A Dinner, A Date, A Desert Sheikh

by Jackie Braun

  “No. It will be a good year before I’ve saved up enough money to approach the bank and expect someone in the loan department to take me seriously.”

  He frowned. “What about investors?”

  She scooped up the filling and began spreading it atop the cake layer. “I’ve considered that route. The Hendersons even said they would stake me, but I’d rather the risk be all mine. Well, mine and the bank’s.” She shrugged.

  He frowned. “But the building, you said it was the perfect location and the square footage ideal.”

  Yes, she’d said that and still felt that way, which only made it more difficult to resist calling for details and requesting to see the inside.

  “It is the perfect location for The Merit and I loved the building’s architecture. But the timing is off.” She laid the spatula aside and sighed. “I almost wish I hadn’t found it. Knowing it’s there, available and I can’t have it makes it harder, you know?”

  “I do. Exactly.” His gaze was intense, tortured. “I, too, have found something special. Something I want very badly and cannot have.” He reached over to tuck the hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Almost to himself he murmured, “Yet I cannot stay away.”

  Emily’s mouth went dry at the same time her knees turned to liquid. No, he couldn’t mean…

  “You’ll be leaving soon,” she said softly. “Maybe being back in Kashaqra will help you forget whatever it is.”

  But he shook his head. “It will not matter where I am. Here or half a world away.” His throat worked a moment before he confessed, “I will still want to be with you.”

  “Madani—”

  “I want you, Emily. It is as simple as that and as complicated.”

  He closed the scant distance between them. When his hands framed her face, she closed her eyes. Tell him to go, she thought. Tell him to stop. She said nothing at all, instead luxuriated in his touch and waited for the moment their mouths would meet. When they did, she moaned. Her reasons for steering clear of men were sound, but they didn’t negate basic need. That’s what this was, she assured herself. Sexual need. It was building inside her now, like the cake she had been carefully erecting layer upon layer under Madani’s watchful eye.

  Thanks to hard work and sacrifice, she had a thriving catering business. One day, she would open her restaurant. But right now what Emily wanted, what she craved above all else, was this man.

  In her mother’s living room, their passionate kiss had been for show. Because of their audience, when it had ended, all of their clothing had been intact and their hands in politically correct places.

  Well, no one was watching them now.

  The kiss deepened. In the privacy of her apartment, Emily gave in to temptation. Her hands strayed from the safety of his shoulders and trailed across the firm expanse of his chest. Beneath one palm, she could feel his heart beating, the cadence fast and strong. Heat radiated from him and spiraled through her. All the while, the kiss went on. It was thrilling, maddening. By far the best kiss she’d ever experienced. Even so, Emily was determined to have more.

  She clutched the soft fabric of his shirt in her hands, wrinkling it even as she contemplated ripping it. No doubt it was designer label, and as such obscenely expensive. The thought had her refraining. Her fingers found the placket of buttons instead and she began weaving one after the other through the hole.

  By the time the task was complete Madani had started one of his own. As his mouth cruised across her cheek and then down her neck, he untied her apron and tossed it aside. Free of that layer, he tugged the hem of her shirt from her skirt. The shirt was a conservative pullover, beneath which she was wearing an equally conservative bra. It seemed an eternity before she was divested of the former. She helped him out of his as well, pushing the fabric down his arms and took a moment to admire his form. Madani was beautiful. Physical perfection. And the way he was looking at her made Emily feel the same. A forgotten part of her reveled in the sensation. She’d always been confident as a chef. As a woman, she’d questioned herself. Madani’s frank appreciation, though, had her stopping the unhealthy practice. For that alone she would remember this man, this moment, for the rest of her life.

  Then she was in his arms, hot skin pressed to hot skin, and coherent thought once again fled.

  “Emily.” Madani moaned and then mumbled something unintelligible.

  She understood perfectly.

  Even though they were in the kitchen, her bedroom was mere steps away. But the countertop just behind her was much closer. As if he’d read her mind, he lifted her onto it, changing the dynamics considerably. Emily was half a head taller than he was now, and she liked where his gaze was drawn.

  When it came to her figure, she wasn’t voluptuous, but she filled out a bra well enough. Too bad the one she had on was plain white cotton and came from a department store. Had she anticipated their encounter, she would have made sure to be wearing one of the silk and lace numbers she’d bought a few years back at a pricey boutique.

  She decided lingerie was overrated when he leaned closer and deftly undid the fastener. She felt the heat of his breath and then the heat his breath inspired. Either eventually would have stoked the mercury into triple digits on a thermometer. Together they accomplished the task handily. She was going to combust soon. She simply didn’t care. In fact, she was eager to give herself over to the flames.

  With the hope of improving his access, she levered backward. She intended to lay her palms flat on the counter for support. Unfortunately one of them wound up in the bowl of raspberry mousse, the other in the side of the not-quite-finished cake. Just that quickly reality inserted itself. Emily issued an oath and straightened. She had no business kissing him, let alone working her way to complete satisfaction. Madani was sexy, smart, fascinating and kind, but he was a client. Besides, she knew all to well that certain ingredients didn’t mix well with her career.

