Caught Between Read online

  She knew it would end. It had to end. But she wasn't going to think about that now.

  I'm living in the moment.

  In the heat of the late morning, Luke drenched his head in water and wrapped a checkered headcloth around his head, like the Bedouin. He stood at the brim of the pit, looking down, his hands on his hips. His eyes shone bright green in his tanned, dirt-streaked face, stark against the snowy white of the headcloth. Marya wanted to let out a lovesick sigh. My Indiana Jones.

  It was then that she made a decision.

  Much later that day, as the sun was setting on Amman, Luke accompanied her to the Internet Cafe down the road from ACMER. They say at computers across from each other, and Luke slid his big boots against her feet under the table. Marya blushed, uncomfortable with the idea of displaying public affection in a Muslim country. She withdrew her feet and leaned over to look at him.

  "What's your email address?" she asked, fighting a smile.

  "You going to email me? You know you can just talk to me in person, right?"

  "Just give me your email address, smartass."

  She logged into her email and typed up a short message to Luke.

  Are you going to the Dead Sea this weekend?

  She clicked send, then waited. She heard him typing, and soon saw his reply pop up in her inbox.

  Wouldn't miss it.

  Taking a deep breath, she began typing again, her heart rate increasing with each tap of the keys.

  Will we be able to have some privacy?

  He sat up, typed a response.

  Where there's a will there's a way.

  Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, she replied:

  Bring condoms.

  He didn't move for what felt like a long time. Marya stopped breathing as she waited, praying he wouldn't lean over to look at her. He didn't know she was a virgin, and she wasn't planning on telling him. Nor did she plan on telling him that the farthest she'd ever gone with a guy was with him, when he put his hand up her shirt. There was no reason to let him know how pathetic -- or nonexistent -- her love life was.

  He, on the other hand, was probably used to women coming on to him. Hell, he probably has condoms in his pocket right now, just in case.

  She waited anxiously for his reply, sending inane messages to her friends and parents in the meantime. It never came, and after ten minutes, Luke stood up, his face a blank slate. "You ready to go?"

  She tried not to look startled. "Sure."

  They walked back up the hill to ACMER in silence, and when they reached the building, Marya couldn't stand it any longer. "Did you get my last message?"

  Luke stopped and turned to her, a peculiar expression on his face. "Yes, I got it."

  "And?" she prodded, even though her face was flaming.

  He licked his lips, hesitating. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

  I've never been so sure of anything. She couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure."

  "Because..." He reached out and put a finger under her chin, tipping her head back, forcing her to look at him. "Because in two weeks we'll part ways, Marya. I wish I could make you promises, but I can't."

  "I don't want any promises," she said. "I just want you, now."

  "And what if you regret it later? When mom and dad have found you that good Syrian doctor to marry, will you wish you'd never done it?"

  "No, I won't ever regret it," she snapped, her anger blazing.

  "I'm not trying to piss you off," he said softly. "I just know you Arab-American girls, caught between two worlds."

  He was right, of course. She was caught between two worlds. She said, "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure I know which world I really belong in."

  "Just think about it," he said. "Don't make any brash decisions."

  He was looking at her tenderly, with something akin to affection in his eyes. It made her feel like a child, and she was suddenly embarrassed. "Don't you want me?" she blurted.

  His eyebrows shot up. "Don't I...?" Dragging his hands down his face, he muttered, "God Almighty, Marya."

  They said a chaste good night and parted ways, Marya smiling to herself. It was dark now, and most of the volunteers were in bed. Exhausted, Marya fumbled in the dark for her keys. She tried opening and closing the door of the hostel with as little noise as possible. As the door clicked shut and her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw Liz sitting on the bench along the wall, her arms crossed on her chest.

  Marya's heart lodged in her throat. I have no reason to be afraid of her. She sincerely hoped Liz wasn't the type to cat fight over a guy. Marya was definitely not prepared for a confrontation like that.

  "So he's decided he can't resist you," Liz said, narrowing her eyes.

