Page 24 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“I like you, Tara, so I’m going to ask you again. What do you want?”

This time my answer found the fire I felt in my heart and my spirit. “I want you, Sameer Rehani.”

“And I want you. All of you. Every bit of you.”

“Every bit?” I asked with a cocked eyebrow. “Now let’s see if you can keep that promise.”

He rocked in his chair from another belly-laugh, and this time we got envious looks from the couples around us, young and old.

“Well, here’s something I do promise. You won’t lose yourself, ever. And you won’t lose me either. Even if we don’t work out, there’s no power in this world great enough to prevent me from being there for you as a friend. You only have to ask.”

I refocused my eyes on the empty booth across from me, still hazy with memories of that night. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t realize Sameer had arrived and was standing beside the table.

He looked irresistible in his stylish jeans with his flawless hair, smelling flirty, sexy. I stole a glance at my clothes, into which I had put little thought, except for the bright lipstick I’d had the good sense to choose. My trademark liner and mascara were merely a bonus.

“You look lost in a daydream. Can I get you a coffee?” he asked.

I pointed to my cup. “I already got mine.”

“Tara, just for today, please.”

When you’ve grown up in a struggling family, not accepting favors and freebies becomes a matter of self-respect. But this was Sameer. “Latte, please.”

“And a Danish? Muffin?” He smiled. “Bear claw?”

“Raspberry Danish.”

By the time he settled across from me with the coffee, two perfectly flaky pastries, and a gorgeous smile, my nerves were jangling.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” he said after a few uncomfortable moments passed between us, during which I avoided looking straight into his eyes.

“This is weird, isn’t it?”

“A bit.”

“How come it wasn’t last week?”

He shrugged in the cute way I remembered. “Last week we had our claws out, but today we have to behave like mature adults.”

That made me smile. “So where do we begin?”

“Where we left off?”

My jaw clenched and my fingers tightened around the cup at the memory of him leaving me humiliated and alone.

“Maybe not,” he said, looking at my hand.

“I still carry a lot of anger, and one coffee date is not going to miraculously erase it.”

“No. No, it won’t. Tell me what brings you here, then,” he said, relaxing against the well-padded seat. Work, that seemed like a safe, neutral place to start.

I tore a piece off the Danish. “I’m appraising the paintings a local oil dynasty has donated to the museum.”

“Would that be the Arlington family?”

I raised my brows. “You know them?”

“Not directly. Through a friend. She’s a friend of their daughter.”

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