Chapter 12
After the photo shoot finished, Omar announced that everyone working on the filming was invited to stay for dinner in their newly decorated dining room.
Peter Finch joined them just in time for the Moroccan feast. He walked over to Sam. “How did the photo shoot work out?”
“Everything seemed to go smoothly, although it was more work than I thought. They wanted not only photos but a video of Hassan and Omar dancing with me.”
“Hmmm,” he said as he stroked his small beard. “I wonder if we charged enough.”
“Oh, it’s fine. After all, we’re getting treated to dinner. That’s worth something.”
“I suppose so. I’m not that fond of Moroccan food, but I’ll find something to eat.”
Sam wondered if she’d be the only female at dinner. The two photographers were male, and she didn’t see any other women around. When they entered the candlelit dining room, she was pleased to see two well-dressed older women on hand to greet everyone.
“This is my mother, Nadia Berdoga, and my aunt, Rahma Aghmati,” Omar explained. “They’re helping with food preparations. Although we have a fine chef in charge, my Mom doesn’t think anyone can cook Moroccan food the way she can.”
“So nice to meet you,” Nadia said to Sam. “You dance beautifully. It’s rare to find an American young woman who can move the way you do.”
“Thank you,” Sam murmured, feeling flustered. She was not used to such extravagant compliments. “I just love to dance to that wonderful music.”
The long dining room table was set with fine china and crystal glasses. Tall crimson candles set off the pink damask table cloth and napkins. A sparkling chandelier overhead heightened the festive aura.
Sam was famished. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime and that was hours ago. “I hope they bring out some food soon,” she whispered to Jordan.
“Hungry? Sorry, I don’t have a candy bar or something. I’m sure they’ll start with appetizers,” Jordan assured her.
She wasn’t taking any chances. Walking over to Nadia, she said in a low tone, “Do you think I could have a piece of bread or something? I haven’t eaten in hours, and I’m feeling a little faint.” After that long photo shoot and dance scene, she needed some sustenance.
“Oh, my poor dear!” Nadia exclaimed. “Come with me.” She took Sam’s arm, leading her to the kitchen. “We’re almost ready to bring out a variety of food, but I’ll find something tasty for you in the meantime.”
“Abdul, let me have a tray of appetizers right away. This young lady is starving,” Nadia said to a heavy-set man in a white chef’s outfit who was busy working at the stove.
He looked surprised, but immediately took a plate and piled on a few items, plus pita for dipping. “Everything will be coming out shortly,” he told them.
Sam demolished several slices of fried eggplant, a few baby octopuses, and some calamari salad before breathing a sigh of relief. “Marvelous.”
“This is Abdul Idhari, our wonderful chef,” Nadia said.
“Thank you, Mr. Idhari. I love those dipping sauces.”
Later, trays of appetizers and a tureen of gazpacho made their way into the dining room. The bar was situated next to the food table and featured the East Village Brewery craft beers. The men helped themselves to the beer of their choice.
“Which one do you want to try?” Jordan asked Sam.
“I’m not a beer person,” she admitted quietly. “Besides, if I drink any alcohol, I’ll be dead on my feet. You’ll have to carry me home, and I’m not a lightweight. I’ll stick to water. Much safer.”
The men congregated together, Sam noticed, as Max and Peter started talking about business. The other men were engrossed in a conversation centering on sports. Nadia and Rahma chatted with Sam. They exchanged stories about shopping excursions and travels back to Morocco to visit relatives.
“You speak English perfectly,” Sam remarked. “Did you know the language before you came to this country?”
“Of course. Everyone knows English!” Rahma exclaimed. “Sometimes I forget words in my own language because I don’t use it much.”
Dinner was served by two young men in white uniforms. Nadia explained that they worked at the brewery and helped in the kitchen when needed.
There were large platters of couscous piled high with lamb and vegetables, a chicken tajine with preserved lemon and olives as well as shrimp, lamb, and chicken kebobs. The salad consisted of radishes, oranges, and pomegranates.
“Great food,” Jordan said to Sam. He reached for seconds of the lamb and veggies.
“Glad you like it. Hope it makes up for the change in plans.”
“Don’t worry about that. This has been a fun evening. And it’s not over yet.”
She pretended not to know what he was talking about. “I’m sure there’ll be a luscious dessert.”
His hand settled on her thigh. “You’ll make the best dessert.”
Pots of hot mint tea were brought out and a selection of tasty desserts ranging from marinated figs with pomegranate sauce, to date and kaluha crepes, to poached pears with rhubarb syrup.
“Don’t worry,” she told him softly. “I’ve got several kinds of ice cream at home.” She’d splurged on a few new flavors when she went shopping during the week.
“Thanks,” he said in a husky tone. “You’re getting to know my habits.”
“In ice cream, at least,” she said, conscious of the heat flowing between them.
