The Sheikh's Pregnant Fling (Azhar Sheikhs Book 2) Page 2

  He strode toward the restaurant, his shoes tapping quietly on the tiled floor. Best not to think about Cassandra too much before the family dinner. As soon as he crossed the threshold into the moodily-lit restaurant, he spotted his mother and youngest brother tucked into a corner overlooking the cityscape.

  He waved as he approached, weaving through heavily padded chairs to reach the table. He pressed a kiss to both his mother’s and brother’s cheeks before he settled in, smoothing the napkin over his lap.

  “You’re early,” he commented, creasing a brow. “Usually I’m the early one.”

  “Yes, well, we had some matters to take care of downtown, so I thought we’d come and enjoy the view once we finished.” His mother Safiya’s perfectly painted lips turned up at the corners. Her gaze glittered like a dark gemstone. “I see you so infrequently. These dinners are practically the only way I know I have an eldest son.”

  Nasir shook his head, sipping at his water glass in lieu of responding. His youngest brother Basri laughed. “Mother, it’s only been a couple months. Please.”

  Safiya seared him with a look. “Are you seeing somebody, Nasir?”

  The question fell like a boulder over a precipice. His mother would never let up on the quest for his wife, but at least she spared him some of the meddling she’d reserved for Asim. Being her favorite had its perks, and this was one.

  “Of course not, Mother.” Nasir tutted. “I don’t have any time. You know this.”

  “He’s married to his desk,” Basri quipped.

  Safiya glowered at her youngest then turned her piercing gaze back to him. “That’s not very reassuring. I don’t want you to sacrifice your life just to uphold the legacy of your father. Of this family.”

  “I’m not sacrificing my life. Quite the contrary.” He smiled politely to the waiter who arrived to take his drink order. He asked for a glass of red wine. “I’m quite enjoying my life and would rather immerse myself in work.”

  “Perhaps a matchmaker is in order.”

  Nasri sighed, turning the glass of water between thumb and forefinger. “It’s not necessary.”

  “Matchmaker like…what? Pre-Tinder?” Basri’s brow shot up.

  “Don’t tell me you use that dangerous stuff,” Safiya warned, narrowing her eyes.

  “Of course not,” Basri said, hefting with a laugh. Nasir fought a smile, until his mother shifted her attention back to him.

  “It would be good for you,” Safiya said, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “You’re so busy, let the professionals do the work. You just show up and meet a lovely person and then decide if you like her. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Nasir clenched his jaw as he thought it over. It sounded like a nightmare, but he couldn’t tell his mother that. She’d never understand—he was meant for work. Even if he sort of, somewhere, deep down might be open to a relationship, the whole premise was flawed. Being with a woman required attention and dedication, which he couldn’t spare from the business. It could never even out.

  So why are you so excited to hear from Cassandra?

  His fingers twitched as he considered swiping open his phone to read her message, but he stilled himself. “Mother, I don’t think I have time to do that right now.”

  “Oh, come now. What do you spend every day doing? Working. You won’t survive forever like that. You must learn to get fresh air and meet people and be with women.”

  Her forceful words rang between his ears. Was she secretly calling him gay? Maybe his own reticence had pushed her to this assumption. “I just went to a wedding this past weekend, I’ll have you know. I got plenty of fresh air.”

  The waiter arrived with his wine, which he received gratefully. He took a sip as his mother responded.

  “Hiring a matchmaker won’t hurt. I’ll pay for it. Just say yes.”

  Basri’s eyes widened at his mother’s side—a look of empathy. Their mother was incorrigible, and each brother suffered in their own way under her whims.

  “Fine,” he said, taking another sip of wine.

  Safiya grinned like the Cheshire cat. “I knew you’d see reason.”

  “You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”

  Safiya’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Why would you think that? I’m heading to the powder room, boys. I’ll be back.” She stood and sashayed toward the front of the restaurant, leaving a tense silence between the two brothers.

