He took his hand back fast like he’d been burned. “Are you sure you want to go to Orlando in a few days? We could go anywhere…”

  The two girls cheered and clapped. Rose clearly enjoyed having an ally in younger Sara.

  Patti’s optimistic mood lightened even more from their sheer joy. Even Reza smiled. Patti picked up her coffee to appear calm and confident as she said, “Sounds great, but I want to move in first. And we need to set up new routines, get schools sorted out, get our clothes, stuff like that.”

  Reza jumped out of his seat and headed toward the stove as he said, “I’ll get our flights booked and find the movers for your apartment.”

  No. She pressed her lips together to argue, but then the smell of coffee reminded her that he’d been thoughtful of what she liked, coffee over tea. She relented and explained, “Why not drive? It’s only a couple hours.”

  Patti tasted the coffee—this was like the stuff she’d had in New Orleans. Wow. She sipped more.

  He poured himself tea in a clear glass cup and then returned to sit beside her. “The flight will be less than an hour and I’ll have a car there for us wherever we go.”

  She needed to be a part of his life, which meant luxuries. She nodded her acceptance.

  “Once you finish eating your breakfast, the four of us can drive to your old place and get whatever valuables you want out. Are you on a month-to-month or do we need to settle a contract?”

  “My lease is up for renewal but I hadn’t signed because the apartment was small for us and I wanted a two bedroom, even if the budget didn’t quite match that.”

  “Good. Then afterward we’ll have the movers pack up your apartment and bring your things here.”

  “Thanks.” Today was set then. Her valuables were mostly sentimental in nature and now she didn’t have to worry about using her sister’s college fund to survive for the next two years, which took the pressure off.

  If only Reza was her real husband—she stopped that thought fast.

  One day he’d marry someone from his culture and she’d probably go find someone who worked at the airport or drove a truck or did something that didn’t directly save people’s lives like Reza did. That was reality. This was temporary. She saw her pocketbook behind his chair—she must’ve been tired last night and not taken it to her room.

  Or distracted by his kisses in the living room, where he’d made her body burn for more. She sipped her coffee, swallowed and asked, “My driver’s license is in my pocketbook. Can you get it?”

  He didn’t move a muscle, just stared at her. “You want me to go into your purse?”

  He was a doctor. He had more of whatever she had in there. She shrugged. “There isn’t much to steal, and you’ll need the extra key for the movers you hire, so yeah. It’s in the change pocket on the side.”

  “My mother never let me go into her bag.” He picked up her purse like it was the lost key to an ancient golden treasure.

  He flipped open the lid like he was searching for adventure and she laughed.

  As a boy he must have been expressive. She brushed his arm and joked, “You probably stole too much candy from her.”

  He pulled out her small plastic container of mints and frowned. “Maybe--though Persian candy is better for you than American stuff.” He lifted the package.

  “Possibly.” She ignored the pit in her stomach that grew. Her sister loved those mints. She loved them. It didn’t matter if he didn’t approve. Patti shielded her hurt feelings and said, “But I do love milk chocolate.”

  He took out the key and showed it to her, again like he was asking permission as he said, “Remind me to get you saffron ice cream when we’re up in Orlando.”

  She nodded that he had the correct key. “They have that there?”

  “There’s a store that I love.” He nodded happily and she realized that they probably didn’t have most of what he liked at the local supermarket.

  She could buy pizza, hamburgers, hot dogs and pretzels wherever she went and honestly those were her food choices, almost every day, not only because she liked them but they were easy.

  A chef might spoil her with more options. Her mother hadn’t cooked anything, ever, as she’d relied on convenience over health, and maybe that’s where Patti got it.

  Reza nodded again like he was as young as the girls about to get a treat. “The Mid Easy Market totally have everything.”

  Rose stood first and motioned for Sara. “Can we go play?”

  Her sister seemed so healthy today. Sara, her darker brown hair a contrast to Rose’s blonde, clasped her sister’s hand. Adorable. Reza nodded and Patti said, “Have fun.”

  The four-year-old followed her sister like she’d just found an idol, and Rose was eating up the attention. She waved her to head into her room, assumedly to play.

  Reza texted the nanny to let her know the girls were on their way.

  Patti and Reza were alone again. She picked up the plates and he helped with the cups. They headed toward the sink as he asked, “Patti, can we talk?”

  “Sure.” She wished it was about kissing, and doing more kissing, but that wasn’t smart as the marriage was a business deal.

  Kissing was silly and impractical. But tempting. He reached into his pocket and gave her a box. “I bought you this.”

  Jewelry. She stepped away from the unwashed dishes and took the velvet box. As she opened it, her eyes focused on the glittering oval-shaped diamond and simple gold band. Neither one of them looked cheap. “It’s a ring.”

  He stood taller as if he needed to explain this gift to a boardroom full of people instead of just her. “We have to look married. We’ll send pictures of you wearing the ring to Harry, my lawyer, which should help him present his case that I have a stable home for Sara.”

  Ah. She took the rings out of the box and they were heavier than she expected. “Got it, though this yellow gold feels real and not plastic.”

