“You know you prefer me any day,” Rohan said, eyes narrowed suggestively. Huh. Last week he’d stammered indignantly when she threw anything remotely flirty his way. Seems he finally decided to play along. Kamila giggled and turned back to the platter of food.
“Look how beautiful everything is tonight,” Dad said. “And without Asha’s help! Kamila, you’re a gifted hostess.”
“Yes, she is.” Rohan nodded. “But Kam knows her strengths. If we remind her of them, her head will grow bigger than it already is.”
“My head isnotbig,” Kamila said, patting her hair. “This volume is thanks to very expensive hair products and my diffuser.” She squeezed Rohan’s arm. He was in a suit again. He always wore a suit to her parties. He said it was because he came straight from work, but Kamila suspected he preferred to look like the most powerful person in the room. And he claimedshehad a big head.
Today’s suit was dark charcoal, perfectly tailored, and looked expensive. It went well with the new beard—which had grown in mostly rich black, but with delightful silvery bits near his ears and on his chin.
Kamila smiled. “The facial-hair situation is looking good. Very imposing. I’m glad I was right about it. I have excellent taste.”
He chuckled, rubbing his chin. “See? Kamila doesn’t need us praising her. She does a great job of it herself. Where’d you get that dress, Kam? The costume department for a sixties TV show?”
Kamila frowned at her dress. Another vintage-style, full-skirted floral, this one was deep teal with flowers in fall colors and wide off-the-shoulder straps. “You showing up to parties in a suit is very midcentury, too. I feel like I should be handing you a martini after work.” She headed toward the kitchen, running her hand over Rohan’s beard as she passed him. “I should introduce you to my ukulele teacher—he’s got the most epic red beard I’ve ever seen. He can give you grooming tips.”
Dad laughed, then looked at his watch. “I really should be going. Oh, Rohan, I was meaning to talk to you—I heard you’re volunteering with Anil Malek’s incubator project? He’s contracted Emerald for the nonprofit start-up administration.”
Rohan nodded as he took some jars of chutney out of his bag. “He’s asked me to sit on the board. It’s an excellent cause. I didn’t know he was looking for an accountant.”
Dad and Rohan continued to talk about this project while Kamila uploaded some pictures of Darcy she’d taken earlier. Her attention was pulled back to them, however, once she realized what—or specifically,who—they were talking about.
“…I’m surprised she backed out,” Rohan was saying. “But she says she won’t have the time.”
“I can understand that. It’s a shame for Anil, though. It would be a major boon to this foundation to get someone of Jana’s caliber.”
Jeepers Carmichael, were they talking about Janaagain? Kamila had tried—and succeeded for the most part—to put Jana Suleiman out of her head this week. Clearly, almost burning down her house was proof that letting that woman into her mind wasn’t healthy for her, or for her kitchen. But of course, someone had to bring up that name again. “What are you talking about?”
Dad smiled. “Anil’s nonprofit start-up that Rohan is volunteering on…Jana was supposed to be involved.”
Kamila frowned. If Jana was due back soon, why wasn’t she doing this thing? Not that Kamila wanted Jana working with Rohan, though.
Rohan swiped a pakora from the platter Kamila had painstakingly arranged. “It would have been a good role for her. This kind of nonprofit work is exactly her area of expertise and talent.” He popped the pakora into his mouth. “Where are these from? Don’t tell me you cooked, Kam.”
“Hakka Empire.” Irritated, she took a pakora out of the box to replace the one on the tray. She smiled at Dad. “It’s too bad you’re missing the movie tonight. We’re watching a rom-com with Shahid Kapoor.”
Dad pulled out his dress shoes from the closet. “You don’t need an old man here. You young people enjoy yourself.”
“But we have an old man. Rohan is always here.” She patted his arm again. Wow. All that rock climbing was paying off.
“Shahid Kapoor…Isn’t he the one you call Hottie Pants?” Dad asked.
Rohan snorted. “Ranveer Singh is Hottie McHottie Pants. Shahid Kapoor is Honey Bunches of Oats, because, and I’m quoting here, ‘he’s both delicious and wholesome.’”
Dad slipped on his shoes, laughing. “Okay, I’m really leaving now. Have a good night, kids.”
Once Dad left, Kamila glared at Rohan. “You shouldn’t talk about me drooling over leading men,” she said. “I swear you only watch these movies for the actresses. Your jaw drops the moment a wet sari plasters itself to a cropped sari blouse.” Kamila paused, assessing the amount of pakoras on the platter.
“I’m not going to deny I like to look at attractive women.”
“Why are you here so early, anyway?”
“I was meeting someone in the area and I thought you might need help setting up. And…” He picked up Darcy.
“And what?”
He nuzzled his face in Darcy’s fur. “I had a bad day. Wanted to see if you could make it better.” He lifted his head toward the ceiling and inhaled. “It still smells like burnt sweet potatoes in here.”
She sighed and filled up her aroma diffuser with lavender essential oil.
