The Sari Shop Widow (14 page)

Delivering the two foam-topped mugs to the men at the other end of the counter, Kip returned to her. “Sounds a bit risky, doesn’t it, especially if you’re already in the hole?”

She nodded. “You’d think, right? But Rishi and my uncle have it all figured out. They tell me he’s got a number of upscale one-stop stores all over the globe and they’re doing fantastically well, so the American one’s going to be an even bigger success.”

“So this dude’s rich?”

“Seems to be. He always wears European designer labels, and he just leased a luxury SUV.”

Kip let out a low whistle. “Sounds like serious money to me, Angelface. Then why are you so down in the dumps? They’re putting up the money. All you have to do is what you do best: design your pretty togs and jewels and sell them with that sweet smile of yours.”

“Easy for you to say,” she retorted. “There’s no one buying up more than half your bar and telling you how to run your business.”

“True, but isn’t it better for someone to save your business rather than let it die a slow death?”

She took a thoughtful sip of her drink. “I suppose, but at the moment I’m not feeling particularly optimistic. It’s a lot of money they’re sinking into this venture.”

“Then just do your job and let
them
worry about the finances.”

“Wish it were that easy. Believe me, there’s so much conviction in those gray eyes, it’s hard to say no.”

“Gray eyes?”

“Yep, gray eyes, jet-black hair, and skin as white as yours. Go figure that.”

“What’s this guy’s name?” Kip had a comical look of confusion.

“Rishi Shah. It’s a purely Gujarati name. He looks and talks like a Brit, behaves like one, and he and my Indian uncle are thick as thieves. Business partners supposedly. There’s something very fishy about their relationship, Kip.”

“Like what? Your uncle and the British dude are hired goons for the Indian mafia or something?”

“It’s possible, especially since my uncle’s carrying a handgun these days.”

“An old Indian guy with a gun?” He smiled. “It’s probably a fake.”

“Uh-uh. It’s real. He’s so proud of it, too, brandishing it like a cowboy and all.”

Someone yelled for service at the other end of the bar and Kip turned away. “Sorry, got to go, babe.”

Anjali finished her drink, placed the glass on the counter, and looked around. It was a busy night for Kip. The two waitresses, Jean and Maggie, who served the customers at the tables were hopping, too. It was time for her to leave. She waited until he returned. “Kip, I’m going home. Looks like it’s a busy night for you.”

“Sure is.” He leaned over the counter, cupped her face in both his hands, and kissed her full on the mouth. “We’ll talk later in the week, Angelface.”

“Thanks for the drink and pep talk.” Reluctantly she slid off the stool and turned around. When she looked up she froze.

Rishi Shah stood just inside the entry door, his hands in his pockets, looking squarely at her. She stood rooted to her spot and stared at him, unable to do anything else. He had obviously witnessed the kiss. Rebellion kicked in after a second or two. So what if he’d seen Kip kissing her? What she did with her personal life was none of his business.

But it was possible he could rat on her to Jeevan-kaka and her parents. That could pose a major problem. The thought was scary. She could never face her mother under the circumstances. And Jeevan-kaka? His potential reaction made her legs feel weak.

Taking a deep breath, she started walking toward the door. Shah started moving in her direction at the same time. They met halfway.

“Hello, Anjali.”

“Hello, Rishi,” she replied, hating the way her voice sounded wobbly. “I was just leaving.” She tried to walk past him but he interrupted her progress with a piercing look.

“What’s the hurry? Why don’t you have a drink with me?”

She clutched her pocketbook harder. Why did he make her feel so uncomfortable? It wasn’t as if she was a minor caught drinking behind her parents’ backs. “I can’t. I have to…go home.”

“Can’t or won’t?” A slight smile touched his lips.

“I’m not very good company at the moment.” And that was the truth.

“Come on, Anjali, I thought we came to an understanding today.”

“Yes, but…” A few people were staring at them, maybe because they were blocking the entryway.

“We’re partners now, so let’s drink to a long and healthy partnership, shall we?” he suggested.

“I already had a drink.”

