by Carol Grace
He didn’t know what route Anne and her friend had taken, but he wished she was with him to share the ride, to share the view of the sun glittering on the vast blue ocean. He’d point out how the ocean seemed to stretch forever to the horizon. He loved seeing her face light up with pleasure at something simple, like the joys of her garden.
One of the reasons he was on his way to Monterey was to watch the changing expressions on her face. He’d seen the delight at her garden, despair at her predicament with her school, disgust at his teasing, and mixed emotions as sexual awareness crept up on her and threatened to overwhelm her at the gala ball. He was aware that her face might not light up at the sight of him arriving to interfere with her plans for the weekend. He could only hope if she wasn’t exactly happy to see him, she’d at least be polite. Of course she would be. That was Anne.
When he arrived at the sprawling, low, brown-shingled conference buildings, he parked his car and was shown to his cottage through the trees. It was everything he’d imagined, and completely different from any other weekend retreat he’d been to. The cabin was outfitted with a king-sized bed covered with a down comforter. There were native blankets hung on the walls and handwoven rugs on the floor. The fire was laid in the fireplace and the view of the dunes and the ocean from his window was spectacular. This was California, a different California than he’d seen. Now, if only he had someone to share it with. Someone special. Like his fiancée.
Anne was walking through the fir trees from her cabin to the main lobby where the welcome reception was being held before dinner. Passing the parking lot she noticed a low-slung black sports car, and she stopped in her tracks and stared at it. Her heart thudded wildly, though she tried to dismiss the reason. There were many sports cars in California. She just hadn’t noticed this one when they’d arrived an hour ago. She didn’t know much about sports cars. She couldn’t tell the difference between a Porsche and a BMW unless she looked at the logo, but this car looked familiar. It couldn’t be his, of course, because Rafik was in San Francisco.
She took a deep breath and continued walking. Inside the lounge, she pinned a name tag on her sweater and refastened the clip in her hair that the wind had loosened, then proceeded to make the rounds of the room, greeting old friends from previous conferences and introducing herself to people she didn’t know. It was the kind of gathering where, though she didn’t know everyone, she was at ease. These were her colleagues from around the greater Bay Area. She would have been even more at ease if she didn’t have the nagging feeling that it was just remotely possible that Rafik was here somewhere.
Because of this feeling, she found herself losing her train of thought in the middle of a conversation. She found herself looking out the large picture windows at the dunes in the dusk, as if he might be sauntering by, his collar up against the cold air, his black hair blown back in the wind. But of course he wasn’t. He was back in San Francisco. She had no idea what he was doing. She hadn’t asked him. She’d just figured it was none of her business. Of course if he were her fiancé, it would be her business. If he were her fiancé, he might be there with her, waiting in the cottage, a fire burning, a bottle of wine chilling…. She dismissed these ridiculous thoughts from her mind.
The next event was a family-style dinner followed by a short welcoming speech from the president of the teachers’ association, who handed out a packet of materials and a schedule of the weekend’s activities. Anne gathered her materials and put them into her book-bag. Though she had no reason to think so, she had a funny feeling she was being watched.
She glanced out the huge windows into the darkness and saw nothing. There was nothing to see in the dark. She put her jacket on, then made her way back to her cottage by the lighted pathways. She sniffed the air, redolent with pine and fir, and resolved not even to glance toward the parking lot. Sports cars all looked the same, no matter who owned them, especially in the dark.
“Hello, Anne.”
Her heart pounded erratically at the sound of his voice. She stopped walking, frozen in place. The voice came from the darkness a few feet ahead of her, and in a moment he appeared, his hair wind-tossed and his face half in shadows.
“Rafik, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to get some fresh air,” he said, “and a change of scenery. Besides, the city was dull and boring without you.”
She almost laughed at this flimsy excuse. “I can’t imagine you bored in the city just because I wasn’t there. How did you get along for thirty-some years without me?”
“I don’t know,” he said solemnly. “But it’s beautiful here, just as you said. And I’m glad I came.”
“Are you staying here?” She looked around, staring at the dark shapes of the trees, still in shock at the idea of Rafik here in Monterey. If she’d thought she couldn’t picture him in a rustic setting like this because he was always so perfectly groomed and so citified, she was wrong. Because now that he was here, in a thick, Irish fisherman’s sweater that appeared to have been knitted especially for him, he seemed to fit in as much as anyone. So far she’d seen him at a formal wedding reception, in his office, at a gala ball, a school function, in her garden and now this. In each setting, he seemed as at ease as if he’d been born to it. Probably, like a chameleon, he would be equally at ease in a tent in the desert or in the palace of a sheik.
“Despite the fact that you teachers are taking up much of the grounds, they luckily had an empty cottage for me,” he said in answer to her question. He took her book-bag out of her hand as if it were way too heavy for a fragile thing like her and it was the most natural thing in the world that he should carry her belongings. He tucked her arm in his as if she belonged to him.