~ ~ ~
It was almost midnight when Jordan parked his car in front of Sam’s brownstone. He picked up an overnight bag he’d tucked away in the trunk and then came around to open her door. “C’mon, sleepyhead,” he cajoled.
She was half asleep while he drove her home. Now she forced her eyes open to find Jordan’s hand waiting for hers. The intimacy of the gesture brought her fully awake. Sam said, “That was quite an evening. What lovely people.” She put her hand in his.
“Nice guys,” he agreed. “I think they’re going to make it big.” Then he helped her out of the car and drew her close. “But I’m glad we’re finally alone. Now it’s our time.”
“Plus hot fudge sundae time.”
He laughed. “That too.”
This is almost a repeat of last Saturday night, she thought, as they entered the house. Except now she knew what awaited her. Which made it more exciting, but also a bit unnerving. Sam suspected Jordan was used to women catering to his every desire. How long would her charms last with a man of such sophisticated tastes?
The long-stemmed roses he sent were on the kitchen table. Would he notice? She leaned over to inhale their sweet aroma.
“Nice bouquet. Pretty flowers for a pretty woman.” His hand lingered on her shoulder.
“They’re gorgeous. I’ve enjoyed them all week.”
“I’m glad. You deserve the best. Why don’t we make our sundaes and bring them into the bedroom? Then we’ll get comfortable and have our desserts in bed.”
“Sure.” She’d never done anything like that before, but why not? “Let me feed these cats so they won’t bother us.” Mushi and Pepper were waiting patiently.
“Cute kitties.” He opened the freezer to take out the ice cream.
“Some people are allergic to cats. I’m glad you’re not one of them.”
“Nah, I’m fine with pets. If I had a choice, I’d get a dog. Maybe a golden retriever. Since I live in an apartment and work long hours, it doesn’t make sense.”
“Cats are easier to take care of. All they need is food, a litter box, and of course, a bit of loving.” She spooned the cat food into their dishes.
Jordan added hot fudge and whipped cream to the two sundaes. “Don’t we all,” he said with a meaningful glance at her.
“I guess we do.” She found a tray for their ice cream and gave it to him. “Safer this way. I usually trip over something. Those sundaes are too luscious to spoil.”
“You’re luscious. Never mind the ice cream.” Leaving the tray on the counter, he drew her close for a long, passionate kiss.
Her body molded itself to his, her arms sliding around his neck. She’d been waiting for this moment all night—the feel of his arms holding her, his lips pressed to hers, the heat simmering between them. She felt his body harden and took pleasure in arousing him so quickly.
His mouth left hers for a moment. “We need a bed. This time I know the way.”
“What about the sundaes?” she murmured, still pressed to him, not wanting to let go for a moment.
He sighed. “That’s the problem. Once I hold you in my arms, I can’t think of anything except getting you into a prone position. Screw the ice cream.”
She giggled at his words. “Put them in the freezer. We can always have them later. Maybe for breakfast.”
“You think of the best ideas.”
It was in the bedroom that Sam decided to make a confession. “Jordan, I have to tell you something.”
He stopped in the process of taking off his shirt. His brows came together in a frown. “I don’t like the sound of that. What is it?”
“It’s my hair,” she explained. “I have a long swatch of the same color that I sometimes wear. Ordinarily, my own hair is not quite shoulder-length.” She held up the mass of long, auburn tresses.
Looking relieved, he laughed. “Is that all?” Then he came closer and cupped her breasts. “Are these real? I know some women get implants and stuff. Just checking.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Nothing like that. It’s all me.”
“Good. Let’s see you in short hair.”
She pulled the pins out, took off the hair piece and ran her fingers through her head. “Sorry for the deception. I enjoyed wearing that black wig so much, I decided to add a long swatch to my own hair.” It was a partial truth, but it made her feel better. She still couldn’t reveal her presence in his tai chi class. That remained a touchy subject.
He cradled her face in his large hands. “I like it. Suits you just fine–with or without the hair piece.” He bent his head to kiss her again.
“Next order of business,” he said huskily as he reached behind to unfasten the clasp holding the halter-neck top. Slipping the silky material to her waist, he gave a sigh of contentment. “No bra to get in the way. You’ll have to always wear this style. Much more convenient.” After this pronouncement, his hands gently kneaded her breasts. His thumbs teased the tips until they hardened. Then his mouth followed to taste and suck.
Sam’s back arched as hot tingles of awareness spread from her breasts to every other part of her body. The sensuous pleasure his touch gave was unbelievable.
Jordan heard her sounds of pleasure, which increased his own arousal. “Sam,” he said, lifting his head for a moment. “You are one hot woman. Let’s get the rest of your clothes off, pronto.”
She didn’t care to play hard-to-get and was only too willing to agree. She could get used to this–big time. Unfortunately.