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incredibly complicated looking equipment. It looked positively medieval.
    “I don’t know if it has a formal name,” Sheikh Bashir said, leaning back in his corner of the booth, “but I always think of it as a demonstration area.”
    “What’s it for?”
    Sheikh Bashir laughed outright, and Stella felt herself instantly redden.
    “Perhaps you’ll find out.”
    That did not help her anxiety. Her cheeks burning, Stella cast about desperately for something, anything, to occupy her attention. The rest of the equipment was not something she was eager to discuss, and she’d been avoiding looking at the few other occupants of the room. In frustration, she looked directly at the smiling Sheikh.
    “What about you?” she asked.
    “What about me, Stella?”
    “Are you married?”
    Wow, where did that come from? Stella wondered. And yet, as soon as she said it, she realized it mattered. To her, anyway. She couldn’t abide the idea that somewhere he had a wife, wondering where he was, or maybe doing her best not to wonder where he was, and she wanted to smack herself for not asking about it before. She could never be part of something like that, no matter how much money or sex or personal validation was involved.
    The Sheikh leaned forward, looking at her with that spotlight intensity again. Why did it always seem like he could see right through her? How was that fair? And why was she thinking about his hands, and where he might decide to put them?
    “That is important to you, isn’t it?” he said.
    Damn it , Stella thought. Be wrong once, you arrogant bastard. Just once.
    But she said, “Yes.” And held her head a little higher.
    “Do you mean do I have many wives?” he asked. His face was unreadable, but Stella knew what he meant.
    “Or a harem? Pleasure tents, perhaps? Any kidnapping tendencies I should know about?” she said, surprised to find how much this annoyed her. Maybe because she’d been wondering the same thing only a few moments before. “I’m not totally ignorant, you know. It was a reasonable question.”
    Sheikh Bashir frowned. “We stopped kidnapping in the mid-nineties.”
    He let her stew for a moment before letting a sly smile break out across his face. She couldn’t help but laugh.
    “You promise?”
    “Do I promise not to kidnap you and steal you away to my pleasure tent?”
    “Or any other kind of tent.”
    He reached out and traced the line of her collarbone with one finger. Stella stopped breathing. “I don’t think I could possibly make such a promise, Stella. You are too tempting. I will try my best, however.”
    His eyes burned like two dark coals. What could he be thinking about? What plans had he already made for her? Stay focused, Stella.
    She took a deep breath. “Just the one wife would be enough, you know.”
    Sheikh Bashir smiled slightly, and brushed his fingertips against her lips. Even that touch, so delicate…she shuddered.
    “No, Stella Spencer, I do not approve of infidelity,” he said. “Promises are made to be kept.”
    It was the perfect answer, so why did Stella suddenly feel like crap? It probably had to do with the way the Sheikh seemed, for just a moment, to withdraw, how his forehead crinkled just a bit, how the corners of that beautiful mouth turned slightly down. Again, Stella hadn’t realized how powerful it felt to be the center of his attention until all of a sudden she wasn’t. She’d already begun to think of him as impenetrable and mysterious. But maybe even Sheikhs could be hurt.
    “Stella,” he said sharply, and Stella realized she’d become lost in her own thoughts again. She sat up straighter. Obedience to his voice was starting to seem less strange, which in and of itself was a little strange.
    “Stella, we are here for a reason. Unfortunately, most club members are away for Labor Day weekend, and there are not many scenes for you to observe.  You have been averting your eyes, perhaps out of a mistaken sense of propriety, but I