Texas Knight: Desert Dream

by Cat Shinier

  “No, no. Don’t worry. I can live anywhere in the world.”

  “So you don’t have any family affiliations or a relationship that could restrict your moving somewhere else?”

  Oh my, I think to myself. He sure seems interested in my relationship status. He appears tense.

  “No, no family connections. My grandmother died last year, and I am not in a relationship.” Impulsively I add, “So you don’t have to worry.” And if I am not mistaken, my information seems to calm him down because he looks more relaxed as he leans back. To me Shamar seems like a hunter, and I think that if I was in a relationship that would not really dissuade him, and only be a small obstacle in pursuit of his quest.

  “Do you know how pretty you are?”

  Now the look on his face is serious, so clearly it is a subject where I am on pretty thin ice. It makes me feel both uncomfortable and somewhat angry.

  “Are my looks all that important? I thought we were talking about my university degree and my application?”

  His eyes flash. I cannot interpret what his reaction means.

  “You are here because that is what I want. I want to get to know you better, and I want to spend a lot more time with you.”

  He leans forward and supports his hands against the wall, to the right and the left of me. I look at him, almost with a small flicker of fear. Shamar, dark and mysterious and an erotic promise personified, and he wants to spend more time with me. This must be a misunderstanding. His arms form a sort of living cage around me, while his face is only a few inches away from mine. So it is time to show that I am not a spineless nitwit and that I will not let him intimidate me.

  “But we haven’t had an interview yet. How do you know that we want to spend more time together?” Gradually I direct the conversation back toward the application I sent him. A man like him probably likes to have a toy that he plays with and then tosses aside again when bored. And even though he is pulling the floor away from under my feet, I do not intend to react to his advances the way he would like me to. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he looks at me, and his eyes are like burning coal. It seems his calm is only a charade and that deep down there is a boiling volcano simmering within him.

  “I want you, Luna.”

  Undisguised desire has become palpable with his words.

  “I want to feel you under me. I want to seduce you, pamper you, kiss you, own you. And believe me, I will.”

  In the meantime, I feel the flush through my face as it takes on the color of very ripe tomatoes. The man is breathtaking and very convinced of what he is saying. And despite the fact I get moist at the mere thought of being close to him, and the muscles deep down are clenching, things are clearly moving along too fast for my taste.

  “That takes two – Mister Shalazar, umm, Shamar. I am not prey that has been released to be hunted.” The more I think about what he has just said the more furious I am. Shamar smiles and bares his white teeth. I do not seem to have gotten through to him and what I have just said does not seem to have impressed him one single bit.

  “Luna, I would never refer to you as prey. But I will hunt you, and you will beg me to track you down.” That was not a threat, but rather a promise, and the kind of promise that makes my knees turn to rubber instantly.

  It appears my answer has awakened his hunting instinct. It doesn’t feel right because I know that I am an easy prey for him because I would meet him half-way. Still, I don’t feel like relenting.

  “As I already said, Shamar, this could become a very one-sided game.”

  I lift his right arm and duck under it; then I gulp down the rest of my champagne and set the glass on the little table next to me. I walk towards the elevator, holding my head high. Shamar’s gaze seems to burn a hole into my back, the heat his eyes emit is almost physical. Thank God the elevator doors open, when I press the button. I don’t feel safe until they close again.

  Chapter Four

  What on earth was that? I don’t think anyone has ever made such a blunt pass at me. I fluctuate between indignation and rapture. Shamar, one of the richest men in the world, wants me. That would be just the kind of declaration he would make. On the way to my room, I smile to myself, and when I arrive in my room, I slip out of my dress and take off my shoes.

  Even though my last shower was only four hours ago, I pin up my hair and pamper myself by taking another one of those luxurious showers. Afterwards, I slip into the fluffy terry bathrobe that is wrapped in plastic and waiting for me in my walk-in closet. It makes me feel like I am being cuddled.

  I retrieve some ginger ale from the minibar and sit down on the bed with my cell phone. Quickly I type an SMS to Susan:

  * * *

  ‘Hi Susan, everything here is simply overwhelming.

