The Sari Shop Widow (27 page)

“Uh-huh.”

He rose to his feet, went into the sitting room, and returned with a small plastic bag—his convenience store purchase. Then he turned down the bedside lamp to its lowest setting, bringing a muted glow to the room. He was clearly setting the stage for the next step in his grand seduction.

Her breath came out in a quiet sigh when he sat back down and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and gentle and tasted of wine. Her lips parted to accept his kiss. Gradually he increased the pressure and tilted both of them backward to lie on the mattress. Her legs dangled over the edge.

She knew he was an expert kisser, and he didn’t disappoint her now. When his lips shifted from her mouth to drift over her jaw, she moved her head to the side, allowing him access to her neck and shoulders. He lingered at the base of her throat. “So soft,” he breathed, “so feminine.”

His hands were cruising over her now, making her shudder. He unbuttoned her blouse, very carefully, one tiny silver button at a time, like he had a hundred years to do it in. And while his fingers made their unhurried progress on the buttons, his lips glided down by degrees over her newly exposed skin. Finally he pushed away the open flaps to reveal her torso. With the utmost gentleness his fingers explored it, slowly but surely setting her nerves on fire.

He had marvelous hands. They were warm and persuasive and slightly rough, reminding her that he’d worked on a farm in his youth. A few raised scars, probably from the fire he’d battled, remained on his arms. Underneath that suave exterior there still lurked a farm boy. And that made him more human, more desirable.

“Rishi.” She reached out to pull him toward her, so she could feel his lips on hers again, feel his weight on her chest. He came to her without hesitation, his mouth as ravenous as hers. She wanted him. Now.

He left her for a moment and leaned down to slide her sandals off. They fell to the carpeted floor with twin thumps. Then he unzipped her slacks, and slid those down, too—again, at a lingering pace. She lay back and let him undress her. She hadn’t had this kind of erotic pampering in a long, long time.

The wine was giving her a pleasant buzz. Despite the fact that all she had on now were her panties and an open blouse that exposed her flimsy bra, she didn’t care. His eyes were on her, the hot, molten pewter in them telling her he liked what he saw. She felt the flush of excitement reaching her neck and face.

“Get up a moment, darling. Let me turn down the bed,” he said and she obeyed. When she stood up, she swayed a little, but he held her firmly against him with one hand while he turned down the covers with the other. Then he slid the blouse off her and tossed it aside. He laid her back on the clean, cool sheets. “You’re a beautiful woman, Anju,” he murmured.

She noticed the slight tremor in his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed and discarded his own shoes and socks. Then he shed his trousers. And she watched with growing awe as the shirt came off. He seemed to have no inhibitions about undressing while she watched. When he pulled off the black boxers and tossed them, she inhaled sharply.

All her fantasies paled in comparison to the real man that stood before her, his need to take her so obvious, it left her fighting for breath.

He lowered himself to the bed to lie beside her. His weight made the mattress groan a little. In the next second she was encompassed in his arms. Like magic he got rid of her undergarments. Until that moment she’d had no idea her need for him was so deep, so desperate.

He began to stroke and knead her skin once again. “Anju, I swear I’ve never wanted another woman like I want you. I want to make love to you again and again and again.” His mouth was an inch away from hers. “I want to make you forget every other man in your life. I want you to remember only me.” He gave her a moment to absorb that. “Only me,” he repeated.

Like a sponge she soaked up his whispered words. She knew he was telling her the truth. He hadn’t lied to her thus far and wasn’t likely to be doing it now. She let him lead the way. He was so darn good at it. In return she gave with abandon, letting herself savor the sensations that flooded her as he worked on her like a master musician plucking the strings, making her hunger for him gradually escalate into desperation. And all the while his gaze held hers in the pale light.

Then she heard the familiar sound of a foil packet being ripped open.

“Now?” he queried, rising above her. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Now.”

