The Sari Shop Widow (20 page)

She scowled at him in the jaundiced glow of the parking lot light. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in London.”

“I flew in a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh…so you’re back.” Her mind was still in a tangle. Unfortunately her breath was still wheezy, too.

“I happened to be at your house when you called your mother earlier,” he said. “About meeting your friends for supper,” he added, maybe because she wore a blank look.

She lowered her eyes to the ground. “And naturally you assumed I was here.”

“Naturally.”

That one word brought home the realization that Rishi was mocking her—fool that she was. That Oxford-educated brain of his had likely figured out what had made her run like a lunatic, too. “Well, now that you’ve found me, why don’t you go your own way and I’ll go mine,” she said and fished her car keys out of her pocketbook. Her hands were shaking so much the keys rattled.

“No, you won’t.” He caught her wrist before she could unlock the car door.

She glanced up at him. His face was chiseled in stone. He wasn’t kidding. “I need to go home, Rishi.”

His expression relaxed a bit but his grip on her wrist didn’t. “Look, you seem to be upset over something. I don’t think you should drive home yet. Let’s go someplace where we can talk.” He must have seen the wariness in her eyes, because he added, “I’m only trying to help. Obviously something happened here tonight and you’re shaken.”

She turned away from his penetrating gaze. How could she tell him, a man she’d known only a short time, what she’d witnessed? How humiliating was it to tell someone she’d caught her lover in bed with another woman?

“Did Rowling hurt you?” His voice was soft and measured, but she could sense the undercurrent of fury, something primitive and male. Her instinct told her Rishi was ready to have Kip hanged from the nearest tree.

“No.” She drew a long breath and willed her rigid shoulders to relax a little.

His grip on her wrist eased. “Then what is it that had you running?”

She closed her eyes and took another calming breath. He wasn’t going to let it go. “Oh, what the heck. You really want to know? I’ll tell you,” she said. “The whole tawdry story.”

“Good. But not here.” He shifted his hand to her elbow and led her to his vehicle, settled her in the passenger seat, then got into the driver’s side. “Is there a place nearby where we can talk?”

She shook her head. “Can’t think of any at the moment.”

“Then we’ll go to my hotel and you can tell me why you’re so upset.” He scowled at her. “Don’t look so petrified. I’m not going to take advantage of you or anything.”

“It’s not that. It’s my car; I can’t leave it here.”

“We’ll come back later and pick it up. The pub’s open late, isn’t it?”

She nodded and he put the SUV in gear and drove them to his hotel. She sat stiffly in her seat, intensely aware of the tension pulsing between them. Not a word was exchanged. He kept his eyes on the road and she let her gaze remain on her clasped hands. Minutes later, at the hotel, she meekly let him escort her across the atrium-style lobby and into the elevator.

In the polished chrome walls of the elevator, she caught her reflection. Her hair had a wild, windblown look and her expression was that of an animal caught in the headlights. No wonder he’d concluded she was too upset to drive on her own. And he was probably right.

When they got off on the fifth floor, she noted it was a nice hotel, with wide, plush-carpeted hallways, potted plants, and tasteful art on the walls. His room turned out to be a suite with a sitting room, office area, and kitchenette separated from the bedroom and bath. It was bigger than the apartment she and Vik used to have in Queens.

He gestured toward the bathroom. “Go ahead. Take your time.” He’d obviously read her mind about needing a few private moments.

Grateful for his perception, Anjali locked herself in the bathroom, splashed some cold water over her face, and dried it. When she felt a little calmer she combed her hair and fixed her makeup. Her eyes still looked a bit dilated. She was still wound tight. She needed to sit down, so she sat on the rim of the bathtub.

Her cell phone began to ring. Pulling it out of her pocketbook, she checked the number flashing on it. Kip! She quickly shut off the power. She never wanted to talk to him again.

What was he going to say to her?
Sorry, babe, I was only doing what I’m programmed to do: screw as many women as possible.
It hurt to think of it in such crude terms, but it was true. He was doing what came naturally to some men. They were probably wired that way at conception. Besides, Kip had never promised her anything other than a romp in his bed.

