A Dinner, A Date, A Desert Sheikh

by Jackie Braun

  “That’s because I haven’t decided if I’m coming—alone or otherwise.”

  “But you have to come,” Elle all but wailed. “You have to be a bridesmaid.” Her genuine disappointment might have caused Emily to waver had she not added, “If you don’t agree to stand up I’ll be forced to have our cousin Constance in the wedding party, and she’s put on so much weight since she got married.”

  Emily gaped. “Constance just had a baby, Elle.”

  “Hello. Three months ago. And at the slow rate she’s losing the weight, she’s still going to be at least a size eight in August.”

  “Tragedy,” Emily muttered.

  Elle ignored her. “Besides, the peach organdy I picked out does nothing for her complexion.”

  Emily had seen the dress. Nothing about its color or cut did anything for any of the bridesmaids’ complexions and figures. But then, that was why Elle had chosen it.

  “Say you’ll think about it,” she implored.

  Because agreeing with her sister was easier than listening to her whine, Emily nodded.

  “Great!” Elle clapped her hands together in childish delight before her expression turned calculating. “So, will you bring your new man to the wedding? Mom and the aunts are dying to corner him and pry out every last detail of his life. You should have heard the way they went on and on about him yesterday after you left.”

  Emily didn’t need to have heard them. She could imagine the conversations perfectly. So, her relationship with the sexy and mysterious Dan was the subject of family speculation and gossip. That was just what she’d hoped for when she’d planted that kiss on him. Objective achieved.

  So why didn’t she like it?

  Her grip tightened on the zester. “I don’t think I’ll be bringing him. I wouldn’t want to put him through that.”

  Besides, long before Reed and Elle celebrated their first dance as husband and wife, Madani would be back in his homeland. Emily’s heart gave a funny thump at the thought. She passed it off as regret. After all, the kiss apparently had left the impression with the Poor Emily crowd that she was having a good old time post-Reed. Once they learned the affair had gone nowhere—and given the efficiency of the Merit family grapevine, they would hear it before Madani’s plane lifted off the runway—her first name once again would be preceded by a pity-garnering qualifier.

  Elle frowned. “Oh. So you’ll be coming solo.”

  “I haven’t said I will be coming at all.”

  “Em,” her sister wailed. “You’ve got to.”

  “Because I’ll look better in the dress than Constance?” Emily nearly laughed.

  “Of course not.” Elle nibbled her lip. “But you will. Besides, I’ve paired you with Grant Barrymore. You know him.”

  Yes, she knew him. She also detested him. Reed and Grant were longtime friends. They had pledged the same fraternity in college, making them “brothers.” But that hadn’t stopped Grant from making a pass at Emily one night when he’d had too much to drink.

  Wasn’t anyone capable of loyalty or restraint anymore? Was Emily the only one who valued honesty and believed trust to be the foundation of a relationship?

  Madani. The name and thoughts of the man blasted free from her subconscious.

  He would, Emily decided. Any man who would let a woman kiss him the way Emily had and later the same evening leave her at the doorstep would understand restraint.

  If Emily were in the market for a man, Madani would be exactly the sort she would fall for fast and hard. Good thing she wasn’t in the market.

  “Is that going to be edible?”

  Elle’s question brought her back to the present. She blinked at her sister. “Wh-what?”

  “Whatever it is you’re making. It doesn’t look very appetizing.” Elle’s nose wrinkled.

  Emily glanced down at the pulpy remains of the lemon clutched in her hand. She’d grated off every last bit of the peel and most of the bitter white pith. The marinade was ruined. She would have to start over.

  Emily was on Madani’s mind, starting with a sleepless Sunday night through the rest of the week. The more time he spent with her the more he wanted to spend with her. Add in that kiss and his mind was straying to for bidden places.

  Friendship. It was what he’d offered her as they’d dined in Fuwang’s. It was what he’d shown her later, when he listened intently to her plans for a restaurant.

