The Greek Billionair's Marriage Matchmaker(24)

Instinctively, seeing his smile, and the rush of warm familiarity he had extended, Anita smiled too.



"And no, I'm quite all right. I hope you're not coming out to say that the chakchouka was too much trouble after all … "



Anita shook her head reassuringly. "Oh, no. I've checked with my father myself. It's no trouble whatsoever."



"Oh, good. I hope you'll thank him for me."



Not likely.



"Of course."



Anita paused. At this point, a better waitress would have left him in peace to enjoy the night, but she couldn't help herself.



"Hakim," she said, his name rolling off her tongue easily as his full  title had. "Earlier you looked like you wanted to say something. When I  was talking about my family, I mean. What was it?"



There was a long pause, and she noticed him look down at her hands. She did so, too, and realized what he was looking at.



"My ring?" she asked, fiddling with the gold signet ring she had worn  around her thumb from the time her thumb had been big enough.



She looked back at the Sheikh, and found her eyes darting to his own  hands. There, on his right hand, was a very similar signet ring.



"It's just unusual, is all. Usually women do not wear these rings."



"No … " she said. "It was my father's."



Suddenly, she felt like he was prying. It was a sensitive subject that  she didn't share with most people. When others asked, usually she lied  and said she'd found it at a flea market.



"It's not your adoptive father's, is it?" he asked.



One look at the Sheikh and Anita knew she couldn't lie to him. "No," she  said. "It belonged to my birth father. It's all I have of his. How did  you know?"



"Chefs don't wear these rings," the Sheikh said. "Whoever your birth  father was, he was an important man. I can tell you that much. Anyway,  I'm sorry to bother you about it. It's just rare to see. And it's lovely  to see a woman wearing it."



Anita shook her head, trying to clear it. This was more than she had bargained for.



"Thank you," was all she could say. And then she left to go tend her  other tables, that would doubtless not be so fraught with emotion.         

     



 





THREE





The rest of the night went well. The Sheikh-Hakim, Anita mentally  corrected herself-seemed to greatly enjoy his chakchouka, and the men's  laughter bouncing through the alley was a constant, every time Anita  came out to refill drinks, or see if they needed anything.



The group managed to plow through more hummus, pita and meat than Anita  would have thought possible, but Hakim just kept ordering more. It was  as though, Anita allowed herself to think in a particularly weak moment,  he wanted an excuse to stay.



Not long before closing, Hakim's go-between-the one who had first tried  to get the table without a reservation-got up and whispered something in  his ear. Whatever it was, it seemed to upset Hakim, who looked  hurriedly at his watch.



The man, who Anita remembered was called Ahmed, signaled for the bill, reaching out his hand for it when Anita brought it over.



Anita's heart sunk; she didn't have high hopes for a good tip if Ahmed  was the man in charge of handling payments for his employer.



Still, she held off on looking at the signed receipt until she had said  goodbye to the whole party. Each of the men, all of them in high  spirits, thanked her personally, so it took a little while. Their  enthusiasm was contagious, and Anita found herself smiling broadly at  every over-the-top goodbye. She felt more like she had hosted them at  her house than that she had just waited on them at a restaurant.



When it was finally Hakim's turn to say goodbye, Anita wasn't sure what  to expect. But he gave her the same, gracious goodbye as the others had,  even telling her that the chakchouka was the best he'd ever tasted, and  that he would be sure to come back next time he was in Houston.



Was it just her imagination, or did he linger just a little bit longer than the others?



When they had all left, Anita felt as though the wind had been let out  of her sails. She had expected a bit of a letdown, excitement-wise, once  the night was over, but she hadn't expected this. She felt …  sad. Empty,  even.



She opened up the check-better get the disappointment of no tip on a huge bill over with, she thought glumly.



She blinked twice when she saw the number. $200. Ahmed had left her a  tip as large as the bribe he'd originally been going to give her.



Anita squinted at the elaborately-written note on the top line next to it.



"For the best table in the house," it read.



She smiled. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad after all.



She began stacking up the plates, bowls and cups. She'd told the busboys  to go home early, as they had come through for her when she needed it,  so she'd have to get all this put away on her own.



She tried not to let her mind wander back over the night. Her energy was  waning, and now that the adrenaline rush was finally gone for good, she  found that she wanted nothing nearly so much as to be upstairs in bed.



But she couldn't help but wonder, again, if Hakim had seen the carving  of her name, and if he had put it all together. Her gaze flicked up to  the head of the table where he had been sitting.



That was when she saw it: just a glint of gold amongst the reflection of the twinkling lights.



Anita dropped the pile of dishes heavily on the table, not caring about  the crashing sound they made, her heart beating faster as her body  managed just one more little jolt of adrenaline. She rushed over to the  glint of gold.



It was just what she had thought: Hakim's ring, left behind by accident, she could only assume.



She scooped it up and took off at a run. Her tired feet stumbled, but  she'd navigated the dining room so many times that she didn't trip over  any of the tables or chairs strewn about.



She reached the front door and looked frantically left and right. She could only hope they were still there.



It was dark, and it took her eyes a minute to adjust, but she was able  to make out a limousine down the street to the left. The cluster of  dishdasha-clad men around it made it clear that this was her aim, and  she stumbled towards it, moving as quickly as she could without looking  like a complete fool.



When she was close enough, she called out Hakim's name. She saw him  turn, so distinct in his suit. She saw him look down at her hands, and  the precious object within them, and break into a wide smile.         

     



 



"My ring!" he said when she reached him.



Anita set the ring in his open palm. Her fingertips grazed his skin as  she set it down, and her heart, that had begun to calm, started racing  anew.



This was no time for a crush, she thought. This was not the man to get awkward feelings for.



But it certainly wasn't helping that he stepped closer to her as he picked up his hand to get a closer look at the ring.



"I fiddle with it sometimes," he said, under his breath. If he hadn't  been standing so close, Anita doubted she would have heard him.



"I'm glad I caught you in time," she said. Her mouth was running away  and talking without permission from her brain. "I can't imagine what I  would do if I lost mine."



"No … " he said, still apparently mesmerized by the ring he'd almost lost.



And then, as if released from a spell, he slid it onto his finger. "You must let me thank you."



"What?"



"I mean it," he insisted. "You've saved me from losing something  precious. Please, let me have your number. I'd like to take you out to  dinner."



Take her out? To dinner?



Ahmed was behind him. "Sir, we really must be on our way. They'll be waiting."



"Yes, just a moment," Hakim replied, then focused his attention back on  Anita. "I've got to go. Let me have your number, so I can work out the  details with you."



The flash of the anger in Fadi's eyes flitted through Anita's brain. But  in the rush of it all, there was nothing else she felt like she could  do.



She spouted out her phone number, feeling ridiculous as soon as she did  so-his phone wasn't out, there wasn't a pen, and she'd left her pad of  paper inside.



"You'll forget … " she said, silently cursing herself for having put the pad away.



"Never!" he said with a wink.



Anita blushed as the Sheikh disappeared into the limo and sped off into  the night, leaving her standing in its wake, unsure what exactly had  just happened, but certain that whatever it was, it was something good.





FOUR





It turned out that a good way of getting a second wind on a night that  had been punishingly busy and stressful was to get asked out to dinner  by a handsome sheikh.



Or so Anita was finding. The exhaustion that had begun settling in when  the Sheikh's party had gotten up had left her completely.



It had been a hard night, and there was no one left in the restaurant  but her and Fadi. Fadi had sent the dishwashers home, not realizing that  Anita had already sent the busboys home, leaving them with no one left  to help them close up for the night.