Chapter Seventeen
I shield my eyes from the sun blazing in through the uncovered windows, piercing both my eyelids and my tentative conscious state. I’m in Kai’s bed and I’m alone, though I can hear a muted conversation coming from beyond the double doors. Rubbing my eyes, I yawn and settle back into the pillow. But something isn’t right, the niggling sensation that I’m missing something, other than underwear this time.
Christ on a bike!
My heart begins to beat like runaway hooves. I’m late, probablyverylate. And I’m not even home. His white shirt hangs from the bedroom chair, a quicker choice than hunting for my discarded dress.Didn’t he undress me out in the hallway?Still buttoning the shirt, I hurry out through the door.
My pace slows as I come across Kai sitting at a circular maple-wood dining table, his hand resting over a doll-sized white cup. Head lowered and engrossed in a newspaper, the sun on his hair echoes the wood’s buttery tones. Unsure in my footing now, I feel naked despite Kai’s shirt hitting mid-thigh.
I clear my throat and Kai raises his head, lit by a wide mega-watt smile.
‘Good morning,’ he murmurs, eyes travelling my legs. ‘Or at least it was when I woke.’
Long legs in dark pants peek from under the table, his French cuffed shirt pinned with silver-coloured cufflinks. He looks so stylish and proper and I wonder fleetingly if he’d mind me untucking his shirt, ruffling him up a bit, maybe running my hands over those taut stomach muscles, just as a start. And then I remember why I was hurrying, hands flying to my cheeks, much like that kid in the movie—the one who gets left home alone on Christmas day.
‘I’m bloody late! I didn’t mean to stay last night!’ I lower my hands, realising how lifting them rides the shirt up. ‘I haven’t got my stuff—I’ve got no clothes. Christ, I’m in so much shi—trouble!What kind of teacher turns up after the kids?’
‘Relax. It’s all taken care of.’ He leans back in his chair as I look on, confused. ‘I called ahead and said you’d be late,’ he answers, now shaking the newspaper open.
‘You did what?’
‘Told Arwa you were in my bed.’ An eyebrow quirks over the top of the page before he sets it down. ‘Give me some credit, would you? I didn’t call the school, just HR. Had you booked in for your visa paperwork. Fortuitous that they hadn’t booked your appointments yet. And you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.’ The paper rustles as he raises it, shaking it once before it’s brought before his face. ‘A driver from the office will collect you from your apartment at ten. I should imagine your classes will be covered until then.’
‘Is that even... normal?’
‘Perfectly.’ He sets the paper down. ‘And a necessary part of your visa requirements. I imagine you’ll need to apply for a driver’s license today. Are you going to sit down?’ He gestures to a chair. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘Well, I think.’ I park my butt on the gold cushioned seat next to him as he tilts his head to one side, a long index finger tapping his bottom lip as though full of wicked thoughts. I lick my own in response, wicked thoughts of last night causing me to blush.
‘Though it was kind of disturbed.’
‘You look remarkably fresh-faced for an insomniac.’ Somehow he makes the last word sound like sex-maniac, or maybe that’s just me. Leaning toward me, he slides a finger into the open neck of the shirt, hooking it around the first fastened button. ‘This looks good on you.’ He draws back, threading a finger through his tiny cup.
‘You look pretty spunky yourself.’ He’s a visual treat; dark, slightly damp hair curls at his collar, contrasting delectably against the white of his shirt.
‘Spunky!’ he splutters, through a mouthful of espresso, cup hovering between the table and his mouth. Placing the ridiculously small receptacle back on its saucer, he grabs a white linen napkin, coughing furiously.
‘What? I was paying you a compliment. You’re spunky... spiffy. You know, pretty hot.’
‘Australians.’ His voice is hoarse as he shakes his head, composure regained. ‘Your language is verythrough the looking glass.’
‘You mean weird.’ Jabberwocky or Alice, which one am I?
‘Colourful, maybe.’ He attempts to repress a tugging smile, in the efforts of diplomacy, I guess. ‘Much more so than seminal fluid.’ Okay, maybe more mischief, then. ‘Which car service are you using?’ he asks in a swift change of topic.
‘I’ve been using taxis.’
‘The beige perils? Tell me you’ve been using a limo service, at least.’
I laugh because that sounds about right. Driving in Dubai is going to be an experience. Much like travelling by cab. The eight-lane highways seem to be rule-free as far as signalling and changing lanes, but I’m told it’s improved over the last few years. I dread to think what it was like before. ‘I’ve survived so far, just about. If I keep my eyes closed I’m totally fine.’
‘Then you’ve been lucky. I’m sure they’re held together by chewing gum and prayer. You’ll get a car as part of your employment?’
‘I’m a teacher, why would they offer me a car? I suppose I’ll lease a little run-around eventually. It’s too hot for the metro and humidity isn’t a good look with my hair.’ I pull at a lock and stare at it. It probably resembles a haystack this morning.
‘You have beautiful hair.’ His gaze glides away and he clears his throat again. ‘Some breakfast?’
‘Fruit?’
