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“Yes! I…” She hesitated. Erez made her spill truths about herself. She needed to watch herself around him. Other than Erez, the only other man she confided this to was Ilan.
“What? Come on, Dafna, you can’t stop now.”
“I talked it over with my husband, who said that I was very beautiful. And he taught me how to make myself less appealing.”
“What do you mean? Can you show me?”
She didn’t want to pull a party trick.
“I’ll show you if you’ll tell me why you were reading Nickel and Dimed the night we met,” she said. She would get him to talk about himself, too.
“Deal.”
“You first,” she ordered because he was way too eager.
“I want to write a book like that one day. Okay, your turn.”
“Not so fast. A book? What kind? Have you started yet?”
“Have you heard of Ben Mezrich? He writes nonfiction like The Antisocial Network, they make movies out of his books. I want to explore real life financial events,” his eyes sparkled emerald, “and write about it in a way that people understand.”
This was a worthwhile dream.
“I’d love to read it,” she said. He huffed and shrugged.
“I don’t think I’ll have the time or energy. Not in the next ten years, anyway. Your turn.”
“Okay, close the door,” she said, resigned. She rummaged in her purse, found the simple black hairband, and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, then coiled it into a small bun.
Erez walked to the door, closing it, but he didn’t return to the chair, and instead came to perch on the windowsill right by her desk. He crossed his long legs and leaned back, taking a whole lot of room, but she loved how large he was.
A small, very sexy smile hovered on his lips. “I hope I’m not making you nervous.” He smirked. He really was a lot like Ilan. But who was she kidding. It was Ilan’s innate self-confidence which attracted her the most.
Randomly pulling out strands of hair, she made herself appear disheveled. Ilan, being a private investigator and former intelligence officer, showed her how to change her appearance quickly, and they had fun doing it together. She started calling her makeup kit the uglifying kit.
Taking out a small mirror and a makeup pencil from her kit, she drew a large brown mole on her chin. She extracted another makeup pencil and started adding lines to her eyebrows, thickening them. With that same pencil, she drew several lines above her lips, giving herself a thin mustache. A pair of glasses with thick black frames came next. She swiveled in her chair, her knees almost touching his calves, and looked up at him.
“Well?” she asked him.
He surprised her by crouching next to her chair, laying his arms on its armrests. “You still have the most beautiful eyes.”
He smelled clean, like he had just stepped out of the shower. Even on his knees he eclipsed everything else. It was just him and her. His large presence enveloped her, his nearness impossible to resist. He bit his thick lower lip. She leaned closer. A little tilt forward and she could trap his mouth with hers, and their tongues would meet and dance like when he was inside her covering her mouth with his kissing. A strangled moan escaped her.
He pulled away. Straightened and stood in one fluid move.
“We shouldn’t.”
She took a sharp breath and came to her senses. There was his job here. Their reputation. Their age gap, her children, her parents. Her baggage.
“No, we shouldn’t,” she whispered.
He walked away, stopping at her doorway.
“I’ll see myself out of Kisharti after I meet with Gil,” he told her.
“Okay.” Her voice was unsteady. She cleared her throat. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 15
