One to Watch by Kate Stayman-London

Author:Kate Stayman-London [Stayman-London, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780525510444
Goodreads: 53103895
Publisher: Dial Press
Published: 2020-07-06T23:00:00+00:00

The morning after her hammam escapade, Bea woke feeling—well, if not entirely confident, then at least more comfortable than she’d been throughout filming. She lazed in bed as the riad staff brought sweet mint tea, fresh orange juice, and eggs scrambled with herbs and olive oil. She let her mind drift to kissing Asher in Ohio and their intense connection, to Sam last night in the hammam and his electric energy. It wasn’t fair to compare those kisses to Ray last Fourth of July—she and Ray had known each other so much longer, the buildup to their night together had been so drawn out and fraught that kissing him had felt like an ocean of clear water after years in endless desert, drinking so quickly and deeply that she went from parched to drowned.

With Asher, and now Sam, it was different—they were finding their path together, all excitement and uncertainty. And then … there was Luc. She was looking forward to their date this afternoon—and perhaps to kisses that would feel less agitated and complex than those they shared the night of the yacht and the crème brûlée.

Bea felt that same rush of effortless chemistry when she saw him waiting for her in front of the riad, sporting dark jeans, a charcoal sweater, and just the right amount of transatlantic scruff.

“Morocco suits you,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her on the mouth, a soft hello that lingered for a delicious moment.

“You like me in menswear?” Bea teased. She was wearing head-to-toe Veronica Beard today: high-waisted linen trousers in a soft brown clay, a ribbed white shell with a low scoop neck, and a stunning slouchy houndstooth blazer that made her feel like Rosalind Russell circa His Girl Friday.

“I like you anywhere.” Luc smiled and kissed her again; he tasted like salt and smoke.

“If that’s true, then I think you’re really going to like me today.”

“Oh?” He let his hands settle at her waist, comfortably holding her as they talked. “What adventures do you have planned?”

“I thought we could spice things up a little. Maybe add some flavor to our date.”

“You are making cooking jokes, yes?”

“Yes. Cooking puns, technically.”

“Ah. And perhaps my English is to blame, or perhaps the puns are bad?”

Bea grinned. “The puns are awful.”

They rode in a fancy old car to the Marrakesh spice market, an open square stuffed with dozens of vendors whose glass jars filled with rainbow spices lined shelves that stretched to the roof of each stall like some kind of Wonka-esque dream. Luc’s eyes lit up as he took Bea from stall to stall, sharing tastes of hot cayenne and pungent cumin and savory ras el hanout. He held out a strand of golden saffron for Bea to try; she went to take it from his finger, but he shook his head.

“It is too delicate. This way is better.” He lifted his finger to her lips, and it felt so much more erotic than kissing as she took it into her mouth, gently letting the intensity of the pure saffron wash over her tongue.

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