Trish Morey - Midnight in Arabia

“Now?”

“Do you have friends now?” he asked in a strangely tense voice.

“Russell.”

“ Russell? Your assistant?”

“You say his name like it’s a dirty word. He’s a really great guy.” Iris liked the geological assistant who told corny jokes only another geologist would get.

“Are you attracted to this really great guy?” Asad asked with dangerous quiet. “He is a great deal younger than you.”

A junior at his university, Russell was about as much younger than Iris as she had been than Asad when they were together. “He’s twenty. Anyway, what difference does it make to you?”

“Answer me. Are you two in a relationship?” he said, the last word laced with disgust.

She rolled her eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Who says I am not?”

She laughed, the sound cynical. “Oh, come on, Asad. Like you are going to be jealous of a geeky science boy.”

“Are you attracted to geeky?”

She could have been, she realized. Not Russell, necessarily. He was very much like a younger brother, but maybe to someone else like that. If there hadn’t been Asad to spoil her for others. “You asked me if I had friends, Asad. That’s what he is. My friend.”

And a pretty new one at that.

“Good.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“But you don’t have a lot of friends back home.”

“No.”

“Yet you are a very good friend to have.”

She made a sound of disbelief. If he’d really believed that, he wouldn’t have given her up so easily. Would he?

“You were my friend once. It was only later that I realized what I lost when that friendship had to end.”

“There was no had to , Asad. You were done with me and you dumped me. Stop trying to rewrite history.”

“I am doing no such thing. Do you really think we could have remained friends when I married Badra?”

He had a point. And Iris probably shouldn’t care that he’d missed her friendship, and yet coming to believe it dulled some of the old pain of losing him.

“I would like to be friends again,” he said when she made no reply.

She didn’t believe him. “You want me back in your bed. That’s not friendship.”

“For us it can be.”

“Really? And when I return to the States, what then?”

“I do not intend to eject you from my life again,” he said in a tone that made the words a vow.

It disconcerted her, and frightened her, as well. Because those words were not merely a promise … they were a threat, too. “I don’t think I’m any more prepared to be your friend after leaving here than I was before.”

What she meant, but didn’t say, and hoped he clued into, was that for Iris it had been more than casual sex and friendship. And unfortunately, probably always would be.

“Give it a try. Let us see where it goes.”

It wouldn’t go to the altar; at least this time she knew that. Knowledge of the truth had to make some kind of difference in the outcome, didn’t it?

“You want me in your bed.”

“I do.” At least he admitted it.

“And you want to be my friend.” For now, anyway.

“Yes.”

“What will that make us?” she asked uncertainly.

“Whatever we want it to.”

This time she heard what he said, not what she wanted to hear. He wasn’t making any promises.

She wanted to be his world like he’d been hers, but that was never going to happen. What did she say to this offer, though? She’d missed Asad so much because she’d let him into a place in her heart she’d kept protected from her very earliest childhood.

Now he was offering more than a tumble in the sack. He was offering a renewal of their friendship that supposedly would last into the future.

She wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen, but she was equally unsure if she wanted to hold herself back from him while she was in Kadar. Iris had spent six years avoiding intimacy, taking no other lovers and dreaming of Asad more nights than she cared to count.

Could having what he called a liaison with him help her to let go of him forever? Just being away from him hadn’t done the trick. Psychobabble said people needed closure to move on. If she ever wanted to break the lonely boundaries of her life, Iris had to move forward. She had to take a chance again.

So, maybe that was exactly what she needed … closure on a relationship that was never meant to be in the first place.

One truth she could not escape: Iris had missed this man every day since he had walked away.

Losing him the first time had nearly destroyed her, but maybe being with him again, knowing it was temporary, would help to heal her now. Maybe letting him in again was the only way to break the boundaries she’d set around her lonely life.

She’d like to believe she could refuse him, but recognized that putting it to the test might see her disappointed. Regardless, she realized she didn’t really want to.

Understanding better what had been going through his head six years ago—and realizing how betrayed he’d been by Badra—changed Iris’s view of their shared past. At the very least, it made her realize Asad was not invulnerable to hurt.

Why that should matter, she was not sure, but it did.

And she wanted him, more than she would have believed possible after everything that had happened. But there it was.

She had a choice, one that only she could make. If she got back into Asad’s bed, it would be with her eyes open to both the reality of the past and what the future would hold.

Could she live with that? She thought maybe she really could. She was almost positive she couldn’t live with the other … the not having him and the richness he brought to her life for whatever time available to them.

When the silence stretched between them as her thoughts whirled inside her head, Asad slipped his hand beneath the scarf covering her head and cupped her nape. “It is not in me to lose you again.”

Asad saw the flash of disbelief in Iris’s blue gaze before she pushed the peacock curtain aside to return to the feast.

He wanted to draw her back, demand she acknowledge the truth of his claim, but now was not the time. She was skittish, and perhaps he understood that better now. But he would woo her and convince her that the past’s mistakes could be left there.

He had brought her to Kadar for the reason he’d given her, to help her career, but also because he’d never forgotten her. Not her friendship and not her passionate fire in the bedroom.

He wanted to be warmed by that fire again.

Where that might lead, he did not know, but one certainty existed. He was no longer looking for a perfect princess to share his life.

Iris’s reflections on her childhood horrified him. If the two lived among the Sha’b Al’najid, they would have lost not just their daughter, but also their place in the tribe for such unnatural behavior. That parents could be so dismissive of a child was bad enough, but that the child should be his sensitive former lover infuriated him.

One of the first things he had noticed about Iris was the vulnerability she hid behind her shy demeanor. The sensitive child she would have been must have been tormented endlessly by her parents’ indifference.

He could not fathom it.

Iris had been right. Asad had not been pleased at his own father’s rejection of their heritage and he had determined at a young age never to make a choice that required leaving a child behind, as his parents had him. Yet Asad had never felt ignored by his parents, or that he did not matter to them.

They had made the journey back to the Sha’b Al’najid much more frequently than was convenient for them in order to spend time with their oldest son. And while they had agreed Asad would be raised to be sheikh of his people one day, his father had demanded Asad be allowed to come to Geneva at least one weekend per month throughout his childhood.