Baby Of Mine Page 9

  Caught up in the magic of sailing, she said little and Talal also remained quiet. It took forever, and yet no time at all seemed to have passed when he retook the tiller and began to tack toward what appeared to be a passage into a bay. Beyond, the water appeared more green than blue. Emerald Bay. “Is that an island?” she asked, pointing toward a rocky upthrust. “There’s some kind of building on top.”

  “I’m told it once was a teahouse, something like what the English call a folly, now in ruins. No one lives on the island. Getting hungry?”

  Until he asked she hadn’t realized that she was ravenous. “Definitely.”

  “I’ll drop anchor before we eat. Makes it easier.” He angled toward shore and tossed in the anchor as the water grew shallower.

  Once the boat lay at rest, without the wind blowing past, Linnea felt the power of the sun. Since she’d worn the suit underneath, she pulled off her T-shirt and began applying sunscreen to the skin areas that had been covered up.

  Talal plucked the container from her hand, saying, “You can’t reach your back properly,” and proceeded to rub the lotion over her shoulders, along her spine and to either side. Wary, she expected him to linger over the application, but when he did not she missed the sensual feel of his hands on her back.

  At the ranch, when she donned the suit, she’d checked out the fit in a mirror and found that Karen was right—the colors became her. Deciding to take a dip in the cool water before she ate—after all, they were in the shallows—she shucked off her shorts, pleasantly aware of Talal’s interested gaze.

  “The water’s cold,” he warned.

  “So is the Atlantic,” she countered, and slid over the side of the boat.

  “Cold” was inadequate to describe the Arctic chill of Tahoe’s water. One quick dunking was all she could take. Clambering back over the side she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, then climbed up to lie flat atop the cabin, soaking up the welcome warmth of the sun.

  After she stopped shivering, she sat up to see what Talal was doing. He’d stripped down to a very brief pair of black trunks that didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. He had a magnificent body, wide shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist and then down to... With an effort, she dragged her gaze upward and noticed a ridged scar over his left rib cage.

  “Another result of your boat accident?” she asked, aware he must know she saw the scar. Among other things.

  He nodded.

  The picnic basket, she noted, sat open on the seat beside him. Jumping down to the deck she looked inside, her stomach rumbling with anticipation of the wrapped sandwiches on the top. She glanced into the neatly furnished cabin and decided that, though there was a table with benches inside, she’d rather eat on deck.

  “After all, this is a picnic,” she said aloud.

  “And picnics are for the outdoors,” he said, finishing her sentence as he reached into the basket.

  Without thinking, she slapped at his hand and he drew it back, blinking at her. “That’s not the right way,” she told him. “You put down a cloth and lay everything out before eating. There must be a cloth in the cabin.”

  She waited for him to move but he remained where he was, watching her expectantly. “If you look, you might be able to find that cloth,” she said, determined that he was going to lift at least one finger to help.

  He finally rose and hunkered down through the hatch, returning with a large towel. She hadn’t meant a towel, but she kept her mouth shut. Without comment, she spread the towel on the deck and, kneeling, began to remove the food from the basket. At the bottom was a thermos full of chocolate milk. “Ready,” she told him, and sat next to the towel, her legs curved to one side.

  He arranged himself tailor-fashion opposite her, straining the black fabric of his suit in a most interesting fashion. She pretended not to notice. Though she was hungry, she was hardly aware of what she ate because her senses were overloaded with Talal’s near nakedness. His maleness was a potent lure—all he’d have to do was reel her in.

  If she were a fish, that is. She wasn’t. And she didn’t intend to become his latest catch. She watched him pour more chocolate milk into his cup, admiring his grace of movement. Like a large, sleek animal, he was worth watching. And like such an animal, he was dangerous.

  Without warning, he looked at her, his dark eyes catching her gaze and holding her trapped. “How beautiful you are, maddamti,” he said softly. “That was the name of my lost boat, Maddamti. She, too, was a beauty and I miss her. Perhaps, though, I have lost one lovely lady only to find another.”

