by Alisha Rai
She sat back, a funny look on her face. “You know, I imagined all of the various ways you could have been wounded worse, but I didn’t think it could have adversely affected the kids.”
“It’s all I think about,” he admitted gruffly. “That’s one of the reasons I’m getting sick of all this thanks and junk. Reid could have seen me and decided to step up his game, or grabbed one of those kids as a hostage…” He shook his head. “It’s like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. There are millions of bad ways this could have ended.”
“Someone was watching over all of you.”
“Mmm. Agreed.” Sasha noted the small shiver that ran through her body and felt a pang of regret. “Hey there. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for us to talk about this stuff.”
“I don’t mind.”
“No, we’re supposed to talk about light topics.”
She smiled. “Did you have a list?”
He didn’t. He kind of wished he had. Note to self: do not skimp on the lists. “Of course not. There are just certain things that people talk about on first dates.”
He was relieved when she resumed eating. “Like what?”
“Like…” He had to cast around. It had been that long since he’d been on a first date. “What kind of pets we have. Our favorite basketball team. Batman versus Superman.”
“You haven’t had an animal since your childhood dog died and I’m allergic to anything with hair, neither of us follow basketball, and Batman.”
His eyes narrowed. “Peanut didn’t die. He ran away.”
She tapped her finger against her lips, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Oops. Leyla must have been mistaken.”
“Okay, we’re going to ignore your misinformation on the first thing, and I’ll agree on the second. But Batman? He relies almost exclusively on his toys. Superman has superhuman powers. Take away his suit and he’s still a Super. Take away Batman’s gadgets and suits, and what have you got?”
She took a sip of wine. “Are you serious? Take away Batman’s suit and you have a billionaire who can invent pretty much anything. Superman is kind of a dunce.”
“A dunce? How can you say that?”
She leaned forward, all militant and serious. “Because he’s lived with his super powers all his freakin’ life, and he can’t come up with a better disguise than slicking back his hair and snapping on a pair of dorky glasses? Batman has a mask, plus all sorts of getaway devices.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get started on their uniforms. Superman’s stretchy spandex has nothing on Batman’s sculpted pecs.”
He glared at her. “You cannot bring fashion sense into a superhero discussion!”
“If they wear it, it’s fair game.” She folded her arms on the table. “Is this supposed to be a light discussion? Because I think we’re fighting.”
“We’re having a disagreement.”
“Are disagreements allowed on a first date?”
“Sure. Though usually I think they’re over politics or religion.”
She smiled. “Whew. I’m glad we got through all those squabbles over the past two years.”
“Yeah. Or this conversation could have really broken us up.”
“Not necessarily.” She leaned in close. He did too. “Spiderman.”
He sat back in his chair and grunted. “Could kick both their asses.”
“I think so too!”
“You have no idea how relieved I am.”
They chatted until a lull fell. Sasha checked his watch, surprised to find that hours had flown by. The candles had burnt low, red wax melting down their sides to pool at the base of the holders. The flames flickered, almost at the end of the wick.
“What time is it?”
He glanced up. “Midnight.” They both seemed to realize at the same time that he was holding her hand. He didn’t know when he’d grabbed it, just that their fingers were linked. He allowed himself to sweep his thumb over her soft skin before reluctantly releasing her. “Late.”
“Mmm.”
“You usually go to bed early.” She was one of those people who got up when it was still dark outside.
“I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
She didn’t mean to make the words sound sexual, but that was the way they hit his gut. The constant hum of arousal he’d managed to bank flared.
He swallowed and pushed his seat back. Their plates had been emptied long ago, and he picked hers up and put it on top of his.
She half-stood. “I can get it.”
“I don’t mind. Sit.”
He knew she wouldn’t. Sure enough, she followed him into her kitchen, bearing the casserole dishes and whatever else he couldn’t carry in one trip. “If you want to just put everything in the sink, I can get to it later.”
He cast her an incredulous glance. Like hell he was going to make her clean up after their first date. He may be kind of an idiot about relationships, but even he knew that wasn’t kosher. “That’s fine. I can just wash it while I’m here.” He placed everything in the sink and accepted the dishes from her as well.
He turned on the water. While he waited for it to get hot, he rolled up his shirtsleeves.
He didn’t have to look to know she stood next to him. He felt the heat from her body. “I’ll dry,” she said.
“You don’t have…”
“Hush. I want to.”
Since he didn’t particularly want her to leave, he didn’t say anything more.
He sank his hands into the soapy water and thought of the picture they would make to anyone peering in on the domestic scene. “You know, when I renovated my kitchen, I had an argument with Leyla about whether I should put in a dishwasher or not.”
“You wanted one?”
He smiled. “Why does everyone assume all men like cleaning shortcuts? No. I didn’t want one. Leyla convinced me, said I might one day want to use it.” Her actual argument was that he might one day have a wife who would want to use it, but no need to scare Maira away with that little tidbit.