It was a while before Anjali summoned the strength to open her eyes. She found him watching her, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth. He lay on his side, one hand splayed on her stomach and one heavy leg lying across both of hers. She was pleased to discover he wasn’t the type to make love, then turn around and start snoring.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said in a low, intimate murmur.

“Hi.” She smiled at him but didn’t move. She didn’t want to move. Her body felt fluid and boneless. She wanted to lie there forever and relive the moment. So much for thinking he’d be lousy in bed and she could tuck him away in some remote corner of her mind, then forget about him. On the contrary, he was awesome.

“Are you all right?” He traced the line of her jaw with a finger.

“What do you think?” she asked him lazily.

“I think you look like a woman who’s eminently satisfied. In fact, I believe you have the look of a cat that licked up the last drop of cream.”

“You’re right.” She reached up to touch his face. “Thank you for going slow with me, Rishi, and for making it special.” She knew he’d kept an iron control over his own needs. He’d deliberately kept up that leisurely pace to allow her to get over her edginess, to become comfortable with him, to get to know him intimately.

“That was my intention,” he said. “To give you time to relax and adjust to me—to focus on us.”

“You came out with flying colors,” she said, snatching his wandering hand and placing a kiss on his palm.

“I don’t know about you, but all that talk about cream is making me hungry,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You feel like eating something?”

“Hmm…Now that you mention it, I could—”

She never got to finish her sentence because his mouth was on hers again, more urgent now, more demanding—a contrast to the first time, when everything had occurred in slow motion. Within seconds they were making love. But she was ready for it—more than ready for the speed and sizzle. This time she knew without a doubt that she’d never been loved quite like this.

It was a while before their sated bodies separated. Finally serious about his need for food, Rishi picked up the phone from the nightstand and ordered room service. When it arrived, they ate at the small glass-top table in the kitchenette. He wore his navy monogrammed silk robe and lent her one of his polo shirts. It was huge on her, so it served as an adequate wrap. And it was made of the softest blue cotton.

She had vegetable soup and a salad while Rishi consumed a gargantuan roast beef sandwich and french fries, or chips, as he called them. When she remarked on his appetite, he grinned. “Love is hard work, Miss Kapadia.” When she blushed, his grin widened. “Besides, I need the energy to make love to you again.”

Her eyes went wide. “Again?”

“Didn’t I say again and again?”

“I didn’t think you meant it literally.”

“I’m a man of my word, darling,” he said and rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and catching her in a tight embrace. “See, you fit perfectly in my arms.”

“No, I’m too short for you,” she countered, tossing her head back to look at him. “I’m barely five foot three, and you’re what…six?”

He pulled her face back into his chest and parked his chin over the top of her head. “I like it that you’re petite. I can easily carry you.”

To prove his point he hoisted her in his arms and took her straight to bed, surprising and delighting Anjali at the same time.

Settling her head over his shoulder, she gave a contented sigh. “I feel like a princess.”

“That’s the general idea.” As he laid her down and settled himself beside her, he glanced at her legs. “Have I mentioned you have lovely legs, Princess?”

She pretended to search her mind. “I vaguely recall something of the sort.” Putting a hand on his bad knee, she looked at him, her expression turning serious. “Speaking of legs, all this activity must take its toll on yours, Rishi.”

“Exercise is good for it,” he said.

“Not
this
kind of exercise.”

“Exactly
this kind of exercise.” He pushed her down into the mattress and covered her body with his.

Sometime later, she stirred from her nap, every nerve in her body still tingling from the intense lovemaking she and Rishi had indulged in. The air conditioner hummed steadily beneath the windowsill. The sound of rain hammering on the window was no longer there. The storm had apparently subsided. She could hear the drone of traffic on the ever-packed Garden State Parkway less than half a mile away.

Rishi was asleep on his side, facing her. His breathing was even and soothing. The light was off but the red glow from the bedside clock-radio provided enough illumination for her to watch him sleep. It was well past midnight.

