Free Grains of Truth by Lydia Crichton Page A

should have opened many professional doors. His degree in Egyptology would entitle him to a high-level position in academia in most other countries. After graduation from university in Egypt, he’d spent a year in England and a semester in America. In Egypt, university positions were rare and difficult to attain. 
    As the unlikely friends spoke quietly in the peaceful, dark night, Julia caught a glimpse of the depth of his character, and the conflicts he faced daily. The insight only drew her even more fully under his spell, going far beyond the physical or the obvious.
    This is all very nice, she admonished herself sternly, but completely irrelevant. He’s not the man for you. Besides, she knew that Egyptian society frowned upon promiscuity and infidelity. “Frowned upon” was putting it mildly. Islam decreed sex outside marriage as a sin—a crime. And, although this country was supposedly a secular state, the Egyptian government was strongly rooted in Islamic law. The authorities had been known to take action when they found evidence of improprieties, even to the point of jailing or deporting unmarried offenders who flouted the customs.
    In due course, they became aware of being alone on the deck. Looking at her watch, Julia was shocked to see the time. “Oh. It’s late. We’ll be dead on our feet tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow, Julia? It is already tomorrow.”  
    She felt completely at ease as they headed for the stairs. Then, in the stairwell where no one could see—like a bolt of lightning—his arms enveloped her and his lips were crushing hers. She had no time to even think of resisting. Releasing her even more abruptly, he wordlessly retreated down the stairs, leaving her astounded and alone.
    Damn! Everything had been under control. And now this. Julia wanted this man. She wanted him more than she could remember ever wanting anything—to feel his arms around her, his body pressed to hers. It was impossible. They could not. She would not.
    ~
    The next, and final, night on the boat found them once more up late on the deck. One last time, in the seclusion of the stairwell, he impulsively pulled her into his arms. This time she returned his kiss, with a passion she’d never known. His hands ran hungrily over her body, leaving impressions that would ache for years.
    On her last day in Cairo, they met in the garden of the Egyptian Museum. He extended a hand, taking hers in a firm grasp—the only proper public gesture of greeting his society would allow. Those two brief hours burned like a torch in Julia’s memory. They wandered through the less popular areas of the hot, dusty, noisy building, murmuring now forgotten words and touching whenever they dared.
    The next morning Julia left Cairo. Left Egypt. Left Mohamed.
     
    Chapter 11
    “It’s impossible,” Julia confided to Sarah. “You have to help me find the antidote.”
      Back in San Francisco, each day she told herself resolutely that the overwhelming feelings she’d experienced in Egypt were more about self-discovery and long dormant passion than about the object of that passion. It was the sensible thing to do. Oh, but the nights. The nights plagued her with longing and devastating desire. She tossed and turned while reliving—over and over and over—that haunting dance, often waking with the tantalizingly memory of the heat from their entwined bodies, crushed to discover it only a dream. It was obsession. Torture. Sweet, delicious torture. 
    Sarah, and everyone else Julia could draft, embarked upon a campaign to “fix her up” with eligible men. She even joined one of those social clubs for singles in a desperate attempt to ease the longing she felt for her Egyptian “friend.”
    After three weeks, there’d been no word from him. He hadn’t answered her studiously breezy email, sent as soon as she got back. Julia had an illogical feeling that something was wrong. Maybe he’d simply chosen to forget her. Just when she thought she’d explode