Craving Temptation (6 page)

“We're on track,” Troy said. “I have a great team, everyone's working really hard, and things are moving along nicely.”

“Good to hear,” Dwayne chimed. “In fact, Rachel and I were talking and we would like to host a fundraising event for you. Toss our support behind you.”

Troy nodded. “Thank you. That would really be great.”

“I have to know who you're having dinner with first,” Rachel said, her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Harper and Quentin laughed.

“Why is that your business?” Troy asked.

“Because we're family and I'm nosy.”

Troy shook his head, not bothering to respond. His gaze moved back to the street outside.

Movement over Troy's left shoulder caught Quentin's eye. He gestured ever so slightly with his head, a wide smile filling his face. Harper's eyes followed where he stared, her own smile lifting brightly.

“So,” Harper said. “What time is Amina supposed to be here?”

Troy blew a deep sigh. “Don't start, Harper.”

Rachel laughed. “So Troy's having dinner with Amina?”

Harper nodded. “That's what I'm told.”

“Amina is a stunning woman,” Quentin said. “Beautiful and smart.”

“So, she's not like the other women he used to date,” Dwayne said, mischief shimmering in his eyes.

“Then why is she going to dinner with Troy?” Rachel teased.

“Because he's buying,” Amina said, moving from the doorway toward them.

Troy turned in surprise, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

“Plus, he's kind of cute,” she added, joy painted across her face as she locked gazes with the handsome man.

Dwayne and Rachel turned in their seats. Neither could hide the surprise on their faces, both in awe of Amina's change.

“Hot damn!” Dwayne murmured under his breath.

His wife gave him a swift punch to his shoulder.

Amina had changed out of her hijab and veil into a formfitting black dress and three-inch designer heels. The fit and flare design had an off-the-shoulder bodice, delicate ruching accents, and a hemline that stopped just above her knee. She was waif thin with just enough hip and dip that it fit her petite frame perfectly. Her curls were flowing past her shoulders, the natural styling of the reddish-brown strands framing her delicate face.

Stunning didn't begin to describe her, Troy thought. The woman was absolutely mesmerizing. He grinned, heat radiating from every pore on his body. He tossed his family a quick look. “You all think you're funny,” he said as they burst out laughing.

The restaurant and wine bar was the epitome of fine dining. Amina instantly loved everything about the place. Service started with the valet parking and was unending as their waiter ensured everything about the experience was met with approval.

Troy had requested a corner table and the spot was quiet and intimate. The restaurant's ambiance was sultry and romantic, easily a favorite for anniversaries, engagements, or special date nights. Fresh flowers and candlelight graced the table and the lull of soft music was beguiling. Neither Amina nor Troy could remember the last time either has been so completely enamored.

Troy had ordered for them both, starting their meals with an appetizer of lobster ravioli. Salads followed; watermelon, mint, and red onion tossed with a light balsamic vinaigrette. By the time the entrée was served, a seafood-stuffed flounder served on a bed of spring vegetables with a miso lemon brown butter, Amina couldn't imagine the evening being more perfect.

The conversation between them had been as easy as breathing. Both felt completely relaxed, each other's company feeling like home. They'd laughed with each other and had laughed at each other, the wealth of it like a warm blanket laid over their shoulders. As the waiter delivered their desserts, a decadent Memphis Belle pie filled with Georgia pecans and rich dark chocolate, neither could imagine the evening ever ending.

Troy leaned back in his seat. “I couldn't eat another bite,” he said.

Amina pulled the last forkful of her pie into her mouth. She nodded in agreement. “You? I'm about to bust,” she said, washing down that last bite with a swig of lemon tea.

“Is that why you're still chewing?” Troy teased.

Amina laughed. “Yep! I have no intentions of leaving one crumb on my plate.”

Troy laughed with her. He leaned forward in his seat, pulling his elbows against the table as he dropped his chin into his hands. His gaze washed over her, as he tried to record every line and dimple of her profile. Amina was all charm, her demeanor as polished as her looks. He couldn't remember ever having had a better date and he said so. “I have had a great time, Amina. I don't want it to end.”

She was thoroughly elated and it shimmered in her bright eyes. She nodded in agreement. “I feel the same way. I feel so comfortable with you, Troy.”