“Do you?”
“Nope. Barely touch the thing.”
“Mmm. This house is old too, and I didn’t bother to put one in either. I don’t cook a lot. If I’m working, I just grab my meals at the hospital. Is that why you don’t have one?”
“Partly. But most of it is memories.”
“Memories of dishwashing?”
“Sure. My parents used to do the dishes together. Every night, right after dinner. It was their time together.”
She gave a wistful sigh. When he looked at her, she smiled. “That sounds lovely.”
“Doing dishes sounds lovely?” He hadn’t met many women who would agree.
“No. Dishes are a pain in the butt. But it’s sweet that they tried to make something boring into something they could share together. I bet neither of them complained, did they?”
He smiled. “Nope. Never. In fact, as we got older, they would give us all sorts of chores, but neither me nor Leyla ever got the dishes.”
“It sounds like they had a good relationship.”
“Yeah. They did. I mean, it was solid.”
“You don’t talk about them much.”
He reflected for a second. “I guess… It’s been so long since they died. I miss them though. They were great parents. Leyla was a good surrogate too.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that’s like. My mother drives me crazy, but I can’t imagine how painful it would be to lose her or my dad. Praise God, I’ve never had to face burying anyone I’ve loved yet. You’re the only one I’ve… Hmm.”
He glanced over to find her cheeks pink, the cloth in her hand drying mindlessly over a plate. He took a guess as to what she was thinking. “You didn’t lose me. Didn’t even come close.”
She shrugged, but didn’t look at him. That wasn’t it then, the reason behind her embarrassment. What was it? Because she’d lumped him in with other people she cared for? Because she’d let him know the extent of her caring?
Like he didn’t already know. Of course, she didn’t know that he knew. And he didn’t plan on blurting that out. No one liked feeling vulnerable.
“Hey.” He waited ’til she looked up and gave her a smile. “You’re the only one I could ever picture wanting to do the dishes with every night.”
She looked surprised, and then she laughed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” He loved to see her smile. It lit up her whole face. She had little laugh lines around her eyes.
As her chuckles died, she put the dried plate on the rack. All of the dishes were done. He withdrew his hands from the soapy water. Before he could shake them dry or swipe them on his jeans as was his regular protocol, she had enfolded his hands in the fresh towel from the counter. She kept her head bowed as she dried the moisture. He stared at the top of her head, counting the hairs that made up her pretty little widow’s peak. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Her voice was as rough as his. She glanced up from beneath her lashes, shy and sweet. He couldn’t resist, not with her looking at him like that. He leaned down and gently sipped at her lips, taking care not to go too deep too fast.
He felt like a kid on his first date, not wanting to scare her away, yet unable to stop himself from pushing forward. Though he wanted nothing more than to pin her against the door and ravage her mouth, he restrained himself. His hands were suddenly awkward appendages—he didn’t know where to put them. Every inch of her curvy body tempted him. He finally settled them on her waist, and even that was torture. The flare of her hips was so damn close.
Her hands twined around his neck. Her fingernails scraped over his skin. He shuddered. It took quite a manful effort, but he called a halt to the shallow kisses before they could transform into something more. Withdrawing only enough to rest his forehead against hers, he took a deep breath. “Stop being pretty.”
Her light laugh stroked over him. “I’ll try.”
He brushed his lips over hers again before reluctantly stepping back. She really was too stunning, standing there with her hair falling out of her ponytail, the top button of her pink shirt magically undone. “I should get going.”
She blinked. “Now?”
Noooo, his libido howled. “Yeah. It’s late. I should let you get to bed.”
He cursed the words as soon as they left his mouth. But really, what wouldn’t be a double entendre around Maira right now? He could read sex into anything.
A bolder, more experienced woman might have used the moment to cast him a seductive glance and lead him up the stairs, but he didn’t think Maira would. Sure enough, she swallowed and glanced away. “You don’t have to.”
“I should.” He would. Really. Move, feet.
He heard her follow him to the door. He opened it and then turned around to face her. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” She made a face. “Night shift.”
“Oh.” Damn. “I have physical therapy in the daytime.”
“I like to catch a nap anyway,” she said, and to his ears it sounded reluctant.
“The day after?” At her nod, he smiled. “Great. I’m booking you.”
“Okay. So we’re…”
“Going out. It’s our second date.”
“Okay…I really enjoyed myself tonight.”
“Me too. Good night.”
“Night.”
“Lock your door.”
“I always do.”
She had the prettiest skin. It was so smooth. Her cheek had felt so soft against his fingers.
“Sasha?”
“Huh?”
She smiled. Her bottom two teeth overlapped. “You really don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”
He blinked. “Oh. No. You should get some rest. That’s fine. Night.”
“Night.”
He turned to leave, and, because he couldn’t resist, stepped back into the house, wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in for another quick kiss.
He left her standing there, looking bemused, and backed out of the house. “The lock,” he reminded her.