  I met Shamar Shalazar. He’s attractive and impressive.

  Love Luna‘

  * * *

  Then I press send. I can already see the look on Susan’s face in my mind’s eye when she reads it. Susy knows me well enough to know that if I write something like that, something is up.

  I stretch out on my huge bed and zap on the remote control when suddenly there is a knock on the door. I jump. I fasten the bathrobe’s belt tighter and look out to the hall through the peephole. I see a bunch of flowers, a huge bouquet of flowers as I open the door a crack.

  “Yes?” I say.

  “Flowers for Miss Buchholz,” I hear a voice saying. It is a young woman, and she is wearing a hotel uniform and holding a fabulous array of flowers with soft pastel pink colored blossoms in her arms. The smell of the flowers is over-powering. I take a deep breath. Then I open the door, accept the bouquet of flowers and carry them into my room.

  Thank God the woman has thought to bring a vase. Otherwise, I don’t even know where I would have put them. As I turn around to head back into the room, she clears her throat.

  Oh rats, I forgot the tip again.

  “Hold on please,” I say while I head back towards the room to fetch my purse and wallet.

  “Miss Buchholz, no, thank you, that is not what I am waiting for. I need an answer.”

  “An answer?” I’m surprised, and my eyebrows raise in question.

  “Yes, Madame, there is a card enclosed and the gentleman is waiting for an answer.”

  I forget about my purse and the wallet and head over to the bouquet of flowers. And yes, she’s right, a card has been attached to one of the flowers.

  * * *

  You are the most enchanting human being I have ever met. Please give me the honor of allowing me to invite you to lunch tomorrow.

  Shamar

  * * *

  Wow, and so he’s romantic, too. How nice. I carefully touch the blossom and take another whiff of their fragrance.

  “Madame?” The girl looks at me questioningly. I remember that I wanted to take the city tour tomorrow and have already accepted Lutz’s invitation to join him. I won’t be back by lunch that’s for sure. Too bad, but I already have a date.

  “Please express my thanks to Mr. Shalazar for these beautiful flowers. Unfortunately, I will not be able to accept his invitation, as I have already made prior arrangements.”

  The young woman nods, turns around and quietly closes the door. Shamar is not going to like that at all, I think to myself and head to the bathroom to get some water for the vase, which I then place on the cabinet across from my bed. This way I can see them the whole time. Their fragrance is so exotic that I take yet another deep breath next to them. Then I hang the bathrobe over the hook in the bathroom and head back to bed. After I switch off the TV and the light, I can see a bright, show-stopping panorama with lights glittering in every color of the rainbow.

  It is so beautiful that I sit back up in my bed to gaze at the spectacle for a while. I think of Shamar, and that makes me smile. The game has begun. Even though I am not experienced in this kind of game, I am ready to join the fray. And even though I am filled with all of these pleasant thoughts after such an
exciting day, fatigue gets the upper hand of me. In no time at all I am so tired that I almost fall asleep sitting there, so I lean back, climb under the covers, turn to my side and close my eyes and fall asleep.

  * * *

  “Miss, Miss – 20 dollars, want to buy?” I have joined Lutz and about 20 other people, and we are crossing the bazaar in Dubai. Hard to believe that there is such a colorful bazaar behind such a modern façade. I see seasonings that have been arranged to resemble a painting. Each one of these has its own motif. The next booth has colorful cloth on sale, and further on hand-made silver jewelry, including colorful rings and bracelets that are covered with semi-precious gems. At the next booth, I discover a silk cloth in soft shades of green. The green shades are so varied and so intense that they resemble an emerald.

  That is just the right color for Susan and her mahogany colored hair. Longingly I gaze at the shawl and the merchant senses that I am willing to buy it. He invites Lutz and I to a cup of chai.

  The tea is served in small, round glasses, and it has a really aromatic taste. I add two spoons of sugar that the merchant is offering me while he praises his goods and perhaps hopes to persuade me to buy something. The shawl I have been ogling costs 20 dollars, but I read that tourists are expected to bargain.

