Chapter Five
The storm wasn't over.
The roads weren't getting plowed.
Zoya and the baby weren't going home today.
Asad leaned forward, bracing his hands against the marble kitchen counter. It was so dark and windy that it barely looked like morning. Even if he had wanted to enforce what he'd said about her going home today, there was no chance. The weather wasn't showing any signs of relenting.
After Zoya left his room last night, he'd felt the distinct, and very unexpected, sensation of loss. He wasn't angry anymore. He knew what it must have taken for someone like her to enter his room, especially considering how the evening had ended with him telling her to go home. He'd seen the fear and felt the trembling in her body when she'd been under him. And the feel of her in his arms led to a whole other set of problems. His attraction to her was undeniable, and it was beyond physical, which was entirely new for him. He admired how gutsy she was, despite whatever issues she had with men. She had driven hours through a blizzard to confront a stranger. Hell, that took courage.
He was about to get himself some coffee when he heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. He turned around at the sound of her hesitant hello, and his gut clenched. God, she was beautiful. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and he remembered how soft it had been against his bare chest last night. The curves of her body intimately pressed against his wouldn't be forgotten for a long time.
"Morning," he said. He smiled and saw the tension leave her face. Who knew what she thought of him? That he'd send her on her way in a blizzard or yell at her?
"I made a pot of coffee. Want a cup?"
"Please," she said and walked in a few more steps.
"Have a seat," he said. He handed her one of the pottery mugs his designer had chosen, motioning to the kitchen table. She sat opposite him, tucking one leg under her. She added milk to her cup and then looked up at him. She had gorgeous eyes, large and clear. And warm. The kind of eyes that made you think you could tell anything to this woman and that she'd understand, and wouldn't judge. He gave himself a mental shake. He needed to be nice, that was all.
"I'm sorry about last night. And obviously, I don't expect you to leave today."
She took a sip of her coffee, wrapping her hands around the oversized cup. She had delicate hands. Her nails weren't long, but nicely shaped. They didn't have a French manicure or god-awful loud color on them... wait a second, when the hell did he even look at a woman's hand... other than to see if there was a wedding ring on it?
She looked into her cup. She hadn't said anything yet and he realized that he was anxious for her response. Anxious in that sort of way that told him he cared about her feelings. Crap. First the nails, now the feelings.
"I was kind of worried about how we would get back in this weather," she said with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curling up into a deliciously alluring smile. He needed a drink, but it was way too early in the day for that.
"Look, let's call a truce okay? I think I've already made it clear that your plan doesn't really...work for me. If we talk about it again, we're going to end up arguing. You've got to understand that I have no intention of ever going along with this."
The warmth in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by a fiery sheen. Hell, she probably had as big a temper as he. Her full lips were pinched and thin, and he bet she held back a long string of curses. Too bad. He got up and rummaged through the cupboards, aware that she was watching him, fuming. "What would you like for breakfast?" He forced himself to sound nonchalant.
"How about a knife? You can stick it right through my heart."
He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or groan with frustration. He was going to ignore the bait. "It must be hours since you've eaten. Is cereal okay? I have muffins too."
"Not hungry."
He turned around to look at her. Her leg was crossed over the other and she drummed her fingers against the table. He sighed. "No point in starving yourself because you're pissed at me."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Fine. I'll heat up a muffin. Lemon cranberry," he said when she continued to stonewall him.
"You bake?"
He shook his head, insanely relieved that she was speaking to him again. "My housekeeper does. She freezes a bunch of stuff for me to bring when I come up here."
"So you have a lot of help at home?" she asked, looking innocent. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. He already knew her better than that.
"I'm a busy man. I work late hours. Very late. Not family man type hours," he said, enunciating every word to make it clear that he knew exactly what she was getting at. The microwave beeped and he set the muffins in front of her. He sat down and waited for her to take a muffin before grabbing one himself.
"Ah, so you have everything then."
He gave a terse nod.
"You have money, a penthouse, a company, a cabin," she said, popping a piece of the muffin into her mouth.
"Yes."
