“Good. You have no business destroying your lungs with any kind of smoking activity.” He said sternly, his eyes gloomy, looking away as if he didn’t want me to see too much.
I looked at him, surprised. He had never spoken in such a reproachful way. I knew instantly that he disliked smoking, and there was an unpleasant reason behind it.
There was long, but oddly comfortable silence after that.
Wanting to run away from whatever it was that made him so edgy about the subject, I spoke lightly. “I hope it’s really nearby, I don’t have the luxury of a flexible lunch schedule.”
He finally looked at me again, his face relaxing from its tight expression and spoke, just as the car was driven into a parking spot. “I know, and even if you do get back late, I know Amelia is out for a lunch date, and she won’t be back since she has a meeting on my behalf with Mr Zain.”
I looked at him abashed. It sounded like he had sent Amelia on an assignment, to snag some time with me.
“Will I be too forward to conclude that you timely set that, and this up?” I said, waving in between us as Mr Ganglani opened the door at Mr Clarke’s side of the car.
He stepped out, holding his hand for me without answering the question. I let him do his thing and pull me out of the car, if only because I was craving his touch.
He corked his eyebrow and finally replied me. “If I say yes, that would seem neurotic. And if I say no, you’d be disappointed. Won’t you?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line and nodded, removing my hand from his and looking away.
I was feeling confused at why I felt the way I did. I also didn’t want to see the displeased expression on his face at me taking my hand from his hold.
We strolled silently, side by side into Empire, which was definitely not a shisha lounge. One Mr Clarke was well acquainted with since the waiter had simply nodded when he asked for us to be led to his ‘regular’.
I picked up the menu as soon as we were seated opposite each other.
An elderly waitress came to attend to us.
“Baked Crab & spinach dip and water too,” I informed her as she scribbled dutifully on her digital notepad.
“And the usual for you, sir?” She asked, turning to face Mr Clarke.
He nodded. “And just water, please.”
She nodded in reply and scurried away, but not before letting us know our order would be ready soon.
“You really do come here often,” I announced, finally allowing myself to look around. Perhaps it was the calming jazz music that was being played on a perfect low tempo, which allowed me to finally get out of my mental self-aggrandizement.
The sleek restaurant managed to incorporate some down to earth feel, with touches of wood and metal across tables and the flooring to remove the excessively modern look the glass-walled restaurant gave it.
I inhaled, allowing myself to enjoy the tangy aroma of seafood and steak determined to overwhelm me.
“That wasn’t a question,” he said with a simper, bringing my attention back to him.
I shook my head at him. Apparently, he was the only one allowed to make assertions. I chose to ignore it.
So I said instead, “I am tempted to ask what the usual is, but there’s no time for a food lecture.”
He chuckled at me. “I’m not sure why I’m not offended by that.”
I smiled. “You shouldn’t be, I was honest. Moreover, this menu is pretty straight forward.” I picked up the menu from the wooden table which was a rounded dark walnut plank.
“Hmm, true. Skirt steak with potatoes and a tuna burger with salt and pepper fries,” he replied.
Who knew he could stand spice…
“Ah. I half expected it to be a secret order between you and the staff. One that sounded like a Nigerian curse or even an incantation.”
He laughed out loud. Although, his version of laughing out loud was my version of doing so silently.
I did a mental fist pump because I made him laugh. That left me feeling like he had said—aesthetically satisfied.
It was no surprise that the silence that came after, as we waited for our order, was everything. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we just stared at each other, smiling, looking, and drinking each other in. Like we would never get tired of it.
“Zina…” His voice called, in that sex-driven tone that caressed my name like a baby.
I almost looked away, because there was something different about his gaze. It wasn’t just sexual heat, it was something else, and that scared the living hell out of me.
I cleared my throat and spoke in mock innocence, slightly pouting. “Are you checking my face out? That would be elegantly pleasing.”
He leaned across the table, shaking his head ever so slowly as he did so.
I absolutely forgot to breathe as he put his hand under my chin and caressed slowly, corking his head sideways and gazing back and forth between my lips and eyes. He said his next words slowly, definitely, clearly, and with such intensity that hit home.
“Be rest assured, if we didn’t have an audience, I would kiss you senseless till you forget there is a world that exists outside the intertwining of our bodily parts.”
Someone was clearing their throat, I was sure of it. But I was so fixated, looking into his eyes and seeing everything that made me melt in them. I saw the sun dancing and the stars blinding me with lust and something else.
Chapter 10
“Breathe Zina,” Mr Clarke blurted, before reclining back and leaving me to snap out of my rattled state of mind.
“Can I place your order on the table now?” I heard the waitress say.
I reluctantly cut his gaze and looked at her as I, like him, leaned back into my seat.
It was a younger waitress who was giving me a dirty look, and I didn’t care.
I, from that moment, focused all my being on the food. I was too dishevelled. Too wanting of him to do otherwise.
“Hmmmmm,” I moaned at the taste of the garlic seasoned baked crab. I chewed slowly with delicate enjoyment and with eyes closed.
It was no surprise that when I opened my eyes, I found him staring at me in bemusement.
“Is there something amusing about the way I eat?”
“I adore the way you appreciate good food. The sounds you make…” he paused. “It’s almost like I can enjoy the savoury taste with you just by watching you,” he finished. After which, he finally started to eat, picking his fries one at a time.
“Erm!thank you,” I said as I picked up the glass of water to drink, hiding my grin behind tumbler.
When he was almost done with his steak and fries, he halted and lurked at me. Funny how he hadn’t actually taken his eyes off of me before, but he looked at me as if something about me was funny.
“Have I got something on my lips?” I asked self-consciously.
“I was just wondering is all,” he said, as if waiting for me to ask him what?
“Okay.”
“Aren’t you curious to know what?” He asked, sounding surprised.
“You can tell me if you want?” I retorted.
He laughed. What others would construe as a chuckle on him was a laugh, and for his smirks were his smiles, and for his frowns were blank expressions. I noticed all of that.
“I was wondering, I know I caught you by surprise in the car on Monday, and even then you were such a…silent moaner. But when you eat, you make louder sounds. So, I was just wondering what it would take to elicit such a loud audible moan from you, especially when my hands and tongue are on you.” He said so nonchalantly, even daring to look all too casual, and then continued with his lunch.