  Linnea forced herself to look away, breaking the spell he was casting, and realized she’d stopped breathing while she listened to him. Irritated with herself, she snapped, “What number have you assigned to me?”

  “Number?”

  “Sailboats have registration numbers. I can’t help but wonder if you don’t also assign a number to each of your new women.”

  He chuckled. “You make me sound like an old-time sheikh with a hundred wives.”

  “Can’t Kholi men have more than one wife if they choose?”

  “Four is the limit, but only if the man can support them all equally, both financially and timewise. The custom is dying out. Today, no Zohir has more than one wife. I’m perfectly satisfied with none.”

  She could understand his satisfaction. After all, she had no desire to marry again. So why did his words annoy her?

  Deliberately changing the subject, she said, “Have you met Karen’s brother Steve? I understand Zed called him.”

  “Steve’s the best insurance I can think of against anyone bothering Yasmin while we’re in Kholi. He has Washington contacts in all the right places. He’ll assure Yasmin’s safety until our return.” Talal half smiled. “You’ll like him. Like us, Steve has survived a marriage of deceit.”

  “Zed and Karen are fortunate.”

  Talal nodded. “Karen’s an unusual woman, one of the few I’d trust under any circumstances.” His gaze roamed over her. “But I have to admit that suit looks better on you than it would have on her.”

  To her distress, Linnea felt herself reddening. But it wasn’t entirely because of what he’d said. Something else troubled her—her flush had elements of anger as well as embarrassment, though she wasn’t sure why. “Isn’t it about time we started back?” she said, turning away in the hope he wouldn’t notice.

  Talal put his forefinger under her chin and turned her face toward him again. “I think it’s charming that my admiration can make you blush. I mean what I say. You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever met.”

  He started to lean toward her, their lips almost touching, when she suddenly sprang to her feet. “No!” she cried, realizing what was bothering her: the picture Karen had showed her of Talal standing on a sailboat—no doubt his lost Maddamti—with his arm around the pretty redhead who’d been Danny’s mother.

  “As far as I’m concerned,” she said coldly, “a boat’s for sailing, not seduction.”

  Chapter Seven

  Linnea and Talal pulled into the ranch drive before sunset, barely speaking. The sail across Lake Tahoe back to the mooring had been fast and flawless, enjoyable despite the fact the only words they exchanged related to the boat. Once in the car, he’d played CDs on the drive down the mountain and she’d given her full attention to the gorgeous scenery and the music—or pretended to.

  As he parked and shut off the ignition, she decided she’d had enough of the coolness between them. “Thanks for taking me sailing and showing me Emerald Bay,” she said. “The lake and the bay are both spectacular and you’re a class-A captain.”

  “The captain’s only as capable as his first mate,” he told her. “We make a good team.” His raised eyebrow dared her to make something of his words.

  She smiled, relieved to be back on semireasonable terms with him once more. If they were going to be allies they needed to be civil to each other.

  Though Zed’s pickup was parked at t
he back of the house, nobody was home. Zed’s note on the kitchen table explained why: “Took everyone out for pizza. Back by eight at the latest.”

  Evidently they’d gone in Karen’s car, Linnea decided. She glanced at the clock. Six. She and Talal must have just missed the others.

  “What is my lady’s pleasure?” he asked. “Shall we scrounge for food here or dine out?”

  “Actually, we had our picnic so late I’m not very hungry,” she said. “How about a snack for now?”

  “Excellent choice. Crackers and cheese, grapes and wine in air-conditioned comfort. We’ll have it in Zeid’s game room in the annex.”

  “After I shower,” she agreed. “I’ll fix, you carry.”

  He nodded. “An equitable arrangement.”

  She started across the kitchen and suddenly stumbled, finding it difficult for a moment to find her balance. “That wasn’t me,” she gasped, holding on to the door frame. “I swear the floor moved.”