"I mean, what more could there possibly be in life other than money, assets, and work?" She put another piece of muffin in her mouth and he lost his appetite. Who was she to judge him?
The sound of a baby's cry prevented him from making a retort. Zoya jumped up, pulled out a bottle from the fridge, and dropped it in the small pot already filled with water on the stove. The baby. That baby was his niece. His sister's responsibility. Not his.
He stood up so fast his chair nearly
toppled over. "Do you mind if I go do some work?"
He could tell she was surprised at his abrupt interruption. She shook her head and licked her lips again. Yeah, he was so outta here. He refilled his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.
~ ~ ~
Zoya laughed as she placed Lily into the bathroom sink. The baby loved her baths and gave a delighted gasp as her body made contact with the warm water. Zoya cradled her head with one hand and rubbed the soapy washcloth over Lily's soft skin. Lily kicked her legs and gurgled loudly. She yelped as Lily splashed her.
"Everything okay in here?"
Zoya turned her head as Asad walked in wearing an expression she couldn't quite figure out. He looked down at Lily and for a second she thought he was going to smile, but instead she saw his jaw clench. She tried not to let her disappointment show. She didn't expect him to be reduced to a pile of mush by looking at the baby, but maybe a hint of a smile...
"We're doing fine," she said as she rinsed the soap off Lily's slippery skin. "Every time I give Lily a bath I seem to get soaked."
She busied herself with getting Lily out of the water and into the waiting towel, and pretended not to be aware of Asad's intense gaze. His silence was disconcerting. She almost preferred the sarcastic comments to the silence. She spotted the sleeper that she'd already laid out peeking out from under the towel. Almost positive Asad hadn't noticed, she slipped it into the sink.
"Oh shoot!"
"What is it?"
She avoided eye contact and focused on the now drenched sleeper while keeping Lily bundled in the towel.
"Her sleeper is soaked! Here," she said and shoved Lily into his arms. "I'll be right back. I'm going to grab a new one." She didn't bother waiting for a response and ran out of the washroom, her heart beating as though she'd just committed a felony. She was such a bad liar, she thought as she rummaged around for the only other sleeper she had. She waited a few moments before walking back into the washroom. Would Asad's heart melt by holding his little niece?
He awkwardly cradled Lily in his arms. Was he smiling at her? Was he choked up with emotion?
Asad looked up as soon as she approached his side and for a second she could have sworn she saw something warm in his expression. But then he handed Lily off to her and strode out of the room without saying anything.
Zoya stared into Lily's wide eyes. So much for her plan.
~ ~ ~
Asad told himself that all babies were cute. Lily was not a special baby. Human adults were biologically programmed to respond to babies. It was how the human race propagated. His wanting to keep holding the baby was only natural. And the connection he felt when he stared into those wide, curious eyes was completely ridiculous. That was that. A figment of his imagination. He needed to get down to work and count the hours until Zoya and his... the baby left.
He settled himself at the table in the great room and opened his laptop and briefcase. He came out here every year not to escape work, because he loved work and he loved the company he'd built with his best friend. No, he came out here to escape a season filled with year after year of bad memories. Here, there was no pressure to act like Christmas meant something more to him than any other day on the calendar. Until, of course, Zoya came crashing into his world.
He pretended to be deep in concentration at his computer an hour later when he heard Zoya enter the room. She had that giant bag that looked ready to burst with books sitting on her shoulder along with a fresh mug of coffee. He ignored the smell of lavender as she passed him to sit at the opposite end of the table.
"I hope you don't mind if I sit here. I put Lily down for a nap so I'd like to try and catch up on some work," she said, placing her bag on the table.
"Not at all," he said and looked back at his computer screen.
"She downed that bottle super fast," she said with a laugh. "She's always ravenous after a bath." He gave her a polite nod. He was not going to engage her in a discussion about babies. He concentrated on the spreadsheet on his computer screen, pleased that she finally took the hint that he didn't want to talk anymore.
