His eyes finally,
finally
, caught when they tilted down to mine.
"It is my very great pleasure to have you in my home," he said formally but equally as soft as his deep, dark chocolate eyes captured mine.
And we just stood there looking at each other.
Having a moment.
Our moment.
Oh,
God
.
Then my stupid, freaking cellphone rang. Rang with the ringtone I'd assigned to Paul Adler.
Correction, Detective Paul Adler.
Who reported directly to Chief of Police, Ramjet Patel.
Christ on a cracker.
"I'll let you get that," Ram said pulling away. "Sleep well."
I watched him close the door with a sinking heart and didn't move until I heard the gentle click of the door closing.
Damn!
I pulled my purse off the bed and pulled out my cellphone which had, of freaking course, stopped ringing just before the door closed.
Double damn!
Sighing, I sat on the edge of the bed with my cellphone in my hand. I didn't want to call Paul back but I most definitely
did
want Ram to come back.
Aw, geez.
I grabbed the shirt that Ram had brought and went into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for bed.
The shower was absolutely amazing with the different settings on the showerhead, and I took full advantage of the one for massage.
It was freaking heavenly.
I dried off with one of Ram's (of course in my head I was squeeing RAM'S, underlined and with exclamation points) thick towels and found he didn't just have toothbrushes and tooth paste underneath the sink. He had a treasure trove of mini-shampoos, conditioners, body lotions, etc.
Looks like someone travels a lot.
The light blue cotton fabric Ram had lent me to sleep in wasn't one of his button down shirts like I thought. It was one of the tops to the pajama-type clothing you see in news clips of the men in Pakistan or India.
Cool!
But when I put it on, the bottom hem hit right at my ankles and I had to roll back the sleeves several times to keep my hands exposed. It had a Henley-like button thing which I thought was supposed to go from maybe mid-chest to the bottom of your neck.
On me, though, it hit at my mid-waist.
But it felt wonderful and smelled even better. I had noticed a spicy scent to Ram's house when I first walked in, one I was completely unfamiliar with it. I smelled it again on the top.
I was walking back to my purse which I had carelessly flung on the bed when it hit me.
Ram brought me something to wear to bed, and it was blue.
He noticed.
I consider blue to be my signature color, and he got that.
He had gotten it from just being with me for an half-hour in my apartment.
Oh,
God
.
I grabbed what I called my 'de-tangler' from my purse and went to work on my hair as I tried to digest this info.
No, it's not some sort of special apparatus or anything. In fact, Teresa from work calls it my 'afro pick'. Since my hair was so curly, it's the only thing I can really use on it to get the tangles out. A simple four - toothed, hot pink comb. All I knew was it got the job done with minimal problems.
I picked my phone up and saw Paul had left a voicemail.
I sighed.
We had been 'dating' for a couple of weeks since meeting in Cait's hospital room. He was one of the police officer's who had rescued her from the clutches of Fiona Preston, the pole dancing nutcase.
He had come to see if Caitlin was alright and was so charming I couldn't help flirting with him.
He flirted right back and asked for my phone number.
So I gave it to him.
All this was done with Ram in the room.
Correction, with Ram glowering at me and Paul from across the room.
But, then, Ram never asked for my number.
Dammit.
Since then, Paul and I had been out on a couple of dates, which were a lot of fun. But I got the impression he thought there was more between us just two friends going out for fun.
Paul liked to touch.
He seemed to enjoy holding my hand or putting his arm around my waist. I tried to tell myself he was just one of those people that feel comfortable touching other people.
But his touches, casual or not, made
me
feel uncomfortable.
But he was nice and he was sweet.
And he really was gorgeous.
But.
He wasn't Ram.
I raised an arm to sniff at the fabric again and got lost in the smell wondering if Ram's skin smelled like this.
Chapter Three
I was awakened by a bell; a deep, slow, bell. When I initially opened my eyes I didn't know where I was. I slid up in the bed using my hands to bring myself into a full sitting position and got a whiff of the cotton nightshirt I was wearing.
Ram's.
I was at Ram's.
As my head processed that, I was also trying to determine what the noise was that had made me wake up. I reached for the lamp and heard it again.
I heard voices, muffled, so I knew that they must have come from down the hall.
Seemed awfully late for visitors.
Although, I didn't know how it worked at the Chief of Police's house.
I thought I heard my name mentioned, so I turned and got off the bed.
I popped my head out the door and realized the voices were coming from the living room at the end of the hall.
Without a thought, I made my way down the hall, holding the nightshirt up like one of the heroines in long dresses do in some of my historic romance novels when they're moving down the staircase.
But, I wasn't anyone's heroine.
And there wasn't a staircase.
There were just two male voices that seemed to be discussing me.
"…not returning my calls, Chief!"
"She's sleeping Adler."
"She should've called me. I could've helped."
"I was there. You weren't. Now she's here."
I walked down the hall towards them.
Paul was standing just inside the front door, still in his thick parka, holding his gloves in one hand.
Ram was standing across from him, clad in what I immediately assumed were the bottom portion of my top.