  “A small tremor, nothing to worry about.”

  Linnea’s eyes widened. “You mean an earthquake? Nevada has earthquakes?”

  “Minor quakes only in this area of the state, I’m told.”

  “I’ve never actually felt an earthquake before,” she said, “and I’m none too sure I care to again.”

  Talal shrugged. “I’ve been in others. There was no danger in this one.”

  Easy for an earthquake veteran to say, she thought as she headed for the shower. What a strange sensation to have the very ground under your feet shift unexpectedly. One moment rock solid, the next quivering.

  As she rinsed off in the warm flowing water, it occurred to her that ever since she’d met Talal, the ground under her feet had been none too stable, something she couldn’t blame on an earthquake. Deliberate or not, he kept her off balance.

  She chose a bright pink cotton shift and slipped into sandals, padding into the kitchen where she found Talal, clad only in leather thongs and white shorts, frowning at the wines in the rack. She did her best to ignore the fascinating male flesh exposed to her view.

  “You may have to choose,” he said. “At home, I don’t drink any form of alcohol, so my experience has been limited.”

  Focusing on his words, not his body, she said, “But you do drink in America.”

  “I go by the customs of the country I’m in as much as possible,” he said. “As an unofficial diplomat for my great-uncle, I find it best not to call attention to differences, to fit in. Besides, I learned to enjoy beer at Princeton.” He grinned at her.

  His hair, still damp from the shower, curled in dark ringlets over his head, giving him a boyish look that appealed to her. The rest of him was anything but boyish, though—he was a thoroughly adult male. A sexy adult male.

  “Your dress is the color of Yasmin’s kitten,” he said. “Aziz.”

  His voice lingered caressingly on the Arabic word and her breath caught, wondering how it would be to hear him murmur that she was his beloved—in whatever language.

  Careful, she warned herself. Watch it, lady.

  After fixing a platter of cheese, crackers, the requisite grapes and other nibbles, Linnea handed the plate to Talal. She chose a white wine at random and, carrying the bottle with two stemmed glasses, followed him along the corridor to the annex. She was aware his bedroom led off the game room, but she had no intention of setting foot inside his room, not on any pretext.

  Deciding to take charge of the conversation and stay clear of anything remotely romantic, once they were settled—she in a chair, Talal on the nearby couch—Linnea said, “I’m intrigued by the fact you were raised in Kholi and Zed in Nevada. Karen said it was a complicated story and she’d rather you told me about it.”

  Talal paused in pouring the wine to look at her. “Circumstances separated us when we were three, too young to remember or understand. Although, since I was the one left behind, I never forgot there had once been another half of me named Zeid, he had no clue he was a twin.” He paused, filled her glass and passed it to her.

  She sipped the wine, waiting.

  He tasted his and shrugged. “I can’t judge whether it’s good or bad, but I trust my brother’s taste. As I trust him. Implicitly.”

  “Why were you two separated?” she asked.

  “Our Kholi father was dead, our pregnant American mother wished to return to her parents—the Adamses—in California to have her baby—Jaida—there. Our Kholi grandparents refused to allow her to take us with her. She escaped secretly but was able to bring only one of us. Zeid.”

  “So Jade was born in this country while you two were born in Kholi?”

  He shook his head. “We were born in California, prematurely, and brought home to Kholi when we were infants. After our mother fled from my country, she feared pursuit, feared she might lose Zeid, and so she begged her parents to adopt him and the baby about to be born and to change their names. This was done. After our mother’s death, the Adamses moved to Nevada to make it more difficult to be found.”

  Linnea, fascinated, asked, “Did your Kholi grandparents search for Zed?”

  “My grandmother says not. Apparently they were equally afraid that our mother would try to retrieve me by legal means, since I was actually an American citizen. They sought help from my great-uncle, who issued a birth certificate showing I was born in Kholi and therefore a citizen of that country. I grew up believing this.

