Chapter Six
Zoya poured the D'costa's a second cup of coffee, listening with delight to their tale about the time they rescued a squirrel in a blizzard. Asad was sprawled on the couch next to her, his legs crossed at the ankles, looking bored out of his mind. He caught her eye and held up a finger to his temple, pretending to pull the imaginary trigger with his thumb. Zoya frowned disapprovingly at him. How could he not like this couple?
"Oh, Zoya, what a delight you are, my dear. We've been cooped up for days with no one to speak to! We always worry about Asad when he comes up to this cabin," Mrs. D'costa said, looking at Asad. "It's not healthy to be alone during the holidays."
"Do you know," Mrs. D'costa said, dropping her voice to a feverish whisper and leaning forward, "it's one of the most difficult times of year for many people?"
"I can't imagine why," Asad's deep voice drawled. Zoya tried not to spill the contents of her mug of coffee.
The elderly woman nodded, her curly white hair bouncing in time, completely oblivious to Asad's sarcasm. "Loneliness, dear. And that is why we came around to check on you. There have been so many times we've come over here looking for you, and in the distance we think we see lights on, but then when we get closer the house is always dark. It's a shame we always miss you!"
Zoya gasped and frowned at Asad who shrugged slightly. How could he actually pretend he wasn't home?
"That is a shame, Mrs. D'costa. I suggest next time you try knocking harder. Asad is a little hard of hearing I noticed. Sometimes, I think he's heard what I've said, but in fact he hasn't heard a word!" Zoya said, ignoring Asad's loud coughing.
"I can assure you there's nothing wrong with my hearing," Asad said, his mouth twitching slightly at the corner.
"Well, that's good. Looks like this little lady is worried about you though," Mr. D'costa said with a wink. "I can tell she's got a heart of gold, just like my Wife."
Zoya looked into her mug of coffee. She raised her head to clarify their relationship, but Asad spoke first. "She does have a heart of gold, Mr. D'costs. She even baked a bunch of Christmas cookies and drove through a blizzard to see me." Zoya could hear the smile in his voice as he played along with this charade. She ignored the warmth that spread through her body from his words, knowing he didn't mean them.
Lily's soft cry interrupted her reply.
"Is that a baby?" Mrs. D'costa gasped, sitting up straight.
"No," Asad snapped.
"Oh my, Asad. You really do need to get your hearing checked, it is most definitely a baby!" Mrs. D'costa said, rising as Lily's cries continued. Mrs. D'costa looked as though she was going to explode if the baby's cries weren't answered. Zoya was trying to contain her smile as she crossed the great room.
"I'll make sure he gets a specialist to check him out, Mrs. D'costa. And I'll be right back, there is someone very important I'd like you to meet," she said, saying a silent prayer of thanks. This was exactly what she needed. Zoya tried not to skip down the hall on the way to her room.
She returned moments later to find Mrs. D'costa waiting at the end of the corridor, wringing her hands. "Mrs. D'costa, I'd like you to meet Lily." Mrs. D'costa rushed over to her side.
"Oh, she's precious, just precious! May I hold her, Zoya?" the woman asked with such joy in her eyes. "Look John, she's so little." Mrs. D'costa walked slowly into the great room and sat down next to her husband, as though she were holding the most fragile piece of crystal.
"She's a real cutie," Mr. D'costa said, touching a little tuft of Lily's hair. "A little
"angel," he whispered.
"Yes, an angel," Mrs. D'costa said, nodding.
Zoya stole a quick glance at Asad. His calm, laughing demeanor was gone and she could see the tension in his body. He was standing in front of the hearth now, fire poker in his hand as he nudged some logs around.
"We had no idea that you two had a child," Mrs. D'costa whispered as Lily stared wide-eyed at her.
"Well," Zoya said, folding her hands together, "she's not really ours."
"She's my sister's child," Asad said, his voice thick and stilted. "My sister died and this is her baby."