Up until that moment of discovery she hadn’t ever kidded herself that she was Kip’s only paramour. On the evenings she wasn’t around, she knew he was providing his brand of therapy to any number of lonely women. Her occasional half hour with him was equivalent to reclining on a psychiatrist’s couch. Just like her, other women used the same couch and went home feeling better. And yet, seeing it with her own eyes had stung like an ornery wasp.

Now that she’d had a few minutes to deliberate over what had just occurred, she was beginning to comprehend why she’d reacted so emotionally to something so predictable. What had sickened her more than anything was the fact that she had become involved with a man like Kip in the first place. She, a mature, levelheaded woman, had thrown common sense and caution to the winds and hooked up with the most unlikely man.

That bothered her more than what she’d discovered earlier. That and the important fact that
she’d
always gone to him, gone to his bed willingly. He’d never come to her.

Well, there was a positive side to this evening’s episode. It had finally opened her eyes. It was time to sever her ties with Kip completely.

She powered up her cell phone again. Mercifully, Kip hadn’t left a message. She sent a text message to him—polite and to the point—that she wouldn’t be seeing him again. On an impulse she added a line to thank him for his past kindness. No matter what his other faults, he’d always been a good listener and he’d offered her friendship and support when she’d needed it.

Then she shut off her phone a second time and shoved it into her pocketbook. It was the end of a slightly disturbing chapter in her life.

After giving herself another moment to settle, she left the bathroom. When she returned to the sitting room, Rishi motioned to her to sit on the couch and brought her a glass of water. Then he sat next to her. “Want to tell me what happened?”

She sipped the water, the cold liquid slowly trickling down and settling in her stomach. It felt good. She realized her throat was parched. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Most women don’t sprint like mad hatters in the dark if there’s not much happening to them,” he said matter-of-factly. “It has something to do with Rowling, I presume?”

“Since you’re such an Einstein, why don’t you figure it out?”

Instead of taking offense at her sarcasm, he eyed her with enviable calm. “Did you and Rowling have a fight?”

“Hardly.”

“Then what is it? Does he have a new girlfriend?”

She set the empty glass of water on the coffee table. “Hmm.”

“I see. Rowling’s playing the rolling stone.” He gave her another long, speculative look. “Did you find him in bed with someone?”

She chose not to answer. He’d hit the nail on the head within three guesses.

“I get the picture. That’s why you were trying to escape from the scene.” He was silent for a minute, seemingly absorbing the news. “It’s hard to face the truth, isn’t it, Anjali?” he said finally.

“Rub it in some more, why don’t you?”

He touched her face. “I know all about it. I’ve been there.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“Remember I told you about Laura? It hurts like the dickens, doesn’t it?” His hand moved to cup her face.

Maybe it was his soft, sympathetic tone, or the tender way he rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. For some unknown reason her eyes filled with tears. When the first one slid down her cheeks, he shifted closer and placed his arms around her. “The man’s not worth your tears. He’s a playboy. He was toying with you.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not stupid.” She was ruining his nice shirt, but it felt good to be held by a strong man. He smelled of warm summer breezes and that elusive aftershave. And he had a nice, wide chest that felt so comfortable to lean into.

“Are you in love with him?”

“No. Kip’s not exactly a lovable sort.”

“Then what sort is he?”

She had to take a moment to think. “He’s…a ladies’ man. He’s charming and sexy and treats women and sex as competitive sports.”

“I suppose he’s an avid sportsman and competes frequently?”

“You could say that.”

“Then why in heaven’s name are you wasting your tears over him, Anjali?”

“Why?” She pulled away from his arms, but he kept his hands on her shoulders. She blew her nose with the tissue she’d picked up in his bathroom. “Maybe because I went there for some TLC and received shock treatment instead.”

“There, you’ve answered your own question.” He stopped for a beat. “Why were you looking for TLC from Rowling when you have such a kind family to turn to?”

