Page 6 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“This is one of their larger guest rooms. Knowing Tara, I’m willing to bet it’s ready for you.”

I nodded and entered the room. He was right. It was ready for me, complete with my favorite chocolates in the candy dish.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Tara should be here shortly. Meanwhile, there’s the bathroom if you wish to freshen up.” He pointed to a door inside the room.

“Pardon my curiosity, but you seem to know an awful lot about this house.”

This time, he did smile. “Sameer has had this condo for a while now, and I’ve spent many a drunken night in the guest room. He is family, and now, so is Tara.”

I gritted my teeth as another tinge of jealousy stung me. He leaned in with a tiny, almost indiscernible smirk. “I hope it’s not envy I smell.”

I snorted. “No, it’s the airplane. I’ll freshen up,” I responded curtly and stepped toward the bathroom.

I was tempted to jump into the shower, but I didn’t know what Mihir’s plans were. I didn’t want to be gone for too long. Instead, I brushed and changed, then reapplied my perfume and lipstick.

As I stepped out of the room, a familiar aroma of chai tickled my nose. My senses perked up instantly. I gathered Tara was back and making me tea just the way I like it.

“Tara!” I called out before I reached the kitchen.

But it wasn’t her. To my amazement, it was the gorgeous man, standing in the kitchen in a suit and a tie, making tea. What?

“Tara isn’t here yet,” he said, offering me a glass of water.

“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, grabbing the water in slow motion.

“Making tea for you. Cardamom, no ginger, right?”

My jaw dropped. That was my pet line, my takiya kalam. “Tea, cardamom, no ginger.” My answer to Bond’s Vodka Martini, shaken, not stirred. That he knew this unsettled me.

He read my expression. “Blame Tara. She’s mentioned it many times over, and unfortunately, I have a terribly good memory.”

With a small sieve that he’d pulled out from one of the drawers, he poured the tea into a mug for me. “And here you go. Hope it’s up to your standards. I’ve heard you’re a tea snob.”

“Is there anything you don’t know about me?” I quipped.

“Again, I suggest you blame Tara. She misses you terribly and keeps talking about you.”

“None for you?” I asked, gratefully accepting the mug of that magical potion.

“I don’t drink tea, but I thought you needed it after the travel and a sleepless night.”

“Thank you,” I said to his back as he placed the pan and the sieve in the sink and put away containers of tea and sugar in a cabinet.

This was precisely how familiar I’d been with Tara’s home when she lived in Brooklyn. Now, I was the stranger, and he was hosting me in my best friend’s home. I fumed for a moment, but with one sip of the tea, I was calm as a drugged sea monster.

“The amount of sugar in this…” I said, and he looked at me.

Leaning against the kitchen island, he crossed his feet at the ankles and his arms across that broad chest. “Yes?” He cocked a smile. He knew what I was going to say.

“It’s perfect.” There, I had said it. “I might be furious at you, but I’m afraid I can’t lie. This is just how I like it.”

“Thank you,” he said, pushing himself off the counter. “Now, let’s settle in the living room while you tell me why you’re furious at me.”

SONA

Ifollowed Mihir to the spacious living area, docked on three sides by floor-to-ceiling glass. A surprisingly sharp autumn sun streamed through the panes, casting a glow on the tastefully decorated room.

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