by Donna Hill
But she was nowhere to be found.
A horde of questions had swirled through his mind over the last hour. Who was she? What was she doing in Istanbul just a few days before Christmas? Was she here on vacation? Was she traveling alone, or was her husband or boyfriend back at her hotel? Was she an expat living abroad? Kyle knew there were quite a few here in Turkey. He’d read several blogs by American expatriates in Istanbul and surrounding areas during his preparations for this trip.
What were the chances of finding someone like her in a city halfway across the world? And what were his chances of finding her again? A sickening feeling filled his gut at the thought of that brief glimpse across the bazaar being their only encounter.
Just as all hope started to seep out of Kyle’s body, the mysterious beauty emerged from the entrance of the bazaar and turned right.
The relief that washed over him was so intense it nearly knocked his legs right from under him.
Determined not to lose sight of her again, Kyle’s long strides quickly ate up the distance between them. He was still a couple of yards behind her when she stopped walking and turned.
His footsteps halted, and for several brief moments, Kyle just stared.
She was even more beautiful up close. Her pronounced cheekbones stood out, high and perfectly shaped. They were by far the best feature in a face that was made up of a ridiculous amount of gorgeous features.
“This sounds trite,” Kyle started, “but I thought I’d never see you again.” He put forth a hand. “I’m Kyle, by the way.”
The barest lines creased the corners of her eyes as they lifted with her smile. She captured his outstretched hand.
“Miranda,” she returned.
Her voice had a husky, hoarse quality that he hadn’t expected. It was so sexy it made his stomach tremble with instant want.
“That’s a beautiful name, Miranda.”
“Thank you. So is Kyle.” She gestured back toward the entrance to the Spice Market. “How did you know I’d come out of the main gate?”
“A lucky guess,” he answered with a shrug. He leaned over slightly, and in a lowered voice, he said, “Personally, I think it means we were fated to meet.”
One plucked eyebrow cocked over her deep brown eyes. “‘Fated,’ huh?”
Kyle shrugged again. “You can call it fate. Or persistence. I had every intention of tracking you down.”
She moved the massive camera hanging from her neck to the side and folded her arms across her chest. “And exactly what makes you so confident that you would have found me in a city of this size?”
“I already told you, I’m persistent. Where did you go off to anyway?” Kyle asked, matching her pose. “You were standing there one minute, and then you just vanished. I looked all over for you.”
“I went into one of the shops,” she said.
He shook his head. “Try again. I searched the nearest twenty booths, you were nowhere to be found.”
“That’s because I was in a back room,” she said. She held up her camera. “I’m working. I went back there to take some shots of the shop owner’s setup.”
Kyle nodded. “So your work takes you all the way to Istanbul?” he asked. “Or are you here permanently?”
He stopped breathing for a moment as he awaited her answer.
“Just visiting,” she said.
For the second time in a span of ten minutes, he experienced a dizzying rush of relief. He’d known of her existence for less than two hours, so the fact that she didn’t make her home in Istanbul shouldn’t mean anything to him. But it did. At the very least, he wanted them to live on the same continent.
“Actually, I’m visiting for the sixth time,” she continued. “My work brings me here a lot.”
“You’re practically a local.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said with a husky laugh. God, he loved her voice. “But I do enjoy Turkey, and I especially love Istanbul. It’s an amazing city. Full of history and some of the warmest people you’ll ever meet.”
As if on cue, the giggles of a group of kids playing kickball stirred in the air around them. Miranda glanced over at them and smiled, then looked past the kids, toward a huge mosque with a half-dozen minarets.
“So,” Kyle said, afraid that she’d been reminded that she was heading somewhere else when she walked out of the marketplace. “Where do you normally reside when you’re not ducking into back rooms of the Spice Market?”
She returned her attention to him and gave him a do-I-look-like-I-was-born-yesterday look.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t know you well enough to share that kind of information,” she said.
“Smart woman,” Kyle returned with a nod. He’d always found smart women sexy. “I guess that means we need to take some time to get to know each other better.” He held a hand out. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”
She looked upon his proffered hand with more caution this time, as if she wasn’t sure it was a smart move to touch it. After several moments ticked by, she finally took his hand in hers.
“I’m more of a tea drinker,” she said with a wry lift to her lips.
“Tea it is,” Kyle returned, his day suddenly feeling a thousand times brighter.
Their hands clasped, they walked due north, past the imposing main entrance of the seventeenth-century edifice, which Kyle had learned during his visit yesterday was known as the New Mosque. They made their way to the famed Galata Bridge. A number of fishermen lined one side of the steel structure, their fishing lines submerged into the Golden Horn, the body of water separating the newer part of the city from what was once ancient Constantinople. At least that’s what the guidebook he’d picked up from the airport said.
Kyle had circled this bridge as a “must-do” activity. Never had he imagined he’d do it hand in hand with one of the most beautiful women he’d come across in ages.
