A Dinner, A Date, A Desert Sheikh Page 8

  “What kind of restaurant will it be? Tell me about it,” he invited.

  “That’s the wrong thing to say.” At his frown, she explained, “I can go on and on about the plans I have.”

  He merely shrugged. “I have the time.”

  A moment ago, when he’d kissed her hand, she’d nearly melted into a puddle of hormones. She’d considered staging a repeat of the scene in her mother’s living room, might have followed through, too, had she not spied the For Lease sign in the window. Thankfully sanity had returned. It was threatening to flee again as he stood in front of her, by all appearances genuinely interested in hearing her expound on her dream.

  “Are you sure?”

  Madani glanced across the street to where a martini-glass-shaped neon sign blinked over the entrance of Dean’s Place. A smattering of tables was set up on the sidewalk outside. He pointed to the lone empty one and said, “It’s a nice evening to sit outside. Let me buy you a drink, and you can tell me all about your restaurant.”

  It was just after eleven when Emily and Madani left the bar. Although Madani objected, she paid their tab. It was the least she could do after everything the man had done for her this day.

  The Mercedes was at the curb. By the time they reached the car, Azeem was holding open the rear door.

  “I trust you had a good evening?” he inquired politely, although a bit of the devil gleamed in his gaze when he glanced Madani’s way.

  “We did.”

  “I hope we didn’t ruin yours,” Emily added.

  “Ah, Miss Merit, you are too beautiful to ruin anything.”

  “If you’re going to be so outrageous with your flattery, you must call me Emily.”

  “Emily.” He nodded. “Where shall I take you now?”

  “Home, please.”

  Madani rattled off the address and a moment later they were on their way.

  Seated next to Madani, she wondered how it was possible to feel exhausted and energized at the same time. She already had a million ideas for her restaurant, ideas she’d typed into her computer and referenced on a regular basis, adding to them, weeding out those that wouldn’t work, using them as a pick-me-up on those days when her outlook needed bolstering.

  Tonight, she’d come up with even more ideas. Despite the late hour, they were popping around in her head like pinballs. Some of them had come courtesy of Madani. The man was an excellent listener and sounding board. She appreciated his advice and the respectful way in which he offered it. Whenever Reed had given Emily suggestions, he’d made her feel like a dim-witted child for not having thought of them first.

  As the car pulled to the curb, she held up the cocktail napkin on which she had jotted down some notes.

  “Thank you.” She waved the napkin. “For this and for everything else. I’m in your debt.”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “I enjoyed myself tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out and let someone else do the cooking.” Her laughter was rueful.

  “You should do it more often.”

  “It’s hard to find the time.”

  “You should make the time.”

  “All work and no play…” She’d said the same thing at her parent’s house. At his frown, she added, “It’s a saying. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Or, in my case, Emily. And, well, it makes me a dull girl.” She was babbling. It was the way he was looking at her.

  “You’re much too interesting to ever be considered dull, Emily.”

  She tried to laugh, but the sound that escaped was more of a sigh.

  “Well, I’d better go.” Before she could reach for the door, however, Azeem hopped out from the driver’s seat and opened it for her.

  Madani followed her. “I’ll walk you up,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

  “Indulge me.”

  Azeem said something to Madani then in their native language. Even in the low light cast by the streetlamps, Emily could see Madani flush. If his terse-sounding reply was any indication, in addition to being embarrassed, he was irritated.

  Azeem, however, was unperturbed. Indeed, he laughed robustly. “Of course, my friend. But you are a fool.”

  Since Azeem had switched back to English, Madani did as well. “I will return in no more than five minutes.” The words were said slowly and enunciated with care.

  “No more than five minutes? A man should never admit to that.”

  Madani slipped back into his language for his reply and his inflection made it clear he’d just said something that could not be repeated in polite company.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked when they stepped into her building’s elevator a moment later. “Between you and Azeem, I mean.”

  “Fine.”

  Though it wasn’t like her to pry, Emily said, “It didn’t sound fine. And I can’t help feeling I’m somehow responsible for the exchange.”

  “No. You did not cause our words.”

  “Maybe I didn’t cause them, but you were talking about me. Weren’t you, Madani?”

  “Yes.” He glanced away, sighed. “I apologize for both of us.”

  She pulled a face, seeking to lighten the moment. “Gee, was what you said about me that rude?”

  He found no humor in her question. “No. Rest assured that Azeem has nothing but respect for you, as do I.”

  “But,” she prompted.

  “As I already mentioned, my friend can be quite outspoken in expressing his opinions. I have certain obligations, duties,” he said softly. “I take them very seriously. I must. Azeem…we differ on how I should approach those obligations.”

  “If that was intended as an explanation, I’m afraid I’m still in the dark.” She laughed awkwardly. Obligations. Duties. For the first time it struck her how little she knew about the man.

  A bell dinged as the elevator reached her floor. She stepped into the empty hallway when the doors parted. Madani remained in the car. His gaze was intense. The way he dragged a hand through his hair hinted at frustration.

  “Emily, I want you to know that…”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish…”

  The doors started to close. They both reached out to stop them. “What do you wish?”

