Bliss (29 page)

“That's where you're wrong, Asher,” Sera said, letting the tears spill, and damn the mascara. Her voice caught. “There's something I'm ‘wanting' very much right now.”

She stood up, came around the table, and showed Asher exactly what—and who—she wanted, making herself at home in his lap and giving him a deep, wholehearted kiss.

Their server waited as long he could, but eventually the strain on his arms began to take its toll. He cleared his throat politely. “Ah, sorry, hot plates over here…”

Sera blushed, removing herself to the correct side of the table. Asher discreetly adjusted his napkin over his lap as the embarrassed waiter placed their entrées on the table and made himself scarce.

“Hungry?” Sera said a little too brightly.

“Ravenous,” said her date.

They dug in with a will.

“Perhaps you will tell me something of how you came to be a chef,” Asher suggested once they'd sated the only appetite that was polite to attend to in public. As soon as the plates were removed, he'd returned his hand to hers, absently tracing the bones beneath her sensitized skin, drawing swirls across her knuckles.

Sera smiled, the outstanding elk tenderloin in peppercorn sauce having mellowed her mood. She was high on a cocktail of
haute cuisine
and hot date, and it felt fantastic. “It all started with bundt cake,” she said.

“I'm sorry?” Asher looked blank.

“It's a type of pound cake that's made in a tube-shaped mold,” she explained. “The pan can be anything from a simple ring to a fanciful castle complete with turrets.”

“Ah,” said Asher, not looking particularly elucidated.

“Anyhow, when I was a little kid, like barely five or so, I discovered this old bundt cake mold in our kitchen cabinet. I think it was a gift from some Austrian great-grandmother, but no one could really remember how it got there. At first I thought it was something you used for making sandcastles in the playground, but my mom showed me how you could bake a cake in it. I was so fascinated by the
precision
of the cake, how it came out so perfectly shaped, I got hooked. I mean, it was food, but it was also a toy! I guess most five-year-olds go through a phase like that. I just never grew up.” Sera smiled at her own silliness. “I started begging my mom for Jell-O molds, mini tart pans—anything that could bake up into a cool shape. Mom was kind enough to indulge me. I loved the flavors, too, of course—I didn't get these curves from eating salad,” Sera said, gesturing dismissively at herself, “but it was the
architecture
of pastry that really roped me in. Maybe a little bit like the work you do with metal,” she said.

Asher nodded his understanding. “Perhaps,” he said, smiling. “Though I don't often get to taste my work when I'm done. But go on, Bliss. Where did the bun cake take you?”

Sera didn't correct him; she thought “bun cake” was adorable. “Well, from there, Mom started helping me bake everything from whoopee pies to meringues, even though I have a feeling Aunt Pauline was actually more interested in cooking than Mom was. Still, she always indulged my obsession. It was one of the things I remember best about her—standing in the kitchen by her side when I was little, testing out recipes and frosting cakes. She always made time for us—‘kitchen time,' she called it.” Sera smiled wistfully at the memory.

Asher turned her hand over delicately, beginning to trace the lines of her palm and draw idle patterns up her wrist and forearm that made Sera shiver. “I've never heard you speak of your mother before,” he noted.

“She and my dad died when I was just a teenager, and Pauline raised me after that,” Sera said, hating and simultaneously soaking up the flash of sympathy she witnessed in his eyes. “It was a car accident. A cabbie fell asleep after a too-long shift and plowed right into them as they were crossing Third Avenue. It was instantaneous.”

“I'm sorry,” he said softly.

She'd heard as much from dozens of people over the years. A simple sentiment, easily expressed. But when Asher said it, she truly felt his sympathy, and more—empathy.

“You know something of that pain, don't you, Ash?” she ventured.

“I do,” he admitted. “My wife died of ovarian cancer four years ago. I thought I would die with her.”

Sera's eyes filled. She clasped her other hand around his, stilling his abstract tracings. “I'm glad you didn't, but I can understand why you wanted to.” She paused. “Do you want to talk about it? I don't want to ruin a lovely evening with more heavy conversation, but…”

“It's all right, Bliss,” he assured her. “I would have brought it up in any case, because I wanted to be sure you fully understood why it was so important that I went to Israel when I did.”