She rolled her eyes inwardly. Was he deliberately acting dense or was he poking fun at her again? Did he really think she meant TLC in the literal sense? Well, maybe he’d had his own brand of TLC with Samantha in London and couldn’t understand other people’s need for it.

“Maybe I can give you the TLC you need,” he said. “I’ve even got some chocolates around here somewhere if you’d like. I’ve been told chocolate has a calming effect on women.”

Realizing that he was indeed clueless, she snickered. “Do you even know the meaning of ‘tender loving care’?”

He raised a single dark eyebrow at her, but there was a hint of humor in his expression. “You don’t think I have warmth and sensitivity?”

She shook her head, thinking once again what a fine man he was. Too bad he wasn’t exactly her type. Although at the moment, with him close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, she was beginning to feel something clearly sexual. Right now he looked good enough to…Oh dear! It had been a while since she’d been in Kip’s bed, but this was ridiculous. She was beginning to hallucinate.

Before she could utter another word Rishi’s expression changed. He caught her face between his hands and his mouth descended on hers. It was a gentle brush of lips.

This was unexpected. But it felt nice. Better than nice.

His heartbeat felt a little erratic under her open palm. His lips were soft and warm. So she relaxed, a little reluctantly at first, but he must have sensed her surrender, because he deepened the kiss. In a minute his tongue was diving into her mouth, urging her to respond. And she did. It was sweet and tender and erotic all at the same time.

Warmth
and
tenderness.

Kip had rarely kissed her in the real sense, because he went straight to the main course without any appetizers. But this was different. Rishi was an expert kisser and he was making her feel like a woman—a desperate, hungry woman who needed compassion as well as male strength. And God knew this guy was giving it to her now. Suspending all other thoughts from her mind, she slipped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses with equal ardor. She hadn’t been kissed like this…since…Vik.

Vik! Oh God! Abruptly she drew back. “I can’t do this.”

Rishi stared at her. “I’m sorry.”

She extricated herself from his arms. “No. I’m the one that’s sorry. I was asking for it. Shameless, that’s what I am.” She used her balled-up tissue to wipe away the moisture from her lips.

“You’re not shameless.”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

He shook his head. “You’re a passionate woman and you’ve been a widow far too long. Every woman needs love in her life. You’re doing what comes instinctively to every woman.”

“Is that what it is, instinct? Then what was
your
reason for kissing me? Instinctively missing Samantha?”

He got to his feet, went to the refrigerator, and got a couple of cans of soda for the two of them. “Samantha and I are no longer together.”

She frowned at him. “Not long ago you told me you two were a couple. When did this occur?”

“During this trip. I think it was inevitable. It was going to happen sooner or later, and my visit to London proved to be the ideal time to put an end to it.”

“What exactly happened?” She wasn’t sure if he was going to answer that.

But he did. “I wasn’t happy with our living arrangement any longer and told her so. Then she accused me of trying to stay away from her deliberately. And she may be right.”

“Oh?” She couldn’t wait to hear why.

“When I left London more than two months ago I had told her she could join me here, and that maybe we could take a nice holiday somewhere.”

Pulling the tab on her soda can, she took a long swallow. “So why didn’t you invite her?”

“I didn’t feel like it. I told her that, too.”

“She didn’t take it well?”

“Not at first, but in the end I think she understood why I had to do what I did. Samantha is a practical and smart woman.”

“Precisely why did you do it, Rishi?” Anjali asked, curious to know everything about it.

He turned that laser look on her, suddenly making her feel like her bones were about to disintegrate. “The truth? Because I didn’t want to encourage her anymore since I saw no future for us. Because I had no deep feelings for her. Because I met someone more interesting in the U.S. And because I’m hoping that lady will return my sentiments.”

She turned suspicious eyes on him. “Sejal? Eww! She’s almost young enough to be your daughter.”

“I know that.” For the first time since she’d met him, Rishi actually rolled his eyes. “Are you that blind and naïve? Or has Rowling’s tomfoolery made you suspect all men? The lady I spoke of is
you,
you daft woman.”

“Me?” She sat up straight. “But you hardly know me.”