Page 9 of My Lucky Star
I allowed myself a second of ogling (what else was I going to get out of this?) but eventually found my voice. “I’m going home now. Have a good evening.”
I spun on my heels and headed down the stairs. This visit had taken a weird turn. Why had I even considered it safe to follow a half-naked stranger into an empty hotel? This was the problem with small-town life. There was so little danger, especially from other humans, that you eventually let your guard down and did something shockingly unwise.
I made it to the heavy oak door, contemplating those pictures I should have taken downstairs, when I heard footsteps and a wall of tanned muscle blocked my way. “Wait!”
His presence sucked the air out of the room, turning my insides into jelly. He wasn’t touching me or yanking the phone out of my hand, but he stood so close I was forced to inhale him instead of oxygen. Spice. Musk. Sweat. Potently male. He’d wrapped the towel around his waist. Did he still have the boxers underneath?
My head feeling light, I did the only thing I was capable of. I joked. “Um... Can I see that gold watch again? I forgot to bite into it, make sure it’s genuine. You can bite my phone in return.”
He smiled but didn’t step back. “I’m sorry. I think I was out of line. I would have given you a fair price, but if you’re not willing to sell the phone, maybe we can come to another arrangement? I’m a bit stuck here.” He spoke casually, like it was okay to stand this close to another person you weren’t presently having sex with.
“Can we discuss this outside? I need some air.” My voice sounded strangled.
To my relief, he stepped back and opened the door. In the street, the afternoon sun peeked from behind the building, stretching the shadows across the pavement. The daylight settled my nerves.
I skipped down the steps and glanced at my car, wondering if I could make a run for it, but as I turned back to Cem, the sight of him held me captive. Standing in the doorway, further away, he didn’t seem so imposing. In his towel outfit, he looked a little lost, like he’d escaped a burning building, or a backyard spa.
Despite the weird phone-buying episode, my heart went out to him – alone across the world with no luggage or a working phone. Maybe he was used to solving issues by throwing money at them. Wasn’t that what wealthy people did?
“So, you’re trying to reach your brother? Is he in Turkey?” I took a tiny step forward, smiling cautiously.
“Yes! He was supposed to come with me, but...” He rubbed his hand across his beard. “Something came up.”
“And this is your first time in New Zealand?”
His eyebrows raised in a silent ‘duh’.
“Quite an adventure.”
“No. I...” He grimaced, glancing at the empty street. “I’m just... keeping my head down. No adventures.”
My eyes narrowed. “How long are you keeping your head down for?”
He shrugged. “I was hoping a week or two. Until my brother lets me come back. I mean, when it’s safe to come back.”
“So, you werebanishedhere?” I tried to smile but couldn’t help the ill feeling. He stood at the door of my favorite building, in my beautiful hometown – a destination I promoted for living. Even if I struggled with living here, Napier was still gorgeous.
Cem sighed, raising his eyes heavenward. “I suppose.”
I couldn’t help the sarcasm pouring out. “What did you do to earn this horrible punishment?”
He didn’t laugh at my exaggerated tone. Instead, he visibly recoiled, crossing his arms, eyes dark as thunder. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
What was he hiding from?
“Okay. We don’t have to.” I lifted my hand, edging back toward my car. Maybe it was best to end this odd visit before I learned something Interpol could use against me.
As I reached the car door, he leapt closer and cast me a pleading look. “There are some things I don’t want to talk about, but I’ll tell you anything else if it helps you trust me. I really need your help.” He leaned on my car for balance, rubbing his forehead. “I’m desperate for sleep, but I’m scared.”
“Scared?” I blinked, wondering if he’d meant to choose that word.
Here, in better light, I could see dark shadows under his eyes. Breathtaking eyes. He stifled a yawn and wobbled on his feet, leaning heavier against my car. What if he keeled over? I would have to call for help. There was no way I could move a gazillion pounds of muscle by myself.
“Not scared, but... um... what’s the word? I don’t usually sleep alone.” He exhaled a long, deep sigh, his eyes floating like chocolate buttons in warm milk, trying to focus on mine.
I scoffed, almost involuntarily, imagining the women willing to warm his bed. All of them.
His eyes narrowed in confusion. “No, I mean... there’re always people in my house. Cooks and cleaners and family. Friends. You’re never alone in Istanbul unless you go into the forest or something.” He groaned into his hands. “I can’t... English. Sorry.” Shifting his feet, he accidentally stepped off the curb, lodging his foot between the edge of the footpath and my car tire.