“This way,” Miranda said.
They headed underneath the bridge, where dozens of restaurants and shops lined the waterway. It was a sight unlike any Kyle had ever seen. Once they had their mint tea in hand—a requisite, according to Miranda—they settled at one of the many outside tables with views of the majestic cityscape. Miranda pointed out several structures as they sipped piping hot tea and munched on a dessert the street vendor had called tulumba. After Miranda took a bite of the sticky cone-shaped cookie soaked in a sugary syrup, she licked her fingers.
Kyle just sat there for a moment, completely mesmerized. His subconscious must have picked this particular pastry from the street vendor so that he could see her do just that.
Miranda perched her elbow on the table and settled her chin in her upturned palm.
“Okay,” she started. “I wasn’t ready to reveal this information about myself just yet, but how about you? Where can one find you when you’re not tea-shopping in Istanbul’s Fatih District?”
“Colorado,” Kyle answered. “A town called Golden, just west of Denver.”
“I’ve heard of it,” she said. “I think I passed just south of there on my way to Beaver Creek a few years ago.”
“Probably so, if you took I-70 into the mountains,” Kyle said with a nod. “So?” he asked.
She cocked her head slightly. “Oh,” she said. “I’m in Portland.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Her cheeks turned the barest hint of rose and Kyle was seconds away from declaring himself in love.
“By way of Columbus, Ohio,” she added.
“A Midwesterner. So, how did you end up working in Istanbul?” He gestured to the camera that still hung from the strap around her neck. The fact that she had yet to take it off told him how important it was to her. “I’m assuming you’re a photographer?”
“Freelance,” she said. “I’m doing a shoot for a travel magazine. It’s a Valentine’s Day feature. The top ten most romantic places to visit in Istanbul.”
“And the Spice Market is one of them?”
&nb
sp; “Actually, that was for the gag reel. I’m sure you noticed all the shops selling Turkish Viagra.”
“I did,” he said with a laugh. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t buy any.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” she said, her husky laugh carrying on the breeze that traveled across the water.
“How long are you here for?” he asked as he drank down the last of his tea.
“I have one more day of touring the city before I leave on Friday.”
“Just in time to be home for Christmas.”
She shrugged and looked out toward the water.
“My Christmases tend to be low-key. I’m supposed to spend it at a friend’s this year.” She held up her phone. “A friend who has no regard for international texting rates, which is why I’m sending her my cell phone bill when it comes in.”
Kyle crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Well, I happen to have another day of touring Istanbul before I head back to Colorado. Maybe we can do it together.”
“Tour the city?”
Kyle nodded. “You know your way around, and I haven’t really had the time to do much sightseeing.”
Her forehead dipped in inquiry. “So you’re not here on vacation?”
He shook his head. “Like you, I’m here on business.”
“What kind of business do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all,” Kyle said. “I’m a brewer. A couple of my buddies and I started brewing our own beers. I came to Istanbul to seek out new flavor ideas.”
Her eyes lit up with interest. “I’m pretty sure you’re the first brewer I’ve ever met,” she said.
“Are you a beer drinker?”
“Not at all,” she said, her lovely cheekbones becoming even more pronounced with her huge smile. “But I still find it fascinating.”
“It was a hobby that turned into something more. I had the time off from my full-time job—I own a small tech firm.” Well, he owned a small tech firm, but he wasn’t about to get into all that. “I decided at the last minute to come to Istanbul after seeing a program about the Spice Market on the Travel Channel.”
“Really? The Travel Channel?”
Kyle shrugged. “The host was pretty convincing. However, I haven’t seen much of the city. Would you mind if I tagged along with you tomorrow? I know you’re working, but I would love it if you can show me around while you take your pictures.”
Miranda ran her finger along the rim of her teacup, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Do you make a habit of inserting yourself into other people’s lives?” she asked.
Kyle leaned forward and, in a lowered voice, said, “When the person is as beautiful as you are? Yes, I do.”
The smile that curled up the edges of her lips was enough to make his entire day. He needed to see more of it. So much more of it.
“I can’t believe I just fell for that line,” she said with a laugh. “But I totally did. Meet me at the north entrance of the Topkapi Palace at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
She started to rise. Panic flushed through Kyle’s veins. He wasn’t ready to say good-bye just yet.
“Let me buy you dinner tonight,” he said, coming around the table and taking her hand in his.
Amusement mingled with regret as her expression softened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m meeting a client for dinner, a local travel company that’s interested in starting up excursions in the United States. I need to get back to my hotel so I can upload the shots I took today before I head out to dinner.”
“Should we exchange phone numbers?” Kyle asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“I just felt comfortable enough to tell you that I’m from Portland. The phone number exchange isn’t going to happen just yet,” Miranda said, again with that throaty laugh.
