by Jackie Braun
Emily coughed. God, had she really just said that? Talk about sounding presumptuous. In the hope of resurrecting her self-respect, she added, “The food, I mean.”
His lips twitched with a smile, telling her that the extra words had only made it more obvious that her thoughts had strayed far from takeout meals.
Once again, Emily attempted to dig herself out of her self-dug hole. “But that’s neither here nor there. We’re in Chinatown.”
Madani frowned now. “You do like Chinese food, don’t you?”
She laughed, finally at ease now that the topic was something truly safe. “I just plain like food, Madani.”
“Good, because I have a weakness for fried rice.”
“Shrimp or chicken?”
He grinned, flashing straight white teeth. “Either, especially at Fuwang’s.”
Emily knew what he meant when their meals arrived half an hour later as they sat in the restaurant’s sparsely populated dining room. Outside, the late June afternoon was winding down over a crowd on the sidewalk, but it would be a couple of hours yet before the dinner rush arrived.
Madani had ordered an appetizer of shrimp toasts, which they’d already polished off. Now, their waitress, a petite young woman dwarfed by the huge platter of food she carried, arrived with the rest of their meal.
There was so much of it.
Emily had gone for a traditional sweet and sour pork dish served with white rice. It wasn’t exactly low-calorie with its sugary sauce and batter-dipped meat, but Emily figured she had endured the kind of day that begged for comfort food, and this fit the bill.
But she barely spared her plate a second glance after the waitress left. Madani had ordered hot sesame beef, but it was the side of shrimp-fried rice that held her attention. Peeking from the browned rice were a good dozen shrimp. Not salad-size either, but big enough to be classified as jumbo.
“I’m beginning to think I ordered the wrong thing,” she commented.
“Would you like some?”
Though her mouth actually watered, she shook her head and said lightly, “We don’t know one another well enough for me to eat off of your plate.”
“That would be the second date?”
Uh-oh. The D word. Is that what he thought this was? What she had led him to believe? She nearly groaned. If he did, she had no one to blame but herself after that wholly inappropriate lip-lock. Sure, she’d explained it away afterward, but there was a reason for the saying: actions speak louder than words.
Over the quiet conversations of the other diners, Emily could hear music, airy flutes accompanied by the almost mournful sound of string instruments. It fit her current mood perfectly.
“Madani,” she began.
He held up a hand, stopping her. “You are going to tell me we are not on a date. Am I right?” His gaze was as direct as his words.
“I think I may have given you the wrong impression earlier.” She straightened in her seat, coughed. “Back at my parents’ house.”
“When you kissed me, you mean?”
Emily figured she had turned the same shade as the prancing dragon that adorned the festive wall mural. “Yes. Then.”
“Will it offend you if I say I enjoyed it?” One dark brow shot up.
“I…I…” She might have continued stammering if he had not spared her by going on.
“You did not give me the wrong impression, Emily. Afterward, you made your reasons for kissing me very, very clear.”
“Oh. Well…good.” She shifted back in her seat, wishing those reasons were as clear to her right now as she studied his handsome face and considered leaning across the table to kiss him again. “I just wanted…” Uh-oh, don’t go there. Starting over, she said, “It’s just that we have a business relationship.”
He smiled warmly. A little too warmly. “Yes.”
“I think it would be best for it to stay that way.” She said it and told herself that she meant it even as something she refused to admit might be disappointment did a little shimmy-shake through her stomach.
Emily thought she saw something dim in his dark eyes, but his expression and demeanor remained unchanged. Indeed, his voice sounded matter-of-fact when he replied, “We are in perfect agreement.”
They ate in silence for a moment. Then Madani plucked one of the plump shrimp from the browned rice with his chopsticks and dropped it onto the side of her plate.
A peace offering? Apparently so.
“Maybe, in addition to having a business relationship, we also can be friends?”
“Friends?” The word sounded foreign to her ears.
“Yes.”
She blinked, smiled. “I’d like that. Truly I would. Friends.”
As they finished their meal, Emily knew she should have felt relieved. It was for the best. After all, what else beyond friendship could come from this…this relationship? Madani would be leaving the country soon, returning to his homeland in the Middle East. She had dreams of her own to pursue after his departure, plans that would require every last bit of her energy and attention to be realized in full.
Yes, nipping any sort of romantic notion between them in the bud was for the best.
Between bites, she glanced over and caught him watching her. The pair of chopsticks she held in her right hand stilled and she stopped chewing. She nearly stopped breathing, as, during one long, poignant moment, a pair of dark eyes took her measure.
What do you see?
She desperately wanted to ask him. She wanted to demand an answer if necessary. A host of other questions bubbled to the surface then, too.
When his lips tipped up in a smile that set off her pulse, the only one Emily didn’t want answered was why she suddenly felt like crying.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS a nice evening for a walk, breezy and warm without a hint of humidity in the air. The meal they’d eaten, while far from being heavy, gave Madani another good excuse to ask Emily if she’d care to take a stroll after they left the restaurant.