  He blinked, smiled charmingly and let his hands drop. The turmoil she’d glimpsed just a moment before was gone from his expression.

  “I wish you a good night.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “WHO is he?”

  Emily’s sister demanded this even before offering a proper greeting as she waltzed into Emily’s apartment late the following morning.

  Despite a poor night’s sleep, Emily had been in a terrific mood. First thing upon waking, she’d followed through on her promise to reconnect with her friend. She’d gotten Donna’s voice mail, left a message. An hour ago, Donna had returned Emily’s call and agreed to meet with her for drinks the following week. The conversation had been brief and on the awkward side. Emily had expected no less given the passage of time and the old hurts. But it was a start. Her good mood leached away with Elle’s unexpected appearance.

  “Hello to you, too,” she muttered and closed the door with enough force to leave the locks rattling. “Just in the neighborhood?” If so, she would have to see about moving.

  Whereas Emily was pretty sure she looked like the last one standing after a cafeteria food fight—her apron was splattered with the ingredients of the half dozen recipes she’d worked on since dawn—Elle was fresh and radiant in a pale pink linen suit whose three-quarter-length sleeves offered an unrestricted view of the diamond bracelet Reed had given her to mark their engagement.

  “Actually I sort of was. I’m meeting Reed at Herman’s for lunch in an hour.” Elle set her luggage-size Gucci bag on one of the stools lined up in front of the granite-topped island and sighed dramatically. “We’re going over song selections for our first dance.”

  “Gee, that could take hours,” Emily re
plied.

  The sarcasm sailed over her sister’s bleached-blond head. “I know, but he only can spare one. He’s a busy and important man.”

  Which was why Reed wanted—required—a woman who had an open schedule so she could drop everything when he had a free moment to spend with her. With her restaurant dreams to pursue and a catering business to run, Emily had been a square peg to his round hole. Not so Elle. She and Reed complemented one another perfectly.

  “Are you here to ask me for suggestions?” If so, Emily had some, though none was a song title.

  “No. I thought we could…chat. We hardly had a moment to spend together yesterday at my shower.” Elle shook her heavy cascade of blonde curls. The color was manufactured, but the texture was natural. Though Emily hated herself for it, she found herself fingering the ends of her stick-straight brown hair.

  “So, who is he?” Elle asked a second time.

  “Who is who?”

  Her sister folded her arms over her chest, creating more impressive cleavage in the linen jacket. “Don’t play dumb, Em. We both know I’m referring to the man you practically mauled in Mom’s living room. It was all any of the aunts could talk about for the rest of the afternoon.”

  Indignation paired with embarrassment had Emily shooting back, “I didn’t maul him. It was a kiss.”

  “It was more than a kiss and we both know it.” Elle held up her diamond-heavy left hand to forestall Emily’s retort. “Hey, I’m not finding fault. He’s a yummy specimen. If my wedding to Reed wasn’t just a couple of months away, I would be tempted to sample him, too.”

  Emily’s mouth gaped open for a moment. Was it sheer nerve that caused her backstabbing baby sister to make that comment or could Elle really be that oblivious to its poor taste?

  “Well?” Elle demanded when Emily remained silent. “Are you going to give me details or not?”

  As if she was entitled to them? Em gritted her teeth. She needed something to do with her hands…before she used them to strangle her way to only-child status. She put the kitchen island between them, picked up the citrus zester and grabbed a lemon from the bowl on the countertop. With a bit more force than necessary, she shaved tiny bits of yellow peel into what was to become a marinade for a chicken recipe.

  Cooking. It was her savior.

  “Madani is a client, but we also enjoy one another’s company.” What she said was the truth, though for some reason she wanted to sigh with regret.

  “I thought his name was Dan?”

  “Dan. Yes. Short for Madani.”

  “Madani?” Elle repeated. “What’s his last name?”

  “Tarim.”

  “Madani Tarim.” Elle’s perfectly arched brows drew together. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  “I can’t imagine. Maybe one of the characters on your soap opera shares it.”

  Elle puckered her lips thoughtfully, but shook her head a moment later. “No. That’s not it. But I’ve heard it somewhere and recently I think.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Emily dipped the tip of her index finger in the marinade for a taste and added another pinch of salt.

  “Mom said you gave her the impression nothing was going on between the two of you.” She snorted then. “Aunt Sally said if that was nothing, then every single woman in New York should be so lucky.”

  Emily resisted the urge to fan herself. Instead, she shrugged. “You know how Mom is. It’s never a good idea to give her too much information.”

  “Is he…an escort?”

  “What?” The word came out more shout than question.

  “I’d understand completely if you—you know—had to hire a man to fill certain voids in your life. We all need…companionship.”

  Companionship. It was code for sex and they both knew it. Apparently Elle had counted up the months she’d been with Reed and deduced that Emily hadn’t enjoyed a good, sweaty bout between the sheets since then. It stunk that her sister was half right. Emily had lived like a novitiate since then. Though truth be told she’d never found sex with Reed—who’d been her first and only lover—to be all that mind-blowing. She thought it was her. Maybe she just wasn’t all that sexual. She knew better now that she’d met Madani. With a mere kiss on the back of her hand he’d caused a more intense physical reaction than Reed could muster with half an hour of inventive foreplay.

