Her lips pulled into a grimace. “What a tedious color, Zantar!’
He almost laughed at her response. Almost! In the end, he maintained his stoic expression. “What color is your bedroom?”
Faye tilted her head slightly and he noticed several different colors within the soft brown tresses. A few were golden and some were darker. Fascinating, he thought.
“Well, the bedroom in which I’m staying at the moment has tan walls and a tan comforter with white sheets and brown carpeting that I don’t think has been cleaned since the nineteen seventies.”
Faye almost laughed at his stern expression. “Why are you staying in such a hovel?” he demanded and she discerned from the tension now in those amazing shoulders that he was angry with her.
“Because it’s cheap,” she replied, wanting to soothe his anger, but not sure how. “It’s really not that bad, Zantar. I don’t spend a great deal of time in that place. I’m either at the museum reviewing the pictures, or I’m ensconced in Skyla’s impressive library researching historical documents and books on my artist’s life or,” she cringed and hid her hands under the table, “I’m working at the hotel.”
“Why are you working at a hotel?”
Faye leaned back in her chair, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine as well as the heat from his eyes. Goodness, she felt beautiful sitting across from him!
“Because I need the money. We discussed this yesterday.”
“And yet, you gave the waiter an outrageous tip yesterday. Obviously, you need the money more.”
“No,” she shook her head. “Efin has two kids and works three jobs in order to support them. His wife died two years ago and his mother takes care of his kids while he’s working.” Faye wasn’t aware of her eyes turning sad. “It would break my heart if I had a child and I didn’t see them in the morning and evening.”
“You would stay home after giving birth,” he stated firmly.
Faye considered his comment, taking it as a question instead of a statement, then shook her head. “No, I don’t think I could do that. My limited salary as a teacher and even, hopefully, as a professor, would mean that I’d have to continue to work. My current salary wouldn’t cover my living expenses for a long-term absence.”
His only response was a grunt and Faye smiled. “I take it that you would remain at home with your children?”
The surprise on his ruggedly handsome features was comical. “My wife will raise our children!”
“Why do you assume that?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. This man definitely needed an education on equality!
Zantar stared at Faye for a long moment, trying to determine if she was teasing him again. He didn’t think so. After waking up this morning with a painful erection caused by intensely erotic dreams featuring this woman, he’d decided that Faye would be the mother of his children. To that effect, he’d had his security team do a quick background check on her and she appeared to be everything she’d told him yesterday. She was employed as a high school art teacher with outstanding performance reviews, and her doctoral dissertation had been mostly funded by grants provided by the National Endowment for the Arts. By all accounts, she was a hardworking, dedicated teacher.
And the woman had a figure that he wanted to possess! Although, at the moment, he wanted to drag her across his lap and spank her adorable bottom!
“What is your favorite color?” he demanded, changing the subject. He wasn’t going to argue about women caring for the children. If she didn’t want to stay home and care for their children, he knew that she would be a caring mother in other ways. Besides, he wanted to be an active father in his children’s lives as well.
The woman’s smile was slow and sexy, causing his stomach to tighten as he tried to control his reaction to her beauty and her…yes, he was even attracted to her daring. He admitted that he was more than slightly sexist. But he could learn, he told himself. Perhaps Faye could teach him to be more aware of women and their issues, concerns, and needs.
“You’re diverting the conversation away from yourself again. How about this,” she offered, cradling her coffee in her hands. “Let’s play twenty questions. I ask you simple questions and you answer them.”
“Just twenty?” he teased, amused by her game.
She gave him a gamine smile and lifted one shoulder. “Okay, maybe more than twenty.”
Zantar leaned forward, lightly clasping his hands in front of him. “I will agree to this line of questioning as long as you answer the questions as well.”
Faye considered his offer, then nodded. “Fine.” She lifted a finger, tapping it against her chin. “Okay, so I know that you’re thirty-five and you prefer the color brown.” She considered her first question carefully. “What’s your favorite food?”
“I will try anything,” he replied. “And yours?”
She shook her head. “Nope. You didn’t answer the question. I’m sure that you’re manly enough to try anything someone sets in front of you.” Her head tilted slightly. “You probably have to endure numerous business dinners in which you are required to politely eat whatever is served.”
“This is true,” he agreed, although he wouldn’t call them business dinners per se. They were political or diplomatic events, and he hated each and every one of them. If he had his way, he’d delegate all of those events to his diplomats or agency heads. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always possible.
“I didn’t ask you to name a food that you won’t eat. I asked what your favorite food is.” She shifted on her chair, revealing both her eagerness and a tempting shadow between her breasts through the floaty blouse she’d donned earlier today. But in Zantar’s mind, he pictured the tight, mesh exercise material she’d worn yesterday morning.
“Sweet potatoes.” He blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind and he blinked, lifting his surprised eyes back to hers. “I like sweet potatoes.” He shifted in his chair. “As a child, I remember my mother’s excitement over fried sweet potatoes.” His mouth twisted briefly before he continued. “I don’t like the kind of sweet potato casseroles that are covered in marshmallows or other sweet stuff.”
“That’s interesting. What did your mother put on your sweet potato fries?”
Zantar doubted that his mother ever knew where the kitchen was within the palace, so she’d never actually cooked anything. “They were spicy, but I don’t remember what kinds of spice was used. And there was a sour cream and salsa kind of dipping sauce that was always served with the fries.” He nodded firmly. “So in answer, spicy sweet potato fries.”
Faye blinked and his mind wandered back to sex. Actually, had it ever really left sex? Not when Faye was around. Or not around, he thought as he considered his dreams the previous night. He was pretty impressed with how much he’d just revealed to her with that explanation about his favorite food.
“I like sweet potatoes too,” she replied, and a slight blush swept over her tanned skin. It looked lovely, he thought. A blush. How long had it been since he’d seen a woman blush? Ever?
“But that tuber isn’t your favorite food, is it?” he asked, seeing something strange in her eyes. He didn’t understand that look. Not yet. But Zantar was determined to figure this woman out. Her allure had now gone beyond the superficial. He wanted more than to just know her body. He wanted to understand her.
“Potato chips,” she whispered, her lips curling into a slow grin that told him that potato chips weren’t just her favorite food, it was her decadent sin! Zantar was unaware of his own secret smile.
“What kind of car do you drive?”
He almost laughed at that. “I am generally in a black SUV.” Then he lifted his eyebrow, waiting for her answer.