Danger in the Desert

by Merline Lovelace

  Lunch, Jaci had explained to Ace during the phone call she’d debated about making all morning, included a belly dancing performance. She’d offered to skip it and wait for him outside the restaurant, but he’d told her not to miss the show. He would join her inside.

  She was still debating the wisdom of that call when she spotted him. He wore jeans and a sport coat again, paired this time with a black turtleneck. With his short black hair, steel-gray eyes and confident stride, he turned more than one female head as he reached the bottom of the stairs and wove his way through the crowd.

  When he smiled at her across the sea of diners, the last of the doubts she’d wrestled with all morning vanished on the spot. So she’d known the man for less than twenty-four hours? So that kiss last night told her she was playing with fire? She was on the trip of a lifetime, for pity’s sake! Why not take a few scorch marks home as a souvenir?

  “Hello, Jaci,” he said in the lazy drawl that sent little shivers of delight racing down her spine. “How’s your knee?”

  “Not even a twinge today.”

  “Good.”

  She dragged her tote off the adjacent empty chair. “The show’s just about to start. Mrs. Grimes and I saved you a seat.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he wedged in between the two women, the schoolteacher gave him a hard look.

  “I understand you’ve invited Jaci to leave the group and take you on as her personal tour guide.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I told her and I’ll tell you that I don’t think it’s wise for a woman to go off on her own in a country where she doesn’t even speak the language.”

  “She’s not going off on her own,” he replied calmly. “She’ll be with me, and I know enough Arabic to keep us both out of trouble.”

  “Well, I’ve said my piece.” The older woman paused, then gave him a grudging smile. “I’d probably do the same if I was forty years younger and didn’t have a granddaughter close to Jaci’s age.”

  “Forty years is no hill for a climber.” His grin slipped out, quick and all male. “Dump this crowd and come with us.”

  Despite herself, Mrs. Grimes had to laugh. “Now wouldn’t that be fun. The two of you hauling around an old lady.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “No, you’re not,” she retorted, still chuckling.

  “Just make sure you take care of Jaci, or you’ll have an entire busload of Gators on your ass, young man!”

  He was good, Jaci acknowledged silently. Very good. One quicksilver grin and he had Mrs. Grimes eating out of his hand. Two kisses, and she herself ached to go off with him to a desert oasis for that wild orgy he’d mentioned!

  Lost in those delicious thoughts, the sudden crash of a gong almost made her jump out of her skin. The hollow beat of drums and tinkling cymbals followed. Eagerly, the crowd maneuvered their chairs around for a better view of the dance floor.

  Jaci’s pulse leaped in sync with the drums and cymbals. Dancing was as old as time, and Oriental dancing in particular embodied so many ancient traditions. Temples in Egypt and Persia contained carvings and inscriptions of dance moves as familiar today as they’d been three or four thousand years ago.

  Carried away by what she’d learned about this art form in her study group, Jaci had joined a belly dancing class taught at the university’s women’s health center. There she’d discovered that the Hollywood stereotype of Middle Eastern dance was as far from reality as, well, a Hollywood stereotype.

  Forget the spangles and transparent veils. Forget the seductress-out-to-tempt-a-man thing. From earliest times, Egyptian men and women had danced to express joy at weddings and harvests and festivals. At smaller family gatherings the sexes might dance together in lines or concentric circles. At public gatherings, they might dance in separate rooms or areas as dictated by religious or cultural beliefs.

  Only in recent times had public belly dancing gained such popularity around the world. Although still frowned on by some ultraconservatives, the art form had produced such international stars as Dina and Fifi Abdo, currently rated the top performers in Cairo.

  The dancer who swirled into the center of the Golden Salamander’s hall, cymbals tinkling, was also pretty darn good! Her undulating hips and sinuous arm movements entranced Jaci so completely that she almost forgot the man whose shoulder was rubbing hers.

  Almost!

  A thunderous round of applause rattled the rafters at the end of the show. Smiling, the performer invited the women in the audience to join her on the dance floor for an impromptu lesson.