  “Has she been harping on this?” Nasir asked, fishing out his phone. He couldn’t wait any longer—he was desperate to see what Cassandra had written. After two full days of waiting for a word, a sign that he hadn’t imagined her. Like an ethereal blonde princess haunting his memories.

  “Only for the past ten years,” Basri intoned, swirling his beer. He took a long chug, and then flagged down a waiter.

  Nasir sighed, swiping to his messages. Cassandra’s text, an unknown number, shone back at him: Hey Nasir…this is Cassandra. Hope you remember me from the wedding… How was the rest of your weekend? I’m still hearing the funeral dirge in my head. Is it haunting you like it is me? Hope you’ve had a great Monday using your Harvard business degree.

  Nasir grinned like a fool, rereading the message two more times.

  “What’re you reading?” Basri leaned over to peer at his screen. Nasir frowned and put the phone facedown on the table.

  “Nothing.”

  “You are seeing someone!”

  “I’m not.” He cleared his throat, trying to erase the remnants of…that feeling, the one that had seared through his chest like a lightning bolt while reading her words. He had to get back to neutral. Even-keeled. “We just met. It’s a friend.”

  “She or he?”

  He paused. “Sh— he.”

  “Bullshit.” Basri laughed haughtily, taking another pull from his glass of beer. “It’s a she.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We just met. It won’t go anywhere.” He shrugged. The words were as much for himself as his brother. “I don’t have time.

  He swiped to his email, like it might clear his head. An unknown new arrival: Welcome to Lasting Connections! He squinted at his screen, reading through a welcome e-mail to some service. Right before he wrote it off as spam, he realized: his mother had already signed him up for the matchmaking services, way before bringing it up tonight. That, or she’d worked fast from the bathroom.

  “Time for what?” Basri pulled him back into conversation.

  “A relationship.”

  “You don’t need to have a relationship to get laid, brother. And I’m sure you have time for that.”

  Nasir rolled his eyes. With ten years between them, it was almost a joke that his twenty-three-year-old brother was giving him advice about sex. “Thanks for the tip.”

  Basri smiled smugly, but it fell quickly when his gaze moved across the restaurant. “Here comes mother.”

  Nasir cleared his throat, straightening his posture, a reflex that persisted even into his thirties. Like Safiya might appear behind him and straighten it for him, just as she had during his adolescence. Basri’s words still echoed in his head, reminding him of a sad truth: he might be the eldest, but he certainly got laid the least. Maybe it was time for a little jaunt. Something to take his mind off work for once.

  He wouldn’t let his mother know, no matter how excited she’d be about the prospect of him reaching out to a woman. Neither of them needed to know about his private time…or just how excited he was at the idea of seeing Cassandra again, no matter where it led.

  3

  Cassandra gnawed on her lip as she waited in her apartment for the rideshare car to show up. She and Nasir had agreed to meet at a “low-key dinner spot,” but after Googling his suggestion, Cassandra thought it looked like fine dining with astronomical prices.

  “I don’t know if I should do this,” Cassandra moaned to her friend and work colleague Laura, who had come over to help her pick out the perfect outfit. She hadn’t even told her friend Nasir�
��s name, but she couldn’t decide if it was because she didn’t want to jinx it or because she didn’t expect anything more than one date. “We probably won’t even have any chemistry this time around. It was a fluke, you know? Something in the air at the wedding.”

  Laura leveled her with a look. “Oh, please. You’re a matchmaker, and one of the best. He obviously matches with you in some way.”

  “Yes, but we work with profiles,” she said, rubbing her thumb over the silver clasp of her handbag. “This guy doesn’t have a profile, he just has…that ridiculously attractive face.”

  Laura snorted. “So why don’t you want to do this again?”

  “Because it’s going to be awkward, and he’ll realize he made a mistake, and I’ll have the Taxi Ride of Shame!”

