“I think it’s a bowl that you put cereal in, but I wouldn’t give you odds on it.”
She grinned at him. “How can I ask to see something when I’m not even sure what it is?”
“Easy. You simply walk into a jewelry store, stare down the length of your nose at the clerk and demand to see a silver porringer.” He mimicked one of his father’s imperious looks to demonstrate.
Kali felt a chill sweep through her as her gaze moved up over his clenched jaw and tightly compressed lips, but her sense of apprehension dissolved when she reached his eyes and saw the devilment dancing in their dark depths. It totally dispelled the autocratic expression he was trying to create.
Smiling she reached up and ran her fingertips along his jawline. “No one who looks into your eyes is ever going to buy your impersonation of a despot.”
Hassan felt a tiny muscle beneath his left eye twitch at the tantalizing sensation of her fingertips moving over his skin. Instinctively he captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
Her skin felt warm and infinitely intriguing. His tongue darted out to taste it, and a sense of satisfaction filled him as he saw her eyes widen in reaction. Whatever it was that he felt when he was around her, she obviously felt something, too. Or was it that she was reacting to him because she thought he was Karim? The appalling thought effectively doused his ardor, and he dropped her hand as if burned.
“Are you the baby’s godmother?” Hassan clung to the relatively safe subject of the christening like a lifeline.
Kali gulped in air, trying to get enough breath to answer him. She felt as if his kiss had seared her, leaving a permanent imprint of his lips on her skin. Despite the fact that she knew her reaction was highly illogical, it didn’t change the way she felt.
Worry about your strange reaction later, she told herself. For now she needed to concentrate on treating him as she always had. As a mildly sexy, highly intelligent, very likable man. Whom she was going to marry. The tantalizing thought did nothing for her already-shaky composure.
“I’m not the godmother,” Kali finally answered him. “If you can believe it, my mother told me that Bart feels it would be too painful for me. I swear, sometimes I want to grab Bart by one of his appalling ties and shake him until his sense of overweening importance falls out!”
“Are they?”
Kali blinked in confusion. “What?”
“Are his ties appalling?”
“Yes. Clashing splotches of color, not tastefully modern like—” Her voice faded away when she noticed the somber magnificence of his navy-and-green striped silk tie.
Uh-oh, Hassan thought. He’d completely forgotten Karim’s penchant for avant-garde neckwear. “This is my old school tie,” he hurriedly offered an explanation, hoping she wouldn’t know what the Eton tie really looked like.
Kali nodded, although the thoughtful look in her eyes made him uneasy.
Just how smart was she? he wondered, trying to remember what Karim had said about her. It hadn’t been much. Just that she was a psychologist, which meant she was used to looking beneath the surface of things. And if she were to look at him too closely.
It wouldn’t matter, he assured himself as he followed her out of the building. His impersonation wouldn’t last long enough for her to figure out that he wasn’t Karim. By tomorrow evening he’d have told her the truth and. His mind shied away from the thought of what would follow.
“There’s a taxi.” Kali waved madly to attract its attention, and Hassan determinedly banished his worries.
“Where to?” the driver demanded, when they were in the taxi.
“Blackwells over by Times Square.” Hassan gave him the name of his mother’s favorite jewelry store. “If anyone in New York City has a porringer it’ll be Blackwells,” Hassan told Kali.
When they reached the jeweler’s, Kali climbed out of the cab and examined the display windows while Hassan paid the fare. The elaborate ruby-and-diamond necklace casually draped across a piece of black velvet gave her doubts about the wisdom of going inside. That necklace looked as if it had come from the Hermitage’s collection of the Russian royal family’s jewelry.
“Hassan,” she said when he joined her, “I don’t know what the Institute pays you, but I get the impression I don’t make enough to shop in this place.” She glanced down again at the beautiful necklace. “In fact, I could get an inferiority complex just window shopping here.”
Hassan studied her uncertainly, wondering if she were serious. She seemed like such a self-possessed woman. So sure of herself and her place in the world that it was hard for him to believe she could suffer from some of the same social insecurities that he did.
He frowned as he suddenly realized the full implication of her words. She thought Karim was dependent on what he earned as a research scientist. Obviously Karim hadn’t told her that their father ruled a very oil-rich country in the Middle East. So rich that Saad Dev’a’s citizens enjoyed one of the highest standards of living in the world.
Why hadn’t Karim told her? Hassan wondered. Because he hadn’t wanted Kali’s decision to marry him to be based on his wealth? Or had he been afraid that Kali might turn him down if she realized just how different their backgrounds were?
Hassan didn’t know, but he did know that Karim knew women far better than he could ever hope to. If Karim hadn’t wanted Kali to know his financial worth, then he’d keep it a secret, too.
“I have a thrifty nature,” he finally said. “So that when I do want to splurge a little, I can afford to.”
“But I can’t let you pay for Eddie’s gift.”
“Oh, yes, you can. We’re engaged, remember.”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” Hassan pulled open the door. “Come on.”
Reluctantly Kali followed Hassan into the elegant store.
“Good afternoon.” The middle-aged clerk gave Kali a practiced smile before his gaze moved to Hassan. He instantly priced the hand-tailored perfection of Hassan’s suit, and his smile widened. “Sir. How may I be of service to you this afternoon?”
“We would like to see a christening gift,” Hassan said.
“Certainly. If you and,” the clerk’s eyes dropped to Kali’s ringless fingers, “the lady will sit down, I will be glad to show you some appropriate gifts. Or did you already have something in mind?”
Hassan waited until Kali sat in one of the chairs the clerk had pointed to before he sat down beside her.
“We want a silver porringer,” Hassan said.
“Ah! A traditionalist after my own heart.” The clerk beamed at him. “Just a moment while I check our stock. I’ll be right back.”
Kali watched the man disappear into the back and then whispered, “I don’t believe it. He really does have a porringer.”
True to his word, the man was back almost immediately carrying a black lacquered tray holding three dark blue velvet bags. “We have several porringers in stock. These—” he pulled two of them out of their protective bags and set them on the counter in front of Kali “—are strictly traditional.
“This one,” he pointed to the fairly plain one, “is a copy of one that George IV of England gave to the Marquis of Londonderry at his christening in 1821. While this one—” He held up an ornately cast one “—is a copy of one from an earlier period. As you can see, it has a more baroque feel to it.”
“They’re beautiful,” Kali said, wondering if the