The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,50

lack of contact, she should’ve slugged him. She’d almost convinced herself their interlude meant nothing and chalked it up to a little homecoming fling. But seeing him again had blown that preconception, as her body flooded with heat at remembrance of exactly how great her home-coming had been each and every time they got together.

Then he’d kissed her as if to prove it, and she’d been a goner. She still wanted him as bad as ever. But she’d been right about one thing: she was too old to play games, so she’d let him get whatever audition funk was plaguing him out of his system, and if he wanted to contact her after that, he knew where to find her.

First, she had a lunch to endure.

“What are you thinking?” Manny tapped her temple, and she swatted his hand away.

“How I’m an idiot for entrusting such an important task to a joker,” she said, eyeballing him.

He laughed and held up his hands. “I’ll be good, promise.”

“You better be, otherwise this friendship is over.” She poked him in the chest. “Seriously, my mom has to get the message to stop meddling after this.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Moms love me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered, as they entered a café not far from her apartment.

She would’ve preferred having lunch there before realizing that would send Kushi mixed messages: insisting Manish was a friend while inviting him to a cozy lunch for three at her place. So she’d settled on impartial ground, and this way, if things got too tense, she could make a break for it.

“There’s your mom,” Manish said, placing a hand in the small of her back before realizing how that looked and dropping it. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Force of habit being a gentleman.”

“I am in so much trouble,” she muttered, deliberately putting some distance between them as they made their way toward the back table she’d reserved where her mom currently had her nose buried in the menu.

When she reached the table, she said, “Hi, Mom,” and bent down to kiss her cheek.

“My darling,” Kushi said, standing and enveloping her in a hug, while murmuring in her ear, “He’s so handsome and tall—”

“And you know Manish,” Samira said, breaking the embrace before her mom could extol the virtues of Manish any longer.

“Hello, Auntie.” Manish stepped forward and took her mom’s hands, squeezing them tight, before releasing. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Manish. How is your grandmother?”

“She’s doing well, thanks for asking.”

The overt politeness made Samira grit her teeth as they sat, and an awkward silence descended.

“Samira tells me you two caught up for coffee a couple of weeks ago,” Kushi said, her beady-eyed stare swinging between the two of them, looking for the slightest hint of anything beyond friendship.

Manish nodded. “That’s right. I referred a patient to her, so it was a professional melding of minds.”

“Oh.”

Kushi visibly deflated, and Samira bit back an inane giggle.

“Yet she invited you to lunch today?” Kushi squared her shoulders, preparing for matrimonial battle. “And with her mother, no less.”

“Mom, as we’ve already discussed, Manny is a friend.”

“Manny?” The glint in her mom’s eyes showed she’d plow on undeterred. “You have a sweet nickname for him already?”

“All my friends call me Manny,” he said, and Samira shot him a grateful glance. “Your daughter is lovely, Auntie, and we’re becoming good friends, but that is all.”

Samira almost felt sorry for her mom as the light in her eyes faded. “Friendship can be the start to so much more—”

“Not in this case, Mom.”

“But I don’t understand . . .” Kushi shook her head. “You two make such a great couple.”

As Kushi’s lower lip wobbled, Samira realized this lunch wouldn’t solve anything. Her mom wouldn’t give up until Samira told her the truth. She didn’t want to. It would only make things worse, ramping up her mom’s badgering to monstrous proportions.

But it was wrong to try to involve Manny in this. He was a good guy; just not the guy for her.

“Mom, I’m seeing someone.”

Kushi’s eyebrows shot up. “Who? Do I know him? Does he have a good job? Do I know his family?”

“Oh boy,” Manny muttered, and when Samira met his gaze, they burst out laughing.

“What is so funny?” Kushi tut-tutted. “I am an old woman. You shouldn’t keep secrets from your mother.” She waggled her finger. “Tell me about this man.”

“That’s my cue to leave.” Manish stood and clasped Kushi’s hands again. “Auntie, your daughter is a smart woman. I’m honored to be

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