9781631052347OnCallKenyan
Page 18
But life had forced her to change. She was done with men and the only ones she had patience with were the ones with the surname Ross. Her father and her brother were the only men she needed in her life. Sure, they wouldn’t be able to give her the intimacy she needed but she could depend on them. At this point in her life what she needed most was a pillar of strength and not a whirlwind romance.
She watched him as he walked back to her table. His smile was as wide as that of a Cheshire cat. He was planning something but she knew his type of guy. Unluckily for him, he didn’t know the kind of girl she had been forced to become. Her break-up with Michael Mathews had taught her a thing or two about being skeptical about every man she met.
“Over here,” he said, while Catalella watched him instruct the waiter where to put the extra table.
Once she had arranged everything in her new space and placed her lunch order, Catalella went back to her work. Her cold demeanor had protected her and not let her down so far. It didn’t matter that he made her tingle in all the right places, or that she could barely catch her breath under the intensity of his gaze. Catalella wasn’t about to let him in, only for him to destroy her on his way out. She heard a chair being dragged toward her. She lifted her head and saw him take a seat in front of her. There were two tables between them, but that wasn’t enough of a distance.
“Thank you,” she said in a dismissive tone, hoping that he would leave her alone. But he didn’t, he just sat there, staring at her, a smile and a quizzical look in his eyes.
“You are welcome,” he said flashing his dazzling smile.
A trade mark. Catalella thought. I bet that’s how he gets all the ladies.
She pushed her papers aside when her plate of salad arrived. All she wanted to do was to sink her teeth into a big juicy steak. But she couldn’t risk soiling all her papers, they were the only copies. Plus, she needed her daily intake of greens for her nutritious diet. Catalella was determined not to let any form of sickness or diseases claim her body ever again. She hated how weak she had felt when she had leukemia. She didn’t leave anything to chance these days. A headache had her seeing a neurologist, she admitted herself into hospital when she got a cough or flu, she dared the Manhattan traffic by taking her own car so that she wouldn’t be exposed to secondary smoke, and she had a nutritionist on speed dial.
“The usual, sir?” she heard the waiter ask.
The usual? Here I thought that I was their most loyal customer. This guy even has a usual. Catalella thought. But having a usual made him a creature of habit. Safe, predictable and maybe, just maybe, the kind of guy she needed. But she didn’t recall ever seeing him in this restaurant before. Since she’d started her job a year ago De Alma, had been her go-to restaurant.
“Would you like anything else?” It wasn’t until she was looking deep into the aqua blues that she noticed she was staring. Catalella could hear a hint of humor in his tone; it was obvious he had noticed her ogling him.
“No thanks, just a glass of water.” She smiled weakly at the waiter.
“Do you only eat salads?” He said as he seemed to be skimming over her body. What exactly was he looking for? “You are very curvaceous for someone who only eats salads.”
The desire that burned bright in his eyes was obvious and change of tone in his voice only expressed what he was feeling.
“I don’t want to get sauce all over my papers,” she said as she gestured toward them.
“Oh!”
“Is there something you need?” she asked her intention to chase him away.
“Just food and your company.” He smiled at her, his eyes finally leaving her stack of papers.
“I really just want to be alone.”
“Why?”
“Honestly, I don’t see how it is any of your business.” She wanted to take back her words, when the friendly set in his face disappeared and hostility replaced it.
“Ice queen,” he muttered.
“Excuse me, what did you just say?” Catalella pushed her plate aside, her arms crossing over her—just ready for a battle of words. He wasn’t going to insult her and get away with it.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” He smirked. “Let me rephrase that. Is there anyone who can stand being in your presence for more than a second? Do you know anyone who isn’t affected by your venomous tongue?”
Catalella grinned back despite herself. She wasn’t going to let him know how his words cut deep into her. Ice Queen, she had heard that before. People in the office referred to her as the African-Latin-American Hitler. According to them there was a bad mix in the test tube she had come from that made her sour inside and out. She had heard every single joke thrown her way and she never let anyone see how they hurt.
She didn’t know what her retort would be, but words started flying out of her lips. “No, I don’t have anyone not blood related to me who can stand my venomous tongue. But I had a husband, and he didn’t leave me because I was an Ice Queen but because I kept on ‘almost’ dying. When he saw I wasn’t dying soon enough he decided to divorce me.”
Shit! Did that just come out of my mouth? Catalella cursed herself as the man’s stoic look turned to that of pity. She hated being pitied. She had seen how people looked at her, and hovered over her when she was sick. Catalella had promised herself that she wouldn’t be subject to such an emotion ever again.
She stood up and gathered her things. Catalella looked around the room for the waiter who just served her. But just as he took a step forward, when she called him, he stopped.
“It’s alright, your lunch is on me,” he said his voice flat and his face expressionless.
“I can pay for my own meal.” She tried calling for the waiter again but he didn’t move.
“Don’t be stubborn. I’ll pay for it.” The frustration was back in his voice and oddly enough she was relieved.
“Fine, suit yourself.”
Catalella cradled her files and papers in her arm as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. He watched as she stood up, then followed her to the front door. He held it open for her, all the while avoiding her gaze. She had become used to men not looking her in the eye. He grabbed her arm just as she stepped out then said. “I’m sorry you were married to a jerk.”
No one was sorrier than she was.
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