ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (113 page)

If before there had been a time when he would have put up a fight, that time was over. He looked tired, hungover and utterly worn out by the big ugly jealousy monster that had been crawling around inside him.

“Look,” he said eventually. “There is something I need to tell you. The way I have been behaving is because I love you. Because I don’t want to lose you. Because I feel terrible for what I did and I know that if you knew the truth you would leave me. Now it looks like that’s going to happen anyway. I’m sorry.”

“Brian,” she said, more gently this time, “What did you do?”

“That weekend,” said Brian, “I didn’t go fishing in Maine.”

That came as no surprise to April. She simply nodded, urging him on.

“I met up with an old friend,” he said. He let out a shaky breathe and shut his eyes as if wincing at his own stupidity. “An old
girl
friend.”

April’s heart slammed into the pit of her stomach with the force of a sledgehammer.

“Who?” she said, voice cold and blank: just the way she felt.

“Melany. From college.”

A picture of the woman floated into her mind though she had never met her in person, nor had she ever seen a photograph of the woman as far as she could remember, yet she had built up a picture of her in her mind based on Brian’s descriptions of her over the past two years: tight lips pulled down at the corners in an expression of perpetual dissatisfaction, her hair the color of greased stone and her nose sharp and upturned.

“Well?” asked April. “What happened?”

“She wanted to see me. I told her I was engaged, but I don’t know, I went anyway. We stayed at a motel outside of town and…well, she’s pregnant.”

The sledgehammer lifted and slammed into the pit of her stomach again.

“Pregnant? With your child?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “We were careful, but…”

Sharp, scolding laughter escaped from her. “And you were just going to pretend you didn’t have a child with another woman? You were just going to keep making me out to be the bad guy here?”

“I…I…I kept thinking, if I could do that to you, what was stopping you from doing that to me, you know?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I loved you? That we were engaged? That we had our lives ahead of us?”

“I’m sorry,” said Brian.

April slipped her engagement ring off her finger and tossed it onto the coffee table.

“So am I, Brian. Goodbye.”

There is nothing much left to do, but cry and get over it,
said April. As she backed out of the garage, she thought about where she might go. Check into a motel? Crash at Marisa or Tracey’s place? Drive all the way upstate to her mom’s house?

She decided to figure it out on the way. She glanced down at the dashboard—the gas was running dangerously low. Before she went anywhere, she’d have to fill up.

As she pulled into the gas station, she saw paper printouts stuck to the pumps, flapping in the breeze. SORRY CASH ONLY, said the sign. Below the bold writing was an emoticon of a sad face. She regarded the idealized expression for a moment, thinking heavy thoughts about how such a complex emotion had been dwindled down to just a circle, two dots and a downward curved semi-circle, when she finally realized she might actually have cash on her given she had drawn a bunch the night before in preparation for a wild ladies night and ended up spending very little of it after all.

Her hand slipped into her purse to reach for her wallet and was met with only a couple coins, some make-up and tissue papers; nothing nearly as substantial as a purse. Then came that gut-sinking realization. Where had she left it? There was no way she was going back to the house to get it with Brian still there.
Think, April, think,
she told herself.

No, it couldn’t be at the house, she had put her purse down on the kitchen counter, and not taken her wallet out. Her purse was clasped shut so there was little chance it had fallen out. Where then? Tracey’s place? No, couldn’t be. Marisa had covered the taxi ride home from the Club Veil, so she hadn’t left it in the cab. The last time she had seen it was at the club. She’d probably been so flustered that she’d left it on the table. Hopefully someone had been honest enough to turn it in at the bar. The club wasn’t far from where she was, just a couple blocks. She could walk just in case her tank ran out on the way back.

It just better be there,
she thought.
Or else I’m moneyless, carless and practically homeless.
To Club Veil then.
It’s worth a shot.

***

The club looked completely different during the day. Without the night lights of the city and the strobing neon lighting up its exterior, the façade could have been that of any nondescript restaurant that she would have walked past without noticing. The rope barriers had been taken away and no bouncers guarded the door. Now arriving, she realized that she had been foolish in expecting it to be open. The doors would probably remain shut for at least another ten hours and there was no way she could wait that long. She’d probably have to phone Tracey or Marisa and bum off them for the day, but she was loathe to go to them for help again after everything they had done for her already.

Steeling herself for disappointment, she tried the door. Miraculously, it opened.

Inside, with the lights on, April felt as though she were getting a glimpse behind the scenes of the full illusion. An elderly gentleman with a bushy goatee mopped the dance floor while behind the bar, a man faced away from her, counting stock. She thought she recognized his short, dusky hair, broad shoulders and confident stance. She cleared her throat and the man at the bar spun around to see her. It was Max Connor, the handsome stranger from the night before, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt.

“Oh hey,” he said. “It’s the damsel in distress. I was wondering when you’d be back.”

She hadn’t noticed the night before because of the dim lighting of the club, but his eyes were a deep sea green.

“Please tell me that means you found my wallet,” she said.

“Well, that depends on whether you stay for a drink or not.”

“It’s nine-thirty on a Sunday morning,” said April, although she felt like she could do with one just then.

“Is it? It feels like the end of a long Monday at work to me.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, no matter, we have orange juice.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, actually,” said April.

Max poured freshly squeezed orange juice from a jug into two glasses and placed one on the bar in front of her as she took a seat on one of the stools. Then he reached under the bar and brought out her wallet.

“There you go,” he said. “I promise the money’s all still there. Although I can’t say I wasn’t tempted.” Max grinned.

“Oh thank goodness,” said April. “I thought it was gone forever.”

“I found it on the floor under your table, you must’ve dropped it when your fiancé tipped your chair. I tried to chase after you, but you must’ve already been on your way.”