Zoya tried to hide her shock that he would say anything to the D'costa's about Najma or Lily. He was trying. He was trying to be honest and her heart swelled with sympathy at the lines around his mouth.
"Oh, Asad, we're so sorry," Mr. D'costa said, rising and patting Asad on the arm. Asad's expression softened as the much slighter, older man showed such compassion.
"Thank you," Asad said with a terse nod.
"What about her father?" Mrs. D'costa said, her voice heavy with unshod tears.
"No father," Asad said with a frown.
Zoya's body tensed. These people were here for a reason and she was going to use this opportunity to her full advantage.
"I want Asad to be her father," Zoya said softly, though her voice sounded loud to her ears. She stared straight into Asad's eyes, the silent challenge not evoking a response from him at all. He didn't look surprised by her statement, his mouth set in a grim line.
"What an honor that must be. She is a precious gift. There is nothing more special than a baby. Nothing on earth," Mrs. D'costa said, her eyes filled with tears as she looked from Asad to Lily. Zoya's eyes didn't leave his face. His jaw clenched and he gave the woman a short nod. Zoya noticed he wouldn't look at Lily.
"Do you have children of your own?" Zoya asked, looking away from Asad's intense stare.
Mrs. D'costa continued to rub Lily's back and a soft smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, the lines on her face deepening as she whispered, "We always wanted children. Always. But, well, John and I just weren't blessed in that way."
Zoya's heart ached as John walked over to his wife, his own faded eyes shiny. She glanced over at Asad, whose back had been to them, his shoulders rigid. She felt her own ache. What she would have given to have parents like the D'costa's. Their love was so real, their actions so pure.
"But we were blessed to have found each other," Mr. D'costa said brightly. His wife looked at him, nodding. She stood slowly and handed Lily over to Zoya.
"I think we've intruded on your time together long enough," Mrs. D'costa said, as John slipped his Santa hat over his head. Zoya followed them to the door as Asad retrieved their red coats.
"It's been so nice to meet you," Zoya said with a smile as she stroked the back of Lily's head.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks for stopping by," Asad said gruffly, standing next to her after he'd helped Mrs. D'costa into her coat.
"Are you sure you'll be all right getting back in this weather?" Zoya asked, as she glanced out at the blowing snow in the window. She ignored Asad's nudge.
"Oh we'll be fine, I've been driving around in worse storms than this!" Mr. D'costa said, slapping Asad on the shoulder. Asad shook his hand and Zoya could have sworn she saw him smile. But when Mrs. D'costa leaned up on her tiptoes to give Asad a kiss, his facade cracked and he gave the woman a smile that had her blushing and beaming. Moments later, as they were waving goodbye to the D'costa's, Zoya wondered if this visit had done it. Maybe it was that added piece of wisdom and insight that would compel Asad to rise up.
"That was a fun night, don't you think?" Zoya said brightly, walking with Lily toward the kitchen to heat up a bottle.
"I'd rather dress up as a Santa in a shopping mall and have obnoxious kids sit on my lap. Good night."
Zoya stood in the doorway of the kitchen, baby bottle in one hand, Lily in the other, as she watched Asad walk down the hallway. She was torn between chucking the bottle in the direction of his retreating figure and crying like a baby.
...
Asad was done for. Seriously, cooked.
They were on day two of this horrid forced arrangement. After an evening straight from Hell thanks to the neighbors he'd managed to avoid for the last five years, he had woken up to the gorgeous sound of Zoya's laughter, which put him in an even fouler mood.
