Delicious Delay

by Tara Quan

  Being a sound judge of character had its drawbacks. His visceral attraction to her chafed under fraying reins of self-control. The temptation to touch her had been so palpable he had hesitated to shake her hand. He had feared that once he felt her skin against his, he would want more. He’d been right.

  He almost groaned as she curled up on the sofa with an e-book reader in hand. Didn’t she know lying down in front of a man ignited a dangerous temptation? His face grew warm despite the icy air conditioning. He shifted, for once grateful he wore loose-fitting traditional garb. His arousal would otherwise be visible.

  She stretched and arched her back, drawing his attention to her breasts. Her dainty hand covered her mouth as she yawned. She slid her bare feet onto the sofa’s arm, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the harsh light. The e-book reader fell to her chest as her eyes drifted shut.

  Kal rose to his feet and grabbed a change of clothing. He rarely exercised this level of restraint. Born into wealth, he had learned very young how potent an aphrodisiac money could be. In his homeland and elsewhere, females threw themselves at him long before he recognized a mutual attraction.

  While he appreciated sex, he soon found the courtship dance tiresome. The women who crossed his path all had a single goal in mind. Be it in the form of gifts, travel, or status—only the benefits of his position kept paramours by his side. When he lost interest, a simple withholding of luxuries rid him of all entanglements.

  But the woman fast asleep by the window didn’t fit his usual mold. Though he contemplated approaching her, doing so would be a slippery slope leading to complications he didn’t want. He preferred arrangements with defined parameters. The safest option would be to take a cold shower and put her out of his mind.

  Perhaps to discourage usage, the airline situated its full bathrooms inside the spa area. The receptionist bowed deeply as she handed him a thick towel. For the most part, he opted against traditional garb because it announced his position in addition to limiting mobility. But not dressing this way when he left home would have upset his mother, whose theatrics he preferred to avoid at all costs.

  He had traveled through this airport so many times he didn’t need directions to find the luxuriously appointed bathroom hidden behind a labyrinth of treatment areas. It smelled of citrus and lemongrass, and the turquoise glass tiles glittered under warm halogen lighting. He reached the shower located at the end of a series of stalls. Sealed off by a heavy wooden door, the space also contained a large sink, mirror, and dressing area.

  Even though he turned the knob to the coldest setting, the raining water came out lukewarm. With the sun beating down at full force, chillers could only lower the temperature from the pipes so far.

  This place needed a gym more than a spa. He wouldn’t mind lifting some weights. It would help burn away the sexual frustration. His palpable attraction for Ms. Day went beyond insane. They hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other. He shouldn’t be undressing her in his mind’s eye.

  Her bell-like voice had grown more high-pitched as her nervousness escalated. He had unsettled her by being curt, the safer route to take. If he did as instinct commanded, he would have pulled her against his chest and tasted those luscious lips.

  He worked the shower gel into a lather and scrubbed his body with furious strokes. The sweet-smelling suds did little to temper his lust. His aberrant imagination conjured the feel of her delicate fingers tracing shapes over his chest. As lines of water flowed over him, he reacted as if her lips trailed over his skin. How would it feel to slip his hand between her legs? How would she fit in his arms when he pulled her into an intimate embrace?

  His erection throbbed, growing harder with each passing minute. With a curse, he shut off the water. Time to put some mental distance between him and the object of his desire. Hundreds of emails clogged his inbox, and he couldn’t think of a more mind-numbing task to take off the edge. If this ridiculous attraction didn’t wane after a few hours in the business center, he might have to revisit his decision to keep his hands off her.

  Chapter Two

  When Michelle managed to peel her lids open, her vision settled on a pair of denim-clad thighs. She shifted onto her back so she could look up and put those limbs into perspective. Whoever they belonged to, the person better have a very good reason for waking her up.

  It took a moment before her mind reconciled the man’s face with her still fuzzy memory. Once she realized the identity of the individual staring down at her, she launched straight into a sitting position. What could she have done to offend Mr. Kal-Khalid while sleeping?

  She rubbed her eyes and struggled to focus. It took a moment before her mind cleared. He sure cleaned up well. Dressed in a red polo and black jeans, he had gone from striking to drop-dead gorgeous. Jet-black hair brushed his collar, and the curly tendrils softened his angular face. Though he frowned at her, she couldn’t help but feel an undercurrent of attraction.

  Until now, she had believed the concept of chemistry a sham. But their few interactions proved otherwise. She may not like him, but she wanted him. She was woman enough to admit this simple truth, though acting on it was another matter altogether.

  She tamped down on the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Despite being the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, he possessed zero manners. For some women, sex appeal excused poor behavior. Michelle didn’t subscribe to that philosophy. She enjoyed reading about overbearing alpha males in romance novels. But in real life, they could become pains in the rear, as evidenced by the one looming over her.

  She catalogued his expansive chest before her attention diverted to his muscled forearms. A thin layer of dark hair covered his tanned skin. Her perusal ended with the platinum Patek Philippe watch on his left wrist. The item reminded her they came from two very different worlds. Even if she saved every penny she made for the next two decades, she wouldn’t have enough money to buy the timepiece he so casually sported.