  He stared at her with dark eyes that made her heart flutter. “Because it is real.”

  No. She tried to hand him the box back as she shook her head. This wasn’t a long-term marriage. She had no right to something so nice. “Most of my married friends have cheap metal they bought online for like fifty bucks.”

  He refused to take the box but he did massage her shoulder as he said, “I’m a doctor and in my culture the jewelry you wear is a testament to the family’s honor and standing.”

  Patti clutched the box as her skin was warm from his touch, and his words. “What do you mean?”

  He came closer and his breath brushed her cheek. “If I give you cheap jewelry, then my family and anyone who knows anything about Persian culture will believe I don’t care about you.”

  So this was for Sara. Patti opened the box and took the rings out as she said, “Oh, well, I won’t lose them so I can give them back when we’re….”

  He scooped the rings from her and then slipped them on her finger. “Right. Patti, about last night?”

  Her lips tingled from the memory. She licked them to try to stop the sensation but it didn’t help. “Don’t tell me you regret anything.”

  “I don’t want to push you into anything.” He didn’t release her hand.

  Heat rose in her cheeks. She wanted him to do it again. But she couldn’t tell him. They weren’t meant to be, not long term, not forever. She lowered her gaze as she said, “Reza, you kissed me. I kissed you. We’re adults. Can’t we both enjoy that?”

  He nodded but didn’t pull away. “We’re from different worlds.”

  He understood. They were on the same page. She stood on her tiptoes and he leaned down, touching his forehead to hers. “We’re both good people,” she said. “That should matter more than anything else.”

  “I hope you’re right.” His hands traced her arms and back, and then his lips met hers.

  Kissing him was glorious. They had no future, but right now, being in his arms was all that mattered. For once she would live life to the fullest and not look back. Reza’s kisses were better than brownie sundaes with whipped cream and warm fudge over ice cream.

  Chapter 7

  Reza’s lips burned for far more than kisses, but he reluctantly let Patti go to bring her to his private suite.

  Patti’s long lashes and pink face from her sweet blush made her adorable—and though they were married, he had no right to her.

  She brushed her hand against his back and the muscle of his butt. He paused but she moved her hand away so quickly he might have imagined it. She walked beside him and then bumped into him as she said, “So, go change. Let’s see you out of that polo and into a fan-boy shirt so you can show your comic or movie allegiance.”

  Seriously? The only time he wore a t-shirt was to the gym or under his clothes when he needed to stay warm, which was typically on a ski vacation. He shook his head. “I don’t own comic book t-shirts. I have my cousins in Italy and France ship me the latest fashions.”

  She looked him up and down as she nodded, like he’d just explained calculus to her. “That’s why you dress like a European. When we get to Orlando in a few days, you’re going to have to dress the tourist part. But for now, since we’re heading to my apartment, try to look… I don’t know, less like a doctor.”

  Impossible. His clothes were all tailored for him but he kept that to himself. Perhaps one of his white t-shirts might make her happy enough while in the theme parks. He stuck with his polo for today. “I’ll do whatever makes you happy, Patti.”

  A huge grin grew on her face as they passed the living room and headed toward the wing of bedrooms. “Now that’s good to hear. I don’t want people wondering about who you are, or stealing your car while we’re inside.”

  “I have insurance,” he said, and glanced across the great room toward his bedroom door.

  Having Patti in his bed would be amazing. He swallowed back the temptation to bring her there and instead waited near her door. She patted his shoulder like they were only friends. “Give me five minutes then.”

  “Sounds good.” He walked away.

  He needed to get himself together. Her long blonde hair and blue eyes combined with the curves of her body made her a pin up sensation rivalling those from his teenage years, and absolutely out of his reach.

  He went to his room and checked his clothes. He left the door open as he decided he’d ask Patti out, on a date, which seemed backward but he wanted to get to know her. He needed to look like it was a date he offered—something special.

  Reza heard Patti knock on Sara’s bedroom door, where her sister was playing with his niece and the nanny. “Rose,” she said, “time to go to the apartment to get our stuff.”

  Her sister then stepped into the hallway, into Reza’s line of sight. She was looking healthier today as she scrunched her nose and asked, “Can I stay here with Sara?”

  He couldn’t have set it up better for a chance to be alone with Patti. Outside the door, Reza said, “The nanny will be here to ensure she gets her medication, but it’s up to you.”

  Rose batted her eyes, and he watched Patti waver from her plan.

  Perfect timing. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the apartment and get anything?” Patti crossed her arms.

  Her sister turned toward Sara and the games they were playing, then said, “Reza said movers will bring my old toys.”

  Good. Rose had listened at breakfast in between giggles and whispers with Sara. Patti’s face was white and her lips were thin as she said, “They will.”

  Her sister hugged her tight. “Okay. Bring me Mom and Dad’s picture.”

  “You got it.” Patti squeezed once and let Rose go.

  Reza called into the playroom from the hall, “Is Sara here?”

  His sweet niece popped out behind a toy box and stared at him, her eyes filled with laughter though the sorrow was underneath. Would it ever go away? He went down on his knees and said, “I’m going to help get a few of Patti and Rose’s things so they’re happy here with us. We’ll be home soon.”

