Wait for Me (4 page)

“But you don’t know how to cook, Tommy.”

“I know that, Mikey. That’s why I called you.”

“What do you expect me to do, Tommy? Cram three years of chef school in a couple of hours?”

“Just tell me how to make something easy. What did you make on your first day?”

“Broths. Lots and lots of broths.”

Tom groaned and laid his head back. He stared at his ceiling.

“Yes, that’s how I felt too,” Mikey said. “All right. Grab a notepad and a pen. I have an idea.”

Chapter Four

Anjali stood in front of her closet, staring at her clothes. She pulled out a navy blue dress.

Too big. They are all too big.

She searched through her closet, her frown deepening with each item she passed.

Why did I agree to dinner with him anyway?

She pulled out a brown tribal patterned broom skirt.

‘Stupid Jock’ is written all over him. That body. Those eyes. They sparkled like the Caribbean Sea.

She sighed.

Admit it, Singh, you want to see how far you can get with Jock-boy. It’s all about stroking your ego.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. She cringed at the guilty look broadcasted on her face.

She returned the skirt to her closet, removed a black dress and tried it on. The extra fabric around her middle looked odd. She retrieved a wide red belt and secured it around her waist.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

She put on her pearl earrings and necklace.

There’s no need to feel guilty, Singh. He’s looking for a good time. Why shouldn’t you?

“Enjoy the moment,” she told her reflection.

Her eyes landed on the elegant white folder on her dresser.

“Because you won’t have time later.”

She took a deep breath then headed over to Tom’s house. She rang the doorbell. A familiar melody rang through his house, punctuated by a muffled cannon blast.

Is that the 1812 overture?

The door opened. Tom ran his hand through dark brown hair.

Is he…nervous?

“Come in, Anjali.”

He moved aside and she stepped into his foyer.

“Mmm. Coconut. Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”

“Thai.”

He rubbed his palms discreetly against his jeans.

Now why would
he
be nervous on a date with
me
?

A timer beeped.

“I need to shut off the stove. Excuse me a moment.”

She set her purse on the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Pachelbel's Canon played softly in the background as he filled a serving bowl. The dining room was on the other side of the kitchen, toward the front of the house. He set the serving bowl on the table, lit the candles then dimmed the lights.

He pulled out her chair for her then sat next to her.

“I made Red Curry Shrimp. I hope it’s not too spicy.”

“I’ve never had Thai before. I can’t wait to try it.”

He held his breath when she took her first bite. Reassuring him with an “Mmm,” made him relax and take a bite.

“Wow, this really is good,” he said.

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Oh, um…I…never made this before.” He set down his spoon. “Actually, I’ve never cooked anything before,” he confessed. “My brother Mike, he’s a chef. He did all the cooking when I was growing up. He shared this recipe with me when I called him earlier today. And I’m rambling so…I’m just going to shut up now.”

To keep his mouth occupied, he took another bite.

“So…you learned to cook this…for me?”

He nodded.

“I’m flattered.”

His sexy grin gave her doubts.

“Or is that a line you use with every date?”

He looked genuinely hurt by her accusation and she felt a twinge of guilt.

“You think you have me pegged, don’t you? I’m just a dumb jock who only cares about getting another notch on his bedpost.”

Shame colored her cheeks. She glanced down at her plate and toyed with her food.

“I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove otherwise.”

He was waiting for her to respond.

“You’re absolutely right. I misread you. I’m sorry.”

He leaned back.

“If you think so poorly of me, why did you agree to dinner?”

To avoid answering, she took another bite. He set his spoon down, giving her his full attention.

Rats
.

“Guys like you were never interested in me. I was curious that’s all.”

“Wow. I’m like a science experiment or something?”

“Tom, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“What if I said I only asked you out because of your exotic skin color? Would you be offended?”

“Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’? Bullsh-ah.” He cleared his throat. “I call B.S.”

“I wouldn’t be offended if you were intrigued by the color of my skin. But if that’s the only thing you were interested in, there wouldn’t be a second date.”

Hell, the way this is going, there might not be a
first
date.

He blew out a long breath of air. His laid back demeanor was replaced by a more serious expression.

“Women always assume that I’m easy.
Simple
. Good for a quick fuck and that’s all I’m capable of.”

He took a sip.

Having nothing to say, she remained quiet.

“Then they move on to someone…else.”

He gripped his glass so tightly, she was afraid it would crack under the pressure. She laid her hand on his arm.

He relaxed his grip.

His eyes were stormy gray clouds.

I miss the sparkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re simple at all. Hell, you might be too complicated for me to figure out.”

“Are you a shrink?”

Shaking her head, she replied, “Author,” and waited for his cleverly worded yet demeaning comment followed by the usual question about getting a ‘real’ job.

“Really? What do you write?”

“Murder mysteries.”

“Murder? I would have guessed romance,” he said.

“Oh, no. I love a good bludgeoning.”

He laughed.

“You are so….”

“Weird?” she offered.

“Unique.”

His eyes sparkled like the sea and she beamed at his compliment.

“Do you ever incorporate people you know into your novels?”

“Sometimes I borrow personality traits or quirks to give my characters realism.”

He leaned back.

“What would you take from me?”

She studied his relaxed pose.

“I don’t think I know you well enough to answer that.” She took a sip. “What about you?”

“I bet you’ll never guess.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, she studied his face.

“No sunburn or leathery face, so you don’t work outdoors.”

He shook his head.

She picked up his hand and turned it palm up. She caressed his palm and fingertips.

“Your hands are a bit rough. You work with your hands.”