  Her focus shifted to the position of the hour and minute hands. She had just slept for over five hours. “Oh my gosh, is the plane about to take off?” Looking for her tote, a rush of panic flared through her. She couldn’t find it.

  “I took the liberty of depositing both our personal items at the reception desk. I needed to use the business center and didn’t want to leave your bag unattended for too long.” After a pause, he continued, “I was just informed the flight will board at six p.m.”

  She heaved a relieved sigh and frowned. Because of the number of time zones she had crossed, her groggy mind struggled with the simple calculation. “That’s in….”

  “Approximately three hours.” He sounded annoyed. She couldn’t fathom why.

  Since he had made quite a few nice gestures in a row, she smiled. “I wasn’t snoring, was I?”

  He shrugged. “Not very loudly.”

  Her warm and fuzzy feelings toward him evaporated. “Okay, then. Thanks for letting me know the boarding time.”

  He watched her for so long she had to resist drumming her fingers on the sofa.

  “When was the last time you ate?” he finally asked.

  Her stomach chose that particular moment to make weird noises. “Um…. A while back. I plan on attacking the buffet in just a minute.”

  His nose scrunched up, reflecting his low opinion of the food offerings. She remembered there being a nice assortment of sushi as well as copious amounts of fresh fruit, so she didn’t share his concern.

  Seeming torn, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling before reverting it back to her face. She hadn’t a clue what possible dilemma he could be having at this precise moment.

  “I requested they serve a proper meal.” He gestured to the handful of small two-seater tables on the other side of the lounge. “It would make sense for you to partake as well.”

  “Absolutely not.” The refusal came out emphatic enough she winced at the way it sounded. The startled look on his face made her sigh. She shouldn
’t sink to his level. “That’s very gracious of you, but I’m fine fending for myself.”

  He crossed his arms. “What reason do you have to turn down dinner? You must be famished.”

  The man had to be yanking her chain. “I do plan to eat. Just not with you.”

  His raised eyebrows suggested she had again managed to surprise him. “Have I offended you in some way?”

  What could she say in response to that? A simple yes didn’t seem appropriate. “No,” she lied. “You just don’t seem like you want company. I would prefer not to intrude.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why would I ask you to join me if I didn’t want your company?”

  Very good question. She’d like to know the answer, but not enough to share a meal with him. Honesty might be the best way to end this conversation. “I don’t know why. But you’re not very good at masking facial expressions or body language. I can tell you don’t want to be anywhere near me. I don’t believe in being fake nice. Life’s too short.”

  Faint creases formed at the corners of his eyes and mouth. She expected him to storm away in a huff.

  Instead, he chuckled. “Do you know most people find me inscrutable?”

  “You’re clearly surrounded by idiots.” She almost smacked her own forehead. Something about him prompted her to say whatever came to mind.

  Her words resulted in a bark of laughter. She couldn’t help but marvel at how mirth transformed his face. He was handsome, after all.

  “You might be the first intelligent person I’ve talked to in months.”

  Her lips curved into a smile. When he took a break from being obnoxious, this man had a way of making her heart skip a beat. “Is that why you were being such an ass?”

  He shook his head. “Your attire annoyed me. Don’t you know shorts are inappropriate in the Middle East?”

  She cocked her head to the side. The ability to admit mistakes happened to be one of her virtues. “In my defense, I changed into them on the plane. I didn’t expect to be stuck in this country. But I apologize for offending you.”

  “There is no need.” After a short pause, he added, “I enjoyed the view.”

  She would never describe herself as a shy person, but the compliment, coupled with the intensity of his gaze, triggered a sudden urge to fidget. “Then why were you being cross?”

  He seemed to ponder her question for a moment. “Dressing in such a revealing fashion puts you at unnecessary risk.”

  Her nose twitched. Something about his statement made her wary. “Isn’t it my risk to take, and therefore none of your business?”

  He frowned. “It’s possible I may have felt…protective.”

  Now that was a word destined to set off alarm bells. “Why would you feel protective of someone you’d just met?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea.” As she geared up to ask another question, he extended his hand. “What is my body language telling you now?”

  She hesitated for a split second before resting her fingertips on his palm. “I don’t know. You’re sending mixed signals.”

  He pulled her up, and the momentum sent her crashing into his chest. He steadied her by placing his free hand on her lower back. She breathed a lung-full of spicy cologne—the perfect medley of sandalwood, cinnamon, and something too exotic to name. He might just be the best-smelling guy she’d ever met.

  Taking a step back, she distanced herself from the heady aroma and peered up. The desire evident in his dark gaze warned her to run. She might be a novice at male-female interactions, but she could recognize masculine interest when it smacked her in the face.

  “Perhaps I should clarify my intentions.” An edgy hunger laced his voice.

