The Sheikh's Illicit Affair by Holly Rayner, Lara Hunter Page B
Authors: Holly Rayner, Lara Hunter
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“You’re right. I did make the decision quickly. But I’ll have the consultation, and it’ll take me at least three months to save up to pay for everything. Maybe longer. So that’s at least three months of really thinking it through.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
“Oh! And another thing.” Megan stepped onto her landing and turned toward her door. “I’ll get to spend time with your baby and see how mommy really life is. That might help me decide more than anything else.”
“True. Very true. After you see me as a zombie from not sleeping, maybe you’ll decide beauty sleep is more important. And hey, you can always borrow my kid for the night so I can sleep.”
Megan laughed. “We’ll see. Maybe if I decide that I want the practice.”
EIGHT
For the next few days, Megan’s thoughts were a tangle of Zaakir and her possible future child. As she danced through her studio, she thought of them both. She pictured how she and Zaakir had looked dancing together in the studio’s mirrors. She saw them in the bar together, his smile and his smooth accent. But then she pictured her dance classes with her youngest students: the Mommy and Me classes, and beginners’ ballet. In a few years, she might have a child that age, dancing in a class like that.
She wondered which day Zaakir would be married on. She’d never even asked if the ceremony would take place in New York or in Al-Sharrabi. Was Saturday the traditional day for weddings there as it was here? And how long would he and his new bride wait to have kids of their own? Would they have kids before she did? Maybe they’d both become parents at the same time. Maybe he’d find that, despite whatever the traditions were in his country, he’d be able to love his children like he’d never been loved. Maybe he’d break the cycle of heartlessness and show them how to have the type of love and family he longed for. Maybe she was overthinking all of this! Thoughts of her future and his kept getting mixed up in her head.
She resolved to trying not to think of Zaakir. Of him dancing with his wife, of him kissing her. And especially not of him on his wedding night, even if she had on several occasions pictured what the rest of his muscles might look and feel like.
At the end of the teaching day, as Megan was doing her cool down, the familiar chatter of her phone told her it was time to go. Time to move to the business end of her day and attend to the emails and phone calls she had been able to put off during class time. She walked over to her phone and began scrolling through her notifications.
To her utter surprise, there was a waiting message from Zaakir. She tapped the icon immediately to open it.
Megan, would you have time for one more lesson? I know your weekend is about to begin, but I would appreciate just a little more of your time.
Another lesson? After two sessions he was already more than proficient in the tango. He did not need another lesson. There was no reason for her to accept, and with the feelings she’d been having for him, she knew she should turn him down. But the fact that he wanted to see her excited her. She wondered again if maybe he had feelings for her like she had for him. Then she quickly erased the thought and replaced it with a thought of his future wife. What did she look like? What would she be like?
Well, Zaakir would know soon enough. So, why did he want to spend time with Megan now? He was torturing her. Putting himself in front of her like a carrot she could never reach.
His phone number was at the bottom of the email and, biting her lip, she called.
“Al-Hosseini,” he said sharply.
“Zaakir? It’s Megan.”
“Megan.” His voice melted instantly. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I just got your email.”
“Ah yes, I know it’s last minute, as they all have been, and that it’s a Friday. You are likely eager to get on
“That sounds like a good plan.”
“Oh! And another thing.” Megan stepped onto her landing and turned toward her door. “I’ll get to spend time with your baby and see how mommy really life is. That might help me decide more than anything else.”
“True. Very true. After you see me as a zombie from not sleeping, maybe you’ll decide beauty sleep is more important. And hey, you can always borrow my kid for the night so I can sleep.”
Megan laughed. “We’ll see. Maybe if I decide that I want the practice.”
EIGHT
For the next few days, Megan’s thoughts were a tangle of Zaakir and her possible future child. As she danced through her studio, she thought of them both. She pictured how she and Zaakir had looked dancing together in the studio’s mirrors. She saw them in the bar together, his smile and his smooth accent. But then she pictured her dance classes with her youngest students: the Mommy and Me classes, and beginners’ ballet. In a few years, she might have a child that age, dancing in a class like that.
She wondered which day Zaakir would be married on. She’d never even asked if the ceremony would take place in New York or in Al-Sharrabi. Was Saturday the traditional day for weddings there as it was here? And how long would he and his new bride wait to have kids of their own? Would they have kids before she did? Maybe they’d both become parents at the same time. Maybe he’d find that, despite whatever the traditions were in his country, he’d be able to love his children like he’d never been loved. Maybe he’d break the cycle of heartlessness and show them how to have the type of love and family he longed for. Maybe she was overthinking all of this! Thoughts of her future and his kept getting mixed up in her head.
She resolved to trying not to think of Zaakir. Of him dancing with his wife, of him kissing her. And especially not of him on his wedding night, even if she had on several occasions pictured what the rest of his muscles might look and feel like.
At the end of the teaching day, as Megan was doing her cool down, the familiar chatter of her phone told her it was time to go. Time to move to the business end of her day and attend to the emails and phone calls she had been able to put off during class time. She walked over to her phone and began scrolling through her notifications.
To her utter surprise, there was a waiting message from Zaakir. She tapped the icon immediately to open it.
Megan, would you have time for one more lesson? I know your weekend is about to begin, but I would appreciate just a little more of your time.
Another lesson? After two sessions he was already more than proficient in the tango. He did not need another lesson. There was no reason for her to accept, and with the feelings she’d been having for him, she knew she should turn him down. But the fact that he wanted to see her excited her. She wondered again if maybe he had feelings for her like she had for him. Then she quickly erased the thought and replaced it with a thought of his future wife. What did she look like? What would she be like?
Well, Zaakir would know soon enough. So, why did he want to spend time with Megan now? He was torturing her. Putting himself in front of her like a carrot she could never reach.
His phone number was at the bottom of the email and, biting her lip, she called.
“Al-Hosseini,” he said sharply.
“Zaakir? It’s Megan.”
“Megan.” His voice melted instantly. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I just got your email.”
“Ah yes, I know it’s last minute, as they all have been, and that it’s a Friday. You are likely eager to get on
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