by Morey, Trish
“Leave my parents out of any discussion,” she said bitterly.
“Touch a nerve?”
She shrugged. “They and I are not exactly on good terms. They didn’t want me to marry Alexander.”
“And why was that?”
“None of your business.”
The waiter returned with the beverages and plate of nuts. Ella scooped up a few and popped them into her mouth.
“Mmm, good.” She took a sip of the cold drink and looked at the small stage.
“I think your musicians are arriving.”
So his tenant was at odds with her parents. He hadn’t considered she had parents living, or he would have expected her to return home after her husband’s death. Now that he knew they were alive, it seemed strange that she was still in Quishari and not at their place. His curiosity rose another notch. He would nudge the researcher at the oil company to complete the background check on his tenant.
Khalid spent more time watching Ella as the evening went on than the musicians. She seemed to be enjoying the music and the tavern. He enjoyed watching her. They stayed until after one before driving home.
“Planning to take a walk on the beach tonight?” he asked.
“Why not?” she asked. “I’m still buoyed up by that last set. Weren’t they good?”
“I have enjoyed going there for years. We’ll have to go again sometime.”
“Mmm, maybe.”
He didn’t expect her to jump at the chance. But he would have liked a better response.
“Meet you at the beach in ten minutes,” she said when she got out of the car.
“No walking straight through?” he asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get saltwater and sand on this gown. And I’d think it wouldn’t be recommended for tuxedos, either.”
Khalid changed into comfortable trousers and a loose shirt and arrived at the beach seconds ahead of Ella.
They started north. The moon was fuller tonight and spread a silvery light over everything. Without much thought, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. She didn’t comment, nor pull away. Taking a deep breath, he felt alive as he hadn’t in a long while.
“I appreciate your going with me tonight. My mother is always after me to attend those things for the sake of the family,” he said.
“She would have been happier without me accompanying you,” Ella said.
“She doesn’t like anyone who shows an interest in her sons. Unless it’s the woman she’s picked out. Did you know Rashid almost had an arranged marriage?”
“No, what happened?”
“His supposed fiancée was to be flown in on the plane Bethanne delivered. Only she never left Morocco. When he fell for Bethanne, Mother was furious. I think they are getting along better now, but I wouldn’t say Mother opened her arms to Bethanne.”
“I bet your grandmother would have loved her.”
“She would have loved knowing Rashid was getting married.”
For a moment Khalid felt a tinge of envy for his brother. He had found a woman he adored and who seemed to love him equally. They planned a life in Quishari at the other home their grandmother had left and had twice in his hearing mentioned children. He’d be an uncle before the first year was out, he’d bet.
“Bethanne doesn’t strike me as someone who cares a lot about what others think of her,” Ella said.
“I’m sure Mother will come around once she sees how happy Rashid is. And once she’s a grandmother.”
Ella fell silent. They walked for several minutes. Khalid wondered what she was thinking. Had she wanted to be a mother? Would her life be vastly different if she had a small child to raise? She should get married again.
She was right—that was easy enough for him to say. They were a pair, neither wanting marriage for different reasons. Maybe one day another man would come along for her to marry. Once she was out, showing off her creations, she’d run into men from all over the world.
Khalid refused to examine why he didn’t like that idea.
“Ready to head back?” she asked.
He nodded, but felt curiously reluctant to end the evening. He liked being with Ella.
The return walk was also in silence, but not without awareness. Khalid could breathe the sweet scent she wore, enjoy the softness of her hands, scarred here and there by burns from her work. She wore a skirt again. He didn’t think he’d seen her in pants except when working at her studio. It made her seem all the more feminine. He didn’t want the evening to end. Tomorrow would bring back the barriers and status of tenant and landlord. He had no more reasons to seek her out or take her out again. But he wanted to.
“I can get home from here,” she said when they reached the path.
“I’ll walk that short distance.” He was not ready to say good-night.
When they reached the cottage, she tugged her hand free. “Good night. I enjoyed the tavern. And am glad I got to meet your mother even if she wasn’t as glad to meet me.”
He reached for her, holding her by her shoulders and drawing her closer. “I’m glad you went with me.”
“We’re even now, right?” Her voice sounded breathless. He could see her dimly in the light from the moon, her eyes wide, her mouth parted slightly.
With a soft groan, he leaned over and kissed her. He felt her start of surprise. He expected her to draw away in a huff. Instead, after a moment, she leaned against him and returned his kiss. Their mouths opened and tongues danced. Her arms hugged him closer and his embraced her. For a long moment they kissed, learning, tasting, touching, feeling.
She was sweet, soft, enticing. He could have stood all night on the doorstep, kissing Ella.
But she pushed away a moment later.
“Good night, Khalid,” she said, darting into the house and shutting the door.
“Good night,” he said to the wooden door.
This was not going to be their last date, no matter what Ella thought.
Ella leaned against the door, breathing hard. She closed her eyes. She’d kissed Sheikh Khalid al Harum! Oh, and what a kiss. Unlike anything she’d ever had before.