He'd spoken of it, that night together in her store, but she sensed he had more to say. “You mentioned needing to make peace with your wife…” She trailed off delicately.

“Yes,” he said softly. “As I said, I went home to lay my wife's spirit to rest, at least in my heart. When I met you, I knew it was time. My world had been about her loss for so many years—my art, my work; everything suffered. I left Israel to escape my memories, running from all our mutual friends, family—anyone who had known our life together. I came here hoping to hide from the pain, but of course, it traveled with me.

“I suppose that's why so much of my jewelry looks the way it does,” he mused, as if it were occurring to him for the first time. “Maybe I was trying to recapture some of the music and harmony of that time. My wife had been a violinist, you see—a very accomplished violinist with the Tel Aviv Symphony Orchestra. We met when she commissioned a new instrument from my workshop. I was a luthier, and an amateur musician myself. We fell in love almost immediately, and for a time our life was full of music and laughter. We envisioned our future, planned out the names of the children we'd have. In fact, when Tali's belly began to grow, we thought at first that she was pregnant. We were so happy. But our happiness turned to horror when we learned the truth.”

Asher's eyes were unseeing, lost in memories. “The tumor spread quickly, and there was nothing anyone could do. Tali was gone in months. And I…” His voice thickened. “I could no longer make music. I couldn't even listen to it, or be any part of its creation. I had no trade, and everything in our home reminded me of what I'd lost. So I left. I came to the American Southwest looking for spaciousness and a place where no one knew me; where I could let the past go. Eventually, I discovered I could parlay my skills with woodworking to metal smithing, and with my jewelry business and managing the other properties I'd purchased as an investment, I made a life for myself here.” He rubbed his jaw, thoughtful. “I have been content. But now…” His green eyes sharpened, locked on to Sera's gray ones. “Now… I think I can be
happy.
”

Their waiter chose that unfortunate juncture to bring out the dessert tray. He was forced to cool his heels for quite some time as Sera made
her
happiness known to Asher with another passionate kiss.

She thought nothing could top the delight of this moment.

But their date was just getting started. For a nightcap, Asher took Sera to Japan.

W
ell, Japan by way of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

Still savoring the lingering flavors of some desserts Sera had to admit were
nearly
as good as her own, Asher drove them up the winding mountain road that led, eventually, to the Santa Fe ski basin. He wouldn't say where they were going, only that it was a can't-miss destination for tourists and locals alike.

They turned off the road into a driveway with a sign that read “Ten Thousand Waves.” “I'd be impressed with
one
wave,” Sera commented as they pulled into the parking lot and drove up a ramp lit only with Japanese paper lanterns, “considering how far we are from any ocean. You want to give me a hint where we're going, Ash?”

Asher only smiled. Apparently, he was a guy who loved surprises, and Sera was discovering she didn't mind being on the receiving end of them, provided they came from this one-of-a-kind man. Certainly, tonight's were turning out to be pure pleasure. The delectable meal, the free and open confidences he'd shared… the way he'd reacted to her confessions.

She hadn't dared hope Asher would take her past in stride the way he had. She'd known he was kind, that he seemed open and accepting, but now he knew the worst—her years of drinking, how she'd let Blake bully her… hell, he even knew her deepest, darkest secret, thanks to the way she'd blurted out the truth about her anorgasmia. Yet he still seemed to want her. Asher was like the proverbial dream come true.

And now, he'd taken her to this amazing hidden oasis.

A slice of old Japan had been transported to the snow-dusted New Mexican mountains. Under a star-strewn sky, breath steaming in the chilly autumn air, they trekked up a long, winding stairway cut switchback-style into the side of the hill. Zen-looking stone steps and frost-touched wildflowers interspersed with more paper lanterns lit their path. At the crest, they were greeted by a tranquil, pagoda-style building of mellow aged wood illuminated gently from within. “What is this place?” Sera asked softly. It seemed appropriate, somehow, to speak in hushed tones.

