Chapter 4 #3
“So we came back to the States. I founded Wordsmith with my contacts from university and from my UN job. I tried to work out of the house all last year, but it wasn’t ideal.
Dad, bless him, interrupted a thousand times a day, and I do need to meet with clients, so that’s when I decided to get an office downtown.
At Wordsmith we’re good at what we do, but it’s a typical small company that is growing steadily but not always fast enough.
With what I earn from it, I can barely keep up with the medical bills. ”
She looked him straight in the eye. Recounting her life like this was painful and depressing. And, unfortunately, necessary.
“I’m not saying any of this to make you feel sorry for me.
Please don’t. I’m doing exactly what I want to do and right now, I wouldn’t have my life any other way.
But I do need you to know that this is my life and there’s no reason why any of my problems should be a part of yours.
It’s no fun dating someone who has no money for anything.
And it’s not just money I lack. Every second of my day is dedicated to my father or to work.
That’s it, that’s what I do. I take care of Dad and I work.
I don’t go out, I don’t go to the movies or to plays or concerts.
I can’t even think of a vacation—not even just a couple of days away.
I won’t leave my father alone and I couldn’t afford it anyway.
This is the situation as long as my dad is alive, which I hope with all my heart will be as long as possible.
So you see, I am not free to just…come out and play with you.
There’s nothing lighthearted or easy about my life right now, Sam.
I am, in all senses, a burden. I’m saying this to you because you—well, your body language is pretty clear.
You seem to be, for want of a better word, attracted. Am I right?”
He nodded, eyes never leaving hers. “Jesus. Absolutely. From the first second I saw you.”
She sighed. He wasn’t making it any easier. The attraction was mutual. Except she’d been able to explain away the sharp awareness of him, the accelerated heartbeat, the slight trembling when she saw him as fear of a dangerous-looking man.
He was still dangerous-looking, but it wasn’t fear she felt. Oh God, no.
He wasn’t handsome but he had sharp, clean features, the strong features of a man used to wielding authority. The whole package—the outsize body, the big rough hands, the penetrating dark eyes, the no-nonsense air, the deep voice—was delectable and made her tremble deep inside.
She’d been so caught up in what she was telling him that she had had no sense of herself, but now sensations came rushing back in.
She was aroused by him, it was absolutely unmistakeable. Right now, in a perfectly nice Lebanese restaurant, blood was rushing to her sex and her breasts, her breathing was speeding up, her head filled with heated images of her crawling onto his lap and simply licking him all over.
Nicole hated machos. She’d grown up in third-world countries where the most idiotic male felt he was superior to all women because he had a Y chromosome and a piece of flesh dangling between his legs.
She was immune to their posturing, to their torrid glances and boasts of sexual prowess.
But Sam Reston was the real deal. He didn’t flaunt his maleness, it just…was. As much a part of him as his hands or feet. Male strength, not just of his muscles, but of his will, exuded from him, together with a gazillion male pheromones that had her heart racing.
He was still holding her hand and the connection felt electric, the heat running all the way up her arm.
Even his smell was delicious. Not a cologne, just clean male skin, the starch in his blindingly white shirt, and a faint scent of soap.
Not Armani or Boss, but still guaranteed to make female hearts trip up. He simply exuded power and sex.
Hormone city.
She was as turned on as she’d ever been in her life, yet they were simply sitting in a restaurant, hand in hand. Though nothing overt was happening at all, her chest felt tight and it was hard to breathe. She was hot all over, like she had a fever.
She had never felt this before, and it wasn’t…unpleasant. How sad to have to give it up without even having a chance to taste it first.
With a sigh, she tugged and he allowed her to slip her hand from his. She dipped into the hummus with a slice of home-made bread and hummed with pleasure. Delicious.
Nicole had learned the hard way the lesson of living moment by moment, being grateful for even the smallest of pleasures.
This was a fabulous meal in the company of an amazingly sexy man.
She had to put her feelings aside and enjoy it.
She hadn’t had this nice an evening since she’d learned her father was sick.
God knew when she’d have another evening like it.