  Friendship. He’d never been friends with a woman before. Friendly, but not actual friends. He wanted so much more from Emily. But it was all he had to offer.

  Sleep with her.

  That was Azeem’s unhelpful suggestion. He thought Madani should engage in a brief but mutually satisfying affair, maybe buy her a lovely trinket at the end of it. That way he would get Emily Merit and all women out of his system while he was still entitled to do so. He’d said so again Sunday evening—though thankfully in Arabic—when they’d arrived outside Emily’s apartment.

  Even after Madani had returned to the car—a full two minutes shy of the five minutes he’d predicted—his friend had continued goading him.

  “I don’t understand you. Why are you here with me when a young and beautiful woman is alone in her rooms and undressing as we speak?”

  “Shut up and drive.”

  “Your mood would improve dramatically if you allowed yourself to relieve some frustration. I can turn the car around at the next light and take you back. I doubt she would mind the intrusion.”

  “No.”

  But his friend had continued as if Madani hadn’t spoken. “In fact, from the way she looked at you tonight, I think she would welcome the intrusion.”

  “I said no.”

  “I could return for you in the morning, though not too early.” He’d turned and winked. “You will have good reason to sleep late.”

  “Enough!” Madani had shouted as erotic images reeled through his mind.

  Given the fierceness of both his tone and expression, he’d figured his friend would back down at the command, maybe even apologize for having gone too far. He should have known better. Azeem snickered and not at all discreetly.

  “At dinner tonight Emily asked me if it was difficult to be both your employer and your friend. I warn you, Azeem. If you keep it up I will be neither.”

  “Your threats would hold more weight, sadiqi, if I thought you actually meant them.” He smiled, unperturbed. “We have known one another far too long.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” Madani shoved a hand through his hair and exhaled loudly.

  “You are not angry with me. You are angry with yourself.”

  “It is done, Azeem. How many times must I say it?”

  “No. The engagement has not been officially announced. Your father will listen to you. He is a reasonable man, hardly provincial in his views. He has ushered much change into Kashaqra, brought our people into a new century.”

  “He honors the old ways.”

  “You are being a fool.”

  “Don’t go there. Not again. Or at least not tonight.” He’d rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I am too tired for more verbal sparring.”

  “Because you know I am right,” Azeem had said. In a more thoughtful tone, he’d asked, “Or perhaps someone else has started to change your mind?”

  Now, four days later, Madani mulled his friend’s words as he sat on the terrace of his apartment at The Mark drinking a cup of the sweetened black coffee favored in his homeland. More than a dozen stories below, the midday traffic buzzed along on Madison Avenue, the blaring horns muted by distance and his own distraction.

  If he thought a brief but satisfying affair with Emily Merit would get her out of his system he might have allowed Azeem to turn the car around that evening. There was no denying he was physically attracted to her and had been since their introduction in the Hendersons’ kitchen. At each meeting during the two weeks since then his desire for her had only increased. As had his interest beyond the physical. That was the
real problem.

  He liked Emily, truly enjoyed her company. He admired her determination, the dreams she’d so carefully nurtured and refused to give up even in the face of adversity and heartache. She was amusing, thoughtful and incredibly bright. Not just a beautifully wrapped package like her younger sister, but one filled with riches and substance. Madani wanted to spend the next several weeks, even months, getting to know her better. He didn’t have that luxury. Precious little time remained of either his visit to New York or of his bachelorhood.

  One week after his dinner party Madani would return home. A month after that all of Kashaqra would mark the start of The Feast of Seven Days, which celebrated the country’s overthrow of an oppressive ruler. As the celebration wound down his engagement would be announced.

  His future was set.

  He drained the last of his coffee. As sweet as it was, it turned bitter in his mouth. For as long as Madani could remember, whatever he’d wanted he’d gotten. Thanks to his wealth and rank, nothing ever had been beyond his reach.

