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Chapter 17

Seventeen

E than headed for the tiny kitchen, drawn by the faint aroma of fish, onions, and ginger.

For a guy who hadn’t been able to face food the last forty-eight hours, he was ravenous.

Not just for food.

The instant he’d laid eyes on Tam, the intense craving had returned, so overwhelming he wondered how he’d managed to let her walk away from him in the first place.

All his doubts had washed away on the evening tide as she’d run towards him, her incredible green eyes shining, her smile incandescent.

He wasn’t a romantic kind of guy—dating women who favoured rich guys took all the gloss off romance—but if he was prone to it, their reunion had been picture perfect, the type of moment to relate to their kids, their grandkids.

Whoa.

He stopped dead, backing up a moment.

He’d gone from the possibility of dating, to kids?

Hunger must be making him more light-headed than he thought. He spied a casserole dish filled with fish curry, a bowl of steamed white rice, and a raita made from yoghurt, cucumber, tomato and onion, on the bench top.

Food of the gods, as he heated the fish and rice, amazed he’d gone a whole day without thinking of his precious Ambrosia . He spent all day every day in constant touch with the managers of each restaurant around the world, keeping abreast of the daily running, meeting with accountants, conference-calling with staff.

Being in control of Ambrosia , seeing his business grow to international stardom status, never failed to give him a kick, a solid reminder of how far he’d come.

From loitering around the back door of Ma Petite hoping for food scraps, to being taken under the wing of the great Arnaud Fournier and given an apprenticeship in his world class restaurant, to running at famous chain of restaurants in the world, was heady stuff for a guy who could remember the pinch of hunger in his belly and the dirt under his fingernails from scrabbling for the last stale bun out of a dumpster.

From bum to billionaire and he couldn’t be prouder.

Then why hadn’t he told Tam the truth?

They’d discussed her family, her career, but he’d neatly sidestepped any personal questions she’d aimed his way, reluctant to taint her image of him.

Why? Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Afraid she’d see him as less of a man?

Hell yeah. The less said about his sordid past, the better. She’d taken a huge step forward, career-wise and personally, and he’d be a fool to risk it by giving her a glimpse into the real him.

“Something smells good.” She stepped into the kitchen, wearing a simple red sundress with tiny white polka dots, her hair wet and slicked back into a low ponytail, her skin clear and glowing, and he slammed the hot dish onto the bench before it slid onto the floor courtesy of his fumbling fingers.

She had that effect on him, could render him useless with a smile, with a single glance from beneath those long, dark lashes that accentuated the unique green of her eyes.

She sashayed across the kitchen, lifted the lid on the fish, and waved the fragrant aroma towards her nose. “Wait until you try this fish moilee . It’s fabulous.”

Thankful she’d given him a chance to unglue his tongue from the roof his mouth where it had stuck the moment he caught sight of her, he set the table.

“How’s moilee different from curry?”

“Different spices, different method of cooking.” She gathered a jug of mango lass i, a delicious yoghurt and fruit drink he loved, glasses, and placed them on the table. “You add a little salt and lime juice to the fish, and set it aside for a while. Then you fry mustard seeds, curry leaves, onion, ginger, garlic, green chillies, and turmeric, before adding the fish, covering the lot with coconut milk and letting it simmer.”

She inhaled again, closing her eyes, her expression ecstatic, and he cleared his throat, imagining what else apart from a tasty curry could bring that look to her face.

“My mouth’s watering,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

Her eyes snapped open at his abrupt response and he busied himself with transporting the hot dishes to the table under her speculative stare rather than have to explain why he’d lost his cool.

For a couple who’d chatted amicably during every meal on their Palace on Wheels journey, they were strangely silent as they devoured the delicious fish and rice, darting occasional glances at each other over the lassi , politely passing the raita , focussing on forking food into their mouths.

Tension stretched between them, taut and fraught, as he wished he could articulate half of what he was feeling. Overwhelmed. Awkward. Out of control. He’d dated many women; most had left him cold. He’d told himself he liked it that way, choosing fickle women because he didn’t want to get emotionally involved.

So what was he doing here, hoping Tam would let him into her heart when he knew that would be an irrevocable step down a dangerous road, a road less travelled for him, a road peppered with emotions he’d rather ignore?

Tam must’ve had a good marriage with Richard. She’d grieved for so long, had closed down emotionally, hadn’t dated let alone looked at a guy since his death. Yet here she was, opening her heart to him, welcoming him back despite acting like a jerk in Delhi. Which could only mean one thing.

