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Maybe it was, a little.
But he wasn’t a male chauvinist. He came from a culture where women had, until relatively recently, been denied the rights to which men were born, but he’d never considered virginity something he’d demand in a wife.
The problem went beyond that.
He could not imagine Rami and Rachel having a conversation together, much less sleeping together. Rami had been all about the way a woman looked. Rachel was beautiful, but she was much more than that.
She was bright. Articulate. Opinionated.
Definitely opinionated.
He’d been reading a political blog on his laptop this morning; she’d been reading the same blog on his iPad. He hadn’t known she was reading it and he’d mumbled something about it to himself. She’d mumbled back, and the next thing he knew she’d been debating with him for all she was worth.
Rami wouldn’t have given a damn.
He loved it.
Loved her—which brought him back to the beginning. How could there have been anything between two such different people?
He wanted to ask.
But he didn’t.
For one thing, Rachel had made it clear she didn’t want to talk about the time she’d spent with Rami.
For another, he wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable with the answers.
As he’d told her at the beginning, it was best to leave the past in the past and concentrate on today. On right now—because the waiter was coming with dessert.
A fanciful, miniature chocolate Brooklyn Bridge for him …
A scoop of vanilla ice cream for her.
The waiter put the dishes in front of them, shot a conspiratorial grin at Karim, said, “Enjoy!” and almost skipped away.
Karim watched Rachel look from his little bridge replica to her scoop of vanilla ice cream. Her eyes flashed to his and he had to work at not laughing.
She looked like a kid who’d been promised cotton candy and instead was handed a lollypop.
“Mmm,” he said cheerfully. “Looks good.”
“Uh—uh, yes, it looks delicious.”
How he loved her! What other woman would smile as if she was really thrilled to pass up a chocolate sculpture for what appeared to be a scoop of plain vanilla?
Karim picked up his dessert fork and sliced into his dessert.
“Fantastic,” he said. And then, politely, “How’s yours?”
