the effect by following it up with a furious blush. She took another bite. “I meant, how can a man cook like this? Whoever taught you must be a magician.”
“She is. When I was little I had a hard time letting go of my mother’s sari. So I spent a lot of time with her and she spent a lot of time in the kitchen, so I learned.”
“A mummy’s boy.” She spooned some dal into her mouth and her eyes went fuzzy with delight.
“Most definitely.”
“But if these are the results, every man should be a mummy’s boy.” Damn it, if she kept saying these things with that artless smile he was going to push her into the mattress and show her other things he was really good at.
“I’m glad you like it.” He reached over and wiped a tiny splatter of dal from her chin.
“Is that what you think? That I like it? I don’t like it, Samir. I, oh good heavens, I . . . I love it.” She popped a piece of seasoned potato into her mouth and said love so lustily that the plate in Samir’s lap almost flipped over.
Fortunately Mili seemed completely clueless about his painful condition. Because suddenly her eyes got serious and warm. “Why did you do it?” she asked in that husky, breathless voice of hers.
“Well, I used to be sitting around while my mother did all the work, so I figured I might as well help her out. She kept teaching me, so I kept picking it up.”
Her impossibly dark eyes softened and got even more serious. “I meant, why did you cook today?”
“I was desperately hungry.”
She kept skewering him with those flashlight eyes. For some reason he knew she wasn’t going to stop until she had her answer.
“Because I was sorry.”
That signature blush danced up her cheeks.
It was his turn to drill her with his eyes. Her turn to look away. “I’m sorry I left you like that, Mili. It was a horrible thing to do.”
She lifted her heavy fringe of lashes, and met his eyes again. “Samir, I was a complete stranger and you’ve done nothing but take care of me from the moment you met me. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“So you weren’t mad at me for leaving?”
She colored some more and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Just a little bit.” She pinched the air with her thumb and forefinger.
“See.”
“But not because you were horrible. I was mad because . . . because. . .”
“Because you were helpless and dependent and because you expected me not to be such a bastard.” She cringed at the word and he felt like an even bigger bastard. “Sorry. Because you expected me to have more decency than that.”
She opened her mouth but no words came out. She put her plate on the floor. “Samir, you’ve been more than decent.”
“Mili, there’s something you should know about me. The one thing I’m not is a decent guy.”
“That’s not true.” She shook her head and her mad curls danced about her shoulders.
“No, seriously, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. But that’s one thing you should know. And while I’m not a decent guy, even I know that leaving you like that was an awful thing to do. And I truly am sorry.”
Her clear-as-morning-sunshine gaze shimmered with moisture. She gave the food he had cooked another worshipful glance. Her words made her lips tremble before she spoke them. “Samir, it’s not the fact that you left that’s important. What matters is that you came back and made it right.”
10
T he only movement Mili allowed herself was to crack open one eyelid. Just enough to see that Samir was still slamming away at his laptop as if he were pounding his heart into those words the way he’d done almost nonstop for over a week. She couldn’t believe she was lying on a mattress on the floor a few feet from a man she barely knew. A man who looked like that. If her naani ever found out, there was no avoiding that heart attack she kept threatening. And yet Mili felt, if not entirely comfortable, utterly safe. Especially now that he knocked and diligently
“She is. When I was little I had a hard time letting go of my mother’s sari. So I spent a lot of time with her and she spent a lot of time in the kitchen, so I learned.”
“A mummy’s boy.” She spooned some dal into her mouth and her eyes went fuzzy with delight.
“Most definitely.”
“But if these are the results, every man should be a mummy’s boy.” Damn it, if she kept saying these things with that artless smile he was going to push her into the mattress and show her other things he was really good at.
“I’m glad you like it.” He reached over and wiped a tiny splatter of dal from her chin.
“Is that what you think? That I like it? I don’t like it, Samir. I, oh good heavens, I . . . I love it.” She popped a piece of seasoned potato into her mouth and said love so lustily that the plate in Samir’s lap almost flipped over.
Fortunately Mili seemed completely clueless about his painful condition. Because suddenly her eyes got serious and warm. “Why did you do it?” she asked in that husky, breathless voice of hers.
“Well, I used to be sitting around while my mother did all the work, so I figured I might as well help her out. She kept teaching me, so I kept picking it up.”
Her impossibly dark eyes softened and got even more serious. “I meant, why did you cook today?”
“I was desperately hungry.”
She kept skewering him with those flashlight eyes. For some reason he knew she wasn’t going to stop until she had her answer.
“Because I was sorry.”
That signature blush danced up her cheeks.
It was his turn to drill her with his eyes. Her turn to look away. “I’m sorry I left you like that, Mili. It was a horrible thing to do.”
She lifted her heavy fringe of lashes, and met his eyes again. “Samir, I was a complete stranger and you’ve done nothing but take care of me from the moment you met me. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“So you weren’t mad at me for leaving?”
She colored some more and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Just a little bit.” She pinched the air with her thumb and forefinger.
“See.”
“But not because you were horrible. I was mad because . . . because. . .”
“Because you were helpless and dependent and because you expected me not to be such a bastard.” She cringed at the word and he felt like an even bigger bastard. “Sorry. Because you expected me to have more decency than that.”
She opened her mouth but no words came out. She put her plate on the floor. “Samir, you’ve been more than decent.”
“Mili, there’s something you should know about me. The one thing I’m not is a decent guy.”
“That’s not true.” She shook her head and her mad curls danced about her shoulders.
“No, seriously, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. But that’s one thing you should know. And while I’m not a decent guy, even I know that leaving you like that was an awful thing to do. And I truly am sorry.”
Her clear-as-morning-sunshine gaze shimmered with moisture. She gave the food he had cooked another worshipful glance. Her words made her lips tremble before she spoke them. “Samir, it’s not the fact that you left that’s important. What matters is that you came back and made it right.”
10
T he only movement Mili allowed herself was to crack open one eyelid. Just enough to see that Samir was still slamming away at his laptop as if he were pounding his heart into those words the way he’d done almost nonstop for over a week. She couldn’t believe she was lying on a mattress on the floor a few feet from a man she barely knew. A man who looked like that. If her naani ever found out, there was no avoiding that heart attack she kept threatening. And yet Mili felt, if not entirely comfortable, utterly safe. Especially now that he knocked and diligently
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