She was already emotionally invested in him, willing to gamble her heart.

Hell.

He had no idea if he deserved it.

“That was delish.” She patted her mouth with a napkin, and refolded it, before sitting back and patting her stomach. “I don’t think I can move after that, which gives you plenty of time to start talking.”

So much for being let off the hook. She’d lulled him into a false sense of security, yet he’d known it would come to this. He had to tell her the truth, some of it, if they were to have any chance of moving forward.

Wishing he hadn’t eaten so much—it now sat like a lump of lard in his gut—he sat back and crossed his ankles, wondering if she’d buy his relaxed posture while inside he churned with trepidation.

Opening up to anyone let alone the woman he cared about didn’t sit well with him and he’d be damned if he messed this up considering what had happened in Delhi.

Folding his arms, he looked her straight in the eye. “You want to know why I backed off at India Gate.”

“For starters.”

She didn’t look angry, far from it, if the gentle upturning of her lips was any indication. Yet she had every right to be, every right to kick his sorry ass out of here after the way he’d treated her.

“Did you ever want something so badly as a kid, something you wished for, something that consumed you, yet when you got it you didn’t know what to do with it?”

Understanding turned her eyes verdigris. “I was like that with my first doll. I really wanted it, then when I got it for Christmas, I didn’t know whether I should feed it or burp it or change its nappy first.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not.” Her twitching mouth made a mockery of her last statement and he chuckled.

“I’ll be honest with you, Tam. I came on this trip because I wanted you. Then I started to get to know you, really know you, and it’s like…”

How could he explain it? Like being hit over the head with a four-by-two? Like being struck by lightning? Like having the blinkers ripped from his eyes only to see the stunning, vibrant woman he desired was so much more than he could’ve possibly imagined?

“It’s like?” Her soft prompt had him saying the first thing that popped into his head.

“It’s like finding the person you want most in this world is holding the key to your heart too.”

Hell, had he really said that?

Inwardly cringing at his emotional outburst, he met her gaze, the shimmer of tears in her eyes slugging him harder than the realisation this had already moved beyond caring for him, that he was already half in love with her.

“I know that’s too heavy—”

“Don’t you dare apologise for saying that.” She eyeballed him, her gaze defiant as the tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. “Do you have any idea how I feel hearing you say that?”

“Like bolting?” he ventured, earning another wide-eyed stare.

“Like this.”

She stood so abruptly her chair slammed onto the floor, and she traversed the tiny table in a second, flinging herself onto his lap and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Maybe I should blurt my innermost thoughts more often if this is the type of reaction I get?”

Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “No, this is the type of reaction you get.”

She covered his mouth with hers in a desperate, frantic kiss filled with longing and passion and recklessness.

The type of kiss that filled his heart with hope, the type of kiss with the power to teach him this relinquishing control lark wasn’t half as scary as he’d built it up to be.

She was warm and vibrant and responsive in his arms, her hunger matching his, and as she shifted in his lap, inflaming him further, he knew he had to put a stop to this before they jumped way ahead of themselves.

He’d like nothing better than to carry her into the bedroom and pleasure her all night long but he’d botched things with her once, he’d be damned if he made another mistake now. And that’s what sex would be, despite the blood pounding through his body urging him to follow through. He wanted to take things slow this time. He’d rushed her on the train journey, had almost lost her because of it, and there was no way he’d make the same mistake twice.

“Tam?”

“Hmm?

She nuzzled his neck, giving his good intentions a hiding as she straddled him, her breasts pushing against his chest, the heat from her core scorching him.

“I can’t stay.”

She stilled and raised her head, her eyes glazed and unfocused. “Why not?”

Cradling her face in his hands, he brushed a soft kiss across her swollen lips. “Because I want to do this right.”

He didn’t have to add ‘this time’. He saw the respect in her eyes, the understanding, and knowing this incredible woman was on the same wavelength as him sent another flood of intense longing washing over him.

“Great, the playboy has morphed into a goody two shoes,” she said, sliding off his lap in a slow, deliberate movement designed to tease as he clenched his hands to stop from reaching out and yanking her back down.

“You’ll see how good I really am.” He stood, pulling her back into his arms, enjoying her squeal of delight. “Soon. Very soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

This time, their kiss was slower, exploratory, leisurely, and as he reluctantly slipped out of her arms and raised his hand in goodbye, he knew there’d come a time in the not too distant future when he’d find it impossible to walk away from her.

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