‘Better than dazzling girls off ladders and trying to lay them out.’
‘Dazzling?’
His sensual mouth quirks in the corner; it’s a valiant effort because I’d be laughing at me, too, if I wasn’t, well, me.I wouldn’t win any prizes for scintillating wit or grace right now.I pull away, desperately scanning my brain for something to say, something that doesn’t make me sound any more of a loon.
‘So, new girl, what do you do when you aren’t causing bodily harm to strangers?’ He stops my denials with a raised hand. ‘First you fall on me, then you attempt to break my nose.’
‘Third time’s a charm,’ I mutter in an undertone.
He smiles again, this time sort of devilishly, like there’s more to be heard in my mumblings. ‘I’m Kai, by the way,’ he adds, holding out his hand.
‘Kate,’ I reply, giving his hand a solid business-like shake. ‘Sorry about your nose, and, um, thanks for your help, but I’m all good.’ I extract my heated fingers, aiming for calm and aloof.
‘ThatI can well imagine,’ he replies, adding depth to his smile and a squirmy feeling to my insides.
At that point, the music changes, filling the room. Recognizing the song, my mouth returns to a gaping sort of panic as I anticipate the opening line—something about pants being around feet and not, I sense, to put on clean ones.
Suggestive lyrics swirl around us as Kai tilts his head, fixing me with a considering sort of look. His eyes shine almost gold in the light, the eyes of a cat basking in the sun and enjoying itself just a little too much. Heat unexpectedly crawls its way from the pit of my gut, torching every inch of my skin. I force myself away from the effects of his gaze, turning as his hand catches mine.
‘The pleasure was all mine.’ With a last cryptic smile, he turns to leave, dark coloured slacks hugging his narrow hips and coating his fine behind.
I release a quiet breath, low and long, feeling a bit wobbly. Notquitedone with humiliating myself, I’m fanning my face with a hand—possibly a reaction to the heat from the now open door, or his GQ worthy butt—when he turns, catching me mid-flap in the act. Hand wrapped around the door handle, his smile turns to laughter.
‘I’ll close it, shall I? It is a little hot in here.’
Seriously, I wouldn’t know subtle if it was stamped on my head.
I’m done for the day, quite literally, as I pack away my laptop, my heart beating just a little too fast. I wonder if he’s a teacher from the boy’s campus; it’s plausible, though he must be a very well paid one judging by the cut of his clothes. Definitely more boardroom than the classroom, I love a man in French cuffed shirts. I suppose he could be their principal though he looks a bit on the young side, and surely the principal wouldn’t flirt with staff?Yeah, like that’s never happened.Maybe he’s a parent here for a teacher conference.Eww, I hope not. There’s nothing worse than a pervy dad.
Strange, though it is after hours, so there are no cultural issues to address; a lone man wandering around the campusshouldbe okay. Men arriving atAl Mishaelduring school hours are announced over the P.A. system before they’re allowed into the building, giving staff practicing the dress code of hijab the opportunity to cover. I’ve learnt a lot this week, things I’d never considered before. Like how some women out here cover, in varying degrees, their hair and their bodies when outside the home. At first it seemed odd, but not so much now.
Still, the first time “men on campus” was announced over the air, I had to swallow the bubbling urge to shoutwoot!The announcement was so surreal, it seemed like a valid response. Somehow, I don’t think my colleagues would’ve seen the funny side.
I’m learning fast, though this was the first real conversation I’ve had with a man since arriving in Dubai, if I discount the frequentlyodd conversations I’ve had during my daily taxi rides. This morning’s was a classic, culminating in me very firmly informing the driver—Ronald, let’s call him, in honour of his bright orange hair—thatmy very good selfwas indeedhaving a boyfriendand not interested in attendingthe parties and the discoson his arm.
I’ve never been into gingers, especially not the badly hennaed ones.
But maybe I’m reading way too much into my conversation with this gorgeous man. Had I imagined the stranger’s innuendo? I certainly enjoyed it, despite my best attempts. No, I think I read the nuances just fine. Maybe he’s like that with all the girls. But all the girls in a conservative school?
Ridiculous. I’m behaving like a schoolgirl myself, having been dazzled by a man so hot he’d melt the undies right off any girl.
Enough!I need to remember why I’ve taken this job, maybe even re-read a few chapters of that awful self-help book. Look for the chapter on getting your head and cooch to achieve some kind of simpatico?
Grabbing my bag, I head for the exit while trying not to think of our exchange. There was definitely something about him, though, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
Oh, but I think you’d like to,sings a small voice in my head.