  Laura creased her brow. “So, does the Drive of Shame involve sex or not?”

  “No, it involves returning early because your extremely sexy date realized he was drunk at the wedding, and it was all a farce.”

  “Jeez.” Laura sighed. “I’ve never seen you this anxious before. Listen, keep it simple. Why don’t you just have sex with him and be done with it?”

  Cassandra checked her phone for the billionth time. The car was three minutes away, like it had been for the past five. “I can’t do that, either.”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head. “Because I like him.”

  Laura cocked a brow. “Even more reason to sleep with him.”

  Cassandra huffed. Two minutes away—the rideshare was a constantly nearing dot with no intention of arriving. “I mean, I want to. I just…don’t want to like him even more. I know his type—he’s all about business.”

  “I thought you said he didn’t have a profile.”

  “He doesn’t, I just picked up on it. So why should I sleep with him and fall for him, when it won’t go anywhere?” She gnawed at the inside of her lip. “I don’t even want to date.”

  “Then why bother meeting up with him?” Laura eased into an arm chair. “If that’s how you feel about it.”

  “Because I want to see him.”

  Laura grinned, shaking her head. “You’re impossible. Let’s go downstairs and look around for the driver. He’s probably circling the block wondering which apartment building is yours.”

  Cassandra sighed. “You’re right.” She let them out of the apartment, legs like jelly as she raced down the staircase in her matte black heels. She’d dressed conservatively but nicely—a simple high-necked but form-fitting black dress and silver earrings. She’d pulled her blonde hair tight to her head and knotted it in a low bun. She spotted the right make and model of the taxi creeping slowly down the street. She waved at the driver, and hugged Laura briefly before crossing the street to meet the car.

  In the back seat of the sedan, Cassandra tried to regain her cool. Nasir had offered to come pick her up, but she’d refused, choosing instead the slightly-aloof-and-independent path, even though she was dying to see what he’d come get her in. Probably a helicopter.

  The car pulled up to an understated brick building with twinkle lights in each window. She hurried to the front porch and pulled open the door, a whoosh of conversation and garlic greeting her. She stepped inside the dimly-lit restaurant, adjusting to her surroundings, fidgeting with an earring. As soon she stepped inside, Nasir strolled into view, a broad grin on his face.

  “Cassandra.” He came up to her, leaning in. She froze as his face neared hers, struck dumb by the sudden affection. Was he already kissing her? He placed a quick kiss onto her cheek, the heat of him sinking into her, clouding her mind, hitching her breath. When he pulled away, his smile grew wider.

  Her mouth hung open, and she couldn’t force a response out.

  “Sorry, was that too much?” He laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s how we greet people back home. Come on, let’s go find our table.”

  She stumbled after him, mind hazy, like the afterglow of an orgasm. Just from a kiss. This guy is too intense. You should run…or have sex with him. She smiled politely at the hostess, thankful to find her facial muscles were finally taking orders, and weaved through a tightly packed restaurant full of small tables for two. They came to a table tucked up against a window overlooking a quaint, if small, back garden. Nasir held her chair for her as she settled into place, then helped her scoot in.

  “Wow.” Finally, her voice returned. “I thought you said this was a low-key meet-up,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. His grin could melt steel. “But it looks like you plan to wine and dine me.”

  “So does that mean you want wine?” He opened a stiff board menu, perusing the options. “You pick everything—I want no say in the matter.”

  She grinned. “Now you’re just showing off.”

  “I prefer to leave the choices to the lady.” He set the menu down. “You’re more beautiful than I remembered, Cassandra.”

  She bit at her bottom lip, like it might hide the ear-to-ear smile. Heat crept into her cheeks. “Well. That’s certainly a great way to start out a date.”

  His gaze darted over her face, as if he was trying to memorize it. “I only speak the truth.”

