Man of the Hour: Night Of Love

She stilled instantly. “Oh, no, it isn’t that,” she whispered, lifting her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you! You used to tell me not to move when it happened, remember?”

He stopped dancing and his eyes searched hers so hungrily that she could hardly bear the intensity of the look they were sharing.

His lips parted as he tried to breathe, enmeshed by his hunger for her, by the beauty of her uplifted face, the temptation of her perfect, innocent body against his. “I remember everything,” he said tautly. “You haunt me, Meg. Night after empty night.”

She saw the strain in his dark face and felt guilty that she should be the cause of it. Her hand pressed flat against his shirtfront, feeling the strength and heat and under it the feverish throb of his pulse.

“I’m sorry,” she said tenderly. “I’m so sorry…”

He fought for control, his eyes lifting finally to stare over her head.

Meg moved away a little, and began talking quite calmly about the state of the world, the weather, dancing lazily while he recovered.

“I have to stop now, Steven,” she said finally. “My ankle really hurts.”

He stopped dancing. His eyes searched over her face. “I’m sorry about what I said to you last night, when I asked you,” he said curtly. “I wanted you to the point of madness.” He laughed bitterly. “That, at least, has never changed.”

Her eyes adored him. She couldn’t help it. He was more perfect to her than anything in the world, and when he was close to her, she had everything. But what he wanted would destroy her.

“I can’t sleep with you and just…just go on with my life,” she said softly. “It would be another night, another body, to you. But it would be devastating to me. Not only my first time, but with someone whom I…” She averted her eyes. “Someone for whom I once cared very much.”

“Look at me.”

She forced her eyes up to his, curious about their sudden intent scrutiny.

“Meg,” he said, as the music began again, “it wouldn’t be just another night and another body.”

“It would be for revenge,” she argued. “And you know it, Steven. It isn’t about lovemaking, it’s about getting even. I walked out of your life and hurt you. Now you want to pay me back, and what better way than to sleep with me and walk away yourself?”

“Do you think I could?” he asked with a bitter laugh.

“Neither of us would really know until it happened.” She stared at his chest. “I know you’d try to protect me, but you aren’t quite in control when we make love. You certainly weren’t last night.” She raised her face. “Then what would we do if I really did get pregnant?”

His lips parted. He studied her slowly. “You could marry me,” he said softly. “We could raise our child together.”

The thought thrilled, uplifted, frightened. “And my career?”

The pleasure washed out of him. His face lost its softness and his eyes grew cold. “That, of course, would be history. And you couldn’t stand that. After all, you’ve worked all your life for it, haven’t you?” He let her go. “We’d better go back to the table. We don’t want to put that ankle at risk.”

They did go back to the table. He took Daphne’s hand and kept it in his for the rest of the evening. And every time he looked at Meg, his eyes were hostile and full of bitterness and contempt.

5

David and Meg, who’d taken a cab to the restaurant, rode back to their house with Ahmed in his chauffeured limousine. Steven, Meg noticed, hadn’t even offered them a ride; he probably had other plans, ones that included Daphne.

“It’s been a great evening,” David remarked. “How much longer are you going to stay in Wichita, Ahmed?”

“Until the last of the authorizations are signed,” the other man replied. He glanced at Meg with slow, bold appraisal in his liquid black eyes. “Alas, then duty forces me back to my own land. Are you certain that you would not consider coming with me, ma chou?” he teased. “You could wear that dress and enchant me as you dance.”

Meg forced a smile, but she was having some misgivings about her future. Her ankle was no stronger than when it was first damaged. Her concern grew by the day.

“I’m very flattered,” she began.

“We are allowing our women more freedom,” he mused. “At least they are no longer required to wear veiling from head to toe and cover their faces in public.”

“Are you married?” she asked curiously. “Aren’t Moslems allowed four wives?”

The laughter went out of his eyes. “No, I am not married. It is true that a Moslem may have up to four wives, but while I accept many of the teachings of the Prophet, I am not Moslem, mademoiselle. I was raised a Christian, which precludes me from polygamy.”

“That’s the road, just up ahead,” David said quickly, gesturing toward their street. “You haven’t seen our home, have you, Ahmed?” he added, smiling at the other man.

“No.”

“Do come in,” Meg asked. “We can offer you coffee. Your chauffeur as well.”

“Another time, perhaps,” Ahmed said gently, glancing behind them at a dark car in the near distance. “I have an appointment this evening at my hotel.”

“Certainly,” Meg replied.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” David said as they pulled up in the driveway.

Ahmed nodded. “Friday will see the conclusion of our business,” he remarked. “I should enjoy escorting the two of you and our friend Steven to a performance at the theater. I have obtained tickets in anticipation of your acceptance.”

Meg was thrilled. “I’d love to! David…?”

“Certainly,” her brother said readily. He smiled. “Thank you.”

“I will send the car for you at six, then. We will enjoy a leisurely meal before the curtain rises.” He didn’t offer to get out of the car, but he smiled and waved at Meg as David closed the door behind her. The limousine sped off, with the dark car close behind it.

“Is he being followed?” she asked David carefully.

“Yes, he is,” David said, but he avoided looking at her. “He has his own security people.”

“I like him,” she said as they walked toward the front door.

David glanced at her. “You’ve been very quiet since you danced with Steve,” he observed. “More trouble?”

She sighed wistfully. “Not really. Steven’s only shoving Daphne down my throat. Why should that bother me?”

“Maybe he’s trying to make you jealous.”

“That will be the day, when Steven Ryker stoops to that sort of tactic.”

David started to speak and decided against it. He only smiled as he unlocked the door and let her in.

“Ahmed is very mysterious,” she said abruptly. “It’s as if he’s not really what he seems at all. He’s a very gentle man, isn’t he?” she added thoughtfully.

He gave her a blank stare. “Ahmed? Uh, well, yes. Certainly. I mean, of course he is.” He looked as if he had to bite his tongue. “But, despite the fact that Ahmed is Christian, he’s still very much an Arab in his customs and beliefs. And his country is a hotbed of intrigue and danger right now.” He studied her closely. “You don’t watch much television, do you, Meg? Not the national news programs, I mean.”