Caroline Burnes - Familiar Oasis

He thought briefly of finding a local guide to take her, but there was no one he trusted. There were many good guides, but none who would have the fortitude to lead Amelia to the conclusion she needed to draw—Paris was where she ought to be. He found himself caught on the horns of a dilemma. Though Beth would surely want to see her sister, especially when she and Omar celebrated their wedding, Harad wasn’t certain that Amelia could be trusted with the secret location of the lost City of Con. It would be best for all if Amelia came to visit when Beth and Omar returned to Alexandria.

Omar had decided to risk that knowledge with Beth, but Harad was not willing to do the same with Amelia. He’d put his heritage and his people in second place once before, when he’d refused the role of leader. He would not do it a second time.

The immediate problem was the desert trip. He would have to trick Amelia into accepting him as a guide. She trusted him less than he trusted her—and he smiled at that thought.

How to convince her? Amelia was far too smart to simply sign on to the idea that he’d changed his mind and decided to follow her orders. Circumstances would have to be such that when he appeared at her campsite, it would be as her rescuer. At the thought of her, blue eyes filled with gratitude, he increased the pace of his walking. That would be a first for Amelia Corbet. He’d be willing to wager a large sum that she’d never been grateful to a man for a single thing in her life.

It was time to change that.

There was little time for bemoaning what had to be done, so he used his cell phone to call his car and driver and began to make preparations for the trip.

In the center of town was a man who provided camels and equipment for excursions into the desert. Harad had done business with him before and knew the animals he leased were healthy and well cared for. Though it was not regular business hours, Harad had his driver go there. He would also need tents and supplies—and he would keep the receipts. Somewhere along the way, Amelia Corbet had to learn that her hardheadedness was a costly vice.

CHEEKS STILL red with righteous indignation, Amelia closed the door of her suite none too gently. She saw the swinging door barely miss the black cat’s tail as he darted into her room. The creature had followed her from the restaurant and had plopped himself in the middle of her bed, as if it was his right.

“I’m not a pushover like the Egyptians,” she warned him.

The black cat stared her right in the eyes and used his back legs to push her suitcase onto the floor. The leather case hit the floor with an impressive smack.

“Hey!” She started walking toward him with the intention of picking him up and putting him out of the room. His tail flicked once as he reclined, watching her. When she reached out to pick him up, she heard a low, deadly growl. The sound halted her in her tracks. She’d never heard anything more adamant.

Amelia turned abruptly and reached for the telephone. Just as she started to dial the front desk for assistance with cat removal, Familiar sprang to his feet and caught the rotary dial with his sharp claws. He gave a low growl of warning.

Very slowly Amelia lowered the phone back into its cradle. She stared into the cat’s golden gaze. “I don’t know what you want, but you can’t sleep on the bed.”

The cat walked back across the bed, turned in a circle once and then settled into a ball. In what seemed like seconds, he was sound asleep and purring.

Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and examined the feline. She’d never met an animal with such presence. J.J. was a sweet and lovable mutt, but he bent over backward to please her. This cat was another matter. She had the distinct impression that he had it fully in mind to bend her to his will.

“We’ll see about that,” she whispered softly. The cat’s whiskers twitched and he opened his eyes. His golden-green gaze was calm, and then he yawned.

Amelia wanted to tell the cat that he could go straight to Hades, but she couldn’t bring herself to continue to talk to the animal. Even Harad, a man with a multimillion-dollar business, spoke to Familiar as if he thought the cat actually understood. It was ridiculous. The cat might be intuitive and somehow skilled in showing up at the right place at the right time, but it was completely foolish to believe the feline understood language.

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out Dr. Kaffar Mosheen’s business card. She tapped it against the bedside table.

“I wonder if there’s another phone around here,” she mused out loud, casting sidelong glances at the sleeping cat to see how he reacted. When Familiar made no move to thwart her efforts, she dialed the doctor. “Stupid cat. He doesn’t understand a thing,” she muttered under her breath as she waited for the doctor to answer.

Amelia identified herself and heard the gratifying intake of breath on the other end of the line. “I have an hour or so this evening if you’d still like to talk to me about the poisoning,” she said. “I’m staying at the Abbula.”

“Lovely old hotel,” he said. “I’ll be there in half an hour. We could meet—”

“In the bar,” Amelia supplied. “I’ll be waiting for you.” She made it a practice never to let a man make all the decisions. It was good training for them, and for her.

She stood up, smoothed her dress over her hips, checked her reflection in the mirror and started out the door. She turned back to see if the cat was still asleep on the bed.

To her total surprise, the bed was empty. She stared at it a moment. Familiar had vanished. Shaking her head, she walked out of the room and found the cat already waiting for her in the hall. Like some kind of magician, he’d slipped through the door just as she opened it. He led the way to the elevators. As soon as they were in the lobby, he ran into the bar. When she walked in, she found him sitting on a bar stool with a large saucer of cold milk in front of him. In the four seconds he’d been ahead of her, Familiar had somehow managed to charm the burly bartender.

Disgusted, Amelia sat as far from the cat as she could. It was impossible, but it did seem as if he’d understood her conversation on the phone. Either that or he had a serious drinking problem.

All thoughts of Familiar left her head, though, when Kaffar Mosheen walked into the bar. He’d forsaken his white coat, and he wore khakis and a cotton pullover. The pale yellow of the shirt gave his complexion a warm glow. As he took a bar stool beside her, he waved the bartender over.

“Two vodka martinis,” he said, “alcohol should be okay if your headache’s gone.”

“Make that one vodka martini and one iced tea,” Amelia said. She turned to Kaffar. “My headache is gone, but I’d rather have tea. You look very different without your lab coat.”

“I hope I’m very different,” he said, smiling. “Earlier today, you were a patient. Now you are a lovely woman that I hope to impress. Still, I must ask how you feel?”

Amelia laughed. One thing she could say about Alexandria—she’d never met more charming men. She thought of Harad and felt her throat go dry. Even as her body tingled at the thought of him, she smiled at the doctor.

“I’m good as new.

“Tell me about your work,” she said, sipping the drink the bartender had put in front of her.

The doctor began to talk of his research on plants used in herbal remedies to stop smoking. Amelia listened intently, but she was aware of the black cat walking along the top of the bar in her general direction.

When he was in front of Dr. Mosheen, he lifted a big paw and held it aloft for a few seconds. With one swipe, he sent the martini tumbling off the bar and into the doctor’s lap.