She stifled the urge to pull her arm away and say she could manage by herself. But she restrained herself. After all, he’d come all this way to…to do what? Breathe some fresh air? Escape from boredom? See her? Not likely. She didn’t know what to think.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself in the dark,” he said. “Where’s your friend?”
“Jean? She left the meeting early tonight. Her husband is with her. He decided at the last minute to come and enjoy the surroundings.” Left unsaid was that he’d decided to enjoy his wife in these bucolic surroundings—the romantic fireplace, the giant bed and the freedom from his work schedule and from their kids. Anne had seen the sparkle in her friend’s eyes when she’d told her about the change in plans.
“I hope you don’t mind, Anne,” Jean had said. “We don’t get away from the kids together very often. Art found a baby-sitter so he could come along. I figure I won’t be busy every minute and…well, we’ll have some quality time together, just the two of us.” She could have sworn Jean blushed at the word quality. Knowing Jean had been married for some years and had two children, Anne was impressed to find romance was on her friend’s mind. And on her husband’s.
“Wasn’t she to be your roommate?” Rafik asked.
“That’s right. But her husband also booked a cabin. She gained a husband for the weekend, but I lost a roommate.”
“Too bad,” he said. But he didn’t sound like he thought it was too bad. “Then I’ll see you back to your cabin.”
“Thank you, but…” But what? She couldn’t think of any excuse why he shouldn’t walk her back to her cabin. This time she wouldn’t be as rude as she’d been when he’d walked her to her front door and she’d refused to let him come in. That time he would have invaded her private space. Her room here wasn’t really hers. It couldn’t hurt for him to come in for a moment for a cup of coffee made from the little complimentary packets and small coffee-maker provided by the management.
He didn’t hesitate when she issued the invitation. Perhaps he remembered what had happened last time, when she’d almost closed the door in his face. She was surprised to find a bottle of wine propped up against her door with a note from Jean which she read out loud.
“Sorry to wimp out on you, Anne. Here’s a bottle of wine
for company. It’s not as old as I am, but enjoy! See you at the morning session.”
“How thoughtful of your friend,” Rafik said. He quickly made himself at home in her cabin, lighting the fire in the fireplace while she poured the water into the coffeemaker.
“Shall I open the wine?” he asked. “Or are you taking your antihistamines?”
She blushed at the memory of the last time she’d combined alcohol with allergy medicine. “Go ahead,” she said. “I should be able to handle a glass of wine tonight.”
“If you pass out, at least you’ll be close to your bed,” Rafik said, with a pointed glance at the large bed that seemed to dominate the room.
“I won’t pass out, I promise you,” Anne said, determined to look anywhere but at the bed. “I learned my lesson. Pills or alcohol, but not both at the same time. I’ll never forget—”
“—sleeping with me?” he asked with a gleam in his eye as he poured some wine into a water glass for her.
“I don’t remember that part,” she said stiffly. There he went, teasing her again. She didn’t know if she’d ever get over having spent the night in bed with a stranger. Or if she’d ever be able to handle his teasing. “I suppose most of the women who sleep with you never forget it,” she countered.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I can only say it was an unusual beginning for a relationship.”
“A relationship?” she asked. “Is that what we have?”
He handed her a glass of wine. “What do you call it?” he asked. “Sometimes I feel like we’re really engaged, other times like I’m just getting to know you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She was just getting used to the idea of him being there, in her room, when he lifted his glass to hers.
“Here’s to getting to know you better,” he said in a low voice that was so full of suggestions it sent a chill through her body, though her skin was burning. “Come here by the fire,” he said, as if he felt she needed to warm up. They sat next to each other on the soft carpet, legs stretched out toward the fire, shoulders touching. It was all so natural, so comfortable, and yet there was an electric current of excitement in the air. She didn’t know what was going to happen next. She kicked off her loafers and curled her toes in anticipation of what she didn’t know. She noticed Rafik had left his shoes at the door, perhaps an Arabian custom.
“I didn’t come here for the scenery or the fresh air,” he said solemnly, setting his wineglass on the hearth. “I came because of you.”
She tried to say something, but her throat was clogged with emotion. She wanted to believe him. She didn’t know why he’d lie about something like that, but she was afraid to believe him, too.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” he said, taking her hand in his and massaging her palm with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about you all the time. When I’m not with you, I miss you. I want to know where you are and what you’re doing. You’re different from every woman I’ve ever known. You have me wrapped around your finger.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her index finger. “This one.”
His touch sent her pulse hammering. She turned to meet his gaze in the flickering firelight. His voice reached deep down into her and touched her as she’d never been touched before. Something inside her melted and flowed and threatened to overwhelm her. If she could have found her voice, she would have told him she’d never wrapped anyone around her finger. If he didn’t look so serious, so sincere and so genuine, she would have doubted him.