  “I’m sorry.” She whispered it.

  “Perhaps I am the one who should apologize. Your dessert is ruined,” he said softly.

  He retrieved a damp dishcloth from the sink and handed it to her, averting his gaze as Emily wiped up her hands and then fumbled for her bra. The moment was as ruined as the dessert, and they both knew it.

  He grabbed his crumpled shirt off the floor along with Emily’s. She waited until they were both fully dressed before saying, “I have to get back to work.”

  “Yes.” He nodded toward the smashed cake. “And now you have more of it.”

  “I don’t mind.” It was a lousy thing to say given the circumstances. Oddly, he nodded and looked almost relieved himself.

  They walked in silence to the door. It was a dozen steps of pure torture during which Emily nearly asked him to stay. Forget work. Forget the cake. She could buy one in the morning. But that was only putting off the inevitable. They had no future. She’d known that before things got out of hand.

  “I’m sorry, Madani. I’ve acted very unprofessionally,” she began.

  He laid a finger across her lips. “No. I am the one who should apologize. I took advantage of the situation. I had no right.” He glanced away, his tone more fierce when he repeated, “I had no right.”

  Ashamed of his behavior and aching for something that went far beyond sex, Madani slammed out of Emily’s apartment. He took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. As he stalked across the lobby to the exit he marveled that he hadn’t broken his neck given the reckless speed at which he had descended. But he’d had to get away from her before he gave in to desire, capitulated to primal instinct and committed the unforgivable.

  Azeem wasn’t waiting at the curb. Madani realized too late that he hadn’t given his friend a time to return. Nor had he called for him. He would have to do that, but not just yet. He needed to think. And so he began walking, aimlessly at first and then with a destination in mind. An hour and a couple of phone calls later, he was standing outside the building Emily loved when the Mercedes pulled u
p. Azeem’s amused smile melted away the instant Madani climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “What has happened?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You are talking to me, sadiqi. What has happened?”

  “Not nearly enough.” Madani laughed harshly, though that wasn’t why his throat ached afterward. “I shouldn’t have gone to see her tonight. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Through the car’s window, he studied the building, recalling what Emily had said earlier that evening about finding what she wanted at the wrong time. “In some ways I wish I’d never met her.”

  He half expected his friend to start in again with an argument about bucking the marriage arrangement his parents had brokered on his behalf so long ago. But Azeem replied enigmatically, “I know exactly how you feel.”

  The remainder of their drive to The Mark was accomplished in silence.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in her professional life Emily considered standing up a client.

  How could she face Madani after last night? She’d kissed him in abandon, stripped him of his shirt and then allowed him to return the favor. If she hadn’t leaned back and put her hands in raspberry mousse and white cake, they would have made love. She wanted to be grateful that sanity had returned before the deed was done, but gratitude hadn’t managed to navigate past her still tangled-up hormones. It would have been really, really good sex. And she hadn’t had sex of any sort in a very long time.

  The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Emily, either. Her job had, in a very literal sense, again proved incompatible with romance. Business needed to be her priority, her focus. Not a man and a relationship that had no chance of succeeding.

  After he’d gone, she’d baked more cakes and mixed up more filling. She barely managed a few hours of restless sleep before her alarm went off the following morning. Thus, it was no surprise she was in a foul mood and not operating up to speed. Her hastily reconstructed layer cake was leaning like the famed tower in Pisa, Italy.

  Arlene came in as Emily finished the last sickly looking rosebud.

  “That’s…” Noting Emily’s dark expression, her assistant angled her head to one side and proclaimed, “Nice. Very nice.”

  Emily tossed the bag of frosting onto the counter. “Go ahead and say it. It’s off. I’m off. Nothing is going according to plan.”

  She wasn’t only talking about the cake. Madani’s face flashed in her mind. She could pretend she was disappointed and out of sorts because they hadn’t had sex, but the truth was, it went deeper than that. As foolish as it was, she kept trying to figure out a way they could work around her crazy hours and his visitor status.

  She wanted to cry then and it must have showed. Arlene reached over and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “Don’t sweat it, Em. I’ll call Tiffany at Cakes for Every Occasion. She’s bound to have something that will work for a kid’s birthday party.”

  Yes, Tiffany would save the day, but Emily was starting to fear there would be no saving her heart.

  At twenty minutes to five, she sucked up her pride and packed Arlene’s car with everything she would need for Madani’s meal. Emily had given her assistant use of the van since the party in Connecticut was much larger.

  “Ready or not,” she murmured upon reaching her destination.

  She’d never catered a party at The Mark and she couldn’t help but be impressed when she was ushered up to Madani’s gorgeously appointed Tower Suite. Azeem held the door for her, taking over the loaded cart she was pushing. With a smile, he invited her inside. As illogical as it was, she was disappointed. She didn’t want to see Madani, but she did, if only to discern how he was doing.

  “The kitchen is right this way,” Azeem said.

  On the way from the foyer they passed the dining room. The table had already been set with lovely gold-edged china and crystal water goblets. The wine and cocktail glasses were arranged on a tray on the sideboard.