He'd trudged over to the window only to find the snow hadn't let up at all. It was the worst storm he'd seen in at least ten years. And for a guy that had gotten used to not feeling, he had spent the entire two days on some sort of roller-coaster ride of emotions. His biggest problem was that he began to not hate being cooped up in this cabin with Zoya and the baby. Zoya and his, er, the baby puttered around the house making all sorts of noises and happy baby-type sounds. Everywhere he looked Zoya was about. Cooking, singing to the baby, playing with the baby, changing the baby. And she was so damned loud that he'd been forced on more than a few occasions to glance over at them. When he did, he got an odd feeling in his chest when he saw that baby girl gurgling and staring at Zoya. And then he got some other, very inconvenient feelings when he looked at Zoya. Her smile, her hair, the sound of her voice"it drove him to distraction. He didn't get a speck of work done thanks to Zoya. He ended up losing game after game of solitaire on his computer while pretending to work.
And now that the baby slept it was the two of them in the great room again. The scene was annoyingly perfect. A storm blustered away outside while they were warm and toasty in his cabin. Even the constant Christmas songs were becoming less irritating. He was with a woman he found irresistibly sexy, who was also funny as hell, and smarter than anyone he'd ever dated or contemplated sleeping with. But he couldn't even consider being with her because of who she was.
"Do you play cards?"
Asad just stared at her. Had she said something?
"Hello-ooo? Earth to Asad." Clearly exasperated with him she rolled her eyes. "I said, do you want to play a game of cards?" How was it possible a woman this intelligent could be this oblivious to the one thing they could be doing tonight? Cards? The last thing he felt like doing in a secluded cabin with a sexy, intriguing, and utterly beautiful woman was playing cards.
"Cards?" he spat out finally.
His derision did nothing to hamper her enthusiasm. "Yes, cards! Maybe we could have a game of crazy eights?"
"Crazy eights?"
She frowned at him. "Stop repeating everything I'm saying like all my suggestions are imbecilic."
"What the hell is crazy eights? That must be a game only small-town people play," he said, purposely baiting her.
She crossed her arms. "How do you know I'm from a small town?"
"Sweetheart, you've got small town written all over you." His grin widened as her frown deepened.
"Oh really?"
"The books, the grandma hat, and bag""
"Grandma hat! I'll have you know that a nice""
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, trying not to laugh. "A grandmother."
She stopped talking for a moment and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Well, yes she is a grandmother. Just not my grandmother. Whatever. It may be a small town, but it's still close to civilization. Hope's Crossing is a charming""
"Hope's Crossing? What kind of a name is that?"
She narrowed her eyes to slits and gave him a death glare. "It's a town filled with good old fashioned values, and people who care about each other. Everyone knows everyone""
"Ugh, that sounds awful."
"But for your information, I grew up in the city."
"Really?"
She nodded but looked as though she was ready to shut down that conversation. He realized that whenever she told him something about herself, she seemed to regret it. He wasn't going to let her off that easy. "Why'd you leave?"
"I like small towns," she said, crossing her legs and not looking at him.
"I hate them."
"Of course someone like you would."
"Someone like me?"
She held out her hand and began rattling off a list on her fingers. "Closed-off, antisocial, miserly""
"Miserly?" he said, laughing.
"I think we need to get back to deciding what game of cards we're going to play."
"I like hearing about you," he said, knowing she didn't want to tell him anything more about herself.
She turned her nose and then leaned forward in her chair, unrelenting. "I know what game we can play. How about asshole? Surely you must be very familiar with asshole"
He'd never known any woman to openly insult him as much as Zoya. And he liked the sound of her laughter when she joined in with him, and the way it lit up her face and gave him a glimpse of the woman she was when she wasn't afraid or worried. She was intoxicating. That realization made him stop laughing. "I'm not familiar with that game," he drawled out, and stood up. He walked over to the liquor cabinet. "Do you want a drink?" He certainly needed one.
"What are you having?" She stared at him with a sparkle and a lofty smile.
"Scotch."
"I'll have the same." He gave a half laugh, half grunt. Since when did he do a half-laugh? With Zoya he was constantly on the verge of laughing or yelling. She was full of contradictions.
"Maybe we should have the D'costa's over," Zoya said with a suspiciously cheerful grin."
He rolled his eyes. "I think once this season is enough."
"You're horrible. I can't believe you pretend you're not home when they knock at your door."