  With slight trepidation, I begin the sales negotiations. “I will pay you 10 dollars for the shawl,” I say.

  Indignantly the merchant lifts his hands.

  “I have a whole family to feed. That is not enough. Take a look, this is really good quality. 17 dollars is a really good price.”

  It really is, but ten dollars is not much at all. Most travel guides say that the price discount that should be negotiated should be much greater than that, so I offer him 12 dollars. He lifts his hands again and says that because of me his children will go hungry. But now he says I can have it for 15 dollars. During our negotiations, the aroma of something being fried fills the air and immediately I am hungry.

  “What smells so good?”

  I just have to try it, and I turn my head to detect what it is that smells so wonderful that it has whet my appetite.

  “I will give you 15 dollars and I get the shawl and whatever it is that smells so good.”

  The merchant is tickled and grins. He stretches out his right hand towards me. I take it, and the deal is completed. While my shawl is being wrapped in silk tissue and put in a plastic bag a little boy appears with various delicacies to eat. Lutz isn’t hungry and declines. So I taste the things myself. I grab my plastic bag and continue eating the delicacies as Lutz and I continue our stroll through the narrow passages across the bazaar.

  * * *

  I turn around and see a man in dark clothes who has been following us for quite some time. He seems to be observing us.

  When we stop, he stops, too.

  “Lutz, I think we are being followed,” I say to him, voicing my suspicions.

  “What do you mean?” Lutz replies and turns around. “Do you mean the guy who is standing over there to the left by the baskets?”

  “Yes, exactly. I noticed him before while I was buying the shawl. Now he’s reappeared again.”

  “Luna, don’t worry. I am right here with you. Nothing can happen.” He grins at me like a big brother and probably thinks I am high strung. I decide to just ignore the guy behind us and continue on with Lutz.

  Finally, we reach a large place that resembles a restaurant with low tables. It is in the shade of a veranda, and we decide to have a drink and rest up some. I have lost sight of our tail. I’m probably just being paranoid.

  It is already after 4 p.m. when we look for a taxi to take us to the hotel. The taxi stops in front of the hotel entrance and as we exit, Lutz pays. Then we head towards the entrance of the hotel together.

  “Do you want to go swimming?” Lutz asks me when we reach the lobby.

  I’m really tired from the heat and all the shopping and items we have gathered today. I decide to go and have a shower and rest before we have dinner.

  “Thank you, Lutz, that’s nice of you to ask but I think I have to rest before dinner. The others have probably arrived and are all having a swim. I need a time-out,” I tell him.

  “Sure, Luna, no problem. Go rest. You’re right. Dinner is right around the corner.” He grins at me, and it is apparent that he is really looking forward to taking a swim in the cool pool.

  I tell him to have a good time. “Don’t waste a minute and I’ll see you later. Enjoy.”

  When I arrive in my room, I head to the bathroom to take a shower. Room service has replenished the little bottles of the luxurious skin care products. And of course there are fresh new soft towels waiting for me. I step into the shower and am soon covered with foam that smells at least as beautiful as the flowers yesterday evening. When I remember the flowers, my thoughts roam.

  All day long I have successfully distracted myself, but now I start thinking of him again. I wonder whether Shamar is angry with me. I haven’t heard anything from him since last night, and he also did not leave a message at the desk. But I am way too tired to think about it anymore. I wrap a towel around my wet hair and climb into bed. It seems as if before I have even pulled my second leg into bed I have fallen asleep.

  * * *

  The room is dark, but somehow the ceiling is covered in a beautiful pattern of colorful lights. It is then I realize that I am experiencing severe stomach cramps, which is what woke me up. It feels as if my intestines are tied in a knot, and I am very nauseated. I decide I had better start moving towards the bathroom.

