, then moved in front of his. Even at this speed, she was close enough for him to read the call sign painted on the fuselage.

Girly Girl.

Jefri groaned. This could not be happening. He was a prince, a sheik, heir to untold wealth and land. He was the youngest son of the king of Bahania. He did not get shot out of the sky by a woman!

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re upset and humiliated. You men always are. Console yourself with the fact that no one’s beaten me in a dogfight for six or seven years. This is war, not personal. My job is to make you better. Your job is to learn. Nothing more.”

“I am aware of my responsibilities,” he said curtly.

“You’re going to hold a grudge, aren’t you? I can already tell.” She sighed. “Some guys are like that. Oh, well. It’s your ulcer.”

With that, her jet rotated as gracefully as a ballerina, then streaked across the sky. Jefri stared at the space where it had been just a heartbeat ago. How the hell had she done that?

He shook his head and keyed in the code for the recently installed military air traffic control tower. After giving his number and approximate position in the desert, he requested permission to return to the base. When it was granted, he turned his plane to the correct coordinates and headed south.

Twenty minutes later, he landed and taxied his jet toward the large, newly constructed hangars. When he’d stopped the plane and opened the hatch, he heard someone call his name.

“Two minutes,” Doyle Van Horn yelled from the tarmac. “That’s the record so far. Good for you.”

Good? Jefri gritted his teeth and climbed down the ladder. “It was a disaster.”

When he reached the ground, Doyle slapped him on the shoulder. “You can’t take it personally. Nobody beats Billie.”

“That’s what she said.” Jefri stared at the blond man. “How long has she been with your firm?”

Doyle grinned. “Technically, all her life. She’s my sister. Dad had her driving tanks by the time she was twelve. She soloed in a jet on her sixteenth birthday. You said you wanted to be trained by the best, and that’s what we provided, Your Highness.”

“Call me Jefri. I’ve told you, no formalities. It will be easier that way.”

Doyle nodded. “Just checking. I thought you might be touchy after being shot down and all. Some guys are.”

Jefri didn’t doubt it. He watched as a second aircraft came in for landing. The jet moved lightly, barely raising any dust when the wheels touched down.

“I wish to meet her,” he said firmly.

“I figured you would. They always do.”

Jefri raised his eyebrows. “Do they?”