let me run over them, and that means that I've turned away enough girls to make people wonder. You aren't going to give me an inch, and that is why you are perfect for this job."
Vivian grinned at that. Somehow, she liked the idea that Mikal liked a woman who would give him a bit of a challenge. Being a demure little housewife had never appealed to her, and finding a man who didn't care for it either was refreshing.
"You know, you're a catch," she decided. "For the right person, but yeah. The girl who ends up with you is going to be very lucky."
For a moment, she wondered if she felt Mikal tense up next to her, but she dismissed it as being something she had simply imagined. That couldn't be right.
"I hope she thinks so as well," he said, and there was a bit of stiffness in his voice, but then he changed the topic.
"Do you like Ethiopian food? There is a place that I am quite fond of, and I'd like to take you there if that pleases you."
"I don't know if I like Ethiopian food yet, but I am more than willing to give it a shot. Lay on, MacDuff."
***
As he folded a small piece of buckwheat flat bread around an aromatic mouthful of stewed goat, Mikal was wondering if he had made some kind of serious mistake.
"Here," he said to Viviana, who was watching him with avid eyes. "Open your mouth."
With a delicate touch, he popped the morsel into her mouth, making her eyes widen for a moment before they closed with pleasure. He realized that simply watching her take delight in the small bite was enough to arouse him, and he hastily looked away.
"That was delicious," she exclaimed, and either she was unaware of the effect that she had on him or she was politely ignoring it. As perceptive as Viviana was, it could go either way.
"Good," he said honestly. "That's the way people feed their lovers in Ethiopia; it's a gesture of great love and faith."
"Oh, now you have to let me try."
With the deft touch that he had grown to adore, she folded a small bit of carrots and cabbage into the flat bread and offered him the same. The touch of her fingertips against his lower lip sent a sensual shiver through his body.
"Very good," he said, and he wondered if he had put some of what he felt into the words because she blushed a little and looked down.
"Thank you for taking me here," she said as they started in on their meal. "I think I really needed some space. It's funny, I can promote my own things from morning to night, but doing something like this, something that really matters, it's exhausting."
"Maybe it's exhausting because you care so much," he offered. "I saw you speaking to those men, and I could tell that you really do mean what you say. It's inspiring."
She waved his compliments away, shaking her head. "I'm a good actress," she said, a little more soberly than he was expecting. "I have had to sell all manner of things and look like I believed it."
"And you don't believe in what we are doing?" he asked, strangely crushed. He knew that she approved of what they were doing, but he supposed that that didn't mean that she thought he would really pull it off.
She hesitated. In that moment, it felt as if she were making a decision, and he didn't understand what it was. Without thinking of why, Mikal took her hand gently.
"It's all right if you don't," he started, but she interrupted him.
"I do," she said. "Of course I do. Everything you're trying to do here, I believe in it, and I want it to come true. Truly. However, where my suspension of disbelief fails is when I talk to these old blowhards who really do see their wives and their daughters as a kind of property. They believe that they provide for them well enough, and if other men don't provide nearly as well, then that's not their problem. Of course, it's men of all types and nationalities who believe it, but when I'm trying to convince them otherwise … it's a little exhausting."
Mikal laughed, a little relieved. "Well, that's lobbying, I guess," he said, shaking his
Vivian grinned at that. Somehow, she liked the idea that Mikal liked a woman who would give him a bit of a challenge. Being a demure little housewife had never appealed to her, and finding a man who didn't care for it either was refreshing.
"You know, you're a catch," she decided. "For the right person, but yeah. The girl who ends up with you is going to be very lucky."
For a moment, she wondered if she felt Mikal tense up next to her, but she dismissed it as being something she had simply imagined. That couldn't be right.
"I hope she thinks so as well," he said, and there was a bit of stiffness in his voice, but then he changed the topic.
"Do you like Ethiopian food? There is a place that I am quite fond of, and I'd like to take you there if that pleases you."
"I don't know if I like Ethiopian food yet, but I am more than willing to give it a shot. Lay on, MacDuff."
***
As he folded a small piece of buckwheat flat bread around an aromatic mouthful of stewed goat, Mikal was wondering if he had made some kind of serious mistake.
"Here," he said to Viviana, who was watching him with avid eyes. "Open your mouth."
With a delicate touch, he popped the morsel into her mouth, making her eyes widen for a moment before they closed with pleasure. He realized that simply watching her take delight in the small bite was enough to arouse him, and he hastily looked away.
"That was delicious," she exclaimed, and either she was unaware of the effect that she had on him or she was politely ignoring it. As perceptive as Viviana was, it could go either way.
"Good," he said honestly. "That's the way people feed their lovers in Ethiopia; it's a gesture of great love and faith."
"Oh, now you have to let me try."
With the deft touch that he had grown to adore, she folded a small bit of carrots and cabbage into the flat bread and offered him the same. The touch of her fingertips against his lower lip sent a sensual shiver through his body.
"Very good," he said, and he wondered if he had put some of what he felt into the words because she blushed a little and looked down.
"Thank you for taking me here," she said as they started in on their meal. "I think I really needed some space. It's funny, I can promote my own things from morning to night, but doing something like this, something that really matters, it's exhausting."
"Maybe it's exhausting because you care so much," he offered. "I saw you speaking to those men, and I could tell that you really do mean what you say. It's inspiring."
She waved his compliments away, shaking her head. "I'm a good actress," she said, a little more soberly than he was expecting. "I have had to sell all manner of things and look like I believed it."
"And you don't believe in what we are doing?" he asked, strangely crushed. He knew that she approved of what they were doing, but he supposed that that didn't mean that she thought he would really pull it off.
She hesitated. In that moment, it felt as if she were making a decision, and he didn't understand what it was. Without thinking of why, Mikal took her hand gently.
"It's all right if you don't," he started, but she interrupted him.
"I do," she said. "Of course I do. Everything you're trying to do here, I believe in it, and I want it to come true. Truly. However, where my suspension of disbelief fails is when I talk to these old blowhards who really do see their wives and their daughters as a kind of property. They believe that they provide for them well enough, and if other men don't provide nearly as well, then that's not their problem. Of course, it's men of all types and nationalities who believe it, but when I'm trying to convince them otherwise … it's a little exhausting."
Mikal laughed, a little relieved. "Well, that's lobbying, I guess," he said, shaking his
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