Red-Hot Desert Docs. Carol Marinelli
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just stared back at him.
And then she remembered Bella, all beautiful and no doubt waiting in his home.
‘How was the theatre?’ she asked in a voice that was oddly high.
‘Terrible,’ Zahir said, though he knew what she meant. ‘Bella and I broke up last night.’
‘Because?’ Adele asked.
‘Because of this.’
Do what is essential, he had heard in the desert.
He had interpreted that as avoiding her, that it was essential to resist her. Now, though, it was essential that they kiss.
For Adele, after such a horrible night, came the sweetest, most unexpected reward.
The feel of his lips on hers.
He kissed her softly and was careful of her sore face.
And as she moaned to the bliss, he slipped in his tongue and she tasted perfection. She discovered all that had been missing and why a kiss had never worked till now.
It had needed to be his.
There was silence in her mind and the sensual soothing of his tongue. Her hand went to the back of his head, and she felt that silk hair on her fingers.
There was utter relief as he kissed her, soon replaced by the yearning for more.
He kissed her deeper and his hand slid from her waist to the stomach he had touched last night.
And now there was tenderness as his hand slipped into her T-shirt and her skin was traced by him.
She knew then the hell he had gone through.
Trying to be friendly and to treat her as a patient.
And she knew now the reason for his seeming disdain.
His hand came up to her small breast and he stroked it through her bra and all this within a kiss.
‘Does that explain things better?’ he asked, as he moved his mouth a fraction away.
It did.
‘Do you understand now why I didn’t stop the car the other night?’
His hand was still on her breast and the ache between them could not be soothed by his soft caress.
‘You should have,’ she said.
‘I would not have been tender then.’
‘That would have been fine,’ she said, and now she got the reward of his smile.
And always he was honest and upfront and explained to women that it could never come to anything.
It would possibly be fairer to say that now.
Yet he could not.
He removed his hand from her breast but hers was still on the back of his head and possibly it would require surgery to remove it, for she wanted to feel his lips again.
‘Adele, this would be very much frowned upon back home.’
‘I’m not going to tell your mum,’ she teased, but now Zahir did not smile.
‘I am returning home with the Queen.’
She swallowed and now she removed her hand and sat there and stared out of the window rather than at him. ‘Because you don’t trust me?’
‘No,’ Zahir said. ‘I was always going to return with her. Do you see why I didn’t want you there?’
She did.
‘Why did you change your mind?’ she asked.
‘Because otherwise it would have been goodbye.’
She didn’t understand.
‘Go in,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to.’
‘Go in,’ he said again. ‘I will see you on Monday.’
‘And?’
He didn’t know.
All Zahir knew was...they had been awoken.
‘READY FOR THE OFF?’ Annie, her favourite nurse at the care home, asked on the night before Adele flew to Mamlakat Almas.
‘I am!’
‘You’re eye’s looking a lot better.’
Adele had been icing it regularly and using the arnica cream that Zahir had suggested. The spectacular purple bruise had now faded to pale yellow.
Sometimes she felt as if she had dreamt their kiss.
As if her mind, tired of nothing happening, had manufactured it.
Yet she knew it had been real and though the last few days had been busy she had dwelt on it regularly.
Hourly.
Maybe every five minutes or so!
Even though Zahir had said everything would be provided, she had spent a small fortune on underwear, nightdresses, dressing gowns and slippers in case she had to go the Queen at night.
It was very hard dressing for mother and son, Adele had thought as she’d closed her case on her hopefully subtly sexy lingerie.
But then she also knew there would be no furtive kisses or hot sensual Arabian nights.
She would be working and Zahir had told her anything more would be very much frowned on at his home.
And, from the little she knew, things were different there and her lovely new underwear had no hope of being seen.
Still, it was better to be safe than sorry!
‘It will just be for two weeks,’ she told her mum as she kissed her goodbye.
Yet it was about more than a two-week break. Adele knew that by taking this step she was if not cutting the cord then loosening it a touch.
Annie did too.
‘You know we’ll take good care of her.’
‘I know that you will and I’ll call every day.’
As she left the nursing home Adele felt different.
Of course she would be back and she would always visit but this was a huge step in reclaiming her life.
It was very hard to get to sleep and it felt that as soon as she did her alarm went off.
The car duly arrived and Adele was only too happy to close the door on the flatmates from hell.
She had bought some linen trousers and a long-sleeved top for the journey and then regretted it as her trousers had already crumpled while waiting for the car to arrive.
The driver made small talk as he drove her to Heathrow, but they took a different entrance from the main one. Soon she was in a very plush room and there was Leila but there was no sign of Zahir.
Leila had the pale, sickly pallor of someone who had spent time in hospital and indoors but apart from that she seemed well. ‘I am so pleased to see you, Adele.’ She beamed. ‘This is Hannah, one of the nurses who has been taking care of me at the hotel.’
There was a detailed handover.
Leila had seen Mr Oman for a post-operative check-up the day before and Adele was told that he was very pleased with her progress.
‘This is his phone number,’ Hannah said, as she went through the file. ‘You are to ring him if there are any concerns. Here is a course of antibiotics for Queen Leila, if he feels it necessary for her to take them. However, Mr Oman also said that he has full faith that