She looked adorable as she tried to give him a stern frown even though her eyes twinkled.
"If I let them in once, that would be it. I'd never get rid of them," he said, walking back to her.
He didn't want to think about all the things the D'costa's said about Lily being a gift. An angel.
"I think they're charming, and so in love after so many years. What wonderful spirit to have matching Santa hats..."
"I've got to start drinking."
Zoya threw her head back and laughed.
"Now if we're drinking this straight, we've got to do something more interesting than playing cards," Asad said standing in front of her.
She raised a brow and tipped her head in silent challenge.
Asad handed Zoya her glass and the moment her fingers brushed against his he felt the heat and fire that he'd been experiencing whenever he made close contact with her. She raised her glass to his and he wondered if he imagined the faint tremor in her hand.
"Cheers," she said, her voice husky. Asad took a sip and sat beside her on the leather couch. He noticed she scooted a little further away"she definitely felt the attraction too.
"So how about a game of truth or dare?"
"That seems a little juvenile for you, Asad."
He leaned back and watched her over the rim of his glass. "I'm really just a kid at heart." He smiled at her shout of laughter, her whiskey swishing precariously close to the rim of her glass. "Besides, once we get a few of these in us," he said holding up his drink, "the game gets really interesting." He couldn't stop his smile.
"I'll bet. Okay, I'm up for it. But I've got to warn you, I'm not a cheap drunk, I know how to hold my liquor. Besides, there's a baby in the other room"I have to be responsible."
"All right, let the game begin."
"I go first," she said, leaning forward to pat Bruno on head.
"Shoot," he said, forcing himself not to look at the cleavage peaking out when she leaned over to pat his dog. It was impressive cleavage too. Dammit.
"Truth or dare?" she asked wriggling her eyebrows.
He folded his arms across his chest. "Dare."
She frowned. "Really? Dare?"
"Zoya, you didn't actually think I'd say truth, did you?"
She looked thoroughly disappointed. "No one ever picks dare!"
"Seriously? I always pick dare."
"But I haven't thought of a dare," she said, taking a long drink. She licked the corner of her mouth and his stomach clenched involuntarily.
"Time's a tickin'," he said, enjoying teasing her.
"No, it's not. There's no time limit. Okay," "I've thought of something!" she said, looking very pleased with herself. "I dare you to tell me why you changed your name."
He laughed. "Nice work-around, but are you sure you want to waste a dare on something as mundane as my name?"
"Somehow I don't think this is going to be mundane at all." She lifted her eyebrows in silent challenge.
He groaned theatrically and then leaned further into the cushions. "Fine. When I..." He paused for a second searching for the right words. He'd never had to explain this before, and suddenly, not looking like a complete jerk to Zoya seemed important. "I knew that if I was ever going to make it I would have to disassociate myself from my family. I didn't want to be contacted by them anymore. I needed to move on with my life. I didn't do it out of embarrassment or shame. I don't really give a damn what people think of me." He finished off his glass and didn't look at her. Zoya was dangerously easy to talk to.
"I can understand that." The lack of sympathy in her voice startled him and he looked over at her. She shoved her empty glass in front of his face. "I'd love a refill, please."
"You and me both." He stood up and walked across the room. He felt a little slighted that she hadn't seemed more compassionate.
"Asad?"
"Yeah," he said over his shoulder.
"Just bring the whole bottle."
His shoulders shook with laughter and did as asked, joining her on the couch. She surprised him by lifting her glass for a toast.
"To screwed up childhoods and bad Christmases," she said. He clinked his glass with hers and held her gaze.
"Really, bad Christmases? Screwed up childhood?" That wasn't what he expected at all from her.
She nodded. It was the first time she'd volunteered anything about her life.
"I had horrible Christmases," she said, looking into her glass then up at him again.
"Then why do you love it so much?"