“No!” she said, pushing away and walking back to the kitchen. She wanted water, and a clear head. She loved Alexander. He was barely gone a year and she was caught up in the sensuousness of another man. How loyal was that? How could she have responded so strongly. Good grief, he’d probably think she was some sex-starved widow out to snare the first man who came along.
How could she have kissed him?
She took a long drink of water, her mind warring with her body. The kiss had been fantastic. Every cell in her tingled with awareness and yearning. She wanted more.
“No!” she said again. She had her life just as she wanted it. She did not need to become the slightest bit involved with a man who wanted her to leave so he could sell a family home.
On the other hand, maybe she should do just that. Put an end to time with Khalid by moving away.
She went to her bedroom and dressed for bed, thoughts jumbled as she brushed her teeth. She had a good place here, safe and perfect for making new pieces of art. She wasn’t going anywhere. She just had to wait a little while; he’d get tired of being here and be off on some other oil field consultation and she’d be left alone. She just had to hold out until then. No more night walks. No more kisses.
Though as she fell asleep, she brushed her lips with her fingertips, remembering their first kiss.
The next morning Ella went to her studio, ready to work. She had to focus on her plans for the future and forget a kiss that threatened to turn her world upside down.
Easier said than done. Her dreams last night had been positively erotic. Her first thought this morning was that kiss. And now she was growing warm merely thinking about Khalid and his talented mouth. Why had he showed up? Why not go consult at some oil field and leave her in peace.
Try as she might, as the morning wore on, she couldn’t get last ni
ght off her mind. Finally putting a small dish into the annealer to cool down, she decided to go see Khalid and make sure he knew she was not interested in getting involved.
She cleaned up, had a light lunch and then went to broach him at his home.
When she rang the bell, Jalilah opened the door, looking flustered. “Come in, things are hectic. His Excellency is leaving in a few minutes.”
“Leaving?” This was perfect. He was leaving even earlier than she planned. He’d probably been as horrified by their kiss as she had been. He’d leave and if he ever came back, they’d have gotten over whatever awareness shimmered between them and they could resume the tenant-landlord relationship.
“A fire. He and his team are gathering at the airport in an hour.”
Fear shot through Ella. He was going to another fire. For a moment she remembered Alexander, bloodied and burned from the car crash. He’d been coming after her. He hadn’t deserved to die so young. She didn’t like that memory any more than the one that flashed into her mind of Khalid burned beyond recognition. Nothing as unforgiving as flames.
She walked swiftly to the study, where Khalid was speaking on the phone. Entering, she crossed to the desk.
“See you then,” he said, his eyes on her. “Got to go now.”
“You can’t go put out a fire,” she said.
He rose and came around the desk. Lightly brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek, he asked, “Why not. It’s what I do.”
“It’s too dangerous. Don’t you have others who can handle that?”
“Others work with me on these projects. It’s another one at a well Bashiri Oil has down on the southern coast. It blew a few months ago and it’s burning again. Something’s wrong with the pump or operators. Once this is capped, I plan to find out why it keeps igniting.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“A bit. Are you all right? You have circles beneath your eyes.”
She brushed his hand away. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. What if something goes wrong? You don’t have to do this. Send someone else.”
“Something has gone wrong—a well is on fire. My team and I will put it out and do our best to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I have to do this. It’s what I do.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I like the danger. Besides, what does it matter who does it as long as it gets put out? If not me, another man would be in danger. Maybe one who has a wife and children waiting at home.”
She couldn’t reach him. He would go off and probably get injured again. Or worse.
“Don’t go,” she said, reaching out to clutch his arms. She could feel his strength beneath the material, feel the determination.
“I have to—it’s what I do.”
“Find another job, something safer.”
“Not today,” he said, and leaned over to brush his lips against hers. “Come on, you can walk me out.”
She stepped back, fear rising even more. What if something happened to him? She’d planned to tell him to stay away, but not like this.
When they reached the foyer, she noticed the duffel bags and heavy boots. He lifted them easily and nodded to Jalilah to open the door. A moment later they were stowed into the back of the small sports car. Ella followed him like a puppy, wishing she had the words to stop him. The seconds flew by. She could not slow time, much less stop it. But if she could, she would. Until she could talk him out of this plan. What if something happened to him?
“See you in a few days,” he said easily.
“I hope so,” she replied. But what if she didn’t? What if she never saw him again? The feelings that thought triggered staggered her. She didn’t want to care. That way lay heartache when tragedy struck.
She rounded the car and stood by him as he opened the driver’s door. “Come back safely,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. All thoughts of putting distance between them vanished. She couldn’t let him go off without showing just a hint of what she felt. She would not think of all that could go wrong, but concentrate on all that could go right.
He let go the car door and kissed her back, cupping her face gently in his hands. His lips were warm but in only a moment she felt cold when he pulled away.