April felt the intensity of his gaze working into her brain and took a sip of her orange juice.

“Everything okay?” asked Max.

“Is it that obvious?” She thought she had been holding it together pretty well until that point, but at that moment, she could feel all her suppressed emotions threatening to break through the surface.

“It’s just that you aren’t wearing your engagement ring today. I thought…”

He trailed off as a stifled sob escaped from her. Max lifted the hatch of the bar and moved to stand next to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. The feel of his touch only made the emotion harder to keep down and with nowhere else to hide her face, she pressed it against his chest and cried.

Once she had gained some composure, April pulled away from the comforting warmth radiating from his muscled chest. He smelled of oak barrels and musky cologne.

“I’m sorry,” said April. “I don’t normally cry on the shoulders of strangers.”

“I don’t normally get cried on,” said Max, smiling warmly. “But it looks like you needed it. You know, sometimes it’s easier to open up to a stranger. Do you want to talk about it?”

“That depends,” said April. “On whether or not I can get that drink after all.”

Once April had finished her story, she knocked back the remainder of her whiskey. It burned the back of her throat and broiled in her belly, but after a moment it softened to just a warm glow. Deep down she relished the thought of what Brian might say if he saw her drinking whiskey at nine-thirty with a handsome stranger, but then scolded herself for her pettiness.

She felt lighter already for having unloaded her troubles, but now she was eager to change the subject. “So what about you?” she asked Max.

“What about me?”

“Well, the way you stepped in and tied Brian into knots last night…what are you? Some kind of superhero or something?”

Max laughed. “No, it just comes with the territory. I spent a couple years in the Marine Corp before this. I can’t say it was time wasted. It comes in handy when you’re dealing with angry drunks on a regular basis.”

“So, what, you’re the manager here?”

“Owner,” said Max. “This and a couple other restaurants and clubs around the city. It pays a little better than the Navy. Also, as it turns out, I’m not too good with authority.”

“Impressive,” said April. “Well, I guess I better go, leave you to your duties. Thanks again for finding my wallet and sorry about getting your shirt wet.”

Max smiled. “Hey, no problem. Listen, I’m almost done why don’t you wait for me, I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Oh, I parked at the gas station about two blocks from here, I was just about to run out of juice when I realized I had lost my wallet.”

“Then I’ll drive you to your car.” Max made a quick estimate of the remaining three bottles on his stock list and said to the cleaner, “Hey Gary, lock up when you’re done, okay? And don’t forget to set the alarm.”

“Will do, boss,” said Gary who had been polite enough to move to the other side of the club, out of earshot when she and Max had started talking.

April followed Max out the back entrance of Club Veil to where his black Range Rover was parked in an empty lot. “Some machine,” said April. “It looks like the kind the CIA drive in the movies.”

Max smiled proudly. “I fell in love with the model while I was working on a support mission for homeland security in South Sudan. We’d be crammed into the back of these open air trucks baking under the African sun, rattling around on dirt roads while the security fellows were cruising around with aircon and smooth suspension. I made it a promise to myself that I would own one one day.”

“A marine turned nightclub owner,” said April. “That’s quite a transition.”

“The business needs a few good men, ma’am,” he said and tipped her a salute. “That’s just a joke. Actually I prefer the word restaurateur. The nightclub scene is something I’m just starting out with. There are a lot of scumbags running clubs around here and any business I can take away from them is business well taken care of.”

April studied his face as they climbed into the Rover. His jaw was set and in it she sensed no hint of kidding. He was a man of humor and kindness, but there was also something else. A deep sense of justice and integrity.

“So maybe you are kind of a superhero after all,” said April, smiling at him as she settled into the seat.

Max laughed. “I like that,” he said. “You can call me Nightclubman. No wait, even better…Barman.”

Max’s presence was both comforting and exciting. He seemed like a man with a lot of stories to tell. She felt a wave of regret at not being able to stay with him for the morning and listen to them. To take her mind off things.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“Nothing quite as exciting your job, I’m sure. I’m an accountant, believe it or not.”

“A number cruncher, huh? My parents wanted me to be an accountant. Sometimes I think I should have listened to them.”

When they arrived at the gas station, she leaned over and gave Max hug. His stubble tickled against her ear. “Listen, I really can’t tell you how grateful I am for helping me out last night and then listening to my sob story this morning.”

Max smiled warmly. “Really no problem at all.”

“See you around,” she said, getting out of the car.

“April, wait,” said Max. “Why don’t you take my number? If you have any more trouble with Brian you give me a call. You never know with guys like that.”

April thought about it for a second. It would be good to know she had someone to call just in case, although she already felt like he had done so much. Besides, it was doubtful Brian would ever show his face around her again. One the other hand, once this whole thing blew over, she wouldn’t mind meeting up with Max for dinner sometime.

“Okay, sure,” she said, “good idea.”

He found a spare business card in his glove compartment and handed it to her. “There you go,” he said. “Any time, you just call me, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

“You take care now.”

She gave him one last wave goodbye and watched him drive away as she finally filled up her tank.

April checked herself into a motel on the outskirts of town and only once she had set down her suitcase and flopped onto the bed did the realization come that it could well be the same Motel where Brian and his floozy had spent the weekend. The idea disgusted her, but she reasoned that the chances were pretty slim.
There are plenty other motels around here,
she told herself, although she couldn’t think of a single one.

She tried to push away the thought of Brian and another woman rolling around on the same bed she was lying on and then gave up on trying to do it herself. She called Marisa first and then Tracey to tell them what had happened. No point calling her mom just yet, it would only upset her and in her fragile state, April didn’t think she could deal with her mom and her feeling down.

She called for pizza a little while later when her stomach began growling and she remembered that she hadn’t even eaten yet.

Pizza for Sunday lunch?
she asked herself.