“Until the boys got old enough to appreciate you.”

He was being kind, or assuming something that wasn’t true. Either way, she didn’t know how to respond. That combined with a particularly stubborn screw caused her to slip and jam the screwdriver into the side of her hand.

“Ouch,” she yelped and set down the screwdriver. Blood welled up.

Qadir was at her side in an instant, taking her hand in his. “What have you done?”

His touch was warm and sure. “Ah, nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Still holding her hand, he led her to the small bathroom and turned on the water. “Is it serious? Will you need stitches?”

Stitches? Just the thought of a needle piercing her flesh was enough to make her woozy. “Not if I haven’t cut anything off.”

She pulled free of his touch and shoved her hand under the water. The wound stung, but wasn’t too bad. She managed to rub on some soap without screaming too loudly, then held still as he applied a bandage he’d found in the medicine cabinet. He was surprisingly competent at the task.

When he’d finished, he took her hand again and examined it. “I think you will survive.”

“Good to know.” Even not thinking about the needle, she felt a little lightheaded. How strange.

Maybe it was the bathroom itself. The space was pretty tight and Qadir took up a lot of room. But even all that didn’t explain the sudden thumping of her heart or the way she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

She was aware of the flecks of gold in his dark eyes and couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his mouth which was, by the way, a very nice mouth. They were close enough for her to inhale the crisp, clean, masculine scent of him.

He smiled at her. “You will be more careful next time?”

She nodded without speaking.

“Excellent. I must return to my office.”

He released her hand and walked away. Maggie stayed where she was, her body oddly tense, her fingers tingling despite the pain from the cut.

What had just happened? She couldn’t seem to focus and the few thoughts that did pop into her brain seemed unrelated to anything. The tiny puncture wound couldn’t be responsible and there was no way she’d lost a significant amount of blood. It was the weirdest thing.

She looked toward the garage to where Qadir had stood only moments before. This couldn’t be about him, could it? She wasn’t attracted to her boss. It was a recipe for disaster. She knew better. And even if she didn’t, she was still mourning the fact that she and Jon weren’t together. She wasn’t interested in anyone else. She couldn’t be.

Maggie stared at the rack of elegant, sophisticated, expensive gowns and felt as if she’d stepped into a movie star’s dressing room.

“I thought they’d be like prom dresses,” she admitted. “These are real gowns.”

“I know,” Victoria said with a sigh. “They’re beautiful.”

“I can’t afford them.”

“Neither can I. Fortunately we get a discount.”

Unless it was an ninety-five percent discount, there was no way Maggie could buy one of these dresses. She needed the money to buy back her father’s business. She couldn’t waste a few thousand dollars on a dress she would wear once.

“Still,” she murmured, not sure how to explain to her friend that there was no way this was happening.

Victoria patted her arm. “You have to trust me. I don’t want to endanger my IRA any more than you do. These are to give us ideas only. Then we’re heading into the back.”

“What’s in the back?”

Victoria laughed. “I can see you’re not going to trust me. Come on. I’ll show you.”

They walked through the elegant boutique with the plush carpeting and soothing music. At the rear of the store, they stepped past heavy curtains and found themselves in a plain corridor. Victoria walked purposefully toward a simple door. She pushed it open and then moved to the side.

“Prepare to be amazed,” she said.

Maggie stepped inside. There were dozens of racks, all crammed with beautiful clothes. Pantsuits and dresses, blouses, skirts.

“I don’t get it. Why are these here?” she asked.

“Consignment,” Victoria told her in a low, amused voice. “The very rich and elegant bring their barely worn clothes here where hardworking young women can buy them for pennies on the dollar. How do you think I can afford to dress like I do? I get a four-hundred-dollar blouse for all of fifty dollars. You can find anything here and the quality is amazing. I love this place. Seriously, the evening wear is discounted the most because so few people have any interest in it. The stuff is practically free.”

That was a discount Maggie could get behind. “They really have ball gowns here?”

“They have everything. Because I’m short and chubby, I’ll be buying used. You, on the other hand, are tall and willowy so you can probably squeeze your tiny butt into a sample. Not that I’m bitter.”

Maggie grinned. “Willowy is a nice way to say flat chested.”

Victoria wove through the dozens of racks until she found one with her name on it. She quickly sorted through the dresses and handed Maggie six.

“Now we try them on,” Victoria said.

Maggie took them into the large dressing room on the left while her friend took the one on the right. As she pulled off her jeans and her T-shirt, she had trouble believing she was really trying on dresses for an actual ball. Three weeks ago, she’d been attempting to sort out her life in Aspen. How could so much have changed so quickly?

Unable to find the answer, she pulled on the first dress. It was peach, with a fitted bodice and a tiered skirt that fell in waves of shimmering fabric. Victoria ripped back the curtain and sucked in her breath.

“I knew you’d look fabulous. That dress is amazing.”

“It’s unusual,” Maggie said, facing her reflection. She had to admit that the color was good for her, but she wasn’t sure about the fluffy skirt.

“It’s couture, honey, and when it looks that good, you say a little prayer. I, of course, am hanging out everywhere and will have to pay to get this sucker hemmed.”

Victoria’s dress was black, strapless and fit her like it had been painted on. Maggie did her best not to be bitter about the curves spilling over the top. But hemming would be required. At least six inches of fabric bunched on the floor.

“Nadim won’t be able to resist you,” she said honestly.

