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“It” turned out to be four plates. A chicken curry, a vegetarian pasta bake, steak, and hand cut chips.
“I’m not really that hungry,” Melinda couldn’t help laughing as she surveyed the personal banquet.
“That’s fine. Eat what you’d like. I wasn’t sure what your preference would be.”
“So you got everything? It’s like that scene in Pretty Woman. You know … where he … Richard Gere …” at his blank look, she shook her head. “Never mind. Thank you.”
“A pleasure.” And it was. Ra’if dismissed the realisation. He was simply doing his civic duty. The fact that he found his companion unexpectedly charming, utterly beautiful, and incredibly fascinating had little to do with why he had practically dragged her to this dive.
She reached for a chip and lifted it to her lips. They were full lips, and generous, curving naturally into a smile even as she ate. Her skin was a flawless cream, with a slight tan, that might have been genetics or the result of a recent holiday. She had long lashes that curled softly, and there was an elegance to her movements that was obviously innate to who she was. Her eyes were what really held his attention though. They were enormous, a dark shade of brown, almost black, and so expressive. He felt they would give him her life story if he were to look into them long enough.
“So,” she murmured, lifting another chip to her mouth. “Who are you?”
She’d been shocked when they’d spoken. She’d obviously forgotten his name. Unused to being not only a private citizen but a man who excited little speculation in the media, the experience of not being known was a glorious novelty.
“Ra’if,” he responded with a smile.
It made her belly roll. “You told me your name,” she said, sipping her wine again. “I mean, who are you? You said you’re not from the UK?”
“No.” He nodded. “I’m not. I’m from Dashan.”
She racked her brains, trying to recall anything about the country. But, to her embarrassment, it was just one of those places that existed a long way away, somewhere hot and arid. She knew nothing of its people or its places. “And what brings you to London?” She asked, moving the conversation onto grounds that were less likely to make her feel like a fool.
“Work.” He reached for a chip at the same time she did and their fingers brushed. She startled, shifting back into her seat.
He smiled at her, his eyes lightly teasing. Her temperature spiked.
He watched while she ate, indulging her attempts at small talk with a growing frustration. Despite the constant flow of light-hearted conversation, his sense that she was an enigma he might never understand only heightened.
“I’d better get going,” she said with a smile. “Thank you for dinner. And for saving my life.”
He stood, his eyes serious now as they held hers. “You’re welcome, for both.” He walked with her, out into the ice cold night air. He lifted a hand to hail a cab and one stopped almost instantly, actually screeching its brakes in an effort to meet his silent command.
Yes, he was authoritative all right, as though he’d been born to command.
“Well,” she turned to face him. “Thanks again.” Saying goodbye was proving oddly difficult. It was absurd; they’d just met. Perhaps the intensity of the situation in which they’d found themselves accounted for why she was finding it wrenching to actually leave him. Mentally, she shook herself and forced a smile to her face. This whole day had been strange, from beginning to end. The sooner she got home and went to bed, the better.
He held the door open for her and she stepped down into the seat. To Melinda’s surprise, he didn’t swing the door closed behind her.
Instead, he brought his large frame into the cab alongside her. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here,” he said, his gravelly voice not inviting argument. “I feel a degree of responsibility for your safety this evening. Let me finish the job I started.”
“The job of saving me?” She said with a lift of her brow.
“Exactly.”
She sank back into the seat, her mind berating her for not arguing. But fighting him was the last thing she wanted. The truth was, she was taking enormous comfort from his presence. And it didn’t yet occur to her to be bothered by that.
CHAPTER TWO
At any time of night, there was action in Putney. As the cab drew to a halt outside her block of flats, a group of school kids ran past, laughing loudly into the cold night air. A Tesco truck sped past, tooting its horn when one of the children threw a magazine onto the road in front of him.
Melinda reached into her bag but before she could withdraw enough money to cover the fare, Ra’if had flashed his credit card. The driver tapped it against his machine.
“You don’t have to do that,” Melinda said quietly.
“I know.” He pushed out of the cab, holding the door open for her, surveying the street in both directions. She was on the corner of the high street and a little alleyway, just one block from the Thames. There were three pubs within a stone’s throw, an Italian restaurant and a pizzeria. Groups of diners were mingling in the doorways and the pubs had huddles of smokers gathered beneath heaters.
“I…” she stared up at him, scanning his face with a growing sense of embarrassment. “Would you like to come in? For coffee?”