She leaned forward, and for one heart-stopping moment, Kyle thought she was going to kiss him. She bypassed his mouth, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Thanks for being so persistent. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kyle just stood there, watching with awed fascination as she meandered through the throng of people underneath the bridge. He’d come to Istanbul with two goals, to discover new, unique flavors for Bros Who Brew’s spring lineup, and to get his mind off the fight he’d had with his dad at Thanksgiving. A fight that led to Kyle choosing not to go back home to Chicago for Christmas.
But finding Miranda?
That was a stroke of luck he hadn’t anticipated, but one he was all too eager to accept.
Chapter Two
Miranda woke to the strange, yet comforting sound of the call to prayer at the mosque a few blocks from her hotel. She stared up at the ceiling, bracing herself for the agony she’d come to anticipate on this day.
It hit her square in the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. So many people said it would lessen with time, but fifteen years later, and the pain still stunned her with its ferocity. Miranda permitted herself a full twenty minutes to indulge in the sobs that would not be staved. She rarely cried anymore, but on this one day, it was allowed.
Once her body had recovered from the shattering sobs, she forced herself to get out of bed. Lord knows she could sit and wallow in her sadness all day if she allowed it.
But she’d vowed that this year would be different, and she was determined to make it that way.
“You had your cry,” Miranda whispered into the silent room. “Now it’s time to move on.”
She thought about what awaited her in just a few hours, and an honest-to-goodness smile stretched across her lips. It’s exactly what she needed to help shoulder the agony that often accompanied today’s tragic anniversary. She craved the distraction that Kyle Daniels would bring to her world today.
Miranda climbed out of bed and took more time than usual getting ready. Instead of putting her hair up in the sloppy topknot she usually relied on while on a job, she brushed the relaxed strands and captured them in a loose ponytail that hung over her right shoulder. She dressed in a pair of worn jeans—that’s the only thing she had with her—and a white turtleneck underneath a purple sweater. As she swiped lip gloss over her lips, she cursed herself for not bothering to bring makeup. Being on the other side of the camera, she just never worried that much about how she looked.
“You caught his eye yesterday, so apparently he doesn’t mind how you look, either.”
She regarded her reflection in the mirror and decided this was the best she could do.
She checked the side compartment of her camera bag for extra batteries and a backup SD card, even though she knew she’d put both in there last night. It was a habit she wasn’t inclined to break.
With the bag strap comfortably stretched across her chest, she went downstairs and hopped on the tramway, exiting a few minutes later at the busy Sultanahmet stop. Miranda had saved this area of the city for last, because it was always the most crowded. She started for Topkapi Palace, making her way through the clusters of tour groups that clung together, crowding around their flag-waving tour guides. The yeasty smell from the street vendors selling simit, a circular bread dipped in molasses, triggered hunger pangs, reminding Miranda that she’d skipped breakfast.
A different kind of hunger took over when she looked toward the palace entrance and spotted Kyle.
He strode toward her, his steps smooth and confident. And she experienced the same rush of heat she’d felt when she laid eyes on him yesterday.
“Good morning,” Kyle greeted.
“You are the most adorable tourist ever,” Miranda said, gesturing to the guidebook in his hand.
“I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get back here. I want to make the most of my one and only sightseeing day.”
“We’d better get started,” she said. “There’s no way to see all of Istanbul in one day, but I’ll do my best to make today one you never forget.”
They entered through the palace’s massive Imperial Gate and quickly made their way to the second courtyard, with its
tree-lined walkways that traveled out from the second gate like spokes on a wheel. Miranda had watched the weather forecast carefully, and knew she’d have an abundance of natural sunlight today, but the sun seemed more brilliant than usual. She captured breathtaking shot after breathtaking shot of the well-maintained gardens.
“I think I have enough of this section,” she said. “Do you want to tour some of the structures before moving to the next court?”
“Not if it will put you behind,” Kyle said.
“Let me worry about my work,” she said, taking his hand. “You worry about seeing as much of Istanbul as you can before the day is over.”
Having visited several times already, Miranda played tour guide, pointing out various buildings as they made their way through the courtyard. They dipped into the Imperial Treasury, where the armory museum was now located, then moved to some of the most valued pieces in the palace, including the famed Emerald Dagger and the 86-carat Spoonmaker’s Diamond.
“This,” Miranda said, “is the entrance to the Imperial Harem. It has more than four hundred rooms.”
Kyle’s brow rose. “As in a harem harem?”
Miranda barked out a laugh. “Is there more than one kind?” As they ventured farther into the space, she gestured to the various rooms with their opulent marble walls. “The harem contains the sultan’s apartments, along with an entire corridor of apartments for his many wives and concubines.”
“Guess they liked keeping it all in the family back then, huh?”
That wrenched another laugh from her. Never in her wildest dreams could Miranda imagine that she’d spend even a moment of today laughing. Never on this day.
But Kyle’s humor was infectious, and she would be eternally grateful for the distraction he’d provided.
They moved onto the fourth courtyard, which usually contained thousands of tulips.
