Page 52 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

It was a nice delicate pair, but strangely classy, like a nice mix between playful and ladylike. If I knew more about jewelry, I would’ve been able to explain it better. Mihir had impeccable taste, but there’d never been any doubt about that. I silently huffed at his near-flawless personality.

At the checkout counter, the clerk presented me with a tray of handmade bookmarks. “This item is quite unique,” she said. “It will be a wonderful gift for a special person.”

I marveled at the hammered silver bookmarks with colorful silk tassels at one end. “These are gorgeous,” I said to her as I made my selections from the tray. “I’ll take these two and the earrings, please. Can you gift wrap them?”

When we stepped out of the shop, I handed one gift-wrapped bookmark to Mihir. “Can you give this to your mom from me?”

He hesitated before accepting it from my hand. “Were you aware she knew I was coming here to see you?” His voice held a distinctive tone of disbelief.

“No. Why?”

He took a moment’s pause before responding, “She sent something for you.”

My eyes widened as I shook my head. “I haven’t spoken to her recently.”

His features softened. “She’s sent some besan barfi for you.”

“For me?” My insides turned gooey like the gram flour fudge he had just mentioned.

“Yes, for you, Sona Thomas. She made it herself. And now, here you are, sending some exquisite gift back for her.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What’s cooking between the two of you, I wonder?”

I patted his arm. “It’s called friendship. Just because we are decades apart doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

He offered me his arm as we started walking back toward my hotel.

“I’m ready for that coffee you suggested,” I said, sliding my hand through the crook in his elbow.

We passed several small, crowded cafés, finally stopping at one that looked less busy.

“No wonder it’s empty. It has three dollar signs next to it on Google,” I said, checking the details on my phone. I ordered a latte and a slice of chocolate cake while Mihir got an espresso and a cheese Danish.

“Don’t even try,” he warned when he saw me reaching for my wallet.

“So…” I said after we’d settled onto plush chairs. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at me with warmth. Being so close to him again made my heart beat a little faster. I flashed back to that afternoon at the taqueria when the world around me had melted away. It was just him and me. I promptly redirected my gaze to my cake.

“I needed to see you, and this was the only way I could without invading your personal space,” he explained softly, and I looked back up at him. “It’s a public event. I found the schedule online. I even registered and paid so I didn’t feel like I was crashing the conference.”

The weight of his admission crushed me, but I chose deflection like I always did when I was flustered.

“Darn you corporate kinds,” I quipped. “You know we rely on small grants and allowances to cover our conference costs, and you come around swinging your money to attend a conference you have no business being at.”

He took an unhurried sip of his espresso. The tiny cup should have looked ridiculous in such large hands, but he had the uncanny ability to make everything work. Handsome devil.

I wanted the sizzle of that hand on my bare skin. I wanted those thick, long fingers pinching my nipples, breaching into places that would make me squirm and moan.

I gathered myself. “How are your parents?” I asked.

“They are well.”

“And you?”

“Good,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee, but the look on his face said he was better than good.

Just like the chocolate cake I was eating, the best I’d ever had. A part of me tried to convince myself it was because I was seated across from Mihir, watching his fantastic mouth relish that pastry. But I knew my baked goods well enough to know that was a darn good piece of confectionery.

We walked back in silence, our hands brushing. The last session of the conference had concluded a half hour ago. The streets were lit with a soft yellow glow from the lamps, gradually overtaking the waning light of the sun. Groups of people stringed along the sidewalks, cold but chirpy, making their way to restaurants and bistros to grab seating for an early dinner. I exchanged nods with several acquaintances as they huddled against the breeze.

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