  "I hope you aren't spying on me," Marya said, moving towards her bedroom door.

  "Spying?" Liz laughed. "Nothing anyone does is private around here. There's no need for me to spy." Despite all the time they spent in the sun, Liz's skin was still fair and blemish-free, pearly in the moonlight. She looked like a Renaissance Madonna, sculpted from stone to perfection. Between her large blue eyes and full, heart-shaped lips, it was not difficult to understand Luke's attraction to her.

  "Look, Liz," Marya said, fiddling with her keys, "I don't want this to get ugly."

  "Then stay away from him," Liz said firmly, standing.

  Marya scowled, resisting the urge to step back. "What? You have no right to ask that. It's insane and obsessive."

  Liz came closer, shaking her head. "You don't get it, do you? Of course you don't. You've known him for all of a few weeks. I've known him for three years. I love him. I love him enough to know what's good for him, even when he can't see it himself."

  Marya opened her mouth to laugh, but no noise came out. She was dying to take a step away from Liz, who was slowly but surely encroaching on her personal bubble. "Do you have any idea how nuts you sound? Luke is a grown man. He can make decisions for himself. He -- "

  "Dammit!" Liz's voice echoed against the bare walls. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her eyes were blazing. Her delicate skin was flushed a wine-red. She lowered her voice and said, "You don't know anything. You don't realize that he puts his life at risk every day, and that I am the one he turns to for love, for comfort. Long after you're ancient history, just another notch on his belt, I'll still be here for him."

  "Liz?" Connie had poked her head out from their room, her eyes wide as she assessed the situation. "Is everything okay?"

  Liz glared at Marya, her eyes glassy with tears. "Yeah, everything's fine." She bit the words off, then spun on her heels and followed Connie into their room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Marya exhaled, slumping. What the hell was that about? Liz was definitely one of those chicks who'd brawl over a guy. From the way she was talking, she sounded like she might kill over a guy.

  Shuddering as she entered her room, Marya silently slipped on her pajamas and got into bed. As she drifted to sleep, Liz's words replayed in her head, feeding her nightmares.

  You don't realize that he puts his life at risk every day...

  13.

  Oh my God.

  For the hundredth time in the past couple days, Luke raking his fingers through his hair and dragged his hands over his face. He was supposed to be cleaning up the lab before heading out to the Dead Sea with the volunteers for the weekend, but he could barely concentrate on getting from point A to point B.

  He just couldn't believe it -- Marya wanted to have sex with him.

  It had come out of left field. He'd been in brief relationships with Arab-American girls, and he knew how they felt about sex -- not until marriage. He respected it. Besides, they were often willing to do everything but, so he didn't suffer much.

  Her request that he bring condoms to the Dead Sea had stunned him. He was certain she was a virgin. Judging by the way she reacted to his touch, she hadn't gone past second base. And yet she was asking him to deflower her.

  Oh my God.

  He wouldn't do it.
He didn't want her to remember him as that guy. He would refuse, even if she begged. The mental image of Marya begging him for sex gave him an instant hard-on. Shit! I'm in trouble. He hurriedly tossed a bag of labels in the filing cabinet and, with a final look over his shoulder, decided it was good enough.

  As he walked back to his room to grab his bag, he wondered what Margot Ducharme must think of him. Every year prior to this one, he'd been on the ball. He'd read up on all the literature, knew every find, every shitty scrap of pottery, by heart. This year, he was a train wreck. Between his involvement with the Syrians and Marya, he was lucky Ducharme hadn't told him to hit the road.

  In his room, he stuffed his clean clothes and toiletries in his backpack. He fished out a handful of condoms from the back of his suitcase and stared at them, as if waiting for them to give him an answer. To pack condoms, or not to pack condoms. That is the question.

  His answer came in the form of a blaring bus horn. Luke started. If he didn't move, bringing condoms wouldn't be an issue at all, because he'd miss the bus. What the hell. He tossed them into the bag before zipping it up and rushing out the door. Having condoms didn't mean he couldn't refuse her. Right.