  “If there is something you need, you have only to ask,” Azeem assured her when they entered the kitchen.

  She glanced around. “Everything looks to be in order.”

  More than in order. The room was as large as her kitchen and nearly as well equipped, she thought, noting the brand name on the appliances. For a man who only visited Manhattan on business a handful of times each year, and who didn’t know how to boil water, Madani enjoyed excellent accommodations. Indeed, his were better than the vast majority of native New Yorkers. His export business must be truly thriving.

  She began unloading the cart and got down to business. An hour later, as she checked on the sea bass, Madani’s guests began arriving. Emily could hear snippets of their conversations coming from the other room along with Babs Henderson’s unmistakable laughter. She wished Madani would come by and put an end to her nervousness. Until she saw him, spoke to him, she was going to worry how their first encounter after almost having sex was going to make her feel.

  Her luck, he picked the worst time to walk into the kitchen. She was in the middle of dishing up the hummus dip. She looked up, saw his handsome face and her hands faltered. The next thing she knew a large spoonful of it wound up in the freshly baked pita chips instead of the serving bowl.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “No. I should apologize for startling you.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I must insist that it is,” he replied.

  How ridiculous. They were arguing over who was to blame. Some of her awkwardness ebbed away. “Fine. It’s all on you, Madani. For shame.”

  He smiled briefly before sobering. “I was worried you would not come today.”

  Though Emily had very seriously considered leaving him in the lurch or perhaps swapping places with Arlene, she asked casually, “Why wouldn’t I come?”

  “We didn’t part on the best of terms last night.”

  “Actually I think we did. It was for the best that things ended before…before they could continue.” Heat flared in her face.

  She didn’t care for the fact that he nodded instead of arguing. “Still, I was worried that I had—how would you say?—crossed the line.”

  She recalled the way she’d divested him of his shirt and held up her arms so he could pull hers over her head. Fairness demanded she say, “I think we crossed it together.”

  Madani smiled, albeit sadly. His tone, his words held an uncomfortable amount of finiteness when he told her, “It’s a memory I shall cherish. Emily, I have something I need to—”

  Before he could finish, the kitchen door swung open and a middle-aged woman entered. She was dressed in a dove-gray uniform and a pair of thick-soled white shoes.

  “Good evening, sir,” she said to Madani.

  “Oh, Emily, this is Mrs. Patterson, my housekeeper. She will be serving dinner this evening and helping you with anything you require in the kitchen.”

  “Mrs. Patterson.” Emily nodded.

  “Well, I should go. You have work to do and my guests are arriving.”

  “I’ll have Mrs. Patterson bring out the hummus dish and pita wedges. That will give your guests something to snack on before they have to take a seat in the dining room. The penne pasta first course is ready as soon as you are.”

  He nodded and left and, even as her heart took a tumble, Emily got down to business.

  Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Patterson returned to the kitchen after serving drinks and appetizers. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Emily. Your presence is requested in the dining room.”

  Although it wasn’t unheard of to be summoned from the kitchen during a dinner party, being summoned during this one had her heart hammering. She tucked any hair that had escaped the net back beneath it, smoothed down her chef’s coat and, after taking a deep breath, walked out.

  “Good evening.” She glanced around the table. The Hendersons were there. Another couple looked familiar, too, although she couldn’t recall their names. “I trust everything is all right?”r />
  “Fine. Exceptional, as a matter of fact. But…”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “But?”

  “We would like for you to join us.”

  “For dinner?” She blinked in surprise. She hadn’t seen this coming.

  “Please,” Babs said. “You know how I am about odd numbers. Our host has agreed to humor me.”

  “What about your social secretary?”

  “If Stella were free this evening I’d call her and make her come. But she has a prior engagement. Besides, you are such an interesting conversationalist, Emily.”

  She glanced at Madani. His neutral expression gave no clue as to his feelings about the invitation.

  “Azeem?” she said hopefully. At least the driver was wearing a suit.

  He shook his head. “Apparently the car needs to be washed and waxed.”

  At this time of night? Sure it did.

  “Come on, Emily. The housekeeper can bring another place setting. I’ll even move down and give you the chair next to our host.”

  Babs and her damned quirks. Emily could have killed the socialite. She settled for pointing out the obvious without going into too much detail.

  “I’m working tonight, Babs.” Not to mention that she still felt awkward around Madani. And then there was the not so small matter of her appearance. Her hair was pulled back and tucked under a requisite net and she was outfitted in a uniform while the other guests wore designer-label evening apparel.

  “You can pop in and out as need be while the remaining courses are served,” Babs said generously. “We’ll all understand.”

  Emily divided a glance between Madani and the socialite. “It’s very kind of you to want to include me, but I’m sure Mr. Tarim is only being polite. I’m his caterer.”

  His brows rose at the emphasis, as if to remind her that being in his employ had not kept her from nearly winding up horizontal with him the night before.

  “It was not mere politeness on my part. I wish for you to join us, Emily,” he said.

  Put that way, how could she refuse?