She blinked, taken off guard by his question.
“No, of course not.”
“I won’t drink much, I promise.”
“Asher, do whatever you want,” she exclaimed. “I’m not being judgmental. Alcohol just doesn’t work well with my body. I get looped on half a glass of wine.”
“Oh. So it’s not a religious thing? Your preference?”
She shrugged, a little perplexed. “I don’t think of it that way. We don’t ever have alcohol at home, but that’s not the issue with me. It’s purely a personal thing. Case in point,” she said amusedly, glancing over to the bar where Rudy was shaking a vodka martini—Zara’s favorite—while Tahi sipped a glass of white wine.
“I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not. Asher, where’s all this coming from?” she wondered.
“We’ve got really different backgrounds. I just don’t want to make any wrong assumptions, that’s all.”
She stared up at him, a little stunned. She wasn’t used to it. Constantly, she walked a fine line between acting like her culture and background were of no account when she interacted with people at school or work. At the same time, she was very aware when other people ignored her ethnicity, or simply got it wrong. Some people assumed she was Hispanic, an error that was only reinforced by the fact that she spoke fairly fluent Spanish, because Darija contained a lot of Spanish and French words. Other people seemed to think it was impolite to ask her about her ethnicity. Some realized she was some strain of Arabic but never clarified what her specific ethnicity was, apparently thinking all Arabic cultures were one and the same. Or maybe they just found the topic an uncomfortable one.
And yet . . . Asher was willing to go there.
“Asher, that’s really sweet. Thank you,” she said sincerely.
He looked a little embarrassed. “I just don’t want to do something wrong, and turn you off, that’s all. Purely selfish on my part.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’re not selfish.” She repeated what she’d said last night quietly.
He gave a doubtful shrug. “I’ve been accused of being insensitive more than once in my life,” he said dryly.
“Did you deserve it?”
“Probably.”
“Well, I haven’t seen it so far,” she stated honestly.
“Thank God,” he muttered, his teeth flashing as he grinned.
She felt a pull toward him, like a magnet had been installed in her lower belly.
And he was pure iron.
• • •
Asher took them out on the sleek speedboat tethered by the dock. Afterward, they swam in the pool and lounged around on the deck, talking.
Laila knew that she liked Jim Rothschild from their first meeting, but her warmth toward him grew as she listened to him rib Asher and Rudy, and tell some hysterical stories. She’d already heard from Tahi that Rudy was a photographer. He wanted to specialize in celebrity photos. Jimmy described a few hilarious scrapes Rudy had hooked Asher and Jimmy into, all for the sake of a photo. She loved hearing the stories about when Asher was really young. Asher and Jimmy had known each other since they were six, and Jimmy had often stayed at the lake house with Asher when they were kids.
“I used to stay here too,” Eric said, leaning up from where he’d been having a private conversation with Zara and frequently pausing to nip at her lips, neck, arms and chest. He seemed incapable of not touching her cousin while she lay there in her bikini, a fact that made Laila increasingly uncomfortable since they were all watching. Laila didn’t know what was worse: him doing it, or Zara’s smug little smiles every time he became more daring in his touches or kisses. “Our parents were always throwing Asher and me together. It usually lasted for all of a half hour before Asher ditched me. He’s still doing it, right, Rudy?”
“Oh, yeah. You ditched us the other day in the woods,” Rudy said, frowning as he recalled the event. “Where’d you go, anyway? You never said.”
“Just for a walk,” Asher said levelly, standing. His gaze flickered across Laila, and she saw his nearly imperceptible, knowing smile. Warmth expanded inside her. It was nice, sharing a secret with him. She glanced aside and noticed Eric watching her closely.
Asher grabbed his shirt. “I should go get the stuff for the grill ready.”
“I’ll help you,” Laila said quickly, trying to shake off Eric’s stare. She stood and scurried into her cover-up.
“They make you uncomfortable.” Asher said a few minutes later as he unpackaged some chicken fillets and burgers, and put them on a platter. She was in the process o