“Oh. Yes.”
He walked two steps before she closed the door, and then stopped, reluctant to leave just yet. As if she hasn’t been living alone for years, he thought, with a wry smile. She’s survived this long just fine, presumably locking her doors every night.
Still, he waited to leave until he heard the click of the lock.
Chapter Seven
Maira stifled a yawn as she sat at her breakfast table and sorted through her mail. Unlike most physicians, Maira kind of liked night calls. She didn’t need a lot of sleep anyway, so it didn’t really matter if she caught it between patients or in a solid stretch.
Of course, her bed at home was hella more comfy than the on call room at the hospital. Also, since it had been a Sunday night, the E.R. had been busier than normal. Weekends always brought more traffic.
She cocked her head when she found a postcard nestled amidst the bills and more bills. She studied the picture on it, an ocean view that was sold in every Florida gift shop up and down the coast.
She flipped the card over. No postmark or address, simply a bold masculine scrawl in the body. “Had a great time on Saturday. Sasha.”
A foolish grin spread over her lips. She had to resist the urge to grip the card close to her chest and twirl around like a giddy thirteen-year-old with her first love letter.
She’d had to make a conscious effort to concentrate on work when all she really wanted to do was rehash the previous night. Their first date had been like something out of a romantic movie. When Sasha got serious, he didn’t waste any time. He couldn’t have manufactured a more perfect evening.
The only thing she might have improved on? He’d ended that good-night kiss a little too quickly. She wouldn’t have minded taking things over to the couch. Or maybe even…the bed.
He’s just taking it slow. That was fine with her, really. Really. No, really.
She huffed out a breath. Really.
Because honestly, her headlong attempt to rush the sex had ended in disaster. Far better to take things nice and easy and make sure of everything before they hopped into the sack. That was the mature, responsible, grown-up thing to do.
And Maira was nothing if she wasn’t mature and responsible and grown up.
Though no one would know it to look at her two hours later, dozing on her coach with the TV on. She picked up her cell phone when it went off, not alarmed to see the hospital’s number. Off-call only meant she wouldn’t have to go rushing in. “Hello?”
“Mo?”
Mason. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Did Sasha call you?”
She frowned. “No. Why?”
Mason made a frustrated noise. “Reid passed a half hour ago.”
Oh God. Her first thought wasn’t for the dead man, or his family. “Sasha knows?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want him to find out from the press—they’re sure to get wind of it quickly. Turns out he’d already found out from his superior. He sounded…odd. I just called back, and he’s not answering. I can’t leave here.”
“I’ll go to his house right now.” She’d already shoved her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her wallet and keys. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Great.” The relief in his voice was unmistakable. “Thanks. Talk to you soon.”
“No problem.” She hung up as she got in her car and backed down the driveway.
Sasha didn’t really know what to do with himself.
It was a bizarre feeling. He was used to action. Even though he was on leave, he spent his day working on his leg, exercising, researching stuff on the internet, hell, even playing video games. He didn’t just sit around.
Except now he was just sitting around.
The knock on the door startled him out of his contemplation of the plain off-white wall in front of him. He considered ignoring it. No doubt it would just be another reporter or perhaps so
me other curiosity seeker. The campers in front of his house had cleared out last week, but now they’d probably be back, asking him for a meatier statement than whatever the station had released.
The knock came again, louder, and then his cell phone rang next to him on his end table. Maira. He picked it up right away. “Hey.”
“I’m at your door,” came her breathless reply. “Can you open it?”
“Oh. Yeah, hang on a sec.”
His limbs felt stiff, so he had trouble walking to the door. He opened it and surveyed her standing there in faded jeans and a white T-shirt. She looked fresh and scrubbed, though he knew she’d been at the hospital for a twelve-hour shift all night long.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
He should be saying something. Something witty and romantic. He racked his brain. What did a guy say in a situation like this? Since he couldn’t think of anything, he gave up. “This isn’t a good time.”
“I know. Put your shoes on.”
“What?”
“Come on. I want to take you somewhere.”
He hesitated. “I’m really not in the mood…”
“You’ll like where we’re going.”
“I’d rather stay here.”
Maira bit her lip. “Sasha, I know about Reid. The press is going to get wind of it pretty soon. You really want to be where everyone knows you live?”
Touché. Since he’d been thinking the same thing, he couldn’t very well argue with her. “Where are we going?”
“Just get your shoes, and let me worry about that.”
He let her take the driver’s seat, literally, and sat silently staring out the window. He didn’t have to make conversation. Let her initiate the small talk if she wanted to. He’d warned her, he thought, a small flare of irritation piercing the fog surrounding him. He’d fucking warned her that he wouldn’t be good company right now.
He was surprised when she pulled up in front of a giant dome of a building in a neighboring town. He glanced at the dashboard clock. Holy crap, they’d been driving for an hour? To come here? “We drove all this time to go to a science museum?”