Troy found himself staring. Her complexion was flawlessly smooth and her features were perfectly sculpted. Her narrow face was complemented by her sultry eyes with their unique color, high cheekbones, and lips that begged to be kissed. His gaze focused on her mouth, the curve of her slight smile and the hint of pink tongue causing a rush of heat to sweep across his groin. Her smile was the sweetest, the beauty of it engaging. Her teeth were pearl white and there was a hint of a dimple in each of her cheeks. Amina met the stare he was giving her and he felt his heart skip one beat and then a second. He was staring so intently he barely heard the waiter calling his name.

He was still staring as the young man named Steven laid the tab on the table, asking if there was anything else that he could do for them. When neither responded he backed away from the table, leaving them to their moment.

Troy couldn't resist reaching out to brush a stray hair from her eyes, his finger lightly tracing her profile. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his words like a gentle flutter against her ears.

“Thank you,” Amina whispered back. A hint of color flushed her cheeks.

“Why do you hide yourself?” he asked.

“You mean with the veil?” she questioned.

He nodded. “I've known Muslim women who wear the headscarf that covers their heads and chest but they don't conceal their faces. Why do you conceal your face?”

“We're taught that we should not display our beauty except to our husbands, fathers, and sons. In Islam, the major school of thought is that our clothing should not be formfitting and the hijab should be worn as a symbol of our modesty and morality. What part of the Muslim world you're raised in dictates what that actually entails. My parents spent some time in the Middle East when they were first married and my father subscribed to the practice that all of a woman's body should be hidden, including her face.”

“And your mother agreed with this?”

“My father's rigidness and his being unwilling to compromise is why they divorced.”

“But you're okay with it?”

Amina smiled. “I'll be honest. It's been hard. My mother raised me and she left the faith after they separated. I'd never really worn the hijab until I moved back with my father. It's taking some getting used to.”

Troy nodded. “So, it would be correct of me to assume that your father would not approve of what you're wearing right now?”

His hand fell against her knee and his fingers lightly skated the edge of her hem line. His touch was heated and Amina jumped ever so slightly before allowing herself to ease into the sensation. She took a deep breath to stall the quiver of energy shooting through her.

“He would be mortified! In fact,” Amina said, “I have to change back into my hijab before I can go home. Harper let me get dressed at the bakery and she said that I can change once we get back.”

Troy clenched his hand into a tight fist and pulled it back onto the table. “So, you did this just for me?”

Amina shrugged, her voice dropping an octave. “I wanted us both to be comfortable and I wanted to look nice for you.”

There was a moment of pause as Troy pondered her comment. His head bobbed slowly up and down. His smile returned to his face. “I can understand why your father would want to keep you hidden away. I might want to keep my wife and daughter in a tent, too. Other men don't need to be drooling over you!”

Amina laughed, her head waving gently from side to side. “Are you drooling, Mr. Elliott?”

Troy grinned as he pretended to swipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “Like a baby!” he gushed. “I'll need a bib if this keeps up!”

“You're funny.”

He leaned in closer to her, his face mere inches from hers. “I like to hear you laugh. You have a beautiful laugh.”

Amina took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed with color. Her gaze danced in sync with his and she felt as if her temperature had spiked. She suddenly sat back in her seat, stealing a quick glance at her watch. Her eyes widened. “I didn't realize it's so late.”

Troy looked at his own watch. “It's not late. It's not even eleven o'clock yet.”

“I know, but I really need to be heading home. My father will be looking for me.”

Troy nodded but disappointment painted his expression.

“I'm sorry,” Amina apologized. “I'm having a great time and I really don't want to leave but I'm conflicted right now. I don't want to disappoint my father. I'm trying to follow his rules
and
do what makes me happy, but it's hard to find a happy medium.”

“I understand. I know how much your relationship with your father means to you. And I wouldn't want to do anything to interfere in that. When my pop was alive his approval was important to me, too.”

Amina smiled. “I wish I'd had an opportunity to meet your father. From everything I've heard he was a remarkable man.”

Troy nodded. “He was. Quentin and I owe everything we have to him. He made it possible for us to have the lives we have now. I really miss him,” he said as he dropped into a moment of reflection.