“I’ll be back when the job’s done,” he said, climbing into the car. “Stay out of trouble,” he said, and pulled away.
She watched for a moment, then with an ominous sense of foreboding, returned to her cottage. She felt as if she was in a daze. Fear warred with common sense. He knew what he was doing. Granted it was dangerous. But he’d done it before. And he did not have a death wish. He would take all necessary precautions.
Changing into work clothes, she went to the studio. She could always lose herself in art.
But not, it appeared, today. She tried to blow a traditional bowl, but the glass wasn’t cooperating. Or her technique was off. Or it was just a bad day. Or she couldn’t concentrate for thinking of Khalid. Glancing at her watch, she wondered where he was. She should have asked questions, found out where the fire was. How long he thought he’d be gone.
After two hours of trying to get one small project done, she gave up. Her thoughts were too consumed with Khalid. If he’d left the airport an hour ago, he could already be in harm’s way. She paced her small studio, wondering how she could find out information about the fire. She did not have a television. She tried a radio, but the only programs she found were music.
Finally she went to the main house. When the maid answered the door, Ella asked to use the phone. She had done so a couple of times when Madame al Harum had lived here, so Jalilah was used to the request. Ella hoped Khalid had not given instructions to the contrary.
Jalilah showed her into the study and left. Ella stayed in the doorway for a moment. Everything inside instantly reminded her of Khalid. How odd. She’d visited Madame al Harum in this room many more times than she had her grandson. But he’d stamped his impression on the room in her mind forever.
She went to the phone. Who could she call but his brother. She hunted around for the phone number of Bashiri Oil and when she found it on a letterhead, she tried the number. It took her almost ten minutes to get to Rashid’s assistant.
“I’m calling for Sheikh Rashid al Harum,” she said for about the twentieth time.
“Who is calling?”
“Ella Ponti. I’m his brother’s tenant in the house his grandmother once owned,” she repeated.
“One moment, please.”
On hold again, Ella held on to her composure. What would she do if Rashid wasn’t there? Or wouldn’t take her call? She had no idea how to reach Bethanne, who might be an ally.
“Al Harum.” Rashid’s voice came across the line sounding like Khalid’s. She closed her eyes for a second, wishing it were Khalid.
“It’s Ella Ponti. Khalid left this morning to put out a fire. Do you know anything about that?”
“I do. It’s on one of the wells in the southern part of the country. Why?”
“I, uh…” She didn’t know how to answer that. “I wanted to make sure he’s all right,” she said, wondering if Rashid would think her daft to be asking after his brother with such a short acquaintance.
“So far. The team arrived a short time ago. They assess the situation then plan their attack. It could be a day or two before they actually cap it.”
Two days he could be in danger and she wouldn’t know? This was so not the answer she wanted.
“Um, could you have someone keep me updated?” she asked tentatively. She didn’t know if Sheikh al Harum would be bothered, but she had to ask. Surely there was some clerk there who could call her once something happened.
“I worry about him, too,” Rashid said gently. “I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything.”
“Thank you. I’m using his phone. I don’t have one. Jalilah can get me.” She hung up, a bit reassured. She didn’t want to question her need to make sure he was safe. She’d feel the same about anyone she
knew who had such a dangerous job.
Ella sat in the desk chair for several moments. She studied the room, wondering what Khalid thought about when he sat here. She suspected he missed his grandmother more than he might have expected. The older woman had spoken so lovingly about her grandsons. Their family sounded close.
Except perhaps their mother. Or was her hesitancy welcoming women into the fold mere self-protection. It would be too bad to have someone pretend affection if they were only after money. How would she become convinced? Nothing had convinced her parents Alexander had not been after their money. They hadn’t seemed to care that their only daughter was very happy in her marriage. The constant attempts to end the union had only alienated them. Ella hoped Madame al Harum never resorted to such tactics, but accepted Rashid’s choice and wished him happiness.
She stood up and went back to her place. She didn’t want to think about her parents, or Alexander, or anything in the past. She didn’t want to worry about a man she hardly knew. And she didn’t want to worry about the future. For today she’d try to just make it through without turmoil and complications, fear and dread.
Shortly after lunch there was a knock at the door. When Ella opened it, she was surprised to see Bethanne.
“Hi, I thought you might wish for some company,” she said.
“Come in. I’m glad for company. I couldn’t work today.”
“I wouldn’t be able to, either, if Rashid was doing something foolishly dangerous.”
When they were on the terrace with ice-cold beverages, Ella smiled at her new friend. “What you said earlier, about Rashid being in a dangerous position—ever happen?”
“Not that I know about. And I would be sick with worry if he went off to put out an oil well fire.”
“You and he are close, as it should be since you will be marrying him. Khalid is my landlord.”
Bethanne laughed. “Right. And Madame al Harum and I are best friends.”
Ella wrinkled her nose slightly. “I don’t think she thinks in terms of friends.”
“Well, not with the women who might marry her sons.”