  “It wasn’t until Zeid was accused of being Danny’s father and began to search for the boy’s real father that we found each other. By this time my grandfather was dead and so were both of the Adamses. With my grandmother’s reluctant help, I managed to fill in the gaps.”

  “What a story! And what a shame.”

  “But now we’re together. Grandmother Noorah can’t wait for me to bring Danny to Kholi, and though she doesn’t admit it, I know she’s eager to see Zeid once more and become acquainted with Jaida, the granddaughter she’s never met. You’ll be staying with her.”

  Taken aback, she stared at him. “With your grandmother?”

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to stay in my home since I have no women’s quarters at present. Besides, Grandmother Noorah will be company for you. She understands English quite well though she doesn’t speak it fluently.”

  Company for her? “Why will I need company?” she asked. “Where will you be?”

  “I can’t easily take you anywhere in Kholi with me since we aren’t related. My great-uncle is fairly liberal about such things, but lately, for political reasons, he’s had to placate the muttawa, the religious police, and so, at the present time, we’re all expected to strictly obey their prohibitions.”

  Linnea remembered Malik telling her about them. “You mean I’ll have to wear a black cover-up when I’m not inside a house?”

  “Probably not. Just modest clothes. But it wouldn’t be wise for you to walk alone in the city, because unattended women, even foreigners, are sometimes targeted by the religious police. If my grandmother goes with you there’ll be no problem—any male relative of hers can accompany the two of you. I may be too busy much of the time to be that escort.”

  “Sounds like great fun,” she muttered.

  “You insisted on coming along. When in Rome, you know.”

  Did he sound slightly smug? Linnea swallowed the rest of her wine to keep from saying so. Anything to help to find her daughter. She’d even be willing to don a black veil if necessary—but she didn’t have to like doing it.

  They finished the snacks and the wine, then strolled out to the pond where she scattered cracker crumbs to the ducks. The sun had dropped behind the western mountains, creating what seemed to her to be an early twilight, accustomed as she was to the long summer evenings of New York. Talal, she noticed, was staring up at the sky. She’d rather expected him to try to kiss her here in the dimming light, but he hadn’t so much as touched her since she’d cut him short on the boat. Denying any disappointment, she told herself it was all to the good—maybe
he’d learned his lesson.

  “We’re supposed to be able to see the new comet this month,” he said. “When it gets a bit darker I’ll try out my brother’s telescope.” Glancing around, he added, “The viewing would be better if we drove to where the ranch property ends. There’s no light pollution whatsoever there.”

  “I take it you’re into astronomy.”

  “One of our great Arab poets was an astronomer. Omar Khayyám. Remember how he mentions rising through the Seventh Gate to sit on the Throne of Saturn?”

  “I’m afraid my knowledge of Omar begins and ends with that jug-of-wine quatrain.”

  “Mythologically, Saturn was Lord of Seventh Heaven.”

  “Seventh Heaven, I’ve heard of,” she admitted, “though not in connection with astronomy.”

  “The comet is supposed to be passing through that area. Shall we go searching for it?”

  She knew he must be referring to a search for the comet, but her disobedient mind presented her with a vision of joining Talal in their own personal seventh heaven. She pictured a lavishly furnished tent somewhere in a desert, she swathed in varicolored transparent veils, reclining on soft rugs. He stood over her, opening his robe, ready to cast it aside....

  Linnea brought herself up short. What was the matter with her? She’d already decided she didn’t want to make love with him, so why did she keep conjuring up erotic scenes from old sheikh movies? It must be the wine.

  “We’ll take the truck,” he went on. “The telescope won’t fit in my car.”

  “The truck’s fine,” she said absently, concentrating on banishing her seventh heaven imagery once and for all.

  The next she knew, they were jouncing away from the ranch in the pickup, along a back road in increasing darkness, the telescope in the back, swathed in a blanket and strapped down securely to protect it. For some obscure reason it pleased her to find Talal was interested in astronomy. Not to mention poetry, of all things. Well, Arab poetry, anyway.