Blue Skies and Shining Promises

One
 
Damita wrinkled her nose, trying to ward off a sneeze. Blast the idiotic veil she wore. How could Moslem women tolerate them? They were uncomfortable as the devil and seemed at every turn to trap dust motes that tickled her nose and made her eyes water. But she knew she really shouldn’t criticize the veil, at least not now, because it caused all the chambermaids to look like clones of one another, and that made her scheme workable.
 
But still she scowled as she chalked one more score against Cameron Bandor’s growing account. Only a flamboyant sexist would force the maids in his hotel to wear these exotic outfits just to provide atmosphere for his guests.
 
She adjusted the dark blue veiling covering her face and headed across a lobby that bore a distinct resemblance to a Turkish seraglio to the reception desk. She was forced to detour around a roaring vacuum cleaner wielded by a porter before reaching the desk clerk, who gazed at her with disinterest before covering his lips to smother a yawn.
 
Damita boldly went behind the desk and reached for the key in the slot labeled CB. “Mrs. Kalim needs a key for Mr. Bandor’s suite. One of the new maids misplaced the master key and he called down to housekeeping for fresh towels.”
 
The clerk yawned again. “Be sure to bring it back before I go off duty.”
 
“I will,” she promised in a voice kept carefully casual. She turned in a whirl of sheer draperies, walking quickly from behind the desk and across the lobby to the service elevator. She pressed the button for the penthouse and breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator doors closed, enfolding her in momentary security. That hadn’t been so difficult. It had been much harder to do the preliminary scouting to find out the name of the hotel housekeeper and obtain this haremlike uniform. She had thought if she timed her invasion of Bandor’s suite for four o’clock in the morning it would have a reasonable chance of success. Everything was always more lax in this period between night and dawn.
 
She gripped the key tightly as the elevator door opened. She mustn’t lose her nerve now. Hesitating only an instant, she stepped into the lushly carpeted hallway to confront a set of elaborately carved double doors, the portal to Bandor’s suite that was said to take up the entire floor. Appropriate, she thought disparagingly, that these lavish doors were as ostentatious as the rest of the Marasef Bandor Hotel. She used the key and stepped into the dark foyer of the suite. How could Lola have become involved with a man like Bandor? She usually chose lovers who were discriminating and sophisticated and, if his hotel were any indication, Bandor was totally lacking in both qualities.
 
Well, she wasn’t here to criticize Lola’s taste in men, she thought, but to obtain information, and she’d best set about doing it. She braced herself and briskly crossed the sitting room and threw open the door. “Mr. Bandor, I have to talk to you,” she announced loudly, simultaneously switching on the overhead light. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but it’s entirely your own fault for not—” She broke off. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were … busy.”
 
The blonde lying beside the man in the king size bed rose up on one elbow to gaze at her with drowsy indignation. “Cam, who is this woman?”
 
“I have no idea.” Cameron Bandor sat up in bed, the sheet falling to his waist to bare a broad chest thatched with springy dark hair. “But I believe I’d better find out.” His gaze was remarkably wide awake as it slowly raked Damita’s veiled figure, lingering on the fullness of her breasts in the skimpy gold-embroidered jacket. “I take it you’re one of my employees? If you’ve chosen this opportunity to hit me for a raise, your timing is abominable, luv.” His drawl was lazy, the words faintly flavored with an Australian accent, and he appeared neither angry nor disconcerted. The deep blue eyes studying her held only interest and curiosity. “But I do applaud your initiative.”
 
Damita frowned. “I don’t work for you.” She slammed the door behind her and moved across the room toward the bed. “I’ve been trying for three days to see you, but those watchdogs downstairs wouldn’t even let me call you on the house phone. You’d think I was trying to assassinate you or something.”
 
“I’ve been in conference with my architects,” he said absently. “You have truly magnificent eyes. Would you mind removing that veil?”
 
Damita jerked the veil away from her face. “These veils are very uncomfortable, you know. You shouldn’t force your maids to bundle up in them.” She wrinkled her nose distastefully. “I don’t know why they put up with it.”
 