  She sat at the back of the bus, smiling at him coyly as he climbed on. His heart stuttered. This woman made him feel crazy. He slipped into the seat beside her, letting his thigh rub up against hers. "Hi," he said.

  "Hi," she answered, her eyes veiled by her lashes.

  The ride passed quickly. Before they knew it, they were on Amman Beach. Most of the volunteers laid down towels on the sand and wore t-shirts into the water. As Marya used the public changing room, Luke stripped to his swim trunks and sat in the sand, waiting. She emerged wearing a blue two-piece bathing suit that made his mouth fall open.

  He stood abruptly and handed her a towel. "Marya, we're in a Muslim country," he said.

  She took the towel and promptly laid it out on the sand. "Relax. I'm an American."

  He pushed up his sunglasses to glare at her. "Every man on this beach is staring at you."

  "Is that why I should cover up?" She winked. "Let's get in the water."

  He followed her into the sea, unable to take his eyes off the expanse of smooth, taut skin before him. She was going to make this as difficult for him as possible, he could tell. He watched her rush into the waves with a squeal, then float on her back. He couldn't help but laugh -- her excitement was contagious. Truth was, he hated swimming in the Dead Sea. It was like trying to swim in super-salty Jell-O. Every tiny abrasion on his skin burned, and his feet sank in thick mud. Really, there was nothing to do but float and try not to get the damn water in his eyes.

  But watching Marya experiment with the hyper-saline water was worth every minute. She reached down and grabbed a fistful of mud, then slathered it on her arms. She grinned at Luke. "Didn't you know? It has therapeutic properties," she said.

  Luke rolled his eyes. "If you say so." A glop of mud suddenly hit him squarely in the chest, and Marya cackled mischievously. He raised his eyebrows. "So we're gonna be like that, are we?" He fished a massive mound of the sludge from the sea floor as Marya tried to scramble away from him, laughing.

  They were covered in mud and crusty with salt by the time Sami, the bus driver, approached the volunteers and tapped his watch. "We go to Madaba in 30 minutes," he said.

  Luke glanced over at Marya. "We better get cleaned up, Helwe."

  She lay on her belly in the sand, her pert little butt distracting him to no end. She shaded her eyes and said, "We're not going with them."

  Luke propped himself up on an elbow, amused. "We're not?"

  "No." She made circles in the sand with her forefinger. "We're staying here tonight."

  Frowning, Luke glanced around. "There aren't any hostels around here, Marya. We'll have no place to stay."

  "We're not staying in a hostel."

  Luke was puzzled. "We can't sleep out here."

  She grinned. "You're so cute, Marshall." She stood, pulling her towel up with her. She began trudging down the beach, looking back over her shoulder at him.

  Intrigued, he stood and followed her. He liked having Marya in control. She exuded a sexy confidence that became her, making him even crazier for her than before.

  If that was even possible.

  ***

  "The name is Helwe. I have a reservation for a one-bedroom suite."

  The woman behind the counter tapped away at her computer. "One king-size bed, correct?"

  "Yes." Marya's stomach tightened nervously. She was acutely aware of Luke hovering behind her, his backpack slung over his shoulder, his clothes and hair mud-splattered, looking desperately out-of-place in the lobby of this posh resort.

  "Just a minute," he said, coming up beside her. "Marya, can I speak to you?"

  She let him pull her aside. "Don't do this," he said, his voice low, his hand on her arm. "It's too expensive. And how are you going to explain this to your parents?"

  "This is my money," she replied. "You're not talking me out of this, so just deal with it."

  The woman handed Marya the key and smiled, her eyes shifting quickly to Luke and back. "Have a pleasant stay, Ms. Helwe."

  As they crossed the clean marble floors to the elevator, Marya glanced at Luke. He was frowning, his brow furrowed. Poor guy. She had to admit, she was putting him in a tough spot. Maybe even making him uncomfortable. After all, what if he really didn't want to sleep with her? He said he did, but this was serious pressure. She bit her lip as they rode the elevator in silence. She would give him an out, just in case.