  Until now.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WITH two events on Merit Catering’s schedule for the following day, Emily’s kitchen was a beehive of activity Friday evening, and it had been since midafternoon.

  At the island, Arlene was mixing up the crab meat filling that would be piped into pastry puffs and baked on location at the birthday party in Connecticut. All five layers of the cake had been baked and were cooling on the counter. The raspberry mousse filling was mixed and chilling in the refrigerator.

  Emily had just returned from her favorite gourmet market for the last of the ingredients for Madani’s dinner, including the fresh herbs and pricey white truffles. She’d planned to shop with Madani, but scheduling conflicts forced her to go solo.

  Setting her shopping bag on the counter, she dipped her index finger into the bowl for a taste. “I think it needs a little more Worcestershire.”

  “I like it with less,” Arlene said.

  “I like it with more.”

  “And you’re the boss.”

  It was an old argument, so Emily laughed.

  Arlene grabbed the bottle of Worcestershire. As she added a few more dashes to the mix, she grumbled. “A bunch of bratty five-year-olds aren’t going to care.”

  “No, but their parents might be more discerning when it comes to crab tarts. And if they like them the way Merit Catering makes them, they might hire us to do an adult event in the future.”

  “Pay attention, Sarita,” Arlene said to the young culinary arts student who’d been helping out for the afternoon.

  Emily regularly employed students from her alma mater, making up in on-the-job experience what she couldn’t afford to give them in actual pay. She was grateful for the added help this day, even if the young woman had an endless supply of questions that kept breaking the rhythm Emily and Arlene had down to a science.

  A knock sounded at the door as Emily carefully unpacked the truffles.

  “Can you get that, Sarita? It’s probably a delivery. I’m expecting some wine.”

  Even though Madani said he had everything he needed for his party, she’d picked up a couple of bottles of a special vintage for him. They were a thank-you of sorts not only for rescuing her from her sister’s bridal shower but for listening so thoughtfully as she’d expounded on her restaurant plans.

  “Um, Miss Merit,” Sarita called a moment later. “It’s for you.”

  She glanced over and her gaze locked with Madani’s. His smile was slightly embarrassed, and all the sexier for it.

  “I am catching you at a bad time,” he said.

  “No.” Her palms felt damp. She wiped them on her apron. “I mean, yes. But come in.”

  Arlene cleared her throat noisily and mumbled, “An introduction would be nice.”

  “Oh. Right. Madani Tarim, this is my assistant, Arlene.” Emily pointed to the other young woman. “And that’s Sarita.”

  “Ladies.”

  He smiled. They sighed. Emily wanted to groan.

  “So, what brings you by?” she asked.

  “I brought some wine for you to try.”

  “That’s funny,” she said, thinking of the wine she’d ordered for him.

  “Funny?”

  Emily waved a hand. “Never mind.”

  “I planned to serve this tomorrow evening, but I wanted your opinion first. I wouldn’t want it to clash with the menu you’ve so carefully planned.” He held out the bottle for her inspection.

  Emily read the label. She recognized the name of the French winery. The bottle hadn’t come cheaply. In fact, it cost double what hers had. But that didn’t surprise her. Madani wasn’t the sort of man to go halfway. “This was an excellent year for pinot noir, I believe. It should pair well with the fish.”

  “Care for a glass?” he asked. His gaze included the others.

  “Now?” Emily glanced back at the kitchen where so much remained to be done. Even so, she shrugged. “I suppose a taste wouldn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll get the glasses.” Arlene grinned.

  Sarita was still staring at Madani with unabashed adoration. It was embarrassing, but understandable. Emily liked looking at him herself. She cleared her throat. “Arlene, grab four glasses from the cupboard. I think we’ve all earned a few minutes of downtime.”

