Page 28 of To Tango, with Desire

I wouldn’t lose myself, my heart, to a woman. Not ever again. But . . . a relationship based on sex with a feisty, passionate woman? That I could do. I didn’t want to fall for someone . . . so I wouldn’t. Could it really be that simple?

“I think you do know.” Maryam spoke gently now. “And I think you’re letting your fear dominate you. Don’t forget who you are.”

Sleeping with Amira had changed everything. I’d taken her number, consumed by the thought of another night, of pursuing whatever it was we’d begun. But the passion I felt for this woman had terrified me. I’d flown to Europe convinced that whatever it was she was making me feel couldn’t continue.

Every time I picked up that phone, I was haunted by the past. By the vow I’d made to myself. I knew I wouldn’t let myself down.

But an arranged marriage? That was different.

Heartbreak had hardened my heart. Nothing could break me again. I refused to give anyone that power, which meant I was safe from falling in love again. Safe to pursue a relationship based on passion. Sex. Companionship.

A contract.

“When you rest your head on your pillow at night, who do you want there beside you?”

A stunning, brown-eyed beauty swam into view.

Amira was someone I hadn’t expected. She was fierce and focused. She wanted more than what she had, and she wanted to earn it herself. I understood and respected that. She was a lot like me all those years ago.

“You know what’s in your heart, Zane. Now is the time to follow it.”

I listened to Maryam’s advice, only to appease her. My heart wouldn’t be involved in any decision I made. When I ended the call fifteen minutes later, my mind was already ten steps ahead.

Maybe my plan wasn’t so crazy after all.

While my work life had gone from strength to strength, the last twelve months had been eye-opening. In truth, my personal life was shit. I hadn’t had a proper relationship in years. In fact, most of my recent ones couldn’t even be called that.

I walked back to my desk, sitting down on the comfortable leather chair. Taking out my personal tablet, I made some notes. Let the idea unfold. Ten minutes later, the idea was becoming a plan.

As crazy as it was, I grinned.

It was out of this world stupid . . . . Fuck, my friends would say it was a textbook midlife crisis move. But I knew myself better than that. Knew that this was the next step. The right decision.

I sat back, and for the first time in months, the restlessness that dogged me started to ease a fraction.

I dialed the one man that I knew might be able to help.

“Alejandro, are you free for a drink?”

His voice was distant, as if he were on speaker. “I’m actually just picking up Tilda from the bookshop and we’re heading out to see Amira’s new store.”

“New store?”

“She got the lease! Our girl is going into business.”

I grinned. Even better. “That’s fantastic. Where is it?”

“About a block from Blythe train station. Next to the arts and craft store.”

“The one that sells those fancy stationary sets? The Quilted Pen?”

“You got it.”

“Text me when you’re done and we’ll catch up. I have an idea to run by you.”

“Everything okay, man?”

I leaned back. “Never been better.”