Regardless, she ate with abandon the luscious fresh salad, the array of fresh vegetables and the petite filet mignon accompanied by a lobster tail. She did skip the wine, but not the sorbet designed to cleanse the palate between courses. In fact, she’d barely drawn a breath before the pêche Melba arrived for dessert. Spun sugar and ice cream probably wouldn’t help her expanding waistline, but at least the peaches were healthy. Sort of.
When she noticed Tarek staring at her as he had the last time she’d gorged herself, her face began to flame. “I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to eating this late, so needless to say, I was starving.”
“No apology necessary,” he said. “I appreciate a woman with a healthy appetite, though I am surprised you are still quite thin.”
Just wait a few weeks, she started to say but thought better of it. “Honestly, I don’t normally eat so much. Something about this island atmosphere makes me very hungry.”
“It fuels my appetites as well.”
His usage of the plural form of “appetite,” led Kira to believe he wasn’t only referring to food. “Well, that definitely quenched one of mine.”
He sent her a knowing and somewhat smoldering look. “Then I suppose I do not need to ask if you enjoyed the fare.”
“I would think that’s obvious.”
They shared in a laugh, the first one she’d heard escape from Tarek’s mouth since they’d been there. If he knew the reason behind her ravenous behavior, he wouldn’t be laughing.
François suddenly reappeared and gathered the empty dessert cups. “John Paul has asked if you found the meal satisfactory.”
“You could say that,” Kira muttered. “Let him know that as the daughter of a chef, I know excellent culinary skill, and he earns high marks on all counts.”
The waiter executed a slight bow and regarded Tarek. “I shall let him know. Will there be anything else, Monsieur Azzmar? Perhaps the lady would like to sample a delicate chocolate liqueur?”
“No, thank you,” Kira said, perhaps a bit too abruptly.
Tarek reached into his inside pocket, withdrew two envelopes and handed them to Francois. “Tell John Paul I will be in touch soon with my offer for both of you. I am certain he will find it more than generous. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of your stay in Cyprus.”
The man practically beamed. “I assure you he will be pleased to know that, as am I. Shall I send the others in now?”
“Please do.”
She hoped “others” didn’t involve more food. “You don’t have more chefs to audition, do you?”
“Musicians.”
As soon as he said it, a group of men arrived, carrying various instruments they began to set up on a slightly elevated stage at the front of the expansive ballroom. After they took their positions, they began to play a very familiar Billie Holiday tune.
She regarded Tarek with awe. “That happens to be my grandmother’s favorite song.”
He favored her with a soft smile. “Then it must be kismet they chose it. Would you like to dance?”
He apparently didn’t value his toes. “It’s been ages since I’ve done that, and I’m not very good.”
“I am,” he proclaimed as he stood, rounded the table and pulled out her chair. “A skill I had to hone due to the many social events I have attended during the course of my career.”
At least he’d qualified his sudden burst of ego. “Then I suppose I’ll have to rely on you to guide me.”
“That would be my pleasure.”
After she took his offered hand, he led her to the dance floor and pulled her gently into his arms. Although her heels gave her an extra three inches of height, making him only five inches taller than she was, she still felt petite and protected in his embrace.
She soon realized he’d been truthful when he led her through the steps with amazing expertise. She stumbled twice and muttered, “Sorry,” each time. He responded with reassuring words. Before long, they seemed as if they had danced together forever.
As the music continued, they held each other closer, and closer still when the band played a sultry jazz number that reminded Kira of hot summer nights. “Hot” was the operative word when Tarek began rubbing her back, then pressed his lips against her forehead. She felt as if she might actually go up in flames when he moved to her mouth and kissed her in earnest without regard for their audience. Frankly she didn’t care, either. She only cared about the soft glide of his tongue against hers and how much she had needed this. How much she needed more. But at what cost?
When Tarek ended the kiss, she practically groaned in protest. “We should leave now.”