I right in guessing that Oman counts as the Near East?”
She nodded. “It’s a large area, and was the seat of many great civilizations.”
“Mesopotamia, Sumer, the ziggurats at Ur-Nammu.” Tiny smile lines formed at the corners of his wide, sensual mouth.
“Most people think of ancient Egypt.”
“Do I sound like a show-off?”
“A little.” She fought a smile. His arrogance and confidence had an effortless quality that was oddly appealing. “But I won’t hold it against you.”
“Thanks. You should see the museum my brother’s put together. He built a hotel on the site of an old Silk Road city.”
“That sounds like an art historian’s nightmare.”
“You’d like it! There wasn’t much left, just a few stumps of walls out in the middle of an old oil field, and he’s recreated it as a luxury retreat, preserving as much as possible of the original.”
“Your whole family sounds rather unusual.”
He laughed. “Maybe we are. We all march to our own beat. The archaeologists who excavated the site found some pottery and small figurines. You might find them interesting.”
“I’m sure I would. Do you know what era they’re from?”
“No clue. Maybe we can visit the place together. It’s only a short drive outside Salalah. We could go tomorrow.”
She froze. There was no way she could go for a drive anywhere with a total stranger. Even a seemingly handsome, charming and educated one. She didn’t really know anything about him. For all she knew, he could be making everything up. And besides, her father and brothers would forbid it. “I can’t.”
“Maybe another time, then. Let me give you my phone number.”
She glanced at the two girls at the nearby table. Their dark eyes were still darting to her and her companion. They’d be sure to notice. But what harm could come of it if she never called him?
Her heart pounded while she watched him write the number in an assured hand on the back of the blue paper napkin. “I’m staying at my brother’s hotel here in Salalah. It’s right on the beach. Where do you live?”
She swallowed. This was getting dangerously personal. “Not far.” No one knew she was here, which was by design. “I really should be getting back.” She shoved the napkin into her pocket.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“Oh, no. There’s no need. You stay here and relax.” She put down some cash to pay for the coffee. He thrust it back to her with a shocked expression, and she decided—once again—to avoid a scene by accepting his hospitality. “Thanks for the coffee.” He rose when she did and for a split second she had an insane thought he might try to kiss her. Her whole body braced as adrenaline rushed through her. Then he thrust out his hand and she shook it. “And thanks for the book.”
“Call me. I’d like to go see the artifacts with you.”
She picked up her new book, then turned and walked out of the café as fast as she could. Most likely the tension and excitement was all in her head—and her body—but she couldn’t be sure. Either way, it was exhilarating and she felt more alive than she had in months. Years, even. And all because of a man she had no business even talking to.
She walked home quickly. Her dad wouldn’t get home for a while but she wanted to arrive before her brothers came back from their respective schools. Her younger brother, Khalid, usually came straight home to do his homework, but her older brother, Jalil, often stayed late in the technical college library to pore over the designs for his latest engineering project. She liked to make them a snack before they returned, but today she wouldn’t have time. In fact she barely had time to put her new book in her bedroom and shove the napkin with Quasar’s number into a drawer before the front door opened and Khalid crashed in and flung his book bag down in the hallway before heading into the kitchen.
“I took a nap,” she fibbed, as her brother’s eyes scanned the empty kitchen counters. Maybe they were growing too dependent on her. She didn’t plan to be here forever.
“A nap? In the middle of the day? You’re going soft.”
What would he say if she revealed that she’d let a strange man buy her a book—and a coffee? He’d probably question her sanity.
She read her new book for a while before she heard her father’s distinctive rap on the door. Even though the door was open he liked someone to let him in. She pulled back the latch, forcing a bright smile. “Hello, Father.” She kissed his cheek. As usual he brushed it off as if she were a fly. “How was your day?”
“Same as usual.” His gruff voice and glum expression rarely softened. “Too many fools in this business. Always looking for new cheaper ways to do things that have worked just fine for decades.” An engineer, he was often irritated by new technologies and methods. He asked her brother about his schoolwork, as usual. He never asked her about her day, which was a plus today since she couldn’t have said anything truthful about it.
“Help Faizal prepare an excellent supper tonight, dear.” Faizal was the cook who came over to make dinner every night. Her father fixed his beady gaze on her. “A friend of mine will be joining us.” He looked her up and down in a way that made her stomach muscles clench.
“That’s great. Is he a friend from work?”
“Not from the firm, no. He’s a supplier. Rivets and nuts.” He squinted at her for a moment. “Wear a color that suits your complexion more.”
She glanced down at the navy blue she’d worn all day. “Why?”
“That blue is rather draining on you. Something brighter would be more attractive.”
Dani stood speechless. This was the first time her father had expressed an opinion on her clothes. Was he planning to set her up with his friend? She wanted to ask but didn’t dare.
She’d assumed he saw her as such a social pariah that it wouldn’t be worth the bother of trying to marry her off again. Maybe he’d grown tired of having her under his roof and hoped to find someone who would take her off his hands. She hurried to her room, wondering if she could find an even less flattering color to wear.
Quasar hadn’t thought she looked washed out in the blue. The way he’d looked at her had made her feel as if she’d been glowing like a spring flower. His daring gaze made her feel desirable—and it made her feel desire. The memory of it made her blood hum.
Alone in her room she let herself dream about him for a moment. What would it be like to accompany him to his brother’s hotel/museum or whatever it was? People had said her ex-husband was good-looking—she’d thought so herself until she grew to understand his true character—but he had nothing on Quasar’s dramatic features and playful charm.
Of course, the man she’d just met was undoubtedly used to women drooling over him. He was probably shocked that she refused his suggestion that they meet again. If she were in America, without traditional rules to consider, would she have said yes?
