“Na’am.” Nassir nodded and the shop keeper bustled away. “He says a glaze is absolutely possible.”
“Good.” Janna took a large drink of water from the glasses the owner had brought, and kept her gaze safely on her paperwork. “We’ll get a variety of sheet cakes for the guests, and the spice cake for the head table and the orange for the main cake.” Janna consulted her planner once more and then looked up. “What about the cake topper?”
“What about it?”
“Do you have one ordered?”
“I don’t even know what it is.”
“Oh.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s an American custom to place figurines representing the bride and groom on the top tier of the couple’s cake.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” he said, giving a dismissive wave. So much for kind, polite Nassir. “That is fine.”
“No, I need to know what your bride looks like so I can match the figurines to the two of you. Describe her.”
“My bride?” He seemed a bit taken aback by her question. “I would say she is your height. Blonde hair and blue eyes.”
Janna scrunched her nose. “I thought your bride was from Al-Sarid?”
“I never said that.”
“Then I guess I just assumed. So, she is…”
“She is American.”
“But the woman I saw yesterday was…” Janna stopped herself before saying “traditional dress”. Her cardinal rule was equality for all. If Nassir’s American bride had fully accepted the customs of his land, then more power to her. “Sorry. So, blonde hair and blue eyes. Body type?”
“Not overly curvy, but not pencil thin either. She’s just… right.”
Janna smiled, liking the way he described his bride. She begun to think the man didn’t care for her at all. Now, from the smouldering smile on his lips, it seemed she was wrong. In fact, that little grin was so hot, she couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous for this woman who, based on the description, could’ve been her twin.
Chapter 9
The next afternoon, Janna waited for Nassir to show up for the wedding dance class. Seemed she was always waiting on him these days and the excuse was always the same: business.
He’d wanted his first dance with his American bride be a traditional slow waltz. Not what she’d expected from him, but then she’d learned fast to expect the unexpected from Nassir.
He had even set up these lesson for them at a local dance studio, owned by two former professional dance champions from Europe. Janna had agreed to attend in his wife’s stead since Nassir had told her something important had arisen at the last minute. She was hardly an expert dancer by any means, but she’d been through these lesson before with other couples, so at least she had the basics down.
“Has he arrived yet?” one of the instructors asked.
“No.” She glanced at her watch one more time “I’m so sorry. He must have gotten tied up. I’m sure he’ll be here momentarily.”
“Of course.” The instructor walked over to a large desk and took a seat behind it.
Five minutes later, Nassir strode in, looking dapper as ever in his business attire. If any of the top designers ever needed a new model, he’d fit the bill quite nicely. He removed his sunglasses and walked over to her, his teeth even and white against this tanned skin. “Janna, forgive me for being late again.”
“Nothing bad, I hope?” She took the hand he extended and stood.
“Just business,” he replied, tight lipped. “As usual.”
The instructor approached them. “Ah, Sheik Nassir, an honor to finally meet you.”
“Shall we begin?” Nassir placed his hand on Janna’s lower back and she shivered from the contact. He raised a brow at her, but thankfully didn’t comment as they walked out to the middle of the dance floor.
“I promise to take good mental notes so I can teach your bride all the steps she’ll need to know.”
He smiled and her pulse skipped. Sexy, suave Nassir was back in full swing. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be marvellous.”