Friends could do that, he told himself, even as the way he was admiring her legs had meandered into an arena well beyond the platonic.
“But what about Azeem?” She turned and glanced around. Neither the driver nor the Mercedes was anywhere to be found.
“He will come when I call for him.”
And Madani hadn’t called yet. He’d planned to just before they finished their main courses. That was usually what he did to give his driver enough time to arrive at the curb. But he’d procrastinated, not ready for his time with Emily to end. And once they were in his automobile, under Azeem’s knowing eye, it would.
“He doesn’t mind just waiting around for his phone to ring?” she asked.
“Not very much.” Madani smiled, though, knowing that his good friend would indeed grumble mightily to him about it later. He always did.
Emily switched the small clutch she held to her other hand and turned slightly as they walked, giving him, rather than the antiques and curio shops, her undivided attention. “I get the feeling the two of you are more than just employee and employer.”
“We are,” he said simply.
“Is it difficult, being both his friend and his boss?” she asked.
“It can be difficult at times,” he began. As the son of Kashaqra’s ruler, Madani was used to people doing as he requested without hesitation let alone question. Azeem was the exception. Thinking of Azeem’s opinion of Madani’s betrothal contract, he continued, “Azeem and I do not always agree, but he is one of the few people in my acquaintance who is not afraid to offer his true opinion even when he knows it will not be what I wish to hear. I respect him for that.”
“You don’t strike me as all that fearsome,” Emily teased. “There must be another side to you I haven’t seen.”
If only she knew. Madani almost told her about his title then, just to discover if it would change the way she treated him. He hoped she would be like Azeem, able to see him first as a man and second as a ruler in wai
ting. But revealing his status chanced pulling his other secret out into the open. Though he had nothing to feel guilty about—Emily had initiated the kiss they’d shared earlier—he was enjoying her company too much. There was an ease, an intimacy to their conversation that surely would not exist were Emily privy to the upcoming announcement of his engagement.
She was saying, “Well, the fact Azeem speaks his mind around you makes him not only a friend, but a good one. I hope you appreciate his candor, even when what he says makes you uncomfortable or angry.”
“Why do you say that?” Madani asked. Her tone, both wry and wistful, made him curious.
“Because I have a good friend—had, I guess, is the more accurate description at this point—who tried to tell me that Reed wasn’t right for me. She tried to tell me that when push came to shove, he wouldn’t be there for me. He wouldn’t support my career. But I didn’t listen to her.” Emily lifted her shoulders. “I wouldn’t listen.”
“You did not want her to be right,” he said, thinking of his arguments with Azeem on the betrothal agreement.
“Exactly. We argued about Reed on several occasions. I made excuses for his behavior. Excuses she shot full of holes. That in turn began to put a strain on our friendship. So, I started calling her less often.” She motioned with her free hand. “Finding reasons I couldn’t meet her for coffee or lunch. Then, finally, we both stopped picking up the phone. We haven’t spoken in nearly three years.”
“Obviously that troubles you. Why don’t you call her now?” he asked.
“I’m embarrassed, I guess.” Emily’s laughter was rueful. “Donna was absolutely right about Reed, and that was before he proved what an absolute jerk he was by running around with my sister behind my back.”
“So, to avoid embarrassment you will deprive yourself of her friendship now?”
Emily wrinkled her nose. The gesture wasn’t intended to be sexy. He found it to be so anyway. “When you put it like that it makes me sound foolish.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”
“No, don’t apologize. You’re right, Madani. One hundred percent correct. And I am being foolish. I’ve missed her so much,” she said with feeling. “I have other friends, of course, but Donna and I go back a long way.”
“If that is so, it won’t matter the length of time that has passed. She will welcome hearing from you.”
“Yeah.” Emily nodded, slowly at first and then with vehemence. “She will. I’m going to call her. First thing tomorrow. Or maybe even when I get home tonight. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, though really I have done nothing.”
“You’re a good listener.”
“I try to be.” It was a trait his father reminded him often enough would serve him well as ruler.
Emily angled her head to one side. “Have you and Azeem ever not spoken?”
“No.” Madani chuckled. “He is far too fond of talking to remain silent for any length of time.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Since boyhood,” he told her, and couldn’t repress the smile the old memories teased out. “If I tell you that he can be a bad influence on me, will you think it the truth?”
“Perhaps,” she replied diplomatically, but then her lips curved. “Although it seems highly unlikely.”
Madani laughed outright. “My mother said the very thing when we were boys. Azeem’s mother as well. Even when the mischief we got into was entirely of his making, he managed to escape all blame.”
“Entirely of his making?”
“Mostly.” At her raised eyebrows, he amended, “Well, at least in small part.”
Her laughter rang out, surprisingly robust. He liked hearing it. He liked seeing her looking so relaxed, especially after the afternoon she’d had. “It sounds as if they had you pegged.”
“Pegged?” He turned the word over in his mind for a moment before understanding dawned. “Yes. I suppose they did.”
