Captive For The Sheikh's Pleasure. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
if she had been born missing a fuse, for not even the sight of a sexy prince with just a towel around his hips could ignite her.
It had been a touch awkward at first; she’d apologised, of course, and they’d ended up talking.
There had been nothing more to it than that.
As they walked into the hostel, all Maggie wanted was to have a shower, some supper and answer a few emails. Paul, her boss at the café where she had worked before heading off on her trip, was short staffed and had asked her to let him know when she would be home and whether she wanted her old job back.
She also wanted to send a long email to her friend Flo who would, no doubt, laugh her head off at the thought of Maggie alone in a bedroom with a sexy prince and nothing other than conversation taking place!
After that she just wanted to read in peace.
Perhaps peace was a slightly tall order given that she was in a four-bed dorm at the hostel, but Suzanne was doing the star-gazing tour tonight and the two other women had checked out this morning.
Hopefully nobody else had checked in!
‘Maggie!’
She heard her name being called from Reception and Maggie headed over to the desk as Suzanne made her way to the dorm.
Tazia, the receptionist, gave Maggie an apologetic smile as she approached. ‘We have just heard that tomorrow’s star-gazing trip has had to be cancelled as there is a simoom predicted.’
‘Simoom?’
‘A large sandstorm. I’ve got a refund here for you.’
‘Oh, no.’ Maggie sighed because she had been really looking forward to it.
‘I am sorry,’ Tazia said as she handed over the cash. ‘The earliest I can book is Monday but even that would depend on the storm clearing in time.’
Maggie shook her head. Her flight was on Monday morning, so that was no good. ‘How about tonight?’ Maggie asked, even though she was incredibly tired.
‘It’s fully booked. I tried a couple of other operators but given the unpredictability of the weather most aren’t taking any tourists out tonight.’
It was such a disappointment and Maggie could have kicked herself for not booking the trip for tonight when she’d had a chance. Though she knew the real reason why she’d avoided this evening’s excursion—Suzanne had booked a ticket and, in truth, Maggie had wanted to take this trip alone.
‘Thanks anyway,’ Maggie said. ‘If there are any cancellations, can you let me know?’
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Tazia shook her head. ‘You are tenth on the list.’
It simply wasn’t meant to be.
Maggie went into the dorm to collect her toiletry bag before heading for the shower.
‘What did Tazia want?’ Suzanne asked.
‘The trip to the desert tomorrow has been cancelled.’ Maggie sighed. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’
‘While you do, is it okay if I borrow your phone? I just want to send a text to Glen.’
Suzanne’s phone had got wet and so for the last few days she had been using Maggie’s.
‘Sure,’ Maggie agreed.
The shower was far from luxurious but after a year spent in hostels Maggie was more than used to it.
The water was cool and refreshing and so Maggie stayed under for a while, rinsing off the copious amounts of sun lotion she had applied to her pale skin. Then she massaged conditioner into her long red curls while trying to let go of the hurt that Suzanne’s thoughtless words had caused.
‘It’s not the same, though, is it?’
It had been a throwaway comment, yet it still buzzed around in her head and so, rather than think of old hurts, Maggie turned her mind to all that had happened today.
Or rather all that hadn’t!
She was terribly aware that she was light years behind her peers in the sexual department.
It wasn’t through lack of opportunity. In the café where she worked at home there were endless clients who tried to flirt or outright asked her out. Occasionally Maggie went along, but it was always the same outcome—a few awkward kisses were the sum total of her dating repertoire.
Still, even if there hadn’t been so much as a flicker of attraction, Hazin had been interesting to talk to. For all his good looks and privilege, he had seemed refreshingly down to earth. Usually when she told anyone that she had no family they would offer awkward sympathy. Hazin had grinned and told her she was the lucky one, then had proceeded to tell her about his parents and the cold way in which he and his older brother, Ilyas, had been raised.
‘Are you close to your brother?’ Maggie had asked.
‘Who? Ilyas?’ Hazin grinned. ‘No one could get close to him.’
Yes, it had been interesting indeed, and now Maggie could not wait to email Flo and bring her up to date. She turned off the taps and reached around the curtain for her towel and change of clothes.
For Maggie there was no question of drying off in the open dressing area. She had lived in too many places and with too many strangers to trust others and so always emerged from the shower fully dressed.
Thankfully, the copious amounts of sun lotion she had applied through the day seemed to have done the trick because as she dried off it would seem only her shoulders were a touch pink. The rest of her was as white and freckled as ever.
Maggie was incapable of getting a tan and had long since given up trying. In fact, she looked as if she’d come from an English winter rather than a sun-soaked Middle Eastern summer.
She pulled on some pale yoga pants and a long-sleeved top; though the days were hot, the desert nights were cold. Maggie was just thinking about what to have for supper when she returned to the dorm and saw that Suzanne was packing.
‘Getting ready for tonight?’ Maggie asked.
‘No,’ Suzanne said. ‘There’s been a bit of a change of plan. I’m checking out and meeting up with Glen in Dubai.’
‘Oh,’ Maggie said. ‘Tonight?’
‘I’m to collect the ticket at the airport.’
‘Wow! Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.’
Suzanne nodded and smiled. ‘It’s been nice spending time with you.’
‘It has,’ Maggie said politely. There was no offer to keep in touch, from either of them.
Maggie didn’t find goodbyes hard in the least—her childhood had guaranteed that she was very used to them.
To this day, she could still recall coming home from her new school and racing through the door of her new home to see her new puppy, only to be greeted by her social worker and told it was time to return to ways of old.
Maggie could never forget Diane’s cold blue eyes flick away when Maggie had asked to see the puppy.
‘Can I say goodbye to Patch?’ she had asked.
‘Patch isn’t here,’ the social worker had said.
He must have been too much trouble too.
Maggie hadn’t cried as her bags had been loaded into the social worker’s car and she certainly hadn’t cried when she’d walked out of that house.
Even back in a new care home she had not cried that night in bed.
Tears didn’t help. If they did, her mother would still be alive.
Yes, she was very used to goodbyes and, in truth, this particular one with Suzanne came as a bit of a relief. Maggie