Her desert knight(23)

He opened it without a moment's hesitation. At that exact moment the back door clicked shut.

"Did you hear that?" Khalid wheeled around. "It sounded like the door."

She shrugged. "I didn't hear a thing. Thanks so much for opening this.  What would you like to eat? I could make halwa if you like. Aunt Nadia  gave me a new recipe."

"I swear I just heard a car engine start back there. I'm going to check."

She grabbed his sleeve. "Wait, there's a bottle of oil I couldn't open,  either. Just do that before you go. And do you want me to make the  halwa?"

"Sure, halwa sounds good. But it takes a long time and I'm pretty  starving so I'm going to grab something else while I'm here." He dove  into a packet of crackers. By the time she found a bottle of oil and  looked impressed while he opened it, she'd quizzed him about his  homework and he seemed to have forgotten about the door and the car and  was telling her to make sure the halwa was sweet enough.

As soon as he returned to the living room she locked the back door and  hurried to her bedroom to rearrange the disordered bed. The condom  wrapper lay on the floor like a pointing finger of accusation and she  quickly crumpled it up and shoved it down into the toe of a boot she  didn't wear often.

She sagged onto her bed as waves of guilt and relief crashed over her.  Was she completely out of her mind? She'd let Quasar make love to her in  her bedroom, only hours after promising her father she wouldn't see him  anymore.                       
       
           



       

He had a frightening amount of power over her. The worst part was that  she was so willing to do all the inappropriate things he suggested. Her  ex-husband had talked her into doing all kinds of things she didn't want  to because he'd pout and whine and make such a fuss if she didn't. It  was impossible to imagine Quasar doing that. He'd just smile and shrug  and seduce her until she wanted to do it even more than he did.

Her body still tingled and pulsed with the sensations Quasar had  created inside her. A quick examination of her face in the mirror showed  her lips were pink from kissing and her hair messy. Lucky thing her  brother wasn't too observant, and she'd mentioned waking up from a nap.  Still, she'd taken a huge risk that her father would discover her  affair. He would go ballistic if he found out what she'd been doing. He  might even throw her out of the house.

Quasar was making her careless. Reckless. Which was all well and good  while he was there and she was having the time of her life, but she'd  have to live with herself and what little reputation she had left when  he was gone.

Her phone pinged. And she grabbed it out of her bag.





Made it.





She smiled. He hadn't sent her a text before. Of course this was just  one more piece of incriminating evidence, like the condom wrapper. She  resisted the urge to respond and quickly deleted it. And now she had to  go make halwa from scratch. At least creating the sticky dessert would  keep her busy!

Another ping. I miss you.

Her heart seized. Did he really? She supposed he must or he wouldn't be  texting her. She couldn't resist typing back, I miss you, too. She  turned off the volume on her phone so her brother wouldn't get curious.





Being apart like this is foolish.





She frowned. What we're doing is foolish.





No, it isn't. I need you.





The tiny words on her screen made her breath catch and she told herself  to get a grip. It wasn't as if he'd told her he loved her. Not that  she'd even believe it if he did.

I need you, too. She wanted to type the words. But she didn't. It was much safer to keep her feelings secret.

You have an alarming effect on me. That was less incriminating and no less true.

He responded immediately. The effect is mutual. I can't stop thinking about you.

She glanced over her shoulder. You really shouldn't text me. Someone might see it.





Come to the hotel tomorrow. Ten-thirty?





She paused, and inhaled very slowly. I can't. I have to go see about a  job. She'd gotten sidetracked today, but establishing her independence  would be the first step to securing her own future. If she made money  she could rent her own apartment and see-within reason-whomever she  chose. Even Quasar, if he still wanted to.





After that, then. How about two?





Could she? Of course she wanted to. The prospect of going all day  without seeing his mischievous smile was grim. But she had to be  sensible. I won't have time.





I can't go a whole day without seeing you.





She couldn't help smiling. Sure you can. You've been through many days  in life without seeing me. She headed out of her bedroom, and down the  hallway to the kitchen.





That was before I met you. Now everything's different.





She bit her lip. She could almost swear he was sincere. Then she  remembered the twinkle of humor that always hovered in his slate blue  eyes. Was Quasar ever serious about anything?





If you don't agree, I'll come back right now.





Dani frowned. Part of her knew that the humor was still there and he  was just teasing. The other part, that had been bullied and ordered  around for nearly five years, coiled up ready to strike. That's not  funny.

"Who are you texting?"

Her brother's voice made Dani look up with a start. She hadn't noticed  him there in the doorway. "A friend from the States." Not exactly a lie.  Not exactly the truth, either.

"Cool. I could end up at school there, too. Dad thinks I might be able to get into MIT."

"Really?" She was surprised their father would even consider it after  the way she'd gone off track. "That's great. It's one of the best  schools in the world."

"I know. They have an aerospace engineering program."

"I didn't know you were interested in rockets." She could feel her phone vibrating, but she resisted the urge to look at it.

"I'm more interested in satellites. You'd be surprised how important  they are these days. All our information is bouncing around in space.  It's the new frontier in information technology." He glanced at her  phone, which was vibrating. "I think you're getting another message."                       
       
           



       

"Oh." She pretended to glance casually at it.





I'm still crazy about you even though you're ignoring me.





"I can't get used to people being able to contact me wherever I go. I'm not sure I'm ready for all these new frontiers."

"I think it's awesome. Tell your friend I said hi." He smiled and  headed off to do his homework. Dani blinked and felt another vibration.





I'm on your doorstep.





Her blood ran cold. He wouldn't, would he? Did he have that little  respect for her wishes and her reputation? Her heart squeezed.





Just kidding.





She narrowed her eyes. You're really starting to tick me off.





You still miss me, though, don't you?





She hesitated for a minute, and pursed her lips. Yes. But don't come  here. We need somewhere very discreet to meet. I'll text you in the  morning. What if someone saw this conversation on her phone? She deleted  the thread, shoved the phone into the pocket of her pants and pulled  out the sugar and cardamom and rosewater to start her preparations for  halwa.

* * *

The next morning Dani donned a conservative blue ensemble and headed  for the university campus. She'd printed her resumé and intended to drop  in on the administrative offices and ask about available openings. Her  interview with the human resources coordinator was humbling. Although  she had a Ph.D. and had published several papers, didn't know any of the  new database software and had no office or management experience. She'd  been so successful, or lucky, at finding great mentors and work in her  field that she'd never had to develop the peripheral "fall-back" skills  most people her age had.

Although they had three administrative openings, none of them was  "quite right for her." Friends in college had teased her that a degree  in art history was preparation for would-you-like-fries-with-that? jobs.  Maybe they were right.

Keeping her chin in the air, she went to the history department,  thinking that perhaps she could get her foot in the door by volunteering  her time here. The older building was barely air-conditioned and looked  neglected and run-down compared to the rest of the state-of-the-art  campus. Apparently the school put more stock in the future than in  rehashing the past-and could she really blame them for that? When it  came to the modern world, her academic expertise was of limited use.

An older man in a rumpled dishdasha was pinning something to the  cluttered notice board inside the door when she entered. "Excuse me,  does this department have an art collection?"