Chapter Seventeen
For the hundredth time, Hagan checked his wristwatch. He wasn’t worried she’d stand him up, but he had noticed that the minutes now crawled. He crossed his arms to keep from checking the time again and watched throngs of people milling throughout the park surrounded by shops and restaurants.
A slight disturbance interrupted the rhythmic foot traffic. His pulse picked up, and he knew she’d arrived. Then Hagan saw her. She offered a shy, vulnerable smile that left him breathless, and he moved toward her, a man on a mission.
She tilted her chin up as he stepped close. “You’re smiling.”
“It’s a thing I do sometimes.” Hagan rested his hands on her side. “I like the way you never say hello.”
She laughed. “Didn’t realize I did that.”
“You look amazing.” Her dark hair hung over her shoulder, and she wore a dress the color of poppies. The fabric flowed over her curves and stirred around her legs.
“Thanks.” She lifted the side of her skirt and let it go. “I’ve never worn this before.”
“Why not?”
She thought before answering. “I wasn’t ready.”
Whatever that meant, he was glad she’d worn it tonight. Her eyelashes fluttered. The tip of her tongue darted to her bottom lip. Her eyes searched around them as though she were checking the crowd, then she pointed over his shoulder. “Could we go in there before dinner?”
He turned toward a tea store nestled under the shade of low-hanging trees. “Sure.” He might see a small gift he could purchase for his sister.
“I want to get something for my mom,” she added.
Playfully, he crooked an eyebrow. “I’m surprised my anonymous date admitted to having a mom.”
The corners of her lips quirked. “I wasn’t cooked up in a lab.”
“Good to know.” They picked their way toward the store. She stayed close to his side, and when Hagan opened the heavy door for her, he caught a whiff of her perfume before they stepped into the small, aromatic store.
The door clicked when it closed. Silence transported them into another world. Music with bells and chimes whispered from all round. He rested a hand on her back as they gingerly stepped farther into the store.
She leaned into his side. “I feel like we should whisper.”
How could there be so many people and so much noise just beyond the door?
The aisles wound this way and that, bending around shelves and displays.
Hundreds of teas and trinkets covered every inch of space and dangled from the ceiling.
The chaos had a meditative state. It was the perfect start to their night.
Even with the mysticism that danced in the air, he noted the way she assessed their surroundings.
It was a familiar habit, and without much thought, they’d both located the entrances and exits and assessed the store for risks and threats.
He wouldn’t ask her about the habit, instead filing it away as a clue.
“Have you been in here before?” she asked.
“No, but I might come back again.”
“Really?” She eyed him. “Shopping for yourself or someone else?”
“My sister.”
Interest colored her expression as she led the way. “Can I ask you about her?”
“Sure.” He picked up a small box and shook it. “Her name’s Roxana.”
“What is she like?”
Hagan returned the box and snickered. “She’s a pain in the ass, if you want the truth.”
“Oh, be nice.” She elbowed him.
Hagan pinned her arm to his stomach, holding her long enough to breathe in the scent of her shampoo and feel her warmth.
He let go, and his date, this nameless beauty with stealth moves and a history to hide, stayed close enough to kiss.
They didn’t move. The moment remained fragile.
A gust of wind could destroy it—or fan an underlying flame of explosive heat.
The shopkeeper bustled in and stopped. He held a stack of skinny, dark purple boxes in his arms and cocked his head. “I didn’t hear you come in. Welcome.”
His date assessed the old man. Hagan complimented the store. The shopkeeper pointed to where he would be if they had questions, then he slipped away as quietly as he’d approached.
He wanted to ask if she was okay but instead, Hagan picked up a box and gave it a shake. “My sister’s pretty amazing when she’s not acting like a pain.” He shook the box again. “What is this? Sounds like BBs, but it doesn’t have any weight.”
“No idea.” She took it from his hand and put it on the shelf. “But your sister doesn’t want it.”
“You don’t know that.”
She reached for the most expensive-looking item within arm’s reach. “I think she wants this because she probably knows you keep calling her a pain.”
Hagan laughed, then nearly choked at the price tag. His date threatened to give it a shake, and Hagan took it from her and replaced it on the shelf. “Roxana gives as good as she takes.”
“Is it her birthday or something?”
Hagan shook his head. “No, I just like to surprise her with little gifts. She worries, and, hell, I don’t know. I figure sending her something nice will help.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “I want her to believe my life isn’t in danger. If I’m in a place that sells expensive crap that would brighten her day, she might believe that my job is safe.”
“That may be one of the sweetest, most misguided things I’ve ever heard.” She patted his bicep. “But it’s cute that you try.”
Hagan laughed. “Cute, huh?”
“Very.”
Damn, he wanted to touch this woman. “Good to know.” He placed his hand on the small of her back again and guided them into another area. Spices hung heavier in the air. They stopped at a row of barrels and glass jars. “Your mom likes tea?”
“We both do.” She eyed the intricately designed labels handwritten in Arabic. “She bought new teapots for us on her last work trip.”
“Where did she go?” he asked.
She pinched her elbows to her side and concentrated too hard on what should’ve been an easy answer. “Overseas.”
He ignored the evasive answer. “Do you read Arabic?”
“No, but it’s beautiful.”
Hagan motioned to a placard. “Loose tea. Then it looks like…” He inspected the labels. “Local, grouped by spices.”
“You’re fluent?”
“Yeah. And over here.” Hagan took her hand. “This seems more like a global selection.”
The shopkeeper interrupted again, “Looking for anything particular?”
“A gift,” she said, and let go of his hand.
“This one.” He swept a satchel and scoop off a shelf, shoveled a sample into the bag then into Hagan’s hand. “A favorite.”
He didn’t know what the hell to do with one tea bag’s worth, but the shopkeeper stared at him as if there was something Hagan should do.
He brought it close to his nose and sniffed.
“Damn—” He choked as though he’d shoved cinnamon sticks into his nostrils.
“I mean, that’s nice.” His eyes watered. “Potent.”
The shopkeeper beamed, agreeing. “Yes, yes.”
Whatever else the man said turned into white noise. The woman grabbed his forearm. The touch cleared his senses like she’d hosed off his face. She laughed and led them away even as he wiped at his eyes one last time. Once they reached fresh air, he knew he’d survive.
“Are you okay?” She giggled and peered at his face like he’d sustained a serious injury.
“My ego’s a little wounded.” Her infectious laughter tugged at his cheeks. “But yeah. I’ll make it.”
“Good. I’m not ready to end the night yet.”
Damn, he loved when her honesty surprised him.
Hagan inched closer. Their eyes connected, and her laughter died.
He wrapped an arm around her back and pulled their bodies together.
Her smile reached her gaze, and with her in his arms, he felt more of a man than he ever had before. “What is your name?”
“Amanda,” she whispered.
Simple. Beautiful. Her name had made her fight and flee. Until now. She’d given it to him, and Hagan took that as a sign of trust. Nothing had made his blood race hotter than her belief that he could keep her safe.