A Dinner, A Date, A Desert Sheikh Page 6

  “Dan. This is a surprise.”

  “It sounds as if I’m interrupting something,” he said apologetically. “I’ll hang up and let you get back to whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “No!” Even with the background noise, her shout came across as desperate.

  “Emily, is everything all right?”

  “Not even close.” Her tone was wry. “I’m glad you called, actually.”

  The pleasure he experienced upon hearing her say that was way out of proportion. Even so, he couldn’t stop it.

  “I…I need a favor,” she said.

  “Anything.” He meant it.

  “Have you ever been to Brooklyn?”

  Azeem didn’t say a word during the drive. He didn’t have to. His smirk said it all, which was why Madani felt the need to explain, to put things into proper perspective. For his friend. For himself.

  As they crossed from lower Manhattan to Brooklyn, Madani said, “It’s not what you are thinking.”

  “What am I thinking?”

  “That I have taken your advice. That I am having this, this fling you suggested.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No!” The protest only made him sound guilty.

  “I make no judgments, Madani. I, better than anyone, know that the arrangement you have with Nawar doesn’t make it a love match.”

  “No, but I am not having a fling.”

  Azeem shrugged with maddening indifference.

  “Emily asked me to collect her.” Indeed, her voice had verged on pleading. She’d promised to explain the situation to him in full later. “I am doing a favor for a friend. Nothing more.”

  “So, now she is a friend rather than a caterer.” The smirk was back.

  “She can be both, can she not? You are my driver as well as my friend,” he pointed out.

  “True.” Azeem didn’t sound convinced, though. “And perhaps you are a fool.”

  Azeem muttered it half under his breath, leaving Madani to wonder if he had heard correctly.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Madani stared out his window. A yellow taxi blasted past. Couldn’t Azeem go any faster? A moment later, he ran a hand over his face. He should have shaved. Though a little scruff on a man’s cheeks was in fashion these days, he preferred a smooth face when he went out with a woman. But this wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. Nor was it business. It was…a rescue of sorts.

  Twenty minutes later, Azeem pulled the car to a stop in front a comfortable-looking two-story house on an oak-lined street in Brooklyn.

  “Are you sure this is the right address?” Azeem’s tone was dubious.

  “It’s what she said.”

  He opened the car door and stepped out, feeling oddly apprehensive as he navigated the flower-lined stoop, and that was before he spied the pair of white paper wedding bells hanging over the door. Under the bells were the names “Reed and Elle.”

  What was he getting himself into? No doubt a family drama every bit as melodramatic as his own tended to be.

  He knocked anyway. A moment later an ample-chested matron opened the door. She eyed him frankly before breaking into laughter, and called over her shoulder, “Miranda, you didn’t mention there would be male entertainment at this shower.”

  “Good Lord, Sally! Get away from the door.”

  Another woman appeared then. This one wasn’t smiling. “Can I help you?”

  “I’ve come for Emily.”

  “Emily?” She frowned.

  “Emily Merit. Is she here?” he inquired politely.

  “Yes.” The woman pushed open the screen door and invited him inside, albeit reluctantly.

  Stepping into the living room, Madani knew a moment of panic. It was filled with women, a good three dozen of them, and they were sizing him up like a prized camel.

  He fell back on manners. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  His gaze landed on Emily then. She was tucked between two large matrons. Where all of the other women were adorned in pastels, she wore red. Vivid, vibrant, sexy red. She uncrossed a pair of surprisingly long legs and rose to her feet. The dress flaunted her curves.

  “Ah, my knight in shining armor has arrived.” Her lips quirked with a smile that would have been right at home on a siren. The blood in his head started heading south. And this was before she said, “I’m sorry to have to leave the party early, but I have other plans for the rest of the afternoon and maybe the evening.”

  She sent a wink in the direction of the woman who had first opened the door.

  “Em, aren’t you going to introduce us to your…your friend?” a young woman asked.

  Based on the corsage, he assumed her to be the guest of honor, making her Emily’s sister. The two women didn’t look much alike.

  “Oh, yes. How rude of me. This is Dan. I’m catering a party for him, which makes him a client. Our relationship is strictly business.” The way she said it implied otherwise.

  “So, you’re just going to leave?” the blonde asked petulantly. She was curvy and attractive, but not his type at all.

  “Yep. Sorry. I am. But you know me, Elle. All work and no play. Dull, dull, dull.” Emily’s laughter was throaty and shot straight to his loins.

  Swallowing, Madani watched her weave toward him through the crowded living room, stepping around guests, wrapped boxes and gift bags. Her gaze was smoldering and direct, if a little unfocused. When she reached him, she framed his face with her hands, rose up on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth.

  That was all it took. Though he had no right, not to mention an audience, he kissed her back. How could he not?

  Mmm.

  The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room. Had he moaned or had she? Either way, the satisfied vocalization was fitting. This was good. Better than he’d fantasized, he thought, admitting to himself that he had indeed fantasized.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” someone shouted. Her mother, most likely.