Ten minutes later he tried to ignore the humming coming from across the table. Sounded something like jingle bells, slightly more than off-tune. He looked up with an exaggerated sigh. She didn't get the hint as she started tapping her foot in time with her humming. She highlighted something from a book.
"What are you working on?"
She looked up from her book, obviously startled.
"Oh, I'm studying."
He frowned. "For what?"
She bent her head again. "My PhD."
"PhD?"
She nodded.
"In social work?"
"No. Psychology." She took a sip of coffee then bent her head back in her book. He stared at the top of her head as she resumed her Christmas humming. He tried not to be impressed by her, but dammit, the more he learned about this woman the more he was intrigued by her and attracted to her. It was damn inconvenient.
"Why are you getting a degree in psychology?"
"Well, next year when I save enough money, I'd like to finish my degree and then ultimately I'd like to be a child psychologist."
He didn't say a thing as he stared at the gorgeous woman across the table. Run, Asad, run far away. She was beautiful, sweet, and smart. It was a hell of a combination. The women he dated were not nearly as dangerous as Zoya.
"Do you have any Christmas CDs?" Zoya stared at him from across the table, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts.
"Christmas?" Her preoccupation with all things Christmas wasn't the least bit attractive.
He rolled his eyes at her theatrical intake of breath, her hand flying to her chest. He refused to glance down at her chest again, knowing exactly where those thoughts would lead.
"Not even one?"
He smiled smugly. "Nope."
"I should have known," she said into her mug before she took a sip.
"Really? What gave it away?" He enjoyed talking to her way too much. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like enjoying someone's company and not doing work. For the last ten years, he'd lived and breathed his company. He went to bed at night, sometimes with a woman by his side, sometimes alone, but always with work on his mind. When he wasn't working he thought about work. He hated holidays because it meant business couldn't be done. Work had been his salvation. Work was everything. But right now he could allow himself a brief respite with a beautiful, intriguing woman, couldn't he?
"I knew last night that anyone who didn't have a single decoration up must be a miserable, Scrooge type of person," she said jabbing her highlighter in the air at his direction.
A choked laugh escaped his lips. "Really, so because I don't have decorations you've come to the conclusion that I'm miserable and like Scrooge?"
She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest. "Then your subsequent behavior confirmed my hypothesis."
"That again. I already explained my behavior."
"Nothing you can say can excuse that behavior, Asad. But not to worry, I understand that there are people in the world who are untouched by the spirit of Christmas""
"Do you get commission from Santa Claus?" Asad felt a smile spread across his face as she frowned at him.
"It happens to be my favorite holiday," that's all."
"Zoya, Christmas, is a commercially driven holiday. We're told we need to spend hundreds or thousands of rupees on loved ones in order to show we care. People tack on thousands in consumer debt and justify it by saying they have to for Christmas. I mean look at you, you're equating Christmas with something you need to buy"like a CD"with having Christmas spirit."
He figured his high-handed tone was not at all appreciated when her frown turned into a glare. She didn't answer as she looked down into her book. He was surprised by the disappointment he felt when she didn't engage him anymore. He pretended to focus on the spreadsheet that didn't interest him at all.
Zoya's voice interrupted the silence a few seconds later and he ignored the surge of happiness he felt.
"Would you mind if I had a look at your stereo?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Be my guest."
She rose and walked over to the entertainment center. He let his eyes wander over her very enticing figure in the form fitting jeans she wore. If she could ease up on the holiday stuff and not mention his family again, they might even make it out of here tomorrow without an argument.
A moment later the sound of Bing Crosby's cheerful voice permeated the room, and White Christmas filled the cabin. Zoya sat across from him. Her brown eyes sparkled and her smile was infectious. "Public broadcasting," she said smugly, picking up her BlackBerry.
He threw back his head and laughed.
She had put on small tortoise-shell rimmed glasses. He found them inexplicably attractive. "I tried it a few times and can't get a signal," she said, scrolling with her thumb.
"Yeah, mine's gone too."
She looked up at him, worry all over her face. "Is your land line working?"
He shook his head. "Gone when I woke up."
She bit on her lower lip, but nodded.