  She swallowed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “I want you.” He released her hand and trailed his up her arm until he reached her shoulder. The contact elicited a shiver. “It places you in an untenable situation.”

  She licked her suddenly parched lips. “How so?”

  He brushed his fingertips along the side of her breast before settling them on her waist. “I’m accustomed to getting whatever I want. Once I do, I’m quick to discard it.”

  Logic dictated she move out of his hold. Instead, she inched closer. “Are you warning me away?”

  He captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m telling you what will happen if you choose not to stop this.”

  A rush of power twined with instinctive denial. “I’m not doing anything.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re not walking away, either.”

  She tried to consider his warning even though her thoughts jumbled into a garbled mess. “What happens if I don’t?”

  He leaned in until his breath mingled with hers. She smelled mint and salt with just a hint of dark chocolate. “I’ll try to get you in my bed.”

  She didn’t believe in meaningless flings, but desire curled in the pit of her stomach. Her extremities tingled. A long dormant side of her stirred to life. For once, the logical part of her brain didn’t take over. “You don’t have a bed at the moment.”

  He grinned. “I will have one when we get to New York.”

  “Then you’re starting too early.” Her breath came out ragged. “I have another eighteen hours for sanity to kick in.”

  He shook his head. “You seem like the type who needs to consider all the angles. I would be surprised if you didn’t create a list of pros and cons before making every decision. If you do sleep with me, it wouldn’t be on impulse.”

  She found the ease with which he had read her disconcerting. Such blatant interest should have sent her into escape mode. But instead, she wanted to eat him up.

  She dug her toes into her flip-flops. “Why don’t we start by sharing a meal?”

  ***

  “What do you do for a living?”

  Kal seldom bothered to converse about employment. His affairs tended to be too brief for the information to have any bearing. But after chatting with Michelle for the past half hour, curiosity overcame reserve. Her knowledge of the world impressed him. He hadn’t met someone this well-traveled in a very long time.

  A tuxedoed waiter arrived to serve a small portion of pomegranate sorbet—a tart palate cleanser meant to erase all traces of their first course. While he had a weakness for stuffed vine leaves, hummus, and tabbouleh, the strong flavors left an unwelcome aftertaste. The remaining Western dishes would have tasted bland if immediately preceded by a Mediterranean appetizer.

  His companion didn’t reply until their server departed. It reflected more operational security than he expected.

  “I probably shouldn’t answer since I know you won’t reciprocate. But it’s not a secret. I’m about to start working as a translator at the United Nations headquarters in New York.”

  The world could be inconveniently small upon occasion. Her revelation should have prompted a hasty farewell, but it piqued his curiosity. “What languages do you speak?”

  She managed a self-deprecating smile even though the gleam in her eyes hinted at pride. “Fluently? Just Chinese. I have a working knowledge of a few others.”

  Aware of what her position entailed, he knew the modest statement skirted the truth. “Did you fly here from China?”

  She nodded before preempting his follow-on question. “I worked as a translator in Chengdu for three years. Before that, I worked here.”

  He hadn’t expected her final statement. “How long were you in this country?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “About a year, but it felt like forever. I couldn’t wait for my contract to end. Your Education Council recruited me as a college advisor straight out of graduate school.”

  He couldn’t fathom why she would leave her position. “How could you prefer China to here? The air quality there is toxic and sanitation is sub par.”

  She shrugged. “It’s nothing personal. The money here was great, my life comfortable. But there’s no challenge, upward mobility, or any way to put d
own roots. All expatriates here are on short-term contracts, their visas tied to employment. Very few people consider this country their home. It’s a transient consumerist existence, and I found it all rather depressing.”

  Her words would have had less impact were they not true. “I don’t think I have ever heard anyone insult my homeland with such eloquence.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “There are tons of articles written on the subject, the most recent one in the Economist. You should read it sometime.”

  “I have an electronic subscription,” he replied in a deadpan voice.

  Her amber eyes grew wide, and her lashes fluttered. The adorable reaction tempted him to shock her once more. “I happen to possess a doctorate in Macroeconomics from Oxford.”

  Impressing her shouldn’t matter, but the flash of respect in her eyes made him smile.

  “I hadn’t pegged you as the studious type,” she admitted.

  “Does it alter your opinion of me?” He didn’t know what answer he preferred until he heard her say it.

  “Not really. I figured you were intelligent about five minutes into this meal. A degree just confirms it. Here’s a question—why haven’t you moved somewhere else? Most people with that level of specialization tend to gravitate toward countries with more established academia.”

  He found her perceptiveness refreshing. Too distracted by his bloodline, position, and pocketbook, most individuals never wondered if he would have chosen a different life.

  The waiter arrived to replace their sorbet bowls with the main course. He had ordered the rib-eye, while she had opted for grilled sea bass. He wondered how much of this dish she would eat. Her facial expressions thus far indicated she enjoyed the food, but she hadn’t taken more than a few bites. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  She wagged her fork in the air. “I learned a long time ago that quantity doesn’t affect taste. Eating a small serving of something is just as satisfying.”