  Madani ended the kiss, but only because Emily had begun to pull away. She appeared undaunted despite the whispers going on around them. In fact, she grinned, that impish dimple serving only to stoke his appetite.

  “What do you say we get out of here?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  HIS REACTION NOTWITHSTANDING, Madani knew all was not as it seemed. Something more was going on. Emily confirmed as much the moment they were outside.

  As he escorted her down the steps to his car, she drew to a halt. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “The kiss?” Even though he’d expected it, her apology served as a bucket of ice water. “I didn’t mind.”

  She glanced sideways at him and her cheeks turned pink. “I meant it when I said you were my knight in shining armor. I planned to leave my sister’s bridal shower early, but there seemed to be no way to exit gracefully without having to endure their pity, especially since I left my vehicle in the city and would have to call a car.”

  “Why would they pity you?”

  Her tone turned wry. “Well, let’s see, it probably has something to do with the fact that my baby sister is not only getting married first, she’s marrying the man I dated for six years.”

  “Their betrayal must have hurt you deeply.” He said it softly, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

  She stilled, studied him. “You know, you’re one of the few people who get that. My parents seem to think I should be delighted beyond measure that Elle is finally settling down, even if she’s doing it with my ex, who wasn’t my ex when she began seeing him.”

  Madani had wanted to take a swing at Benedict when they’d met the day before and that was without knowing what a duplicitous cretin he was.

  “Elle, of course, blathers on about how she always had a crush on Reed and that nothing can stand in the way of true love.”

  “And Reed?”

  Emily huffed out a breath. “He claims to be justified in cheating with my sister since my career can be so demanding.”
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  “It sounds as if he felt threatened by you.”

  “Would you be?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind. Just a hypothetical question that I had no business asking.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Though he thought she might say something more, she remained silent.

  “I’ll take you home.”

  At his signal, Azeem got out of the car parked at the curb and opened the rear door.

  Emily grimaced. “Oh God. I didn’t realize you had a driver. I’ve put both of you out, and on a Sunday afternoon no less.”

  “Not at all. Azeem had nothing better to do.” In a stage whisper, he added, “He really needs a social life. It’s sad really. I worry about him.”

  She laughed, as he’d intended, and Azeem joined in.

  “I’d have a social life if not for Madani. I’m always at his beck and call.”

  “Madani?” Emily glanced back at him.

  “It’s my given name.”

  She smiled, nodded. “It suits you. I like it much better than Dan. Would you mind if I called you Madani from now on?”

  She could call him whatever she wanted. He merely nodded, though, and helped her into the backseat. Ignoring Azeem’s raised eyebrows, Madani followed suit. As the Mercedes started back to Manhattan, Emily leaned her head back against the rest, closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Bad day?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. Thanks again for doing this. It’s only a slight exaggeration to say I thought I was going to die in there.” She turned her head toward him and opened her eyes. “Or go insane. My mother has that effect. Add in a couple dozen aunts and female cousins and…”

  Since his mother and some of the other women of his family could produce the same reaction in him, he commiserated. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “The punch didn’t help.”

  “The punch?” Had someone harmed her?

  “One of my aunts spiked it with rum and, given the way my head feels right now, I’m guessing she didn’t hold back.” Her gaze lost its focus as she admitted, “I had three glasses.”

  “Ah. Punch.” Not sure what else to say, he nodded.

  “I wouldn’t have had so much if not for the game. You wouldn’t know this, being a man and from a foreign country and all, but women here play the most ridiculous games at bridal showers.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Madani caught a glimpse of Azeem in the rearview mirror. His friend’s eyes were watering from suppressed laughter. No doubt, Madani would be hearing about this later.

  “I’ll take your word for it. So what was this game?”

  “Twenty questions to determine which shower guest knew the bride-to-be and her intended groom the best.”

  Madani winced on Emily’s behalf.

  “Yeah, exactly. What quality does Reed admire most about Elle?” she intoned breezily. “Who said I love you first? Where did they go on their first date?”

  “The first date they had behind your back.”

  “Yep.” She closed her eyes, nodded. “That would be the one.”

  No wonder she’d drank so much of the punch. No wonder she’d kissed him.

  “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  “Thanks.” She snorted then. “A couple of my aunts actually seemed surprised that I didn’t win.”

  Hoping to lighten the mood, he asked, “What was the prize if you had?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “A set of hand towels embroidered with Elle’s and Reed’s names and their wedding date.”

  “Perhaps it’s for the best that you lost. That doesn’t sound like much of a prize.”

  Her tone was wry. “You don’t think so? Elle did, but then she believes the whole world revolves around her.”

  “From what little I know of her intended, he believes the world revolves around him. It would seem, then, that they deserve one another.”

  She grinned sideways at him. “You, Madani Tarim, are definitely a bright spot in what has otherwise been a dark day.”

  “I’m glad I could be of service.” He tried to ignore the fact Azeem’s shoulders were now shaking with mirth.