"I might have to get some firewood from the shed in case the power goes out for a while."
"Does that usually happen?"
"It's pretty typical for around here, but the power usually comes on within a day or so. I have more than enough wood in case that happens." He wanted her to feel safe and he didn't care to analyze why that was suddenly so important.
He was rewarded by a relieved smile tossed his way before she ducked her head back into her book. He didn't want the conversation to end.
"So what made you go into social work?"
She didn't answer him right away, almost as though she was carefully choosing her words before she looked up. "I knew I wanted to go into a profession that would help children, mostly because children can't help themselves. We live in a crazy world and they need someone to defend them and make sure they're safe."
Asad swallowed hard as she stared him directly in the eye across the table. "Must be hard work."
"If I can make a difference in someone's life, then it's worth it."
"So why do you want to leave?"
She took a deep breath. "I chose this career for the kids. I hadn't counted on the bureaucracy, the constant red tape that is always holding me back from doing what I think needs to be done."
"So I'm guessing you coming up here and tracking down a man who changed his name and trying to force me to adopt my niece isn't exactly the way things are done down at the child services bureau?" He didn't mean for that bite to enter his voice, and he obviously wasn't the only one who heard it. A flush, one that he found attractive even though he knew it was there because she was insulted, infused her face.
"I'd do anything to help a child, especially a baby. Besides, I'm doing what I should"the baby's mother asked me to find you."
He knew when to back down from an irate woman, and right now Zoya looked like she was ready to jump across the table and hit him. And he also knew she wouldn't appreciate knowing how cute she looked when she was angry. He admired her passion, and couldn't help but wonder if it extended itself to the bedroom. Okay...it looked like he was going to be battling that thought all day.
He held up his hands in surrender. She settled back into her chair, her posture not quite so rigid.
"I don't have anything to lose, no one except the kids depend on me, so I don't care what bridges I burn to get the job done."
There was something in that statement, uttered so matter-of-factly, that irked him. She made it sound like all she had was her job, that she had no one else. As much as he resented why she was here, he couldn't deny the fact that she impressed him. A woman like her shouldn't be alone. She should have more than just the kids she helped through her job, more than her career.
Her head was back in her book, and after a few minutes of staring at his darkened computer screen he figured it out. They were very alike. He didn't have anyone worth caring about, and his job, his company was everything to him. He wasn't willing to let anyone come between his work and him"including a baby. He clenched his teeth, because it started to sound wrong, this line of thinking. He scowled at his computer. Before she crashed his escape-Christmas bash his world had been easy. Black and white. Now all this damn color trickled through. And Zoya. He didn't want to like her. He didn't want her to
intrigue him.
~ ~ ~
Zoya tore the zipper of her purse open, acutely aware that Asad wandered around the room. She wasn't going to get any studying done. So she looked for her favorite book to settle in front of the fire with. She looked up when she heard a rough sigh.
"What's this?"
"What's what?" She looked down to see that one of her books had fallen out of her bag and was now in Asad's large, tanned hands.
She snatched it. Or tried to snatch it. "Let go."
He moved back a step, taking the book with him. She felt her cheeks ignite like a torch. He flipped it over and began to read the back blurb. The book was her favorite holiday read, but it was as personal to her as her past. Books had gotten her through many years of loneliness. They kept dreams alive inside her soul and taught her of love that always seemed so far from her reach. And until this moment she'd been glad it was with her. Ever since she could read, she was never without a book, especially at night, when all the disappointments haunted her mind as she tried to fall asleep. She'd huddle down under threadbare covers, in a room that never truly felt safe, and let herself be carried away to places where dreams actually came true. The words in her books would drown out the endless voices in whatever home she lived in. Her one drab red suitcase was filled with favorite books, each promising her an escape from her real life and she brought it with her to every home.
Seeing the book in Asad's hand bothered her. It was too personal. She tugged at the book again. She thought she spotted the corner of his mouth twitch with a hint of a smile. She placed her hands on her hips and used her sternest voice.
"Give me back the book."
