“Is that who I think it is?” she murmured, awe making her quiet.
“Yes.”
Brandon sounded incredibly pleased with himself that he’d kept it from her. It was only one of the premier pop singers on the international scene, a woman whose rich, powerful voice had won her prestigious awards.
“I downloaded her entire album. I work out to it. I mean, it’s depressing as hell, not upbeat like what I used to work out to, but it makes sense, because if I don’t work out, I’ll end up alone and sad, like those songs,” she whispered giddily.
Marj sat, rapt, as she listened to that honeyed voice sing familiar laments, ballads that left jaded, wised up, secret-Titanic-lover Marj teary-eyed. Brandon passed her his starched white handkerchief wordlessly, and she blotted her eyes. When the last notes died away, and the applause dwindled, Marj looked up at Brandon, holding her hand and sitting beside her, and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you,” she said, “for sharing all this with me.”
“I should be saying that to you. It’s far more entertaining to watch you discovering such wonders than it is to experience them myself. I’m afraid I’m a bit spoiled, too used to the finer things. I take it for granted, exclusive concerts and fine dining and rooms with fresh flowers in them. It’s nice to see you having a go at it.”
“Really? It’s fun for you to watch me cry all over myself at a concert and eat way too many walnuts?”
“Extremely. It’s the most fun I’ve had since Vegas, I’d say.”
“Even better than the opera?”
“It was ballet.”
“Right, the dancing thing. Better than that?”
“Yes. And we ought to get back to the hotel. We have an early morning tomorrow. The tour at Jumeirah is at ten sharp.”
“The what?”
“The Jumeirah Mosque. It’s something to see, I can tell you, and it’s open to the public. We’re going to see it at ten and after that, the day’s yours.”
“I’ve never been in a mosque. I may have to Google it and get a preview.”
“Don’t you dare. It’s only to be seen in person. It’ll take your breath away.”
“I’m used to getting up early so never think I need to go to bed right now. We could go out for drinks or—” she trailed off, “I think I get your meaning. We should definitely go back to the hotel. Now.”
They took the car back to their hotel and whizzed up the private elevator. A host of fluffy pillows threatened to overwhelm the huge bed.
“Our old nemesis the pillow butler has been here,” Brandon joked.
“I think this many pillows can be considered a threat.”
“Like we’re going to be suffocated?”
“They are definitely in my way. I’m not even on the bed yet, and they are in my way,” Marj laughed.
Brandon raised an eyebrow at her and gave his wicked half smile. He grabbed her and tossed her onto the pile of pillows. She squealed, getting a face full of her taffeta gown, which she batted away in time to receive Brandon. He joined her on the pile of pillows and he was kissing her, kissing her until her head spun and all she could do was hold on to him. It flitted through her mind that her gown had been perfect for a gala but would be a real pain in bed.
Before she knew it, his hands were on her bare back. He had somehow done away with the hooks and zipper. He sat up and pulled the dress down her legs, tossing it off the bed with a flourish. Marj kicked off her shoes and opened her arms, pulling him to her.
She loved the feeling of his strong body in her arms, his weight above her. He made her feel girlish and small and impossibly precious. It was a feeling she could grow to need. A chill went through her, not of desire, but apprehension. Because she felt beyond a doubt that she could love this man. Marj could fall for her own husband in the blink of an eye.
Even now she was at the edge of it, and she would have to take care to avoid it. She didn’t want to shatter at the end of six months. She wanted to walk away cheerfully with her cashier’s check for millions and with a wave at her new ex as a lifelong friend. Because she wanted to be in his life. She didn’t think a check would do much for a broken heart, so she had better start protecting herself a lot more diligently. He had already chipped away at her everyday armor, her sarcasm, and her flippant pushing away. Now he had found her without battle defenses, open and hopeful on a pile of pillows in Dubai. She couldn’t let that go on.
When he touched her face, caressing her cheek so tenderly that she wanted to sigh, Marj took his wrist and moved his hand away from her face. She rolled him onto his back, taking the control and taking away the lovemaking tenor of the encounter. She couldn’t handle it. It was too personal, too intimate, too much exactly what she wanted. This could be fun, but it couldn’t be serious. So it was time to pull out her metaphorical bag of tricks and make sure nothing got too real.