  They drove in silence for the next few minutes. Madani’s conscience, however, was not quiet. Take Emily directly home, it commanded. He ignored it, and instead asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “I am. Starving, in fact. My mother made the food,” she explained. “Everything was overcooked and overspiced.”

  “Obviously you didn’t get your talent in the kitchen from her.”

  “No. My mother’s family came from the South originally. Three generations removed, deep-frying everything from meat to vegetables remains sacrosanct. When I started cooking as a teenager, it was a matter of self-preservation.” She smiled. His breath caught. “Then it clicked and I knew I’d found my calling.”

  At that moment, Madani felt a calling as well, an irresistible urge to be with her in the only way he could. “Have dinner with me, Emily.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Emily meant it, which was why she suddenly felt so nervous. Foggy as her brain still felt, she knew this wasn’t a good idea. But sitting beside Madani, steeped in his warmth and the subtle scent of his cologne as the Mercedes sped through traffic, the exact reasons escaped her.

  “Where shall we go?” he asked. “Do you have any preferences?”

  Preferences? Indeed, yes, as a chef she had them. She was always eager to try new places or revisit those whose fare inspired her to make new creations. But at the moment her mind was dangerously blank. She couldn’t think of the name of a single eatery either within the limits of Manhattan or the surrounding boroughs.

  “Surprise me,” she said. As if she really needed any more of those today.

  Madani nodded and leaned forward to say something to the driver in their native tongue. Though Emily had no idea the content of his words, she liked their lyrical cadence.

  “Will Azeem be joining us?” she asked politely as Madani settled back in his seat. She hoped the driver would. Surely having a chaperone along would ensure that things remained platonic, innocent.

  Azeem grinned at her around his headrest. “Thank you for the invitation, but I believe there’s a saying in your language about three being a crowd.”

  Emily managed a weak laugh. The kiss she’d planted on Madani in her parents’ living room mocked her now. Nothing about it had been platonic or innocent. That had been her intent at the time, of course. She’d wanted to eradicate every last bit of pity oozing out of her aunts and cousins.

  Poor Emily.

  How many times had she heard that whispered during that hideous game? In some cases, a sympathetic glance in her direction had accompanied the words making it all but impossible to pretend she hadn’t heard them.

  And, okay, Em could admit that she’d used that kiss to prove to her mother and sister that she wasn’t some spinster workaholic whose life lacked any trace of excitement or passion.

  What she hadn’t expected when she’d crossed the room and reached her intended target was for Madani to rest his hands on her waist, to draw her into his arms until they were pressed together from chest to thigh and then kiss her back.

  And, oh, how the man could kiss. That much was obvious straight away, the brevity of the encounter notwithstanding.

  The mere memory of it now sent heat curling through her. Even so, she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Before she could respond, he’d ordered Azeem to turn down the air-conditioning and had peeled off his coat, which he then put around her shoulders.

  Cold? No. Quite the opposite and now that she was all but cocooned in his scent her temperature threatened to shoot up by several more degrees. But she smiled, accepted his kindness and tried not to inhale too deeply lest she make a bigger fool of herself.

  Emily was so preoccupied making nervous small talk for the next twenty minutes that she paid no attention to where they were heading until t
he car stopped. They were in Chinatown, she realized. They stepped out onto one of the narrow, winding streets just off Mott and not far from the heart of the ethnic neighborhood.

  She gave no thought to masking either her surprise or her disappointment.

  “Chinese food? But I thought…” Manners finally caught up with her and she let the comment go unfinished.

  Madani read her mind. “You were under the impression I would take you to a place that serves the types of food found in my country.”

  “Well, yes,” she admitted.

  In truth, she had looked forward to it. Perhaps because of her profession, Emily had an adventurous palate. She enjoyed trying new kinds of cuisine, loved identifying the spices and reveling in the textures. She couldn’t say she’d ever eaten Kashaqra’s fare, but in general she loved Middle Eastern food. Over the years, she’d added her own twists to standards such as tabouli and fattoush, and incorporated them into clients’ menus, always to rave reviews.

  The scents that greeted her as she stood outside Fuwang’s were not cumin and turmeric, but sesame and ginger. Madani took her arm as they strolled toward the main entrance. Paper lanterns and banners written in Chinese characters dangled overhead.

  “I would, but I have found only one or two places that I believe reflect the true taste of Kashaqra’s cuisine.”

  “Are they close to here?” she asked hopefully.

  “Not far. But neither has what you would call ambiance.”

  “What, no tablecloths or candles?” she teased. “I’m really not that high maintenance. I’d rather a quality meal than a fancy dining room.”

  “These lack that as well. Takeout only.”

  “Oh.”

  “I decided you would think it presumptuous of me to bring you back to my suite to dine.” His dark gaze dipped, lingered on her mouth. Food was forgotten, pushed back behind thoughts of that kiss.

  “Actually it would be quicker to go to my apartment than trek all the way to The Mark on the Upper East Side.” She was staring at his mouth now, too. Nice lips, soft and firm at the same time. Just as his hold had been. “If you wait too long things might get cold.”