swallowed. Because at the moment he looked seriously forbidding.
She gripped her hands in front of her and prayed for her fantasy lover—the Majed of last night—to come back.
‘You lied to me.’
She blinked. ‘When?’
‘You told me you’d dumped him.’
She swallowed, her hands twisting together. ‘I told you I was a free woman.’
‘But you deliberately let me believe the break-up was at your instigation, yes?’
Her heart sank. She had. He’d been so proud of her...and she’d wanted to revel in the sensation. She refused to compound the lie with another one. She couldn’t speak, so she nodded instead. She wished he’d smile. She tried for levity. ‘Are you going to punch me on the nose now?’
He did smile, but it was the kind of smile that made her heart ache. ‘I would never do anything to hurt you, Sarah.’ He strode over and lifted her wrist to his lips. ‘I’ve had a wonderful night.’
She did what she could to swallow the lump that tried to lodge in her throat. ‘So did I,’ she whispered. ‘But from the look on your face, I’m guessing this is goodbye.’
‘Yes.’
He let go of her hand and it felt as if she’d been cast adrift on an endless grey sea. ‘Goodbye...for good?’
He nodded.
‘Even though I didn’t instigate the break-up, I wanted it just as much as Sebastian did. I was relieved that it was over.’
‘So why do I now feel as if you were searching for a distraction last night to take your mind off your hurt?’
That wasn’t true! But she could see he wouldn’t believe her. She’d ruined it—ruined the chance at something amazing—with one careless lie. She tamped down on the sob that rose in her chest. ‘I messed up.’ Again. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Ah, Sarah.’ For a moment regret stretched through his eyes. ‘You’re on the rebound, and I’m in an impossible situation. There really wasn’t anything to mess up.’
He kissed her cheek and then strode back into the bedroom to dress. Sarah stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee and try to formulate a plan to salvage something from the situation. The click of the front door told her not to bother.
She walked back into the living room and stared at the closed door. With an effort, she straightened and pushed her shoulders back. Majed was right. Great sex didn’t automatically make for a great relationship.
For heaven’s sake, she didn’t need a boyfriend. What she needed was some time alone to get her head straight—work out what she really wanted. It might be for the best if she didn’t drop into the bar quite so regularly this week. Maybe not drop in at all for a couple of weeks.
But the thought of not seeing Majed at all caught at her in a way that made her ache. Not to have the chance to chat with him or share a joke...
She dragged both hands back through her hair. ‘No, Majed, you’re wrong. I did mess up. I messed up bad.’
* * *
Majed sensed the exact moment Sarah walked into the bar.
Even though he had his back to the door.
Even though it was a Wednesday night and she hardly ever came into the bar on a Wednesday night.
Not that she’d shown her face in here all that often in the last six weeks.
He set a Scotch and soda in front of the customer he was serving, took their money and gave change, all the while readying himself for the jolt of seeing her. He glanced towards the door. She’d stopped to chat to a table of her friends—other regulars—and he did what he could to ignore the clutch low down in his gut. She’d had this effect on him from the very first moment he’d met her. In all likelihood she’d have it on him till the day he died. Some things were just like that—desert sunsets, palm fronds moving in a breeze, the scent of spices on the air...and the sight of Sarah.
It didn’t excuse the fact he’d been an idiot to go home with her. He should’ve resisted the temptation. After all, he’d managed to avoid desert sunsets, date palms and spice markets with remarkable ease.
He pushed the memories away—memories of home. They might haunt his sleeping hours, but he refused to dwell on them when he was awake.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He still couldn’t believe he’d relaxed his guard so much.
It was just...
He grabbed a cloth and vigorously wiped down the bar. She’d made him feel like he could be someone different—that he was someone different. When she spotlighted him with those pretty blue eyes of hers, she made him feel worthy. And, God forgive him, but he’d been too weak not to revel in it.
The man at the far end of the bar tapped his empty beer glass. Majed got him another. He bent down to check the stock in the fridge. But, rather than rows of wine bottles and mixers, all he could see was fragments from the night he’d spent with Sarah. They replayed through his mind on an endless loop—the curvaceous length of her leg, the way her body had arched to meet his, the taste of her. They drew him so tight, his muscles started to ache. That night had been spectacular—unforgettable.
But the morning after...
He straightened in time to see her laugh at something one of her friends said. Her stupid lie—it hadn’t even been a big lie—had reminded him of the mistakes that lay in his past. His hands clenched. Mistakes he had no intention of repeating.
And it had reminded him of all that he owed his family. He forced his hands to unclench. Where on earth did he think a romance with an Australian woman could go? He grabbed a tray of dirty glasses and stacked them in readiness for the dishwasher. If he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of his family he’d have to submit to a traditional marriage—a marriage made for political purposes that would cement democracy in his beloved Keddah Jaleel and ensure peace for future generations.
Love for his homeland welled inside him. He missed the desert night sky. He missed walking beneath the date palms on the banks of the Bay’al River. He missed the bustle of the undercover markets, the air heavy with the scent of clove and nutmeg. He missed...
His throat started to ache. When he returned—if he returned, if his father ever countenanced it—Ahmed wouldn’t be there to greet him, and he didn’t know how he could bear to live there without his brother. He didn’t know how he could meet his father’s bitter disappointment every single day, or how to assuage his mother’s heartbreak. He missed his homeland but he didn’t know how he could ever return.
And yet for one night Sarah had made him forget all of that. He hungered now for the respite she represented—the respite she would probably still offer to him freely if he asked for it—but he had no right to such respite. And the thought of making love to a woman who was in love with another man was anathema to him. Pride forbade it.
He lifted his chin and didn’t pretend not to see her as she made her way towards