This time his smile was warmer, once again making her wonder how a simple movement of the facial muscles could transform his face. “Then come sit with me while I have my drink. We need to discuss some business.”

She nodded. “Fine, I’ll stay for a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” He signaled Maggie for service. “Could we have a table for two, please?” His smile for Maggie was his most charming yet.

“Sure thing.” Young Maggie seemed dazzled by him. She gawked at him for a second before recovering enough to lead the way to one of two empty tables. Rishi didn’t look anything like Rowling Rok’s average customer.

Anjali wondered about the ease with which Rishi made himself at home. How did he do it? He seemed to exude power with his looks and fancy clothes, and the way he turned on the charm with women.

Maggie gave them time to seat themselves and disappeared, promising to return soon for their orders.

Rishi pulled Anjali’s chair out for her before taking his seat. He was quite the gentleman. No surprise there. She looked around and caught Kip’s eye. He stood still for an instant and gave her a questioning lift of his brows. She gave him a slight nod.
Yeah, that’s him, the Brit
.

A chuckle from Rishi made her turn toward him. “What’s so amusing?”

“I hope I’m not making your friend behind the bar jealous.”

She frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is everyone in America that affable with each other in a pub?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is kissing the patrons part of customer service?” He cocked a single dark eyebrow. “Or is that exclusive to friendly bartenders?”

A warm surge of blood to her face made Anjali look away. “Kip happens to be a good friend besides being the owner of this place.”

“A good friend who’s on kissing terms with you.”

Maggie showed up to take their drink orders, putting an end to their odd conversation. Rishi asked for a scotch and soda. “You sure you don’t want anything, Anjali?”

She shook her head. “Like I said, I already had one drink and I have to drive back.”

“Very sensible,” he said. Then he sent Maggie another smile. “Well, looks like just the scotch and soda, miss.”

“My name’s Maggie,” she said with a girlish giggle, probably finding his accent irresistible.

“Thank you kindly, Maggie,” he said, taking in Maggie’s slim, boyish figure dressed in a short black skirt and bosom-hugging purple blouse. The admiring glance elicited another pleased giggle from Maggie, who practically ran to get his drink.

That’s when it hit Anjali. What was Rishi doing here, in a bar located miles away from Iselin? “How did you find this place?”

“Nilesh told me about it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Nilesh knows nothing about this place. It’s some distance from where we live, and he’s too young to know much about bars.”

He laughed, looking thoroughly amused. “Nilesh is a typical college boy. He happens to know every bar within a thirty-mile radius.” He shook his head at her, at what he probably considered her hopeless naïveté. “And your brother also seems to know that you come here often.”

“He does?” Did Nilesh also know about her relationship with Kip? How come he’d never said a word to her?

His drink arrived and he thanked Maggie.

“Don’t look so stunned,” he advised Anjali. “It’s a small world. Look around you. There are several Indian men and women here. Don’t you think one or two just might happen to know who you are? Anyone could have mentioned your visits to your brother.”

He was right. She’d never paid attention to the other Indians in this place. As long as she hadn’t recognized anyone, she’d thought she could remain anonymous. With her youthful looks she’d assumed she could pass for a graduate or doctoral student from nearby Rutgers University. Besides, she’d seen plenty of young Indian men and women flirting and necking with their respective Caucasian, Hispanic, and African-American girlfriends and boyfriends in the bar and the parking lot. Unfortunately, because of the relaxed atmosphere she hadn’t seen the need to be careful.

Well, no more carelessness. From now on, she’d have to meet Kip in his apartment by coming in the back door.

As if he’d read her mind, Rishi took a sip of his scotch and smiled. “Making alternate plans for your future rendezvous with the Rolling Stone?”

“Mr. Shah, what I do with my private life is my business.” She couldn’t imagine why she felt the need to defend herself. It truly was her concern, not this man’s, and not even her family’s. Even though she lived with her parents for the sake of convenience and economy, at her age she was free to come and go as she pleased.

Her defensive remarks only seemed to amuse him further. “I thought you agreed to call me Rishi.” When she remained silent, he put his hand across the table to cover hers. “Didn’t you, Anjali?”