“Money. I pay them extraordinarily well to fulfill the Arabian Nights fantasies of our guests.” His gaze searched her face intently. “But I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you.”
 
The blonde stirred restlessly. “Send her away, Cam. I want to go back to sleep.”
 
Bandor’s gaze didn’t leave Damita’s face. “Now, we mustn’t be inhospitable, Myra. Life can be very dull without little diversions.”
 
Damita plopped down in the chair beside the bed. “We could do better without her here. Since you just woke up, surely you’ve finished—” She paused. “I mean, I need to talk to you.”
 
Bandor’s eyes twinkled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to kiss and run?”
 
“It’s only sex,” Damita said impatiently. “Couldn’t you tell her to come back later?”
 
“Only?” Bandor studied Damita for a moment and then turned to the blonde and smiled faintly. “Run along, Myra. I’ll call you this afternoon.”
 
“But I don’t—” The blonde broke off as she took in Bandor’s expression. She reluctantly sat up, slipped on a robe that Bandor had retrieved from the foot of the bed and handed to her, then got up. She scowled at Damita and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door.
 
“Now.” His gaze returned to Damita. “Would you like to begin our discussion or would you like to take her place?”
 
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
 
He sighed. “You really do want to talk. Pity. I half hoped you were lusting after my body.” He threw aside the sheet, got out of bed, and strolled toward the closet in splendid and unashamed nudity. “You obviously know who I am, but I haven’t had the honor of being introduced. Am I to be permitted to know your name?”
 
“What?” He wasn’t at all what she had expected, she thought. His reaction to her intrusion was  … unusual. He seemed to accept her sudden appearance with only zestful good humor and curiosity.
 
He glanced over his shoulder as he reached for a crimson velour robe. “Your name?”
 
“Oh, Damita. Damita Shaughnessy.” Lord, the man was sexy, she thought with an odd quivery sensation in the pit of her stomach. Now she could easily understand why Lola had become involved with him. No one could say Lola wasn’t vulnerable to sex appeal.
 
Bandor’s tobacco-brown hair was flecked with silver at the temples, but she judged him to be only in his mid-thirties. His high cheekbones and well-shaped lips were sculpted perfection, and the expression in those deep blue eyes alternated between beguiling mischief and steamy sensuality. He appeared to be just under six feet tall; his body was as sinewy and tough-looking as that of a young stallion. The muscles of his buttocks rippled as he shifted to slip into his robe, and Damita forced her gaze away from him. She was breathless, she realized in surprise, and her checks felt suddenly hot. How stupid. Male nudity was no oddity to her. Why did seeing Bandor’s body have this effect?
 
“Damita Shaughnessy.” He was turning to face her. “That’s an unusual combination. Spanish and Irish.” He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, tilting his head to study her. “You don’t look Irish. The Spanish part is obvious enough; those big dark eyes are practically Madonna-like.” He reached out and pushed back the veil covering her head until it fell to her shoulders to reveal her short red hair. He smiled with satisfaction as if he’d made a great discovery. “Ah, there’s the Irish. I’ve always liked redheads.”
 
The color deepened in her cheeks. “From the newspaper articles I’ve read, it appears you like women, period.”
 
He nodded. “I do like women. I find them endlessly fascinating.”
 
“In bed,” she added crisply.
 
“Oh, yes. Definitely in bed. But elsewhere too. Sorry to disillusion you, but I don’t regard women as sexual toys. Playmates but not toys.”
 
She nodded jerkily toward the bathroom into which the blonde had disappeared. “Even that Bo Derek lookalike?”
 
“Myra? I gave her what she wanted and she gave me what I needed,” he said simply. “Myra doesn’t want anything else from me, and I assure you she doesn’t feel used.”
 
The lady in question burst out of the bathroom, now dressed in elegant slacks and a silk blouse. She gave Damita another cutting glance before crossing the room and dropping a kiss on Bandor’s temple. Her face softened miraculously as she looked down at him. “Call me.” She whirled and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.