Spice (31 page)

“What would have been the point?” She shrugged, then sighed. “He was dead, I wasn't. On top of that, being in the hospital all that time started my detox. I knew it wasn't my fault, but it felt like it. It didn't matter what everybody else thought of me then because it couldn't have been worse than what I thought of myself.”

She sat back, drained. “I got a second chance I felt I didn't deserve. Eventually life moved on, I got clean, and left LA to make sure I stayed that way. Another scandal happened as they usually do and people forgot about me. I was able to heal inside and out, and I finally got to the point where I was ready to try again, try being intimate again, and you were kind enough to offer to help.”

She smiled at him, then sobered. “I thought if I could keep my emotions out of it, just keep it sexual and focused on the book, I would be able to handle it and not lose myself. I didn't count on you being different, so unlike any man I'd met before. I didn't count on feeling so safe and cared for so quickly. I wanted to tell you what had really happened with Gary so that you'd understand how important what we had was to me. You kept telling me how you saw me, how you thought of me, and I wanted so badly to be that person for you, because of you. A person who wasn't used, who wasn't treated like an object to exploit.”

“Until the party.” A tremble rolled through his voice as self-disgust crested his features. “Until I did everything you were afraid of.”

“I know you didn't intend it to come off that way, but that's how I felt. Any other day, sex in a supply closet would have been hot. I would have gotten off on thumbing our noses at your uppity colleagues who wished they were having sex like that on the regular. But that day?”

She shook her head slowly as tears pricked her eyes. “I was worried about being a deterrent to you. I was worried about how your coworkers would react when they learned about me. And I worried about why you wanted me to go with you to the party. I felt like an ornament instead of your date, a pretty trinket on display doing whatever you wanted. Some women are okay doing that, but I'm not one of them. I felt like my bad choices were coming back to haunt me. I couldn't let that happen, Kaname. I had to do something about it.”

“You had to dump me. I didn't understand it then, but I do now.”

“Do you?” she asked, hope making her voice crack.

“Not completely, but I'm trying. I've been talking to your parents and to Siobhan.” He flashed a rueful smile. “Actually I endured a verbal beat down from Nicholas and had to grovel to Siobhan. She gave me some materials from Narcotics Anonymous to read up on, and I think your dads might actually tolerate me now.”

He wrapped both hands around hers, kissing her knuckles. “I'm learning, Nadia, but I need a teacher. There's only one person I want to fill the position.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting to say yes, needing to say yes to this man, this wonderful man who was trying because he wanted her, really wanted her, warts and all. “I know I've got issues, but I want to try, Kaname. I want to try with you, if you'll let me.”

“Shh.” He loosened his hold on her hand to brush her tears away. “I don't want you to try with me, Nadia,” he whispered. “I just want you to be, with me. Say yes, and we'll make it through together.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Kaname?” she asked. “Not out of guilt or some misplaced sense of feeling like you owe me.”

He looked down at her, his midnight eyes soft, tender. “I want to do this. Would you like to know why?”

“I-I think so.”

“Because I love you, Nadia Spiceland. Not some ideal you that lives in my head, not the Los Angeles you who starred on television. I love the you that you were, the you that you are, and the you that you will be. I love the survivor, the fighter, the beautiful woman with the ugly cries. I want to walk with you through this, and when you're ready, I want us to finish our walk through the
Garden
. No matter what, I want us to be together. I'm not expecting it to be easy, but nothing worth having ever is. As long as I know there's a chance that you'll fall in love with me, I'll be a happy man.”

“Then be happy,” Nadia said. “But I'd like to add one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want your ramen recipe.”

He smiled at her. “A lot of love goes into making the family ramen. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I think I'm willing to prove that I have what it takes, including love,” she answered, grinning widely. “Especially love for a certain sexy professor. It
is
the spice of life, you know.”

“Then it's good that I happen to have a thing for spice.”

The Perfumed Garden of Sensual Delights
is an Arabic treatise on sex written by Sheik Nafzawi in the early part of the sixteenth century. It is a combination of tales and instructions on how to get the most from that most intimate of actions. French soldiers translated the short guide in the early part of the nineteenth century, then Sir Richard Burton created a highly embellished version for his Kama Shastra Society in 1886.

Seressia Glass is an award-winning author of more than twenty contemporary and paranormal romance and urban fantasy stories. She returns to contemporary romance with the sexy Sugar and Spice series. She lives north of Atlanta with her guitar-wielding husband and two attack poodles. When not writing, she spends her free time people-watching, belly dancing, watching anime, and feeding her jewelry addiction. Visit her website at seressia.com.