“Are we sneaking me out of your father’s palace?” Casey asked.
Smiling, Khalid leaned forward and told the driver, “Med-Men, muntajae sihi.”
Casey chewed her lower lip. She’d started a crash course in Arabic—no way was she ever getting caught at another dinner party without being able to at least follow the conversation. But these words hadn’t been part of the basic vocabulary. “Okay, is that a nightclub? A bar? Or—”
“Med-Men is the finest spa in my country. The waters are said to be healing, and I think we both could use a massage.”
“That’s not code for something else, is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Why so suspicious? Is my reputation really so terrible?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?.
Khalid shook his head, took her hand and squeezed it gently. “No. I do not. But I assure you, this is to thank you for a wonderful evening. Nothing more.”
Pulling her hand away, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be happy or sorry about that.
The limo sped down the streets, into the city and then out again on one of the highways. Glancing out the window, she could only see the desert as white sand and dark shadows. Glancing over at Khalid, she told him, “I’m sorry.”
“Why should you apologize?”
“For being…being such a reporter earlier. I don’t get out much—my work is pretty much my life..”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My life has been all play—yours has been all work it seems. Does that make us the perfect couple?”
“You mean maybe we could find a balance in between. I don’t know about that—habits are easy to form, hard to break.”
He shook his head. “I would not like you so much if you were not…so…so…”
“Difficult? Hard headed? My mom used to call me stubborn as two mules hitched to the same plough.”
He grinned. “And I have been called a peacock with lovely plumage and no use at all.”
Casey relaxed and smiled. “Was that by your dad or you mom?” Soon as the words had slipped out she bit down on her lower lip. “Sorry—I wasn’t thinking. I read your mom died when you were pretty young. That must have been hard.”
He looked out the window. “No, but it made my father a hard man. The world would be different if my mother had lived.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, but it took no more than a few minutes before the limo exited the highway and drove down a palm-lined street to stop in front of a modern building. Casey stepped out of the limo and into a warm desert breeze. The spa seemed all stark lines of concrete and glass, but Khalid came around and took her hand, leading her inside.
It surprised her the place would be open this late, but maybe Khalid being a Sheikh and all had some pull—or maybe this was a twenty-four-seven kind of place. Two women and two men met them in the lobby, which had a restful fountain and music like that she’d heard earlier—some kind of stringed inst
rument and a drum.
She followed the two women into a separate area that seemed to be a changing room with lockers, mirrors and what looked like a full up makeup and hair salon. The women spoke excellent English, got her out of her dress and into a thick, white Turkish robe and sandals. After that it was a shower, and then the women led her into a smaller room with a massage table. She stretched out, and the women set to work on her body, unknotting every kink she knew about and a few she didn’t know she had.
All that hard prison time.
She had to smile at the idea. The scent of spiced oil left her half asleep, but the women left, and Casey roused herself. One of the two doors into the room had been left open. Sitting up, she grabbed her robe, dragged it on and headed into the next space, which looked more like a private oasis.
Glancing around, she saw Khalid, half naked and sitting in a huge, sunken tiled tub. Several other tubs dotted the area, but only the one next to Khalid steamed from the hot water piped into it. They were still inside, but glancing up she could see stars and the moon through a skylight. Candles glowed from niches set into the walls. More palms and other potted plants had been artfully placed to make the room seem a lush oasis. She glanced around, looking for the spa attendants, but it seemed as if they’d been left alone. She clutched at the throat of her robe, but Khalid only smiled and waved at the waters bubbling around him. “Come. I’m not some wild leopard who will leap onto you as if you are a tasty gazelle.”
Khalid found her modesty charming. He’d been around too many models who thought nothing of being naked—so much so that at times he thought nothing of it as well. And the actresses he had dated had always wanted to display the latest sculpting of their bodies by their plastic surgeons. It had, he had to admit, grown tiresome. Casey, standing there in her bulky white robe seemed far more alluring.
Covering his eyes with his hands, he told her, “I will not peek. And the water will preserve your modesty. The waters are also said to be healing, and I will add you have your own tub.”
He heard the rustle of cloth, a small gasp and splash. He peeked only a little, parting his fingers enough to see a flash of pale skin, a glimpse of her full breasts and then she was under the water, her hair floating around her and steam rising up to bathe her face.
“Okay, I’m in. You can look.”