He leaned toward her and framed her face with his strong fingers. She knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted before. She wanted him to kiss her and never stop. She wanted him to brand her with his kiss. She wanted him to claim her for his own, though rationally she knew it would never happen. She was not thinking rationally. This time it was not the wine. She’d barely had time for one sip. She was under his spell. Under the spell of his voice and his dark eyes and his overwhelming presence. She didn’t know what he was waiting for. She was ready. She was beyond ready. She was desperate. If he didn’t kiss her soon, she’d have to—
When his lips finally met hers she sighed in the back of her throat and gave in to the sensations that rushed through her body. The heat that suffused her limbs spread and invaded her core. Frightened by her own reaction, she pulled back and reached awkwardly for her wineglass. “This might be better if I had a little more to drink,” she said.
He shook his head. “This time I want you to know exactly what’s happening,” he said. “Because last time…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pressed his lips against her neck, under her ear where her pulse beat rapidly.
“Don’t remind me,” she breathed.
“That was then,” he whispered in her ear. “This is now.”
He kissed her again. This time his mouth was hot and heavy and demanding. This time she didn’t even think about pulling back. She was no longer afraid of her own reaction. She was only afraid he’d stop too soon. She met his kiss with one of her own, just as hot and just as intense as his. He moaned low in his throat and pulled her to him so her breasts were pressed against his hard chest. He tangled his hand in her hair and removed the clip that fell onto the carpet.
The heat from the fire and the heat that built inside her set her body on fire. She struggled to remove her sweater, knowing she was wearing a turtleneck shirt underneath. But somehow Rafik was helping her out of both garments, tossing them aside and then gazing at her in rapt admiration. Her breasts ached and her nipples budded under his gaze. She’d never been so aware of her body before. Never knew it could feel this way.
“You are so beautiful,” he said reverently, lifting one lacy bra strap to kiss her shoulder, trailing kisses to the valley between her breasts. Her body responded as if she’d been touched by a live wire. She felt as if the blood in her veins had turned to molten lava. She shuddered from the sheer ecstasy of his mouth on her tender skin.
“Your skin is like delicate porcelain,” he murmured. “I want to kiss every inch from your head to your toes. I want you, Anne. I want you so much it hurts. I think I have since the first moment I saw you. If I had the chance I’d make love to you in a way you’d never forget. Sweetly, tenderly, passionately. Tell me if you feel the same. If you want what I want.”
She gazed into his eyes, her skin burning, her whole body throbbing with desire. She could imagine what a gentle considerate lover he would be. How he could awaken in her such passion as she had only heard about. “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes, but…” But she knew she couldn’t do this. She knew that no matter how she felt about Rafik he was the same playboy he had been the first moment she’d seen him. He didn’t want a fiancée then and he didn’t want one now. Not really.
He didn’t want to get married. He might never get married. And if he did, it wouldn’t be to her. It would be to one of those sophisticated women she’d seen at the gala ball. The only reason one of them wasn’t playing the role of his fiancée was that he hadn’t asked them. The thought of Rafik with another woman made her so sad a tiny tear sprang to her eye and trickled down her cheek.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously. “What have I said to make you cry?”
She reached for her shirt and pulled it on over her head. She took her sweater and put it on over her shirt. “Nothing. It’s nothing you said. It’s what you are.”
“What I am? What am I?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together in a puzzled frown.
With her shirt on and her sweater in her hand, she inched away from him on the carpet though she wanted to stay in his arms more than anything she’d ever wanted before. She wanted him to make love to her all night long. She wanted to learn the sensual secrets only he knew. She wanted him to awaken her to every physical pleasure in the world. But that was not going to happen, even though every iota of her being was demanding to know why she was stopping what could be the most incredible, most unforgettable night
of her life.
Somewhere a voice inside her was telling her she might never have another chance like this. She was in romantic surroundings with a man she could fall in love with if she had half a chance. A man she was in very great danger of falling in love with in spite of everything she knew about him.
It was not going to happen because, despite these feelings, Anne had learned long ago to protect herself from being hurt. Her instincts told her that this man could hurt her more than she’d ever been hurt before, if she let him. If she let him, he’d make mad, passionate love to her and be gone in the morning. Or if he wasn’t gone in the morning, he would be gone sometime in the future.
Some day very soon he’d be gone from her life, despite the fact that his family approved of her, that his mother wanted her to wear her wedding dress and despite the fact that there was a physical attraction between them. An attraction that heightened her awareness of him and of herself every time she was in his presence. When he looked at her she felt faint. When he touched her she thought she might burn up. She reminded herself that Rafik was not going to marry her. She had to keep that simple fact in mind at all times. Because if she forgot, she was in terrible danger. His question hung in the air.
What am I?
She got to her feet and stumbled to the edge of the bed, where she sat looking down at him. She owed him an answer. She owed him an explanation for misleading him into thinking she’d make love to him tonight or ever.
“You’re a sheik, for one thing,” she said, elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hands.
He smiled. “Surely you don’t hold that against me.”
“You’re a sheik,” she repeated, “you’re rich and you have everything you want. I’m a schoolteacher. I work for a living. Everything I want I must earn.”
“You make me sound like a spoiled brat,” he said. “I, too, work for a living,” he insisted.
“Of course, I didn’t mean…What I meant was that I’m not in your league.”