  Two hours later the wine was gone. Sarita was, too, having left after half a glass to meet friends who’d called from a pub on Bleecker. Arlene was preparing to leave as well since she would be back early the next morning to wrap things up and load the catering van. She had finished the appetizers for the birthday party and done what prep work could be done for the entrées.

  Madani was the only one who showed no interest in leaving. Not that Emily minded. It was no hardship to spend time with him. He’d watched the food preparation with interest, asking lots of questions that made it clear he’d never boiled water much less decorated a birthday cake, which Emily started on after Arlene left.

  “This isn’t exactly my forte,” she admitted as she began spreading the raspberry mousse between layers of white cake. “I explained that to my client. In fact, I gave her the name of a bakery I do a lot of business with. But, she insisted.”

  “She must have faith in you.”

  “I think she just wanted to write one check and be done with it. She’s a very busy woman,” Emily intoned. “She must have told me that every time we spoke. It kind of made me wonder why she wanted to have a child.” She added another layer of cake. “I’m busy, too. Probably busier than she is since Babs knows her and said she doesn’t have a paying job. But I know my limits and I’ve determined my priorities.”

  “Are you saying you will never marry and have children?” Madani asked quietly.

  The blunt question, which came just as Emily was leveling the second layer, caught her off-guard. She stopped midcut and glanced over at him. He was watching her closely.

  “I won’t say never, but it’s looking doubtful. And since I see parenting as a two-person job, I probably won’t be having kids.”

  Emily had made peace with the fact that her career plans were incompatible with a long-term relationship and parental responsibilities. Or she thought she had. But saying so now to Madani caused a dull throbbing to begin in her chest. She’d thought it a fair trade, but now she felt cheated.

  “Is your decision based on what happened with Benedict?” he asked.

  “Yes and no.” She finished trimming the layer and set the blade aside. “The reality is, I work a lot of nights and most weekends. Reed didn’t want me to succeed at my career for a variety of reasons, my schedule included.”

  Madani spat out something in his native tongue. Given the sharpness of his tone, she didn’t need to ask for a translation. Her lips tipped up. “Yeah, I know. Reed’s a first-class jerk.”

  “The phrase I came up with was a little more descriptive,” Madani replied dryly. “He’s intimidated by your success. It makes him feel like less of a man.�
��

  She smiled fully. “I realize that now. It takes some of the sting out of the fact that he cheated on me and with my sister.”

  “He didn’t deserve you, Emily.”

  Her smile faded. He said it with such sincerity, with such utter authority, that she wanted to cry. She exhaled slowly instead and admitted the truth. “He was right about one thing, though. I’m pretty much married to my work and I will be for the foreseeable future.”

  “Even when you open The Merit?” he asked.

  When, he’d said. Not if. The ache in her chest went from dull to piercing. Madani believed in her. He understood that her restaurant was no more a whim than catering was a hobby.

  “Especially then. At least at first. Control freak, remember?” She laughed tightly. “What about you? Your job involves a lot of travel. That has to be hard on relationships.”

  It occurred to Emily that even though she felt she knew Madani so well, she was clueless when it came to his personal life. He could be involved with someone. Involved, hell. For all she knew, he could have a wife and kids back in Kashaqra. No, she told herself. He would have mentioned them before now, especially after that kiss. Even so, she held her breath as she waited for his reply.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  She had no right to the relief she felt. Nor did she have a right to ask, “Do you think you’ll marry one day and start a family?”

  “Yes. I will marry.” His tone was resolute and oddly grim. His expression bordered on bleak.

  “No need to sound so happy about it,” she teased, hoping to lighten his mood.

  But he sounded every bit as ominous when he replied, “I will do what must be done.” That was all he offered on the topic before changing subjects. “Have you called on the building for your restaurant?”

  She’d been so excited about it the other night she’d wanted to telephone the real estate company right away. Only the fact it had been a Sunday evening had stopped her. By Monday morning, reality had tempered her excitement. She was in no position to buy or lease the space, which meant she had no business wasting a real estate agent’s time.