Page 7 of Veiled Fantasies

She threw her backpack down and took a mental tally. All she had halfway around the world from home were a couple of books, a camera, and a water bottle. Not even a toothbrush. She sat and stared at the drab walls, her mind blank. What was she going to do in Dubai? For days, maybe weeks?

Alone?

* * *

For the first few hours, Jill slept like a rock. But then she was up, disoriented at first, then painfully aware of exactly where she was and why.

Cheap hotel. Volcano. Dubai.

Somehow it all felt very close and oppressive, like the room. She stumbled to the window, yanked back the curtains and slid it open with a screech. Fresh air! She leaned out and sucked it in. The city air had cooled from blistering hot to pleasantly warm. Empty chairs stood like ghosts in the hotel’s dim inner courtyard while a few points of light gave away the last few night owls. But it all seemed disconnected, miles away.

A few gulps convinced her to keep the window open and turn off the air conditioner. Its hum was immediately replaced by the hushed sounds of a sleeping city. She watched and listened, wondering what was out there.

Eventually, she made her way back to bed, finding neither sleep nor optimism. Thinking about her Australia trip did little to cheer her up, nor did the thought of returning to work in the gray London spring.

Spring already? What did that make it, then? Fourteen months in London, twelve of them alone. This time last year was when Roger left her, high and dry.

God, she hated it when her mother was right.

I think we should face the truth,Roger had said. Her mind still couldn’t decipher what truth he might be referring to.We aren’t really meant for each other…

Not meant for each other? Not even after she’d followed him all the way across the Atlantic, accepting a dead-end position to let his career soar? To keep them together?

Not even then.

Somehow, she wasn’t all that sad to see Roger go. Not in hindsight. The man had cheated her and would cheat again—not with another woman but in a love affair with his career. So, technically, this was her second time finding herself stuck in a foreign country. Alone.

Think positive. Give yourself a pat on the back.She’d gotten herself out of the rut that followed, didn’t she? She’d refused to turn tail and run back to the U.S. and managed to find herself a new job; a job that respected her qualifications and intelligence in a smaller office with understanding colleagues. They’d better be because she was the one who took up the slack when their kids had the flu, or dance recitals, or whatever. After a trying start, she’d finally been accepted as the amiable Yank. Nice. Capable. Alone. That was her.

Always coming back to alone.

She was starting to fear that destiny had more of the same in store. And why not? She seemed to be getting good at it.

Let go.

She’d been trying to sell this line to herself for quite some time now.Let go.

What better way to let go than to let the fantasy-spinning part of her mind out for a little wander in the neighborhood? Erase Roger, erase London. Just let it sniff out the possibilities.

And they all started with him. Mister 514. No harm in dreaming, right? Even if it did qualify her for the second circle of hell—lust.

Her imagination fixed on the adjoining door between the rooms and imagined a knock, then Mr. Perfect, leaning on the door frame as she opened her side. He’d be bare-chested and wearing boxer shorts, or maybe just bare everything. He just couldn’t sleep. Could she help him?

Is that the best you can do? Try again, Jill.

A mid-flight air crisis. Violent turbulence. Everyone in a panic. The rocking of the plane tossed her into his arms—

Pathetic. How about something with dignity?

The desert. At night. An oasis. Still water glowed with the light of a full moon. Date trees rustled in a midnight breeze. Fine sand shifted under her bare feet.

Much better.

She led a camel away from the oasis, toward endless dunes…

A camel? For goodness sake!

OK, an Arabian. A stallion.

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