He lifted his head. "Romance, huh? I wouldn't have you pegged as a romance reader."
She narrowed her eyes. "That happens to be one of my all-time favorite books, so if you'll excuse me." She grabbed the book from his hand. "I'd like to put it back in my bag."
He held up his hands and grinned boyishly, with an expression completely at odds with the angry, standoffish man that she was getting used to.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
She frowned at him. The way he said it made it perfectly clear that he thought she should be very, very embarrassed. "You should probably read that book and take a few pointers on how to act with a woman." She couldn't believe she'd said that aloud.
He threw back his head and laughed.
She fought the urge to smile that gripped her out of nowhere. But it was tough, because his laugh was deep and a little throaty and a whole lot sexy. It transformed him.
He stopped laughing, but his smile remained, his perfect white teeth gleaming. "Really? So you think I'm lacking in the skills necessary to attract a woman?"
She crossed her arms in front of her. "Well, you did slam a door in my face."
He stopped smiling. "I did not slam it. I closed it."
"Twice. You slammed it twice," she said holding up two wiggling fingers.
He scowled at her and jammed his fists into his pockets.
"And then you yelled in my face, using your height and... er... largeness to intimidate me."
"I was not trying to intimidate you."
"And left me out in a blizzard."
He rubbed the back of his neck and then looked up at the ceiling. She could swear he counted to ten silently. "I came after you."
"And then let me fall because you had to hold the windshield scraper."
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched and unclenched. "I was not trying to hold the scraper, I was trying to convince you to come inside."
"And ruined all my Christmas cookies."
"I helped you pick them up. I had no idea there were cookies in that tin."
"Whatever, Asad, you definitely don't know how to treat a lady." She grabbed her bag and dropped the book back in. There was a power and energy that emanated from him that was impossible to ignore.
"Zoya, if you weren't connected to my family, there would be no doubt in your mind that I know how to treat a lady."
She knew her neck and face were red. Asad was obviously the type of man who would have no trouble attracting women, but hearing the words come out of his mouth made it sound delicious, decadent.
"Nice line." She kept yanking at the zipper of her bag, wishing it would close.
She ignored him and what sounded like a muffled laugh. She needed to get this visit back on track. She needed him to be with Lily, to get him to slowly melt towards his adorable niece. Somehow, in the next twenty-four hours, she needed to break down Asad Ahmad Khan's seemingly impenetrable walls... bells. She heard bells. Zoya looked up at Asad who was still staring at her.
"Did you hear that?"
He shook his head. "Hear what?"
"Bells!" Zoya squealed, as they jingled again.
"Bells?"
She nodded and ran passed him to the window. Zoya inhaled sharply as a sleigh driven by two horses pulled up in front of the house. And the driver of the sleigh, well...
"Asad?" she whispered with disbelief over her shoulder. "I think Mr. and Mrs. Claus are here."
"You expect me to believe that Santa and his wife are trolling around my front yard?" he asked, joining her at the window.
"They aren't trolling"
"Oh, God," he whispered, his face going white as he stared through the glass. Finally she had gotten through to him! Zoya ran to the door, but he beat her to it and blocked it. Arms crossed and giant frown across that handsome face did nothing to sway her determination.
Zoya tapped her foot. "I'm letting them in."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am," she said, trying to push him to the side. All that hard muscle didn't budge an inch. He just let out an irritated sigh. She stepped back and glared at him. "You can't honestly deny them entry!"
"It's not Santa," Asad groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Well, who is it?"
"It's my crazy neighbors from down the street," he said, his voice sounding strained as the jingling grew louder.
The house with all the decorations?" Zoya asked, thinking of the little cottage she'd driven past last night. It had been lit and decorated with such care that Zoya had slowed her car for a second to admire the lights.
Asad nodded, his face grim. "That's the one."
They both jumped at the exuberant knock.
Zoya smiled up at him.
Asad closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, turning around to open the door. A gust of arctic wind and a blast of boisterous bells greeted them.
Seher Hone Ko Hai
Members Lounge
Cricket
47