Istanbul Affair

by Joanna Mansell

  She tried to think straight. When had it started? When she had been looking at Benedict, she realised, with a quickening thump of her pulses. But all these odd symptoms couldn't possibly have anything to do with him! She didn't like him, she reminded herself. In fact, there had been times when she had positively hated him. She didn't want to be here with him, and she would be quite happy if she never saw him again.

  Except that that wasn't quite the truth. With something very like fear, she slowly realised that she would mind very much if she never saw him again.

  This is crazy! she muttered in bewilderment. Until yesterday morning, I didn't even know he existed. We've done nothing except argue and get on each other's nerves. It doesn't make sense to feel anything for him except extreme dislike. I can't feel anything else.

  She ran the cold tap and splashed the water over her face several times, trying to cool down the hot spots that still flared on her cheeks. Her breathing, which had been quick and uneven, slowed down a little, and she finally felt as if she was getting some kind of self-control back again.

  You're tired after the long journey and overwrought because of this mysterious business with Angeline, she reasoned with herself. Under those sort of circumstances, anyone would feel rather odd. It's got absolutely nothing to do with Benedict Kane!

  She told herself that several times, in a very firm voice. She had just reached the point where she had almost believed it when there was a sharp rap on the door, and the sound of Benedict's voice sent her heart thundering away all over again.

  'You've been in there a long time,' he said. 'Are you all right?'

  'Fine,' she croaked. 'I'm just—just washing and cleaning my teeth.'

  She ran the taps, trying to make it sound as if she were doing just that. She even gave her teeth a halfhearted scrub, but all the time she was wondering how much longer she could lurk in the safety of the bathroom.

  Not more than a couple of minutes, she decided with a heavy sigh. She had better get undressed and go back to the bedroom before he became too suspicious. She didn't want to do anything that would make him look at her too closely. He might see far more than she wanted him to see!

  She scrambled out of her jeans and T-shirt, and pulled on the old, baggy nightshirt that she usually slept in. It was comfortable, but that was about all that could be said for it. It was probably the unsexiest piece of night wear that Benedict Kane had ever seen. Wearing something like this at night was definitely one way of making sure that he remained completely indifferent to her as a female!

  And was that what she wanted? Yes! she told herself fervently. That was absolutely what she wanted. She needed to be able to merge into the background, be completely unnoticeable, until she had got over this small piece of madness.

  And she would get over it, she instructed herself grimly. She didn't know how it had ever happened in the first place, but it most certainly wasn't going to last. A good night's sleep should cure it. In the morning, she would wake up with a clear head and be able to see this for a piece of nonsense brought on by tiredness and anxiety.

  With that decided, she opened the door and marched out of the bathroom.

  At once, she was confronted with an unnervingly close view of Benedict. He was standing in the middle of the room, watching her as she emerged from the bathroom.

  He looked taller, broader, darker, more intimidating, more—oh, more male than he had any right to be! Amy told herself angrily, her frayed nerves only adding to her edgy irritability.

  'It doesn't seem likely that we'll be getting any phone-calls this late in the evening, so we might as well both get some sleep,' he said.

  'Fine,' she snapped back at him. 'The bathroom's free, if you want to use it.'

  And she hoped that he would be in there for a very long time. With any luck, by the time he came out, she would be asleep. As far as she was concerned, she just wanted to get through this night as quickly as possible—and preferably in a state of unconsciousness! In the morning, everything would be different. She had managed to totally convince herself of that. Things would be back to normal. They had to be, she told herself, fighting back another wave of panic, because if they weren't…

  'You look rather flushed,' Benedict remarked, with a small frown. 'You're not coming down with some illness, are you?'

  'Certainly not,' Amy said, making a huge effort to force the colour from her face. 'I wouldn't do anything as inconvenient as that,' she added, with quite unnecessary sarcasm. 'I know that you don't have any time for illness. Or for anything that would interfere with your search for Angeline.'

  'It would certainly be a nuisance if you became ill,' he agreed coolly.

  'I'm not ill!' she hissed at him. 'In fact, I'm perfectly healthy. The water was rather hot when I washed, that was all. That's why my face looks flushed.'

  He didn't look entirely convinced. His dark gaze raked over her very sharply, as if trying to get right inside her head and find out exactly what was going on. Amy briefly closed her eyes and made a huge effort to block him out. He was not going to know what she was thinking. She would rather die than have him know all the crazy thoughts that had been running through her head tonight!

  'Why don't you go into the bathroom and get ready for bed?' she said tightly, just wanting him to go away, even if it were only for a few minutes.

  'There's not much point,' he replied casually. 'I'm going to sleep in my clothes.'

  'You'd be more comfortable in pyjamas.'

  'I never wear them.'

  'Oh,' she said in a very strangled voice. Then, realising that she was over-reacting, she somehow managed to get some control over her disintegrating nerves. 'I really don't care what you wear to sleep in. Just don't disturb me. I'm very tired, and I'm going straight to sleep.'

  Amy flung herself down on her own bed and pointedly turned her back on him. A few moments later, she closed her eyes. Despite what she had said to Benedict, though, she knew that there wasn't the slightest chance of her getting any sleep.