She turned it over and checked his fingernails.

Clean.

She traced a few old scars on his forearm.

“These don’t look like normal burn marks. Not something you’d get from a fire. So chemical burns?”

He nodded.

“A chemist would have adequate protection. So not a chemist.”

She grinned. “You, sir, are a mechanic,” she announced.

“Ding ding ding. You’re a winner.”

“Do I get a prize?”

He leaned close. The comforting scent of cumin mixed with leather surrounded her.

“Now what could a blue collar worker offer a woman like you?”

Mouth dry, she swallowed hard. “I could think of a few things….”

He leaned closer.

“Like what?” he whispered.

This wasn’t a challenge she was prepared for. She got up and crossed the room, stopping in front of a painting. She pretended to study a replica of Monet’s Water Lilies while fully aware of his movements as he moved to stand beside her.

“It belonged to my mother. It was the only thing she didn’t take when she abandoned us.”

He hides his pain with his anger. Why would he keep her painting if it breaks his heart? A refusal to let go? Understandable, considering it was his mother.

“‘Us’?”

“Me and my older brother, Mikey. My father. Mother abandoned all three of us when I was five. I still remember the day she drove off with her lover in his red convertible.”

His bitter response made her heart ache for the little boy who desperately wanted his mother.

“Where’s your father now?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He’s better off dead than living in a bottle trying to forget—”

She touched his arm, offering sympathy.

“Some date, huh? I should have taken you to a funeral instead.”

“Humor is a weapon in your arsenal.”

His nodded. “I also have a really big—”

“—ego?” she interrupted.

“I was going to say muscle,” he countered then flexed his biceps.

She raised her brow.

“All right. You win. I give up. What does it take to impress you?” he asked, sounding defeated.

“Impress me?”

“Yes. For some insane reason, you’re not tempted by my god like physique.”

She laughed so hard she snorted.

“What? Even Atlas would be jealous of this body.”

He preened for her, flexing and showing off his physique.

“Atlas
? My, my, you know your Greek Mythology. Now that
is
impressive.”

“Still think I’m too sexy to use my brain?”

“Who said I thought you were sexy?” she countered.

“Your eyes,” he replied, his voice deep and smoky.

Her nipples tightened.

He stepped closer.

“You have very expressive eyes.”

His expression was serious as he studied her.

Is he going to kiss me?

Her tongue darted between her lips.

His lips curved into a wicked smile.

“You’re thinking very naughty thoughts.”

“I am not!” she denied. Her face felt hot and she wanted to bury her face in her hands. She stared at his chest, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

“You make
me
think
very
naughty thoughts,” he whispered.

His intense gaze made her knees weak. Her back touched the wall. Slowly and deliberately, like a tiger cornering his prey, he placed his hands on either side of her. He leaned in and she closed her eyes.

“Would you like me to share?” he whispered in her ear.

His warm breath against her skin sent her pulse racing. She bit back a whimper. Her eyes fluttered open and she feared her desire was evident.

If the desire in his eyes match mine, I’m in deep trouble.

The sharp ring of his phone broke the spell and she sagged against the wall in relief.

“Worst possible timing,” he muttered.

“Hi,
Tom-my,
it’s Cherry Pie,” said a sexy voice.

She straightened against the wall, her desire quickly fading.

“What the fuck?” he muttered.

“Janice gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind,” the breathless voice continued.

He rubbed his forehead.

“I can’t
wait
to hook up with you at the wedding. Maybe even before?” She giggled.

An intense spike of fury made her push his arm away from the wall.

“Anjali, wait!” he called out.

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

“Call me!” Cherry said. The machine beeped loudly.

“Anjali, let me explain,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Please?”

She pulled her arm away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. Her lips pressed together in a thin line as she waited for an explanation.

“You heard the message—
I
didn’t give her my number.”

“She sounds like a stripper,” she said through clenched teeth.

“She…is.”

I don’t believe this. I can’t compete with a stripper.

She turned around.

“I’m not interested in one night stands, Anjali. I’m not going to call her. I’ll delete the message right now. Just…wait.”

He fiddled with the machine and it played the first part of the message. He punched the buttons, deleting it.

“My best friend, Andy, met Janice at a strip club. They’re engaged. Cherry Pie is one of her friends. I’m the Best Man. Cherry’s the Maid of Honor.”

“I see,” she said quietly.

“I told Andy the other day that I didn’t have a date for the wedding.”

“Why would his fiancee give Cherry Pie
your
number?”

“Because she hates me.”

She gave him a doubtful look.

“No really. She hates me. She can’t manipulate me like other men, so I’m on her shit list.”

He looked sheepish.

“Sorry.”

He sat on his couch, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“She hates you so she’s hooking you up
with a stripper
? With enemies like that, who needs friends?”

“She’s trying to fu-ah-mess up my life. And judging from the steam coming out of your ears, it’s working quite well.”

“You’re mistaken,” she said.

She forced herself to uncross her arms and keep them relaxed by her side.

“I don’t care what you do or whom you do it with.”

He relaxed against his couch, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“You could have fooled me.”

His smug expression pushed her over the edge.

“That’s
exactly
why I don’t date men like you.”

“What did I do?” he asked, as if he were innocent.

She knew better.

“Not a damn thing. You don’t have to do anything but sit there and look pretty. Women just throw themselves at you. I’m surprised you don’t carry around a club to beat them back.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Her cheeks felt hot and she floundered.

Had she really admitted she found him attractive? As if his gigantic ego needed any more stroking.

“You’re right about women. I find that dirty gym socks is especially effective in warding them off.”