  Sara took a deep breath and then hugged him tight before releasing him to join Rose.

  So maybe he’d have the opportunity to have even more alone time with Patti if the girls stayed home. Lunch, or dinner…the day was open.

  He hadn’t had a date in months really and that was even before Sara moved in. He made a show about opening his door and headed toward his closed door. Patti’s eyes widened as she glanced at him and quickly said, “Reza, my sister wants to stay here with Sara and the nanny.”

  He texted the nanny to let her know the details, and she offered her his arm that she linked in his as he said, “Just the two of us then.”

  “I guess. Let’s go,” she said as he opened the front door for her.

  She hadn’t bothered with a bag, but held her wallet and house keys and walked with him to his Mercedes, getting in the passenger side. “I’ll just grab a few mementos. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Should I stop and buy some packing boxes?” He got behind the wheel.

  Patti buckled up and gave him a teasing smile. “We should be fine.”

  She seemed to really believe that. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  The drive over was congested with traffic, but she sang to the radio and mesmerized him. “You sing beautifully.”

  Her cheeks blushed and she stopped singing—he wished he hadn’t called attention to it. How could she have such talent and be so shy?

  Soon they arrived at a twenty-floor building he’d guess was built in the 1970s or 80s and needed major upgrades. Satellites attached to the balconies didn’t help the outer appearance. They walked into the lobby and he immediately turned toward a side room where teenagers shouted while playing a video game.

  Once in the elevator he was stared at by an older woman who just smiled at him the entire time. A year ago, he’d done his residency in the ER and assisted with a stroke patient, and the brown-eyed gaze reminded him of the elderly lady’s, without the pain.

  Luckily Patti waved him off on the fourth floor to a long orange corridor of doors. “This is where you live?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded.

  He pursed his lips. He wasn’t one to judge. Growing up, his family hadn’t been rich. They’d had no luxury villas, but their apartment afforded him a nice bedroom and was in a decent neighborhood. Here he didn’t even want to brush against the walls. “I can see why the schools wouldn’t be good. No taxpayer dollars.”

  Patti shrugged and continued to walk like this wasn’t some horror movie she lived in as she said, “It’s not that bad. It’s a working-class neighborhood.”

  If working meant run down they had different definitions of the word. He kept that to himself and motioned with his thumb back to the elevator. “I think that older woman was one of my patients.”

  She tapped on a beige door and he cringed, hoping she had hand sanitizer. She motioned toward the key he held. “Reza, I didn’t know you helped adults.”

  “I did shifts in the ER to be prepared for anything though my focus was always pediatrics.” He opened the door and walked inside, uncertain what to expect.

  She had huge portraits and small landscapes and every inch of her walls was covered in some form of art.

  A few of the finer pieces would look amazing as standalone artwork, but in the colorful profusion of frames, they were almost lost. However the quality of every painting struck him as unexpected compared to her sofa without legs.

  He took another few steps, realizing that this apartment had no sunlight. Where were her windows?

  No one he knew would ever live here.

  Patti deserved better. “After this, do you want to get something to eat?”

  She headed into the side room that must be a bedroom as she asked with a wink, “Like a date?”

  To him it wasn’t a joke, but he followed her and glanced at the two beds. One was full-sized with a dove gray comforter and the other was a child’s bed that was very pink. He hadn’t known they’d shared the tight quarters. He met her gaze and shrugged. “I figure we’re married so we might as well enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Sounds good. This won’t take long.” Patti went into the closet and returned holding a black box with a handle.

  He took it from her and offered to carry that heavy box. “You have a lot of art on your walls.”

  She handed over the box, hugged her waist, and stood at the threshold of the closet like she was thinking about getting something else. “I sold my parents’ house after they died but I couldn’t let go of the pictures—they remind me of happier days.”

  Ah. Sentiment. He missed his parents and so he called them almost every day. He smiled at her and said, “Feel free to decorate my house. I’ll buy whatever you think we’ll need and you can spread these pictures out.”

  She placed something near her, but kept it out of sight in the hallway, like she debated showing him something. “No more cluttered walls filled with paintings for a huge house rather than a tiny apartment. Thank you, Reza.”

  He turned around and saw in her bedroom a portrait of flowers in a vase that would probably brighten up his dining room area. “You might not need a budget at all,” he said. “You have a lot. I have nothing as the decorator for the house and I never had a chance to meet. It would be good for you and Rose to feel at home.”

  She put a small backpack on her back and pointed to the various pictures of still life, portraits of children, and tons of flowers. “My mom was an artist.”

  He admired a close-up of an orchid. “I see. She was good.”

  Patti hesitated by the closet door. “Thanks. She was talented with her brushes.”

  Perhaps Patti had a talent she was hiding too. “What about you? Do you like painting?”

  “No.” She covered her face with her hand and went back into the closet—she came out with a guitar, no case, with stickers all around it and some music books that had notes on them. “But I always loved music. Once upon a time, I wanted to be a singer and song writer.”

  Artistic talent must run in her family. He smiled and asked, “Why didn’t you pursue music then?”