“I guess so.” His hand touching hers was very disturbing. Just nerves, she told herself. She was a bit jumpy at being caught kissing, that’s all. So she pulled her hand out from under his and decided to turn the tables on him. “So, why are you here in New Brunswick when there are any number of bars within a mile or two of our home?”

He gave the place an assessing look. “I wanted to explore Rolling Stone for myself. Just curious to see what it is about this particular pub that draws the talented and discerning Miss Anjali Kapadia so frequently.”

“It’s Rowling Rok with a
W
in the first word and no
C
in the second,” she informed him. “By the way, we call them bars here, not pubs.”

“I stand corrected.” He sipped his drink, appearing as nonchalant as ever. Meanwhile Maggie stopped by once again to ask if he needed another drink, giving him her undivided attention. She wasn’t fooling either Rishi or Anjali about her interest in him.

Another peek at the bar and Anjali found Kip staring at Rishi and herself. She looked away hastily, only to find Rishi gazing at her with similar intensity. What the heck was going on here? Two men looking at her like she was some freak of nature? Feeling very uncomfortable under Rishi’s close scrutiny, Anjali pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “I have to go now. It’s getting late and Mom will have dinner waiting.”

“You’re right. I’m leaving soon myself.” He rose from his chair. “I’ll see you in a bit, then?”

“I guess,” she said over her shoulder and strode out of the bar. She could feel Rishi Shah’s eyes following her all the way out.

Inside her car, she sat behind the wheel and let her mind settle a bit before she turned on the ignition. Why exactly had Rishi followed her to the bar? He’d made no bones about the fact that he knew she was there. At least he hadn’t pretended it was sheer accident that they’d bumped into each other. He’d succeeded in making her feel like a schoolgirl caught breaking curfew.

And why was Kip staring at them all that time? Was he jealous like Rishi had surmised? Oh well, she had other things, more important things than men to worry about.

She backed the car out of the parking spot and drove home.

Chapter 12

R
ishi sipped his scotch at leisure and observed the scene: Anjali gliding toward the exit door and Kip Rowling keeping his eyes glued on her back. A hungry, slightly possessive look lurked in Rowling’s eyes. Then the barkeeper turned his gaze to Rishi. No open hostility seemed evident there, but it wasn’t mere curiosity reserved for strangers either. It was more the territorial look of a male guarding his domain.

Interesting. From the nature of the kiss Rishi had witnessed between those two, he could tell they were lovers. That level of intimacy couldn’t exist between friends.

So, it looked like the enigmatic and pretty Anjali was having an affair with a pub owner. Since Rishi had already become quite familiar with the Kapadia family and realized how conservative they were, he could only assume her parents had no knowledge of Kip Rowling or his relationship with their daughter.

Even Nilesh had no idea what his sister was up to. Although it was Nilesh who had informed him about Anjali’s habit of visiting the Rowling Rok Bar & Lounge frequently, Rishi doubted that the boy knew what went on there. Nilesh had simply said, “She meets her girlfriends there for drinks. I think she needs to get away from the shop and my parents sometimes.”

Rishi’s reason for coming to the pub to seek out Anjali was to talk to her in private—hopefully over a friendly drink. A fair amount of his business was conducted in the relaxing, casual atmosphere of a London pub.

A few minutes with her was all he was looking for, just enough to explain his position. And to apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior that morning. No matter how cold she was toward him, he had no right to invade her space and intimidate her. So his only recourse was to talk to her alone. Around the home and the store they were constantly surrounded by family.

Ever since he’d met her he’d felt the urge to take her aside and clarify some things to her. For some odd reason she seemed to be under the impression that he and Jeevan-kaka were here to take what belonged to her. Why hadn’t someone told her the truth—that they were simply helping her and nothing more? But then, Jeevan-kaka’s actions were often hasty and impulsive, with little to no explanation given. His despotic attitude often translated into
do as I say and don’t ask questions
.

It certainly was a hell of a shock to walk into the pub and find Anjali kissing the bartender instead of having a drink with her women friends. But he wasn’t the only one astonished. When she’d turned around from the bar and found him at the door, her face had registered both surprise—and guilt.