  Mrs. Grimes, bless her heart, was game. “Come on, Jaci. Let’s do it. Unless it will strain your knee,” she added solicitously.

  “My knee’s fine, but…”

  “Then let’s do it,” she insisted, pushing back her chair. “I wasn’t about to climb on one of those smelly camels, but I’ll try this if you will.”

  Reluctantly, Jaci got up to follow her to the circle of women. She’d thoroughly enjoyed her belly dancing classes but had never danced in public. The idea of performing in front of Deke made her so self-conscious that she stumbled over the shallow edge of the stage. Flustered, she caught herself and took her place beside Mrs. Grimes.

  The first moves were slow and easy, completed with much laughter from the group. All too aware of Deke’s eyes on her, Jaci couldn’t remember any of the hand gestures or hip swings she’d learned in class.

  Gradually, she caught the rhythm. Lifting her arms, she began to sway along with their graceful performer. Thank God she’d opted for low-heeled sandals and a lightweight gauzy skirt this morning instead of jeans and sneakers. She would have liked to kick off the sandals, but even with them on she managed some credible moves.

  Few people had any idea how strenuous belly dancing was. As the tempo increased, the hip swings became more pronounced, the abdominal rolls tighter and faster.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Mrs. Grimes exclaimed after only a few moments. “I can’t do this.”

  Huffing, she abandoned the dance floor. Other women followed in twos and threes until only Jaci and the professional were left. The gleam of admiration in the other woman’s eyes erased the last shreds of Jaci’s self-consciousness. Head back, she gave herself up to the exotic music and the celebration of her femininity.

  The dance ended with a crash of cymbals and a final, frenzied shimmy of hips and belly. After a second or two of awed silence, the crowd exploded. They surged to their feet, whistling, cheering and stamping their feet.

  Flushed and laughing, Jaci responded to the wild applause with a gesture that gave all credit to the professional. As she turned to the woman, she spotted the guards from the various buses all congregated at the large round table where they’d eaten lunch. They were on their feet, too, clapping as enthusiastically as the rest of the crowd, although as Muslims they must have harbored mixed feelings about women dancing in public.

  Then she made a half turn and caught Deke’s gaze. The stunned expression in his eyes thrilled her all the way down to her toes.

  Chapter 6

  Ace couldn’t believe it!

  Every time he thought he had a handle on Jaci Thornton, she threw him another curve. This one damn near rocked him back on his heels.

  Where was the clumsy tourist who’d tumbled off a camel? What happened to the girl next door whose life revolved around her studies and her cats? Who was this sensual, beguiling woman so confident in her femininity that she could express it in that incredible performance?

  He wasn’t the only one stunned by the transformation. Jaci’s fellow travelers were still on their feet, cheering and whistling as she made her way back to the table.

  “You were amazing!” Mrs. Grimes exclaimed. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

  “I took a belly dancing class last semester.”

  “Your moves were so fluid! So natural!”

  “I know.” She laughed and, reclaiming the seat Deke held out for her, said, “I�
��m usually such a klutz, but something in that music calls to me. It’s as though…”

  “As though what, dear?”

  Her flush deepened. “It sounds really stupid, but the music takes me to another place. Another time.”

  “What time?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is that it’s very distant from this one.”

  Ace froze. Literally. An icy coldness coated his veins as his mind formed the preposterous thought that she might actually be…

  No! No way she could be channeling this ancient goddess, this Ma’at!

  As if mocking his fierce denial, she made a hesitant admission. “It’s weird, but the sensation has grown more intense here in Egypt. Ever since I found that scarab. Speaking of which…” Shifting, she turned to Ace. “Did you send my little beetle to your friend?”

  Calling himself ten kinds of an idiot, he buried the ridiculous thought that had gripped him for a moment. He wasn’t dealing with the supernatural here. Just one American tourist and some still-to-be answered questions.

  “I delivered it personally,” he assured her. “Kahil said he’d have a friend at the Cairo Museum look at it.”