  She was certainly right about that, at least. An hour later, she was still wide awake, and all her muscles ached from the strain of trying to lie perfectly still, pretending to be soundly asleep. She could hear the sound of Benedict's quiet, even breathing, and resentment began to churn around inside her. He had barged into her life and turned everything completely upside down, and now he was going to sleep peacefully all night while she couldn't even manage to doze off for half an hour. It simply wasn't fair!

  She rolled over and glared at him in the semi-darkness. He was sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed and looking totally relaxed. He had kicked off his shoes, but was still wearing jeans and an unbuttoned shirt. Amy pulled a face. She supposed she ought to be grateful that he hadn't insisted on sleeping naked. Or had he just said that because he knew that her reaction would amuse him?

  If this man had a sense of humour at all—and she wasn't at all sure yet that he did—then she was sure that it had to be very warped. He didn't behave like any other man she had ever known. She was never absolutely sure when he was being serious, or if that dark light in the depths of his eyes meant that he was silently laughing at her. She could never guess what he was going to do or say, and she didn't like that. In fact, there were very few things that she did like about him. That was what made her odd reaction to him earlier so impossible to understand.

  You need to forget about that! she instructed herself sternly. It was just a short spell of madness brought on by tiredness and worry. In the morning, you'll remember what happened, and laugh at yourself for behaving in such a crazy, stupid way.

  Except that it still seemed a very long time until morning. And if she didn't manage to get some sleep she was going to feel just as tired, which might mean that she would still feel exactly the same. And that was definitely something to worry about!

  Amy thumped the pillow to fluff it up, tossed restlessly a couple of times, and then let out an audible sigh.

  'Having problems getting to
sleep?' enquired Benedict's voice, drifting softly out of the semi-darkness.

  She nearly jumped right off the bed. She had thought he was so soundly asleep that nothing would wake him up.

  'You should have warned me that you suffered from insomnia,' he went on. 'I might not have been so insistent on sharing a room with you!'

  'I don't suffer from insomnia,' Amy insisted indignantly. 'I just have problems sleeping in a strange bed.' And with a strange man only a few feet away, she nearly added, only just stopping herself in time. 'On top of that, it's very noisy outside,' she added defensively. 'Don't the people in this city ever sleep?'

  'I expect the people who live and work here keep fairly normal hours. But the city's also bursting with tourists, and they want to pack as much as they can into the time they spend here. Why waste part of your holiday doing something boring like sleeping?'

  It unnerved her to hear his voice murmuring gently in the darkness. And it sounded quite different, free from the terse and often short-tempered tones he used during the day. For the first time since she had met him—and it was difficult to believe that that had only been a day and a half ago—he seemed quite relaxed.

  Amy found herself wondering if this was the way he sounded when he spoke to Angeline. Then, an instant later, she was shocked rigid by a bolt of pure jealousy which shot through her from head to toe.

  Panic rolled over her. I don't care how he sounds when he talks to Angeline, she insisted to herself frantically. It doesn't matter to me, it isn't important, I don't even want to think about it!

  She squeezed her eyes shut very tight. If only she could go to sleep! She just wanted this nightmarish day to come to an end.

  To her utter relief, Benedict didn't say anything more. His breathing became very quiet again, but she wasn't fooled this time. He was no more asleep than she was. She kept her own eyes closed and lay very still, trying to force her tense muscles to relax. And, after a couple of very long hours, she eventually fell asleep.

  When Amy opened her eyes again, it was daylight. For those first couple of seconds, she couldn't figure out where she was. Confusedly, she rubbed her eyes, which still felt heavy. Then the room gradually slid into focus and she suddenly remembered everything much more clearly than she actually wanted to.

  With a stifled groan, she sat up. She was in Istanbul, with Benedict Kane.

  To her relief, she found that she could say his name with no more than a very slight twitching of her nerve-ends. She looked round at the other twin bed, and that relief grew when she found it was empty. She supposed that he was either in the bathroom, or had already dressed and gone down for an early breakfast.

  Amy flipped the pale, tangled skeins of her hair back from her face, stretched her cramped limbs, then hauled herself off the bed and padded over to the window.

  The streets below were already packed with people and traffic. The sun was shining down out of a clear blue sky, shops were open for business, boats plied up and down the Bosporus, and Istanbul braced itself for another hectic, noisy day.

  Amy was bracing herself for something completely different. She was going to have to spend today cooped up in this room with Benedict, and the prospect didn't thrill her in the least. In fact, to be perfectly frank, it made her extremely nervous even to think about it.

  You're not tired any more, she tried to reassure herself. You shouldn't have any problems this morning. What happened yesterday was just something that was rather freakish.

  She began to relax a little when she realised that she could think about Benedict without getting too agitated. She hadn't had a lot of sleep, but it looked as if she had had enough to cure her of all the peculiar tricks her mind had tried to play on her last night.

  With growing confidence, Amy rummaged in the cupboard, pulling out clean undies, a pair of white cotton trousers and a thin T-shirt. After a long, hot shower, she would feel completely like herself again and ready to cope with anything—even Benedict Kane.

