Page 41 of The Geek and the Sheikh

Junebug dipped her head as she searched for the seatbelt. Jameel was relaxing back against the seat when she reminded him that he should wear one too. He glanced at her with a smile full of amusement, and she quickly understood. Their roles had been reversed in the London chase. Itwaskinda funny.

Over Jameel's shoulder, Junebug caught sight of Allison as she exited the train station. Their gazes locked for a split second before the taxi pulled away. She twisted in her seat and watched as Allison stepped up to the curb and lifted her arm.

“We’ve been made,” she murmured, keeping her eyes locked on Allison as long as she could before they merged with traffic and the driver sped up.

Jameel cursed. Bugs sat back in her seat, wondering what they should do next. Jameel leaned forward and spoke in a low, urgent voice to the driver. The man glanced at them in the rearview mirror with a startled expression before he nodded and took a series of hair-raising turns in the heavy traffic, cutting through a narrow alley before emerging on another busy street.

The car was stopped at a light when Jameel pulled out several large notes from his wallet and handed them to the man. Junebug was surprised when Jameel turned to her and clicked open her seatbelt.

"You won't be needing it after all," he said.

He suddenly opened the door, grabbed her hand, and exited the vehicle, pulling her behind him. She grabbed the hat that was slipping off her head and squeezed between two parked cars. Her mouth dropped open when Jameel strode directly across the sidewalk, opened the door of a boutique, and pulled her inside. She looked behind her as the taxi pulled away, the light on the top still red.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Allison will know we were wearing Eurostar uniforms. We need to change into something a little less noticeable,” he said.

“May I help you?” an attendant inquired.

“Yes, my companion and I find ourselves in desperate need of clothing,” Jameel stated with a sexy smile and the air that came with being born a royal.

“Yes, of course…,” the attendant replied, glancing at their clothing dubiously, "but I am not certain we have something to suit your style, monsieur, and of course the price range may shock you. We have an elite clientele, I'm afraid."

“We were at a costume party," Junebug improvised, "...in London, but now we are in Paris and our clothes got left behind.”

“A costume party?” the attendant repeated with a skeptical expression.

Jameel smiled. “Madame—?”

“Madame Monet,” the attendant replied.

“Madame Monet, I have been remiss in introducing myself. I am Prince Jameel Saif-Ad-Din of Jawahir. You may remember a purchase that I completed featuring your breathtaking works of art last year. There was a beautiful printed silk scarf with tiny posies on it that my mother adored.” Jameel formally lifted the middle-aged brunette’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Oh, yes… yes. I… remember the piece,” Madame Monet stuttered in a slightly breathless voice.

The woman’s eyes were wide when she turned to Junebug. Bugs shrugged and nodded.

Monet glanced at Jameel with a silent query, her expression slightly wary and bemused.

“I’m just Junebug,” Junebug clarified with a grin.

Jameel released Madame Monet’s hand, opened his wallet, and showed her a black credit card. He gave the suddenly very interested sales attendant another one of his M&Ms-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth smiles and then tucked the card back into his wallet.

“Clothing for myself and my friend, please,” he requested.

“This way,” Madame Monet said in a pleasant tone.

Junebug followed Jameel and the clerk through a curtained doorway into another room. Madame Monet motioned to a young girl sorting clothing to cover the front while she assisted them.

“Are you looking for formal or casual wear, your highness?” Madame Monet inquired.

“Casual but we would also like at least one formal outfit,” Jameel stated.

Junebug lifted an eyebrow at Jameel’s commanding tone. This was a side to him that she hadn’t seen before. Of course, it wasn’t like there had ever been a need to see him in his princely mode.

She walked over to the racks of clothing while Madame Monet focused on Jameel. She wiggled her nose. Most of the outfits were like what Idella wore. They were too flashy for her.

“Was Madame Genevieve happy with the… items she received?” Madame Monet inquired.

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