The Call of the Desert by Abby Green

he’d spotted the photograph. It was one of her favourite possessions. Her husband John had used to complain about it, having taken an instant dislike to it, and she’d hidden it away during their marriage. It was almost as if he’d intuited that she’d lost her heart in that very desert. At that very moment.
    Kaden indicated behind him now, without taking his dark eyes off hers. “The frame suits the photo. It turned out well.”
    She fixed a bright smile on her face, resolutely blocking out the memory of that day. “Yes, it did. I’m ready to go.”
    Kaden looked at her for a long moment and then threw back the rest of his coffee. He went into the kitchen, where he put the cup in the sink, rinsed it, and then came into the hall. Julia already had the door open, and allowed Kaden to precede her out so she could lock up.
    Like the previous night, she asked him, once in the back of the car, “Where are we going?”
    “I thought we’d go to my apartment this evening. I’ve arranged for a Burquati chef to cook dinner. I thought you might appreciate being reminded of some of our local dishes.”
    Sounding a little strangled, Julia answered, “That sounds nice.”
    And it was. Julia savoured every morsel of the delicious food. She’d always loved it. Balls of rice mixed with succulent pieces of lamb and fish. Tender chicken breasts marinaded for hours in spices. Fresh vegetables fried in tantalising Burquati oils. And decadent sweet pastries dripping with syrup for dessert, washed down with tart black coffee.
    “You haven’t lost your appetite.”
    Julia looked across the small intimate table at Kaden. He was lounging back in his chair like a sleek panther, in a dark shirt and black trousers. She felt hot, and her hand went in that telling gesture to her neck again. She dropped it quickly. “No. I’ve never lost my healthy appetite.” She smiled ruefully and the action felt strange. She realized she hadn’t smiled much in the past few days. “That’s why I run six miles about three times a week—to be able to indulge the foodie within me.”
    Kaden’s eyes roved over her. “You were definitely a little … plumper before.”
    There was a rough quality to his voice that resonated deep inside Julia. She could remember Kaden’s hands squeezing her breasts together, lavishing attention on the voluptuous mounds.
    “Puppy fat,” she said, almost desperately.
    Abruptly she stood up, agitated, and took her glass of wine to go and stand by the open doors of the dining room, which led out to an ornate terraced balcony overlooking the city. She needed air and space. He was too intense and brooding. The tension between them, all that was not being acknowledged about their past history, was nearly suffocating. And yet what was there to say? Julia certainly didn’t need to hear Kaden elaborate again on why he’d been so keen to see the back of her …
    She heard him move and come to stand beside her. She took a careful sip of wine, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, but already she was trembling with wanting him just to take her in his arms and make her forget everything. One last night and then she would put him out of her mind for good.
    “I want you to come to Al-Omar with me for Samia’s wedding.”
    Julia’s head whipped round so fast she felt dizzy for a moment. “What?” she squeaked, “You want me to come … as your date?”
    He was looking impossibly grim, which made Julia believe that she hadn’t just had an aural hallucination. He nodded. “It’ll be over by Sunday.”
    Julia felt bewildered. She hadn’t prepared emotionally for anything beyond this night. “But … why?”
    Kaden’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure, but he was damn hopeful it would mean the end of his burning need to take this woman every time he looked at her. And that it would make all the old memories recede to a place where they would have no hold over him any more. That it would bring him to a place where he could