  She was actually humming softly under her breath as she finally headed towards the bathroom. Just as she was about to waltz inside, though, the door to the bedroom opened, and Benedict came in.

  Amy turned to face him, her eyes calm and her mouth relaxed but not quite smiling. Polite but distant; that was going to be her attitude towards him today. In fact, she thought that that would be a good—and safe—attitude to adopt for the whole of the rest of their stay in Istanbul.

  However, as soon as she actually looked at him, things began to fall apart. Oh, heavens, how could she possibly have forgotten how tall he was? How physically overwhelming? Or how his dark eyes bored so deeply into her, as if they could see right inside her head?

  She found she was breathing heavily, as if she had been doing some hard physical exercises. With a huge effort, she stopped gulping air into her lungs. Act normally! she told herself in growing panic. If you don't, he'll suspect something, and that really will be disastrous!

  To her relief, though, he only glanced at her for a couple of moments, and then he looked away again. Part of her was piqued that he was so uninterested in her, but for the most part she was utterly relieved that he was so indifferent. It meant that her secret was safe for a while longer, and time was what she desperately needed right now. Time to find a way of coping with this. Time to think of a way of disguising everything she was feeling, so that he would never know what sort of effect he was having on her.

  And what sort of effect was he having? Amy didn't know; it was quite impossible to describe it. She just knew that it was absolutely unlike anything that she had ever felt before—and that she desperately wanted it to go away again!

  Benedict came further into the room, and she instinctively backed away. He noticed her edgy retreat and his mouth immediately set into an irritable line.

  'There's no need to behave like that. I've already told you that I've no intention of laying a single finger on you.'

  'I'm not—I didn't think—' Amy somehow got control of herself and managed to get out a complete sentence. 'It's just that I'm not dressed,' she said defensively.

  Benedict almost looked amused. 'You could walk right through the streets of Istanbul in that nightshirt, and you'd have absolutely nothing to worry about. The damned thing's more effective than a chastity belt. Believe me, no one's going to try and touch you while you're wearing it!'

  She scowled at him. 'It isn't that bad!'

  One of his dark eyebrows gently rose. 'Take a look in the mirror some time.' Then, before she could fling another reply back at him, he went on, 'Do you mind if I use the shower first? I've been out running, and it's already fairly hot out there.'

  Amy's own pale blonde eyebrows shot up. 'You've been running? In Istanbul? I should think you were bumping into someone every couple of steps!'

  'The main streets were pretty crowded,' he admitted. 'But some of the side-streets were emptier. Although I did get a few odd looks,' he added drily. 'I don't think that early morning jogging's caught on here yet.'

  'I didn't know you were a fitness freak. Do you do this kind of thing every morning?'

  'I'm not a fitness freak, and I only go running when I've been forced to sit around in one place for too long, and need to stretch my muscles.'

  And very powerful and well-shaped muscles they looked, Amy noted with a definite gulp.

  'If you want to use the bathroom first, that's OK with me,' she said rather too quickly. Anything to get him out of the room for a few minutes. Nothing had improved or altered since last night, and she badly needed some time on her own to rethink the situation.

  Benedict disappeared into the bathroom. She let out a massive sigh of relief and slumped on to the bed. For a couple of minutes she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind wouldn't seem to work, and her body kept gently quivering, as if someone were running a slight electric shock through it.

  Finally, she forced herself to sit up and think clearly, although the last was a lot harder to do than the first. Make s
ome sort of plan, she told herself. Lay down guidelines and then stick to them. That's the only way you're going to be able to get through the next couple of days.

  All right, she decided, gritting her teeth, let's start with the obvious. One: spend as little time with Benedict Kane as possible. Not easy, when he doesn't seem to want to let you out of his sight, but grab every opportunity to get away from him. Two: don't look at him or even think about him, unless it's absolutely necessary. Three: keep telling yourself that these freakish feelings won't last. You'll wake up one morning, and they'll have vanished as quickly and mysteriously as they came.

  She felt slightly better now that she had a plan of action. And perhaps Angeline would turn up today, apologising for sending that silly letter and assuring them that, whatever trouble she had got herself into, it was all over now—she had sorted it out, and they could all go home.

  Benedict ambled out of the bathroom at that point, dressed in jeans and a clean sweatshirt, and rubbing his damp hair with a towel. Amy carefully avoided looking at him.

  'Can I shower now?' she asked.

  'Go ahead.'

  She gathered up her clothes, toilet bag and a towel, and sidled towards the bathroom door. Just as she reached it, though, Benedict brushed past her.

  'Hang on a second; I'll turn on the shower for you. It's being rather temperamental this morning. You have to jiggle around with it for a while before it runs hot.'

  He had been so close as he had moved by her that she had actually smelt the fresh scent of his skin. Worse than that, though, for just a moment she had felt her hand momentarily move towards him.

  Amy closed her eyes. Oh, God, she had wanted to touch him.

  This was really sick, she told herself. To feel like this about a perfect stranger. And a stranger that she didn't even like!

  Benedict re-emerged from the bathroom. 'The shower's running hot now. Better get under it before it goes cold again,' he advised.