  “Omigosh! The Cairo Museum. Now I’m really going to be embarrassed when they come back and say it’s a machine-made imitation.”

  “At least you’ll know for sure.”

  They all would, Ace thought grimly as he pushed back his chair.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “I am.” Eagerly, she grabbed her tote and rose. “Bye, everyone. I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “Just be careful!”

  Jaci acknowledged Mrs. Grimes’s warning with a smile and a wave. She added another wave for the guard seated at the table across the hall. Hanif frowned and pushed back his chair, but Jaci was in no mood for another lecture about the need to remain with her group. This was her adventure, and she intended to squeeze every drop of excitement out of it. And that included spending as many hours as she possibly could in Deke Griffin’s company.

  She might as well admit it. This fascinating man pushed every one of her buttons. The faint leather-and-lime scent of his aftershave did a serious number on her concentration. Her skin sizzled when he put a hand to the small of her back to guide her up the stairs to the exit. And while they waited for the valet to bring around his car, all she had to do was glance up at his profile and the memory of his mouth covering hers in that hard, crushing kiss last night sent her pulse skittering all over the place.

  “Where are we going?” she asked once they’d clicked the seat belts into place and he put the car in gear.

  “Have you visited Saqqara yet?”

  Jaci’s excitement skyrocketed. The necropolis at Saqqara was the oldest in Egypt, predating the Giza complex by several centuries.

  “No, I haven’t. It’s on our tour agenda for tomorrow.”

  “We’ll alter the agenda. It’s a nice drive through the countryside south of Cairo. If the traffic’s not too crazy, we can get there and back in plenty of time for dinner at the El Hassan’s.”

  She gave her ringing endorsement and settled back to enjoy both the ride and the company. By necessity, their conversation remained limited while Deke battled with city traffic. Once clear of Cairo, the high-rises gave way to the rural villages lining the banks of the Nile, and donkey carts appeared with increasing frequency.

  As did more heavily veiled women. It was almost as though she and Deke had left the twenty-first century behind and traveled back in time. Black-robed women chatted while they scrubbed laundry in canals fed by the Nile or sat outside their homes to watch their children at play. White-robed men and boys worked the fields. Tall pigeon towers made of mud brick dotted the landscape, interspersed among lush green stands of palm trees heavy with ripe dates.

  This was the real Egypt, Jaci thought with a sudden tightening in her belly. A rural society so attuned to the annual flooding of the Nile that it had endured conquest by Macedonians and Romans and a host of other invaders without losing its identity or uniqueness.

  Then Deke turned onto the road leading to the Saqqara necropolis, and all trace of human habitation disappeared. The contrast was so startling that Jaci almost gasped. One moment, the road was shaded by tall, leafy palms watered for countless centuries by the Nile. The next, it emerged onto a barren stretch of sand and sky so vast there appeared to be no end to it.

  And there, directly ahead of them, rose the Step Pyramid of Saqqara. Unlike the smooth-sided Giza pyramids, this one went up in layers like a wedding cake.

  The entrance to the necropolis was equally impressive. Excavated and reconstructed, the massive gateway led to a colonnade of marble pillars carved to look like tall palms. Jaci peered down the long corridor, wide-eyed with wonder, while Deke purchased tickets.

  Fortunately, they’d arrived between waves of tour buses. Only two adventurous Germans with backpacks entered ahead of them. Unfortunately, that meant the souvenir sellers hawking everything from postcards to beaded Cleopatra collars had only limited targets for their wares. They darted among the marble palms, swarming Jaci, Deke and the Germans like human flies.

  “Two dollar! Two dollar!”

  Everything, apparently, cost the same. Jaci smiled and shook her head. Deke was more direct. A brief exchange in Arabic had the persistent entrepreneurs grinning and backing off.

  “What did you say to them?”

  “Nothing that bears repeating in polite company. Prepare yourself,” he warned as they approached the end of the marble columns. “The first sight of the cobra wall always leaves tourists awestruck.”