“Aren’t you sweet? He’s managed to resist me very well so far, but I’m not going to think about that. Instead I’m going to talk you into that dress. You’ll be dazzling. I know you’re not interested in Qadir, but there will be plenty of handsome, successful men at the ball. You can dazzle them instead.”

For a second Maggie wondered if Jon would be dazzled. Then she reminded herself she wasn’t going to think about him anymore. Not that way.

In truth, she didn’t want to be involved with him. She just missed him.

“Uh-oh,” Victoria said as she put her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me? There’s a guy, isn’t there? I can tell just by looking at you.”

“There’s no guy,” Maggie told her.

Victoria kept staring.

“Okay, maybe there’s half a guy.”

“Interesting. Which half?”

That made Maggie laugh. “I mean I’m only half involved. Or less, even. I keep telling myself Jon is just a habit.”

“A bad one, I’m guessing.”

“We grew up next door to each other, so I’ve known him all my life. In high school, we started dating. Everyone assumed we would always be together.”

“Including you,” Victoria said.

Maggie nodded. “Then we started drifting apart. I think we both sensed the change, but neither of us wanted to be the first one to say anything. Then my dad got sick. By then we knew it was over, but Jon didn’t want to break up while I was dealing with my dad’s death, so the relationship went on longer than it should have.”

She drew in a breath. “The thing is, we’ve been best friends forever. That’s the part that’s hard to give up. I miss talking to him. But he’s with someone else and the truth is, we’re not best friends anymore.”

Victoria gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. That has to be hard. You lost your guy and your dad so close together. It’s okay to take the time to deal with that.”

“I know. I’m just ready to be over him.”

“Love sucks the big one,” Victoria said firmly. “It’s why I’m never giving away my heart. I want a sensible arrangement with a man who is all about security and convention.”

Maggie was surprised. Victoria seemed spontaneous and fun loving. “Won’t that be boring for you?”

“Nope. I want safe and practical. Did you know it’s a really big deal for a prince to divorce? So they never do. I like that in a man.”

“Part of Nadim’s charm?” Maggie asked.

Her friend nodded. “A lot of it. Plus, my dad can be…difficult.” Victoria shrugged. “Having a prince on my side would really help.”

Maggie sensed there were a lot of secrets in Victoria’s past, but she didn’t want to pry. The other woman would tell her when she was ready.

“I’m going to think about not making a fool of myself,” Maggie muttered. “Is there a book or brochure telling us how we’re supposed to act and stuff, because I could use some pointers.”

Victoria grinned. “I’ll see what I can find. It will be practice for when we attend the wedding.”

A royal wedding? “I don’t think I’ll still be here,” Maggie told her. “I should have the car done in less than two months.”

“The wedding is in six weeks. Apparently As’ad is very anxious to claim his bride. So you’ll get to be there. If nothing else, you can fly back to dance at mine.”

Standing in the dressing area of her suite, Maggie stared at the peach dress practically floating on the hanger. Victoria had been right. It was the perfect choice.

On the floor by the fluffy hem was a shopping bag containing a pair of high-heeled sandals and an evening bag, also purchased from the consignment room at the boutique.

“I’m really going to a royal ball,” Maggie murmured to herself, unable to believe it was happening. She was just some mechanic from Colorado. Stuff like that didn’t happen to her.

She tucked her hands into her pockets to keep herself from reaching for the phone. The need to call Jon was powerful and she wanted to resist. While they had both claimed they would always be friends, the truth was, they weren’t. Not the way they had been.

Everything was different and there was no going back. Everything was-

The phone rang. Maggie jumped, then walked into the living room and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“You’re hard to track down.”

The familiar voice stole the strength from her legs. She sank onto the sofa and tried to remember to breathe.

“Jon. Is everything okay?”

“Sure. I’m calling to check on you. I haven’t heard from you and wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Everything is fine.”

Which it was-so why was she suddenly fighting tears?

Probably the loneliness, she told herself. She missed her dad and she missed Jon.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Of course. Work on the car is going really well and you’ll never guess. There’s going to be a royal ball here, and I’ve been invited.”

“Good for you.”

“It’s kind of a strange thing, but I think it will be fun. And I’ve made a few friends. There’s a great secretary here who is also American. We’ve been hanging out together.” Maggie talked a little more about her life then said, “How are things there?”

“Busy. It’s quarterly season and you know what that means.”

She did. Jon was a corporate accountant. While she couldn’t relate to his world of numbers and reports, she knew he liked it.

“How’s Elaine?” she asked, because the alternative was to say that she missed him and she refused to go there.

He hesitated. “Maggie, I…”

“I’m allowed to ask and you’re supposed to answer,” she told him. “Don’t we at least have that much left?”

“It’s not that. I hate how things ended between us. I want it to be better and I’m not sure talking about Elaine is the best way for that to happen.”

Heat burned on her cheeks. She knew he was thinking about the last night they’d been together. When she’d called him sobbing about her father and he’d come over, because that’s the kind of man he was. Then she’d kissed him and…

She pushed the memory away. In theory, they were equally at fault. It wasn’t as if Jon had said no. But somehow she always felt that she was the one to blame.

“I’ve let it go,” she told him and realized she meant it. She still felt stupid, but she wasn’t longing for a repeat performance. “You’ve let it go. We’re moving on. So answer the question. How’s Elaine?”