Fire And Spice. Karen Van Der Zee

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for Paul was not the only reason she was interested in having dinner with Bryant. Bryant alone would have been incentive enough, but she was aware of very conflicting feelings. She was interested in this man, yet she was also wary.

      She frowned. What to wear? There was not a whole lot of choice; since coming back home she’d had to buy a whole new wardrobe and most of her clothes now consisted of suits and dresses she wore to the office and casual sports wear. She took out a short, casual dress of multicolored silk with a wide belt Fall colors—fiery orange, wine-red, glowing copper, golden yellow-colors that looked perfect with her chestnut hair and brown eyes, as the sales lady at Woodies had pointed out rather enthusiastically.

      She put the dress on the bed and blow-dried her hair, thanking Mother Nature for her easy, manageable hair. It curled happily all by itself and she just let it do what it wanted to do. It hung just to her shoulders and often she put it up to keep it out of her face, but tonight she’d let it hang loose.

      She slipped on the dress, put in gold hoop earrings and stepped into high-heeled shoes. Some carefully applied make-up, a dab of perfume and she was ready.

      She picked up her purse and a soft knit jacket against the evening chill, and went down the stairs. Bryant came out of his door as she reached the hall. His glance moved over her discreetly and the look in his eyes left nothing to the imagination: he liked what he saw.

      ‘I’m ready,’ she said unnecessarily.

      ‘Shall we walk?’ he asked. ‘It’s not far.’

      ‘It’s nice out, sure.’ She hoped her feet would manage in her high heels; they weren’t used to such fashionable footwear.

      It wasn’t quite dark yet. It seemed strange to be walking side by side with this man, who was a stranger, and to feel this odd light-headedness at his presence. He wore camel trousers, a dark blazer and a shirt and tie, but even in the less formal clothes he looked impressive. He moved with an easy stride as if he enjoyed walking and was in no particular hurry.

      Once at the restaurant they didn’t talk about Paul. They talked about his work in Argentina and her work in Africa. Suddenly it was hard to think of Paul, of the things she’d wanted to say.

      ‘Why did you come back to the States?’ he asked, pushing his empty soup bowl aside.

      ‘I woke up one morning and there was a message painted on my ceiling. It said, Go home! Be normal! Exclamation marks.’

      He quirked a brow. ‘Really?’

      She grinned. ‘Well, sort of. Maybe it wasn’t actually on the ceiling. Maybe it was my imagination, or my subconscious giving me a message.’

      He studied her face for a moment. ‘So, you want to be normal?’

      She put her spoon down. ‘I thought I’d give it a try.

      It sounds so nice and comfortable.’

      One corner of his mouth twitched upward. ‘What made you go to Africa in the first place?’

      She smiled. ‘I was bored with nice and comfortable. I needed a challenge, an adventure.’

      He nodded. Obviously it was a sentiment he could identify with.

      ‘I started off in the Peace Corps,’ she went on. ‘It was quite an adventure, let me tell you, and one thing led to another and before I knew it I’d been gone six years. I’m twenty-nine. I thought it was time to come home and.settle down, work on my career here. Be normal.’

      ‘Some people end up staying overseas forever,’ he commented.

      She twirled the stem of her wine glass. ‘Yes. I have a friend who’s been gone seventeen years, and I don’t think he’ll ever come back. I don’t think he could ever adjust.’

      ‘Are you finding it hard to adjust now?’

      ‘In some ways, yes, very.’ She grinned. ‘Shopping is a major problem. All those choices! The decisions! But it’s great being back. I love the fall, and the air is so clean and crisp, like drinking spring water. In Cameroon the air was so humid at times, you could ladle it up like soup.’

      He looked into her eyes, saying nothing for a moment. ‘You have beautiful eyes,’ he said then. ‘Warm and smiling. You must be a happy person.’

      She laughed, taken aback a little. ‘Oh, I think I am, most of the time.’

      It was easy to talk to him. She was enjoying herself, and it seemed he was too. The food was delicious. The restaurant was small and very crowded, but she wasn’t very much aware of the other people. All she was aware of was him—his voice and his thick blond hair swept back from a high forehead. A very noble forehead. She was aware of his blue eyes—eyes that made her quiver. And she noticed his mouth, which was strong but sensual and caused disturbing thoughts in her head.

      She liked the way he talked about his work, which involved the development of infrastructure in developing countries-bridges, dams, roads and airports. He was dedicated and committed, but not too enthusiastic about his state-side office job, which involved too much paper-pushing, discussing and negotiating, most of which annoyed and bored him. Obviously, he was a man of action, who needed to be involved in things happening-bridges being built, dams being constructed. She tried visualizing him in dusty khakis driving a Jeep. It was not difficult, even though all she had seen him in was impeccable, expensive city clothes. Not difficult at all, and she felt a secret twinge of excitement, which surprised her.

      ‘You’re looking forward to going overseas again, then?’ she asked.

      ‘When I find the right project, yes.’

      ‘Don’t you think it would be a good thing to settle down, for Paul’s sake?’ she asked. ‘At least for a couple of years or so?’

      His shoulders moved in a faint shrug. ‘Paul’s young. He’ll learn to be flexible, to adapt.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Important lessons to learn in life, don’t you think?’

      ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Here she was agreeing with him. ‘Only,’ she added, ‘a lesson needs to be learned at the right time in the right place.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s not going well with him in school, you know,’ she said softly.

      He met her eyes. ‘I would prefer not to discuss Paul tonight. Would you mind?’

      So that was not why he had invited her. One part of her rejoiced, another part was disappointed.

      ‘I thought perhaps that’s why you had asked me to dinner. To discuss Paul.’

      ‘No. I asked you out for all the usual reasons.’

      Her heart flipped in her chest. She took a drink of her wine. ‘I see.’

      ‘Is that acceptable?’ he asked, amusement in his voice now.

      She managed a smile. ‘Of course,’ she said lightly.

      It was acceptable. It should be acceptable. It also complicated matters. Did she want to get involved with a man who didn’t seem to take his son’s troubles very seriously?

      Maybe she was over-reacting. Maybe she was

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