He was wearing
only
the bottoms, chest on display, even though it was turned away from me.
But the back view was just fine in my opinion.
Paul, who was facing me, caught sight of me first.
"Hey, Baby. How are you doing?"
"Hey, Paul."
"Sorry to wake you, Marianne," Ram said, half turning in my direction giving me an even better view.
"Hey, guys. What's going on?" I asked wondering if this was like a police department kind of middle of the night meeting thing. But my name had been mentioned a couple of times before they were aware of my presence. And, from their stances, things were getting tense.
"You okay, baby?" I heard Paul ask again.
I hated that word, hated to be called 'baby'. I wasn't a little girl and thought the alleged endearment was just plain 'icky'.
And I had said so on many occasions.
But Paul didn't stop calling me that even after I told him. Which made me wonder if, on some deep level, what I said didn't count.
Ram turned his upper body fully towards me and I got an eyeful of his muscular arms which were crossed against his chest.
And as my gaze went lower, I saw his abs.
Aw, geez.
My breath caught as I raised my eyes to him.
The sight of him half undressed was playing along every nerve ending I had.
"Marianne?" I heard Paul say.
"Uh, yeah?" I responded reluctantly moving my eyes to him.
"You okay, baby?" he repeated and it was, honestly, like the sound of a phonograph needle screech.
"Uh, yeah, Paul," I replied, tearing my eyes again away from Ram, not realizing they had drifted back to him without thought.
"Why don't you two talk and I'll, uh, make some tea," I heard Ram say before he moved off to the kitchen.
I walked around the couch and sat down, bringing my knees to my chest before raising my head to Paul.
Esthetically speaking, Paul was absolutely gorgeous. Dark sandy hair that was cropped close around the side with a longer top. Dark blue eyes and sharp features that were manly enough to offset the fullness of his mouth.
I had noticed he only shaved every couple of days so he was always a bit 'scruffy' which only added to his good looks.
But his handsomeness seemed a bit, well, contrived.
And in my mind, if the outside was contrived, what must the inside be like?
In the time that I'd been with him, that question had not been successfully answered.
Not at all.
"You okay, baby?" Paul asked yet again.
"Yeah, Paul," I said wrapping my arms around my calves after securing all the extra fabric of the long, long shirt around me.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked, curiously never moving toward me.
"Everything happened kind of fast. I really didn't think about it, to tell you the truth."
I saw my words hit him hard which was not my intention. But as evidenced by his flinch, he thought there was a lot more between us than I did.
"But, it's nice that you came to check on me." I said it softly, knowing these words wouldn't cover the hurt my previous careless words had caused. I didn't want to remind him that he lived in a one bedroom apartment.
That situation would have been awkward as all get out.
We just stared at each other.
Which is interesting to note the look Paul and I shared there in Ram's house, from a distance of about fifteen feet, was nothing like the eye to eye lock Ram and I'd had in our 'moment' earlier.
"Call me tomorrow?" His words were a question. But his tone was a demand.
It was demanding that I do it, call him.
I didn't like that.
Not at all.
Yes, I was one of
those
girls.
The kind of girl who likes to make up her own mind, that likes to make her own choices. Who immediately butts heads with whatever Alpha male in the room who feels he needs to tell the girl what he wants done, when the girl should be doing it, and in the exact way that he thinks it should be done.
"Yes, Paul, I'll call you tomorrow," I said, just wanting him gone. He seemed like sand-paper in the calm of Ram's house.
"Take care, then, baby," he said before turning slightly and announcing, "Leaving, Chief."
"See you, Adler," came the call from the kitchen.
Paul did a chin lift and then let himself out the door.
I stayed there, in my cozy spot in the corner of one of the deep couches in Ram's living room. My chin was on my knees and my eyes were still on the door when Ram brought me a large earthenware mug.
"Chai?" he asked, as he pressed the mug into my hands.
"Sorry?"
"Tea?"
"Oh. Sure," I finally replied before my brain came back to the here and now. "What's that word you said?"
"Which one?" Ram sat himself at the other end of the long couch and brought his own mug up to his lips giving me an uninterrupted view of his torso.
"The one before you said 'tea'," I clarified shakily as I wrapped both hands around my own mug.
"Chai?"
At my nod, he smiled.
"It just means tea."
"Oh," I said artlessly. "Like at Buxby's."
"Are you okay, MG?"
I thought about his question for a minute.
"I'm getting there, I think. If that makes any sense," I mumbled, bringing the hot mug up to my lips.
I watched a smile play around his lips at my answer.
"The tea will help you sleep,
Pyari
. Drink," I heard him murmur.
I took a sip and it was a milky blend of spices with tea as the back note on my tongue. Strong, good and absolutely delicious. I felt the warmth of it spread throughout my body.
"Delicious," I admitted.
"Nectar of the Gods?" Ram teased.
I had told him that, for me, the first sip of coffee each morning was like having Nectar of the Gods when he had been in my apartment.
When he hadn't been the
Chief
but had been just the man, the gorgeous man, in my apartment not so long ago.