  He was right, Jaci acknowledged as her stunned gaze took in the remnants of the intricately carved limestone wall that had once encompassed the entire necropolis. Hundreds of cobras looked down, their flared hoods a warning that all who entered were to respect the sanctity of this holy place.

  The various temples dotting the sand and the windswept complex added to that sense of sanctitude. In them, legions of priests had per formed the rituals necessary to ensure the kings entombed on-site enjoyed their life in the after world. There were a number of them, Jaci read from the brochure they’d been given at the entrance booth. Teti. Unas. And the greatest of them all was Djoser.

  “He was the first king of the Third Dynasty,” she read. “He came to the throne in approximately 2650 BC and immediately commissioned his vizier to begin work on his tomb. The architect built it of stone instead of the mud brick used in the tombs of his previous kings, thus ensuring it would endure for all time.”

  She gazed in awe at the stair-stepping structure at the far end of the plaza. It wasn’t as tall or as massive as Cheops’s monumental tomb, but the fact that it had survived far longer affected her in ways she didn’t quite understand.

  “We can go into several of the tombs,” Deke commented. “If you’re up for it.”

  As if she would miss them!

  “Just lead the way.”

  Teti’s tomb contained a giant basalt sarcophagus, star decorations on the walls and ceiling and detailed inscriptions to ensure the king’s resurrection. Mereruka’s tomb featured a large hall with a statue of the king and a sacrificial altar for the various animals depicted on its walls. The tomb that fascinated Jaci most, though, was that of the king’s physician. The wall reliefs portrayed an astonishing array of the surgeries Dr. Abdouh had told the Thursday-night group about. One series showed physicians replacing a man’s big toe with a prosthesis. Another set depicted circumcision rituals practiced in the Sixth Dynasty. The physical attributes of the men lined up and waiting for the surgeon’s knife made Jaci do a double take.

  Deke noted her reaction with a grin. “The artist must have made them larger than life-size for illustration purposes.”

  Either that or ancient Egyptians were exceptionally well endowed!

  Next Jaci and Deke toured the site’s museum with its display of priceless artifacts missed by centuries of tomb robbers. She spotted several scarabs but n
one with her beetle’s elongated body and single antenna.

  A growing need to reclaim her find gripped Jaci as she and Deke drove back into the city.

  They’d spent so many hours at Saqqara that there wasn’t time to detour to her hotel to clean up. But they did manage a quick stop at a bazaar just inside the city limits. Deke purchased chocolate covered dates, Jaci bought a bouquet of fragrant lilies for their hostess. Some moments later, they pulled up at a set of tall, iron gates.

  Thankful all over again that she’d worn a tank top with cap sleeves that covered her shoulders and a skirt instead of jeans, Jaci hastily dragged a comb through her hair and dusted her shiny nose with powder. She was about to swipe on some lip gloss when Deke identified himself and the gates swung open.

  Her jaw sagging, Jaci gazed at the palm-lined courtyard. Deke hadn’t exaggerated. A huge, multi-tiered fountain splashed a joyous welcome. The Moorish arches surrounding the courtyard could have been transported from a caliph’s palace. Ditto the glazed tiles that grabbed her by the throat when a maid opened the massive front door.

  Mediterranean blues mixed with forest greens, brilliant reds and startling yellows to form a Tree of Life pattern that stretched the entire length of the entryway. Jaci almost hated to step on the exquisite tiles as the maid led her and Deke past a series of rooms furnished with a mix of traditional and modern.

  The mouthwatering aromas of grilled lamb and fresh baked pita started her stomach rumbling. It was so loud that Deke shot her a quick grin just before they stepped onto a landscaped terrace. As he’d promised, the garden surrounding it was magical.

  Somehow she managed to keep from gawking at the bushes dripping with perfumed flowers and the rectangular lily pond with another fantastic fountain in its center. Tiny white lights were strung everywhere and illuminated a tentlike gazebo constructed of billowing silks. Jaci barely had time to drink it all in before Dr. El Hassan and her husband came forward to greet their guests.