  The second I throw back the covers I realize that I have started shaking because I am so cold. The room feels like a refrigerator, and the bathroom does not feel any warmer. I’m shaking like a leaf and groaning, my stomach is making very loud and strange noises. When I finally land on the toilet it feels like those knots in my intestines have tightened even more, as if an invisible hand was pulling both ends of the knot to tighten it. When the painful ordeal of emptying myself is over, my stomach kicks in with a loud noise.

  I flush the toilet, and while the water rushes by, my mouth is filled with a large amount of saliva. I swallow it down, which turns out to be a real mistake because now in what feels like an inside explosion the saliva moves upward again with the rest of my stomach contents. I’m still in front of the toilet bowl, so I drop down to my knees as fast as I can and my stomach empties itself with the same rush as my intestines just did, but the proximity to the toilet bowl makes me feel even more nauseous.

  When the worst is over, I manage to rise unsteadily to my feet and drag myself over to the sink on my shaky legs to wash my hands and face and carefully rinse my mouth. On my way back to the bed, I grab my bathrobe and wrap it tight around me before I plop down on my bed. I feel just awful. And judging by my stomach, this is just the beginning. I wish Susan were here. She would know what to do so that I would feel better.

  While I lie there on my bed, all curled up like a baby, I remember that the travel guide warned readers not to eat outside of hotels and good restaurants. That Europeans were used to different food, that their organisms were different and that they adjusted differently to the fat and various seasonings and that a lot of people reacted in a really sensitive way when they tried the locals’ food. How could I have been so stupid? I reprimand myself severely. My stomach rumbling gets so violent that I have to head back to the bathroom again.

  I go back and forth several times, and each time I fall back onto my bed, absolutely exhausted. It’s getting late, but I don’t know how much time has passed. But now the sun seems to be rising again because the sky is gradually getting lighter, meaning I have spent the whole night in and out of the bathroom. I am at my wits end and so thirsty, but every time I have something to drink, I throw it up again. I close the curtains and lock daylight away as much as I can. Then I crawl back into bed and fall into a restless sleep.

  In the afternoon the whole process of diarrhea and vomiting is repeated again and I wo
nder what it is that my body wants to get rid of, seeing that I have emptied it of everything that was in there. I fall back asleep. The sun has gone down again when there is a knock at my door.

  “Luna?” There is a slight pause. Someone is listening at my door. “Luna. Open the door! Luna, do you hear me?” The voice gets louder and more insistent, and the knocking has turned into hammering. It’s probably Lutz, and he’s come to pick me up for supper. For the hundredth time I slip back into my bathrobe and wrap the belt tight around me, head toward the door and almost collapse. Just as I am about to open the door there is another knock.

  Lo and behold – it’s Shamar Shalazar. The words he was about to say seem to get caught in his throat. Or is he saying something? I don’t know. Everything starts spinning around me, as little bright lights start racing around in a circle that I am no longer able to follow.

  Chapter Five

  I am already unconscious when my feet slide out from under me, and I fall to the ground without even greeting Shamar. The next thing I remember is that Shamar is wrapping his arms around me and carrying me to the elevator as if I was light as a feather. We are alone in the elevator, and it glides upward for what seems like a long time.

  For the duration of the elevator ride I hang in his arms like a wet sack of potatoes, groaning and moaning. At some point the ride finally ends, and the doors open in a large living room. Oh God, I have really lost my mind if I think the lobby resembles a living room. Shamar carries me and starts walking up a wide staircase, which rises to a hallway upstairs from which several doors lead into rooms.

  He opens one of these doors and enters a bedroom that is even bigger than the one that I am staying in – and that room is the biggest room I have ever seen. I feel even more confused. Help! Where am I? Shamar puts me down on the bed gently and covers me with a blanket. Then he grabs his cell phone and quietly speaks with someone in what sounds like Arabic to me. Then he sits down next to me on the bed and softly strokes my head and hair, which triggers the saliva collecting in my mouth and thus the urge to puke. Urgently. So urgently, that I cover my mouth with my hand while I gag. Without missing a beat, Shamar picks me up again and carries me into the bathroom that is adjacent to the bedroom.