“Besides, you don’t strike me as the sort of person who would be easily led—even as a child and regardless of the temptation.”
“No.” He had not been easily led as child, nor as a man. Although he fought the urge, his gaze lowered to Emily’s mouth, recalling the way it had felt against his. He swallowed hard. Temptation stood before him now in the form of a beautiful, sexy and exciting young woman. He wanted to know more of her, to know everything about her. He had neither the time nor the right. He glanced away, but because he could not completely curb his curiosity, he asked, “What sort of person do you think I am, Emily?”
“You’re just fishing for compliments now,” she accused on a laugh.
It was another unfamiliar phrase, but given the context of their conversation Madani figured it out easily enough. Chuckling, he said, “I suppose that I am. Will you be kind enough to indulge me?”
Emily’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Why not?” But it was a moment before she went on, giving him the impression she was putting real thought into the exercise. “You come across as authoritative and very determined. It’s clear that you know what you like and what you want.”
“Yes.” Indeed, he knew exactly what he liked, what he wanted. Not that he was free to do anything about it.
“I mean, white truffles, for heaven’s sake.” She blew out a breath and smiled. She was talking about food, which was just as well.
They reached a corner and, as they waited for the light to change, Emily continued. “I don’t need to tell you that you’re attractive. That night at the Hendersons’, my assistant was sure you were a male underwear model.”
He coughed. “That is a compliment, yes?”
“Oh, most definitely.” She glanced around. “I’ll point his ad out to you if I see one.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” he said dryly.
She chuckled and, clearly enjoying his discomfort, went on. “You know, our waitress back at Fuwang’s would have given me a serious case of food poisoning if she thought doing so would give her the chance to have you all to herself.”
“You exaggerate.”
She snorted. “She barely spared me a glance, even when I was ordering.” Emily batted her long lashes at him. “She only had eyes for you, Madani.”
“It is because I command attention.” He said it tongue-in-cheek, even though from the cradle on his parents had taught him to be forceful, assertive.
“Right. You’re also so humble,” Emily deadpanned, drawing out his laughter. More seriously, she added, “You’re obviously industrious and capable. You’ve created a very clever business opportunity for yourself. I think you’re also generous, because your business opportunity in turn has offered the talented men and women of your homeland a way to market their wares overseas and make more money. In your own way, you’re putting Kashaqra on the map.”
Madani liked knowing Emily saw it that way. It was what he’d intended, giving his people a better way to earn a living, encouraging a positive image abroad for his homeland.
“What else?”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Insatiable?” It was an interesting word choice, he thought, aware of its other meaning. And apropos, because when Madani was with Emily that was exactly how he felt: hungry for more and not just sexually.
In their relatively brief acquaintance he’d figured out a few things about her, such as while she came across as fiercely independent and driven, she was also vulnerable and surprisingly unsure of herself when it came to being a woman. Madani blamed her ex-boyfriend for that, though her family appeared to have had a hand in it as well. They’d given her either-or choices.
She could be smart or beautiful like her coddled younger sister. She could follow her dreams or she could have a husband. They’d made her choose when no choice was necessary and, in fact, making a choice had robbed her of a full and truly satisfying life.
Emily deserved better than that. She deserved…so much more.
A blush bloomed becomingly
on her cheeks, the product, he assumed, of her unplanned double entendre. “I’m referring to your ego. It needs constant feeding. But then I’ve yet to meet a man whose ego doesn’t.”
He didn’t care for the comparison, but Madani worked up a comically wounded expression as he placed his right hand over his heart. “Despite all of your flattery then, are you saying you find me mundane?”
“Oh, absolutely. That’s the word that springs to mind. There’s nothing new or original about you.” Her lips curved with an unintentional invitation. It took all of Madani’s willpower to resist.
“But you are original, Emily Merit, which is why I will remember our time together in Manhattan for the rest of my life.”
He took her fingers in his. He meant only to give them a friendly squeeze. He and Emily were no longer in Chinatown. For that matter, Madani hadn’t the slightest idea of where they were. But as he lifted the back of Emily’s hand to his lips for a kiss, that wasn’t why he was feeling so utterly lost.
“Oh my God!”
His gaze flew to hers, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring over his shoulder, a combination of excitement and disbelief evident in her expression. The ego she’d just accused him of having deflated like a punctured balloon. Not that she noticed. She’d already pulled her hand from his and was hurrying toward the window of a nearby building.
“This is it!” she announced, turning to grin at him. “This is exactly the location I want and—oh, my God!—it’s available right now.”
He read the real estate sign tucked in the window, noted the ample square footage. “It seems large for a catering business.” Not to mention pricey, he thought, especially when her remodeled kitchen could accommodate her needs.
“It’s not for catering. It’s for The Merit.” She said it with a lofty inflection, pride and excitement beaming in her expression when she announced, “My restaurant.”
Emily watched the words sink in and part of her braced, ready for a negative reaction, which was how Reed and even her family had greeted her plans to open her own eatery. Madani, however, nodded in approval and smiled.