  Marya had forgotten what luxury was. The suite smelled like clean bed linens and honeysuckle, and the carpet was plush beneath her feet. She heard Luke chuckle behind her.

  "You're something else, Marya," he said, hesitating at the entrance of the room. "I feel like my presence sullies the place."

  "Go take a shower," she said. "I figured we deserved one night of pampering before we head back to ACMER. This will be fun."

  Luke lifted an eyebrow. "Should I ask for payment in advance?"

  "What?"

  He set his bag down carefully on the floor. "I feel like a male gigolo."

  Marya blushed. "No. It's not about that. Really. I just wanted us to enjoy this weekend, since it's our last real escape from ACMER before the season ends. You don't even have to stay, if you don't want to."

  "You're right, I don't want to stay here in a 5-star resort with a gorgeous woman. I'd rather go to Madaba and sleep in a hostel with a bunch of stinking volunteers," he snorted in response.

  "In that case," Marya said, "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you order us some food? I'm starving."

  Luke glanced away. "Marya, I'm dead broke. I don't even have a credit card on me. I can't help you pay for this."

  "It's taken care of," Marya insisted. "I saved up with the intention of doing this before I even arrived in Jordan. You're just an added bonus." She rushed into the bathroom and closed the door before he could argue with her. She heard him sigh and flop down in a chair, and she stepped into the warm running water of the shower. Forget sex. This is heaven. She shampooed her hair twice, shaved all necessary body parts, and let the water run over her until her fingers began to prune. No five-minute showers tonight.

  When she finally emerged from the bathroom, Luke was watching TV. He smiled. "I thought I'd lost you."

  "You almost did. That was amazing."

  He stood. "My turn."

  He showered quickly and came out with a towel around his waist soon after their dinner had been brought in. "I smell food," he said. Marya sucked in her breath, trying not to stare at him. Despite his farmer's tan, he was a god in the flesh. His arms and chest and stomach were nothing but taut, sinewy muscle, conjuring images of Brad Pitt in Fight Club. He grabbed a piece of bread from the tray and took a bite, his wet hair hanging in his face and dripping. "Should I shave?" he asked between mouthfuls.

  She shook her head mutely. No, he looked delicious j
ust the way he was, right then. He turned, and Marya saw the Arabic calligraphy tattooed between his shoulder blades. Justice. The word rolled over muscle as he moved, and Marya was suddenly uninterested in the food. She hungered for only one thing -- Luke.

  After finishing the meal, they sat and watched the sun begin to set over the Dead Sea, behind the Palestinian West Bank in Israel. Luke was still in his towel, and Marya could wait no longer. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and dropped her shorts, her face warm with embarrassment. Completely naked, she looked at him bashfully.

  He devoured her with his eyes, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, every muscle in his body flexed. "What are you doing to me, Marya?" he muttered. He stood and his towel barely clung to him, fighting his growing erection. He pulled her against him and kissed her fervently, his tongue seeking hers, his hands roaming over her bare back. Her nipples hardened against his chest and his erection pressed against her belly.

  Breaking their kiss, he lifted her in his arms and laid her on the bed. He sat next to her, letting his hands roam over her breasts and belly. She gasped every time his palms rubbed her nipples, and this made him lower his head and take a nipple into his mouth. She cried out softly, dizzy with need. He moved to the other nipple, and his hand slipped down between her thighs. Ever so gently, he stroked her.

  Marya stiffened. The orgasm hit her hard, out of nowhere. She said something incoherent and shuddered, seeing nothing but the bright explosions behind her eyes. His fingers slowed as she returned, the realization of what just happened washing over her. Oh my God, how embarrassing.

  Luke was staring at her in surprise. "Did you just...?"

  "Yes," she said, covering her face. "I'm such a loser."

  "A loser? Are you serious?" He pulled her hands away. "That was so unbelievably hot." He let his gaze roam over her. "You're so wet and... orgasmic."