On a wistful breath she closed her eyes. A torrid affair with her business partner wasn’t what she’d wanted, but she’d stumbled into it anyway. She wasn’t entirely oblivious to its potential repercussions, either. Deep down she’d known she was vulnerable to him long before this. Making love with him had only increased her vulnerability. But she wouldn’t trade what she’d had with him during the last few hours for anything.

Gently she shifted over to the other side of the bed so she could use the bathroom. He remained sleeping. Poor baby was exhausted. No matter how much he joked about it, that injured leg had to be hurting. She’d had ample opportunity tonight to study that scar up close, and each time she’d winced, not from revulsion but from anguish. She wanted to put her hands on it and smooth it away, dispel the pain associated with it. Of course, she couldn’t do any such thing. He could mistake it for pity.

She picked up her clothes from the floor and entered the bathroom. Within minutes she was dressed. While she stood before the mirror, pulling a comb through her tangled hair, she couldn’t help noticing the glow on her face—the afterglow—color blooming high in her cheeks. Her eyes virtually sparkled.

“Enjoy the euphoria, Anjali,” she whispered to the starry-eyed woman in the mirror. “He’ll be gone in a week and you’ll be crying your eyeballs out.” Despite all that talk about needing stability in his life and wanting to see where their relationship would go, he hadn’t said one word about it all evening. It had been mostly physical, skin to skin, breath to breath. Desire and lust—nothing more.

It was surely going to hurt when he boarded that plane and vanished from her life. He could even return to Samantha once he was back in his familiar milieu.

What was worse was that he’d probably drop in once or twice a year to check on Silk & Sapphires, his American investment. Naturally he’d charm the dickens out of the whole family as well as the employees, tease and tantalize Anjali, and then disappear once again. She couldn’t imagine that kind of “occasional sinful dessert” relationship with him.

But it was too late to undo what she’d already done. She’d have to find a way to live with the consequences.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found the light on and Rishi sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled up to his waist. “You disappeared,” he remarked in a gravelly voice.

“I was gone only a few minutes.”

“So I missed you for those few minutes,” he sulked.

“I have to go home, Rishi.”

“Not yet.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”

She shook her head. “I’d love to, but if I come back to bed I know what’s going to happen. You’re a slave driver, Shah.” She kept her voice light and teasing. Best to keep her bleak mood to herself.

Obviously pleased by her remark, he smiled. This Rishi was so different from the cool, controlled businessman dressed in custom-tailored suits. This one looked disheveled and roguish. But she loved the pouting, boyish look, and she really had to curb the need to go to him.

He stepped out of bed and gathered his clothes from the floor. “All right, then, I’ll drive you home.”

“Don’t be silly. I can get home on my own.”

He already had his boxers in place and was pulling on his trousers. “I’ll follow you home and make sure you get there safely.” He started to button his shirt.

She plucked her car keys out of her pocketbook. “I’ve been driving myself since I was a teenager. Go back to bed. You need your rest.”

“You
need rest more than I,” he insisted. He came to her, studied her for a moment, and brushed his knuckles against the side of her face. “I wore you out, didn’t I? You look bushed.”

“I’ll live.” The gentleness and warmth in his voice and eyes were killing her. She’d never in her wildest dreams thought he was capable of such tenderness. He’d shown her a completely different side of him tonight.

“You better. I’ve got plans for you, Miss Kapadia,” he said in low growl, as they proceeded to the sitting room.

“Oh?” She put on her jacket and watched him shrug into his. “What kind of plans?”

“Let’s just say you better take your vitamins and build up your strength,” he replied with a mysterious smile. “Tonight’s only a small taste of what I have in mind for you.” He hooked his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the suite and toward the elevator before she could ask any more questions. He put a finger over his lips, reminding her that the other guests were sleeping in their rooms.

Outside, the rain had stopped, but a brisk, damp wind tossed wet leaves into their path as they walked across the parking lot, his arm still locked around her shoulders. He followed her car all the way home. Then he insisted on walking her to the door like a proper gentleman.

Just before she went in, he gave her a lingering, soul-stirring kiss. “It’s Monday, so sleep late and rest up.”