Amina drew her palm across his forearm, the gesture light and easy. She blew a low sigh. “I really like your family. Harper and your brother have been really sweet. And I liked Rachel and her husband, too. She seems very nice.”

He chuckled softly. “There is nothing nice about Rachel. Don't turn your back on her. She is a shark through and through! That's why I practice law with the woman!”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she said.

Troy nodded. “So tell me more about your family. Your mother raised you, right?”

Her smile was bright. “She did. I adore my mother. She's very much a free spirit. I look at her and then at my father and I can't imagine the two of them together.”

“So it was just the two of you growing up? Just you and your mom?”

“Not at all. My mother comes from a big family. I have uncles and aunts and cousins. They give new meaning to it taking a village to raise a child.”

“I can see that. Quentin and I used to joke that we had a dozen mothers. Every woman who had her eye on Pop mothered us!” he said with a hearty laugh.

Amina laughed with him as they fell into a moment of pause. “Thank you,” she finally said, her smile seeming even brighter.

“For what?”

“For showing me a wonderful time. For your friendship. For understanding. I really appreciate that.”

Troy leaned back, his eyes appraising her. “I really like you, Amina. I like you more than you realize and I want you to have more from me than just friendship.”

Amina's eyes were wide, her expression stunned as Troy dropped his credit card onto the table and gestured for the waiter to come retrieve the check. Minutes later they were back in his car, heading through town toward Beale Street. When they reached the bakery, Troy pulled his car around to the driveway in the back of the building. An awkward silence billowed between them as he shut down the engine. At the back door, a light was still on, Harper having promised to open the door for Amina no matter what time she returned. Neither moved, both hating that their time together was coming to a quick end.

Amina's hands were clenched tightly together in her lap, her palms beginning to perspire. The radio was playing softly, someone's love song singing the sweetest melody. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, the intensity of it like a drum line in full swing. Beside her Troy's breathing had become heavy, a deep, low pant that seemed to further ignite her nerves.

As Amina searched for words to express what she was feeling, Troy reached for her hand, his own sneaking into her lap to clasp her fingers between his fingers. He pulled her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it. As he did a current of heat coursed from the center of her feminine spirit and spiraled throughout every nerve ending in her body. She felt her breath catch in her chest as she took a swift inhalation and held it. Tears suddenly pressed hot behind her eyelids.

“I really want to see you again,” Troy said, his voice a muffled rasp rising from someplace deep in his chest.

She nodded, knowing that there was nothing and no one that would be able to keep her from seeing him again. “Just call me!” she said. “I definitely want to spend time with you.”

He shook his head. “No. I want to know now when you will see me again.”

Amina squeezed his fingers. “Whenever you want,” she answered.

His head was still waving from side to side. “What I really want is for us not to let this night end. What I
want
is for you to stay with me and not go home. But I know I can't have what I
want.
”

Amina lifted her gaze to his, the intensity of his stare consuming. It took her breath away and despite her best efforts a tear rolled past her lashes. Before she could utter another word, Troy leaned his torso over the center console and captured her mouth beneath his own. A current of electricity shot through them both as flesh touched flesh. His lips were eager and searching as they skated easily over hers. No man had ever kissed her with so much passion, the intensity of it sweeping every one of her sensibilities from her. She was suddenly hungry for him as she parted her lips, her tongue seeking his. He tangled his fingers in the back of her hair as he pulled her closer. There was something magical about the dance they were doing, their tongues twisting and turning in perfect sync. Amina couldn't imagine the moment being sweeter.

Her father was sitting in his study when Amina entered the family home. The house was quiet, nothing at all stirring. She had barely gotten the front door closed behind her when he called her name, his tone commanding her to join him. Amina took a deep breath, blowing it past her lips before moving into the room.

“Father, you're still up,” she said, fighting to keep her tone casual.

Nasser was sitting in an upholstered wingback chair, the piece like a throne around him. His legs and hands were crossed. He'd been reading and as she'd entered the room he'd set his book aside and had pulled his reading glasses from his face. He nodded, gesturing with his head for her to take a seat.

“My daughter is out running around until all hours of the night and you would expect me to be able to rest?”

“I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean for you to worry.”

“But I do, Amina. What kind of father would I be if I did not worry about my children?”

Amina blew a deep sigh. “I understand but . . .” she started before he interrupted, stalling her comment.