  Still, Emily was outraged that her sister thought her to be so desperate and unappealing that she needed to pay for sexual fulfillment.

  “Madani Tarim is not on my payroll in any way, shape or form,” she snapped.

  “Jeez, Em.” Elle held up both hands. “There’s no need to get so worked up.”

  “I’m not worked up. I’m insulted, Elle. Even you should be able to figure out why.”

  “Fine.” Her sister rolled her baby blues skyward. “I’m sorry.”

  Yeah, she sounded sorry. Emily decided to let it go. “Forget it.”

  “So, is it serious?”

  Emily chose her words carefully, well aware that every single one of them, in some fashion or another, would be relayed to her entire extended family. “I don’t know that I’d call it serious. We’re good friends.”

  “Good friends, hmm?” Elle’s smile turned sly. “Is that another way of saying friends with benefits?”

  The innuendo had heat flaring in Emily’s cheeks. The topic just kept coming back to sex and, for a woman who had lain awake half the night thinking about it, she didn’t need this now.

  “Aren’t you just full of questions this morning?” she evaded frostily.

  “We’re sisters.”

  “A fact that you tend to recall only when it’s convenient for you.”

  Elle glanced away. “Come on, Em. I’m worried about you, okay? It’s been months since you last came to a family dinner at Mom and Pop’s.”

  “Three guesses why.”

  Elle ignored the jab and went on. “Given your crazy work schedule you can’t have much time to go out with friends on weekends.”

  “I like my job.”

  “And I’d bet my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos that you haven’t gone on a date since…”

  “Since Reed?”

  Elle moistened her lips. “Yes.”

  Emily set the zester aside and stared at her sister over the span of the island. “Are you feeling a little guilty?”

  Emily wanted her sister to be. More than that, she wanted the apology that was long overdue. Perhaps then she would be able truly to put the sordid mess behind her and move on. She, Reed and Elle would never be one big happily dysfunctional family, sitting down to Sunday dinner at her folks’ house, but an apology would help.

  Elle didn’t apologize, though. She crossed her arms and pouted. And it stunk that her sister could look so damned good doing something so childish.

  “God, Em! You’re so mean. Do you have to dredge that up again? Can’t we move on already? It’s been a year.” Tears worked their way to the edges of Elle’s baby blues, but her face remained splotchless and amazingly her eye makeup remained perfectly in place.

  I’ve got to learn how to cry like that, Em thought.

  “Gee, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Except, how like her sister to flip the situation around, turn herself into the victim and wangle an apology out of Emily.

  Emily picked up the zester and went to work on the lemon again.

  “I just want you to find someone who makes you feel as special as I do whenever I’m with Reed.”

  I thought I had. It took an effort for Emily to bite her tongue and she was glad she had, because she realized now, it wasn’t true. Reed hadn’t made her feel special. He’d made her feel…inadequate and even intractable for wanting to pursue her own dreams rather than help him pursue his.

  “What we have together, it’s such a fairy tale,” Elle was saying. “You know like Romeo and Julia.”

  “Juliet,” Em corrected.

  “Right.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Her.”
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  The dreamy sigh that ensued had the same effect on Emily’s nerves as fingernails being scratched down a chalkboard. Maybe she should point out that in Shakespeare’s play the young, star-crossed lovers had both wound up dead.

  She didn’t. What was the point? Instead, she asked in exasperation, “How is it possible that we’re sisters?”

  Elle stared blankly.

  “We have the same parents,” Emily said. “In many cases we had the same opportunities.”

  Elle continued to stare blankly.

  “How is it possible for us to be such polar opposites? And I don’t just mean in looks. I’m willing to work for what I want. You…you expect everyone else to do the heavy lifting for you. And do you know what stinks about that? They do. Mom and Dad have always given you a free pass.”

  Elle’s expression went from blank to wounded. “I’m sorry that you’ve always been so jealous of me, Em. It’s not my fault that my life has worked out so well while yours is so empty.”

  “Empty.” She thought of her catering business, the satisfaction she’d felt watching it grow. And her plans for the restaurant, which continued to inch closer to reality. “Is that what you think?”

  “Reed says—”

  “Don’t!” Emily held the zester out like a weapon. “I don’t want to hear Reed’s opinion of my life. I heard it too often when we were dating. Besides, we’re talking about you. You’re smart, Elle. You could do anything, be anything, if you just started applying yourself. Don’t you have any ambitions?”

  “Of course I do.” She gave her hair an indignant toss. “I want to become Mrs. Reed Benedict in a wedding that will be the talk of the town for years to come.”

  Emily closed her eyes and sighed. They were back at square one.

  “At least I’m not going to wind up old and alone.” Elle raised her hand. “I don’t want to fight. That’s not why I came here today.”

  “No, you wanted to find out if I’d hired a male escort.”

  “I was hoping you’d found someone special to bring to my wedding,” Elle said coolly. “I still haven’t received your RSVP.”