“This is fabulous.” Nicole refrained from rolling her eyes with delight, and spooned some tabbouleh onto a torn-off chunk of fried bread.
Sam nodded gravely. “Yes, it is. Bashir and his mother are fantastic cooks.” He pushed a terra-cotta bowl of fatteh toward her. “Are you finished?”
She stopped, another bite halfway to her mouth. They had to leave already? A pang of sadness shot through her. Wow. That was quick. She’d said she wasn’t available for an affair and he wanted to end the evening as fast as he could.
Nicole tucked the disappointment away. “Finished? With the meal?”
“No. With what you wanted to say to me. Said all you wanted to say?”
Not really. She’d only lived in San Diego for a little over a year and between Wordsmith and her dad, there’d been no time to make any friends. This was the closest she’d come to a heart-to-heart talk since her lost carefree life in Geneva.
She hadn’t told him how her heart broke at watching her father die, day by day, piece by piece. How hard she tried to hold on to him, how horrible it was to feel him slipping from her grasp.
She hadn’t told Sam how tired she was between caring for her father at home and the fourteen hours a day and more she put in at work.
She hadn’t told him how lonely she felt, sometimes, without a friend to help relieve the relentless pressure. Or how worried she was about money, wondering whether her money would hold out to help ease his end.
But he wouldn’t want to hear that. Her story was pathetic enough as it was. “Yes. I think I more or less said what I had to say.”
Those dark eyes bored into hers. He raised his hand and brought it to her face. The fine hairs on the nape of her neck lifted as he ran the back of a long index finger down her cheek.
“I’ve never felt skin this soft before.” The finger ran lower, over her jaw and rested on a vein in her neck. Surely he had to feel how her heart pounded?
She was finding it hard to breathe as he ran his finger up and down the pulse point. He could read her every reaction there, as if her neck were some kind of lie detector.
He wasn’t reacting at all, simply looking at her, touching her. “Did you even listen to a word I said?”
His mouth tightened. “Oh yeah. Every word. So. Let me get this straight. You’re caring for a sick father, while trying to start up a new business and keep your head above water financially. Is that about it?”
“Very sick father.” How it hurt, every time she said it.
“But yes, that’s about it. And what it means is that I don’t have the time or the energy for an affair.
” She finally found the strength to move her head away from his touch and sopped up some muhummarrah with a pita triangle and put the whole mess in her mouth.
Hot, spicy, delicious. Pure heaven, tinged with regret.
Well, the bitter taste of regret was one she was used to by now.
Man up, she told herself.
“I’m sorry.” Nicole studied the grain of the wooden table for a moment, then met Sam’s eyes again. “I’m trying to be as clear and honest here as possible, Sam.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” His jaw muscles clenched. “And I appreciate your honesty. What I don’t get at all is why you would think that any of this would make me desire you any less.”
She blinked in surprise. “Well, I told you. I don’t have time for an affair.
Time or energy. My father is my top priority, and after that comes trying to make a living.
There just isn’t anything else in my life.
There can’t be. So…anything you might want from me, I can’t give you.
You’d be better off with someone else, someone who isn’t so wrapped up in problems. Actually, frankly, right now you’d be crazy to want me. ”
He was silent a long moment, then picked up his fork. “I think we’d better eat some more of this meal, otherwise Bashir will have my head.”
Nicole put on a wobbly smile. He was right. The food was fabulous, it would be a huge pity to let it go to waste. Live in the moment, and all that. A sigh was in her chest but she refused to let it out. What good would it do?
It felt good to have spelled out the situation to Sam, clearly and coolly. She’d definitely done the right thing. And if it felt like she’d stabbed herself in the heart, well, her heart had been taking a pounding for quite some time now.
Her appetite had gone, but she made a real effort to do justice to the magnificent meal. She was a diplomat’s daughter and had attended 17-course state dinners even when she was ill and had to choke down the food. She knew how to do this.
Sam was quiet, and so was she. Maybe he was feeling the regrets, too. But life was like that—good things happened at the wrong time. It was simply fate.
Kismet, Bashir would call it.