  “What other truths do you have?” She lifted a brow, trying to be flirty, but really she was hungry for details. The faster she could put together a makeshift profile of Nasir, the sooner she could determine if he was worth letting her guard down for. But she feared the walls were coming down of their own accord already.

  “Don’t make me spill my truths so soon,” he said. “We haven’t even ordered wine. I’m not here to talk about me.”

  “But I want to know.” She batted her eyes, and he melted visibly. “It’s important to know as much as possible about the man who is more handsome than I remembered.”

  He cocked a grin just as the waitress arrived. It took Cassandra a moment to force her attention off Nasir. When asked for their drink order, Cassandra said, “A bottle of prosecco. Whatever you have.”

  When she left, Nasir opened his menu again. “We should really look, so we know by the time she comes back.”

  Cassandra opened the menu, skimming the two pages. “There are no prices.”

  “That’s okay.” Nasir glanced up at her. “You’re not paying.”

  She cast him a coy grin, and read over the options twice before settling on the herb-encrusted halibut. Pushing the menu to the side, she leaned forward. “I made my decision. Now it’s time for me to probe.”

  He glanced over the top of his menu, his dark eyebrows arching. “Oh?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Lebanon.” He shut the menu. “Where are you from?”

  “Riverside.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now what sort of work call would steal you away from a wedding?”

  He smiled, looking a little guilty. “One that comes from sharing a business with your two younger brothers. Including one who frequently drops the ball.”

  She relaxed. Now this was the interesting stuff. “Do you run it?”

  “Technically, no. But practically?” He hefted with a laugh, eyes following the waitress’s hand as she returned to pour two glasses of prosecco. “I’m the one behind the wheel, and everything falls in my lap.”

  The first crucial parts of his profile were solidifying: a punctual, traditional, responsible workaholic. Somehow, this was comforting. She wouldn’t expect anything, and she wouldn’t feel bad if he didn’t expect anything either. A win-win—or lose-lose, if she got sad about it the next day.

  After the waitress took their orders and left them alone once more, Nasir lifted his glass. They clinked before taking sips of the bubbly beverage.

  “What do you do? You said you knew the bride and groom from a work project.”

  Her chest tightened. The vagueness that worked so well at the wedding wouldn’t cut it here at this hyper-intimate dinner. “I’m a consultant.”

  “For…?”

  “Think of like…interoffice relations or mergers.” She cleare
d her throat, mind careening through examples that might placate his curiosity without revealing the exact nature of her job.

  He nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Interesting. So you work inside different companies, or…?”

  “Hey now. I said it was time for me to probe, not the other way around.” She wagged a finger at him.

  The two kept up lighthearted conversation until dinner arrived, which segued into lots of moaning about how good the food was, which turned into a second bottle of prosecco, which led into hours two and then three of conversation and coffee. By the time ten p.m. rolled around, Cassandra was definitely tipsy—and a little shocked.

  “This place is closing down,” she said, draining the last sip from her glass. “We should go.”

  Nasir had paid the bill almost a half hour ago, but they’d whiled away the last dregs of the evening without noticing. He eyed her with a gleam in his eye. “We should.”

  She nodded, feeling the trails his gaze left over her body. “Let’s go then.”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  She bit her lip, trying to weigh the pros and cons of that through the haze. On the one hand, it was super convenient. On the other, she still had some distant duty to remain aloof and independent. Strictly because she knew this couldn’t—and wouldn’t—go anywhere with Nasir. Neither of their lifestyles would allow it. His probably more by business—hers by choice.

  “I can get a cab.”

  “No. Let me take you home.” He drained his glass, setting it on the table. “I have a driver.”

  Her brows shot up. “A driver?”

  Nasir nodded, pushing back from his seat. “Come on.”

  She wobbled to her feet, checking and then double checking she had all her belongings with her, and followed Nasir until he offered his arm. She clung to him, thankful for the sturdy forearm, the wafting cologne, the heat of him that coated her in a pleasant blanket of security. What if you invited him up?