He was that kind of man, she realised with a heavy sigh. Charismatic, charming, intelligent, interesting, and sexy as sin. If it had only been the latter—his incredible good looks and prowess in bed—she doubted he’d have gotten under her skin in quite the same way. But he’d sparred with her and made her laugh. He’d made herforgetthat she’d been broken by her ex-husband, that she would always be a little bit broken.
She dragged her attention back to the report, skimming the summary, then placed it on the coffee table, standing and moving to the kitchen in search of another coffee, but the buzzing of her door had her changing course. Cora, slightly reclusive these days, did most of her shopping online, and she was waiting on a delivery of books, so she pulled open the door without even thinking of checking who was there.
And gasped to see Samir on the other side, a paper bag in his hands and a determined expression on his face.
Shock ran through Cora but she’d had years of practice concealing her emotions so she reacted with a look of confusion instead. “Did you forget something?”
“I brought lunch.” He passed the bag towards Cora, stepping past her and into the apartment without waiting to be invited. Bemusement flooded her but she latched the door closed behind them and followed him into the kitchen. His back was straight, his shoulders squared. If Cora didn’t know better, she’d think he’d come expecting a fight.
“Is there a problem?”
He made a visible effort to relax his features. “I want to speak to you about last night.”
Her eyes dropped to the paper bag. “Over lunch?”
“It is the middle of the day. Why not?”
She tilted her head to the side. “What did you bring?”
Despite the seriousness of his expression, a smile broke through. “Is our conversation conditional on my choice?”
“I’m interested to see what you think I’d like.”
He opened the bag and lifted out several containers, the fragrance quite deliciously arresting. “What is it?” She leaned closer, peering at the containers.
“My chef made them.”
“It’s Al Medinan?”
He dipped his head once.
“I’ve never tried it.”
“You’ll like it.”
He lifted the lid off the containers. “Plates?”
“Over there,” she pointed across the kitchen, too fascinated by this turn of events—and too hungry, she realised belatedly—to interrogate him further. There was another emotion swimming through her that she didn’t want to focus on, an intense sense of relief at seeing him again, when she’d presumed she never would.
She watched as he made himself at home in her kitchen, pulling out a couple of plates, some cutlery and then, two glasses which he filled with sparkling water.
Then, it was the food: lid after lid came off and the smell, which had already been intoxicatingly good, filled every single bit of space, making Cora’s tummy growl loudly with anticipation. She didn’t apologise—it was his fault for bringing such delicious smelling food.
“Shall I dish yours out?”
“Please,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I wouldn’t know what to choose.”
“Is there anything you do not eat?”
She shook her head and at his look of approval, little bursts of pleasure ignited inside her. He scooped a small amount of each meal onto her plate: there was a spiced rice, a curry, a salad with pomegranate and pumpkin, and a yoghurt accompaniment.
“Thank you,” she said as she took the plate from him, keeping it in front of her as he repeated the action for himself then she turned and led him to the table. Though Cora generally ate at the island bench in the kitchen, a little extra formality felt like a good idea with Samir, at least until she understood what he wanted to discuss.
Maybe it had something to do with her brothers?
She took a seat on one side and watched as he settled on the opposite, trying not to notice the pang in the region of her heart at the act that was so reminiscent of happy, easy domesticity. For goodness’ sake, she’d met the manonceand she wasveryhappy—or content, at least—in her life. She didn’t need, nor did she want, a boyfriend.
A boyfriend? Cora had to get a grip on her runaway thoughts and fast.