She smiled wryly. "I'm an eternal optimist, Asad. I can't let my past dictate my future. I refuse to believe that it's an indicator of what I'm entitled to. I'm holding out for something better. I'm holding out for the best. I know that one Christmas I'm going to have everything I ever wanted. All the things that can't be gift wrapped, the important things..." Her voice caught at the end and he felt his own stomach twist at what she said. How the hell could they both have these similarities and yet be polar opposites?
She fidgeted with her glass. He guessed she felt a little awkward about what she'd said. "So you're waiting for some prince charming to come along and sweep you off your feet?" He winced inwardly at the callousness of his tone. It wasn't intentional, but it irked him that she thought that this perfect guy was going to come along and make her world.
"Oh, please. I'm not nave, Asad. I've seen a lot of horrible, truly sickening things. I'm not waiting for a man to make me happy."
"So what is it you want then? A family?"
"She shook her head. "No."
That was not the answer he expected. She didn't want a spouse, a child?
"Why not?"
She shrugged. "I have a hard time with trust."
"With men?"
She held his stare for another second and then gave a sharp nod, her hair falling over her right shoulder. If she had been anyone else, he would have reached out to touch it, to see if it was as soft as the skin he felt the other night beside him in bed.
"Who hurt you?"
"I thought we were supposed to be playing a game here," she said, barely above a whisper.
"We are. And it's my turn."
She downed the rest of her drink, then turned to him. "No one."
"Bull. You nearly panicked when I touched you that night."
"I don't like being manhandled."
"It was more than that. You were totally freaked, like someone who's been""
"Refill please."
"He shook his head. "No way. I gave you a whole, long, honest answer. You're not getting away with that."
"Fine. I haven't exactly had a Cleaver style upbringing either. Let's say that I've had my share of run-ins with the wrong type of guy."
He felt his heart slam into his rib cage. He watched her expression closely as she turned her head and stared into the fire. "What happened?"
"That's two questions, Asad." She was so quiet he had to lean forward to hear.
The thought of Zoya being brutalized by a man hurt him. It made him angry, made his gut twist and clench, and he was vaguely aware that his emotions were much stronger than they should be for a person he barely knew.
She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and lifted eyes that were filled with secrets and pain to his. He knew what it was like to be so private, how hard it was to share that past and that hurt with someone.
She smiled, and her expression completely changed. She had a gorgeous smile, the kind that made you want to smile back at her. But there was a part of him that was disappointed, because he really did want to know about her.
"My turn!"
But instead of asking him a question she jumped up and walked over to the table. His eyes didn't leave her as she came back with a plate of Christmas cookies she had baked earlier. He had a difficult time concentrating on what she was chattering on about while he was thinking about how nicely her jeans fit. She spun around at the exact moment his eyes had been admiring her behind. She lifted one arched brow and perched one hand on her hip. He grinned unabashedly.
"Did you hear a word of what I said?" she asked in a voice that made him think she could have been an excellent schoolteacher.
"I heard everything," he said lying.
"Then what did I just say?" He made the mistake of glancing down at her breasts, which were straining against her shirt. He couldn't help but think how nicely they'd fill his hands and then some...
"Asad Ahmad Khan." He couldn't help it. He ducked his head and laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Zoya," he said into her sparkling eyes, unable to stop the grin that seemed to appear on his face whenever he was around her. "I'm sorry, but you've got to cut me some slack. You are a beautiful woman."
She took a step closer and poked him in the chest and he resisted the urge to laugh. Something else hit him while he stared at her fiery eyes. When he first met her there was no way she would have poked him, but she trusted him now. She acted like her true, spunky, assertive self, and that made him feel damn good.
"Please save your lines for someone who'll actually fall for them," she said dryly.
He nodded. "Fine. Why don't you ask me what you're really dying to know?"
"And what would that be?" He could tell she was curious, and he didn't know if it was the whiskey or that his willpower had melted away after two days with this woman, but he was done denying his attraction.
"What it's like to kiss me."
Anupamaa
Jhanak
Cricket
Kumkum Bhagya
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