“To die. He wanted to come back home to die,” she finally whispered. A single tear spilled from her eye and plopped onto the table. And here she thought she had no tears left.
Sam dried the track it had left with his thumb. The skin of his finger was rough, like a cat’s tongue, the touch delicate.
“Sorry,” she said, bowing her head. A weeping dinner date was no fun.
“Sorry?” He frowned. “For what?”
She was sorry about everything. Sorry that she was soon going to lose her father, sorry about her reduced life, sorry that this attraction couldn’t go anywhere.
Okay, the next bit just had to be said.
“From that moment, from the moment I learned that my father was very ill and that he wanted to come home, my life changed on a dime. I quit my job and we moved here, to the house my grandmother left me.” Nicole tried to make her voice brisk. “So, Sam. Like it or not, this is my life. My father is dying and we have no money. While closing up Dad’s affairs, I discovered that Dad had invested his life savings in a mutual fund run by Lawrence Karloff.”
She nodded when he winced. The tangled lawsuits of the thousands of people who’d lost every cent of their savings in the giant Ponzi scheme run by the Wall Street legend were still making headlines.
“Yes, indeed. Dad lost every penny he’d ever put aside to that bastard Karloff. He is essentially penniless. That SOB took everything. And since Dad had to retire from the State Department early for reasons of health, he has a reduced pension. Basically, the pension pays for the utilities, food, taxes and that’s about it. The State Department covers hospitalization. But the costs for his nursing care, our housekeeper, his physical rehab, the drugs…they’re all astronomical and they’re all on me. I don’t think we could have afforded to actually move back to the States if my grandmother hadn’t left me our house. Luckily, we don’t have to pay rent or a mortgage. Otherwise I don’t think it would have worked and Dad wouldn’t have gotten his—his wish.
“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 thisismy 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 offattehtoward 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.