“It's a spa,” Asher answered. He put a gentle hand on Sera's lower back and guided her within. Inside, a koi-pond fed by a rushing waterfall made a susurrant sound, disappearing beneath a weathered plank walkway. Up a short flight of rustic wooden stairs, the interior opened out into a warmly lit building with a curved front counter to Sera's left. The lobby boasted a discrete space for purchasing lotions and potions, a small snack bar, and a spacious waiting area. This last, she observed, was occupied by a dozen or so almost laughably relaxed patrons wearing kimono robes and dreamy smiles, sipping cucumber water and chilling out on wooden benches. Beyond the glass rear doors, Sera caught sight of another, larger koi pond and waterfall, as well as a traditional rice paper–walled building nestled among the pine and spruce trees.

“Wow, I'm impressed, Ash. I didn't expect you to take me all the way to Asia on our first date,” Sera teased. Privately, she wondered what he had in mind. Were they getting matching mani-pedis? Facials for two? Or perhaps massages? Somehow, she wasn't quite keen on the idea of a masseuse's hands all over Asher's oiled-up body…

“I think you will really enjoy this, Bliss.” Asher gently tugged her up to the front desk, but Sera barely noticed what he was saying to the clerk, beyond noting that he was claiming the reservation he'd called in earlier. She was too busy looking around—and sniffing around as well. Her keen nose scented cedar, lemon, and a sweeter fruity smell she identified as yuzu, a Japanese fruit she'd sampled occasionally and even incorporated into a dessert or two. The effect was lulling… so much so that it wasn't until the clerk asked her to sign a release promising she wasn't pregnant or likely to have a heat-induced stroke that Sera realized what kind of spa this must be.

“Hot tubs?”
she asked Ash. Her pulse began to pound.

He beamed. “Among other things.”

“
Naked
hot tubs?” Sera's voice was a bare squeak.

“Is there another kind?” he inquired innocently.

Sera scanned Asher's face, but he seemed quite sincere. Maybe in Israel, these paratrooper types bared their bods
sans
shame, but Sera wasn't at all sure she was up for that amount of intimacy. Not that she hadn't considered getting naked with Asher, but somehow she'd envisioned circumstances a little less… outdoorsy… for the exalted occasion.

He seemed to sense her uncertainty. “I've reserved us a private tub,” he assured her.

“You mean there are
public
naked tubs?” Sera asked faintly. Her lips felt numb.
Maybe I'm having a stroke right now,
she thought.
I shouldn't have signed that waiver.

“A women's-only tub and a coed public bath, I believe. They're less expensive than the private baths, so they're very popular with students and the like. But we'll have a tub all to ourselves tonight.”

Yipe.
Sera gulped. She wasn't exactly wild about mooning the Wolf on their first date. She'd pictured a little under-cover action, sure; but bathing together in the buff? He might have the chiseled physique of a Greek god, but Sera worshiped the goddess of butter, flour, and sugar—and it showed in her comfortably curvy frame.
Thank God I remembered to shave, at least,
she thought with a tinge of hysteria.
But man, this is all moving just a little fast.

She wasn't sure quite how she felt… disappointed, perhaps? She'd thought better of Asher somehow. She knew from things he'd said that he was interested in getting intimate. She hadn't exactly put the kibosh on that notion herself, with the way she'd been climbing all over him at dinner. Yet the idea that he'd planned ahead for their rendezvous—that he'd taken them to a place he knew they'd be getting undressed from the get-go—it bothered her, a little. She told herself she was being silly. They were both adults—adults who had expressed their attraction quite openly in the past. But she still felt a bit queasy about the whole thing. Did she really know Asher well enough for this… and was their first time together going to be in some sauna? She fiddled nervously with her hair.

“So, um… are these tubs, ah… well lit?”

Asher burst out laughing, pulling Sera close for a hug that did more to disorient her than did his sudden mirth. “I'm sorry, Bliss. I'm afraid I was having a bit of fun at your expense.” Letting her go, he reached into the shoulder bag he'd carried in from the Land Rover, pulled out something that looked like—no,
was
—Serafina's trusty one-piece swimsuit. Her extremely frumpy, boy-short-bottomed, pink-polka-dotted one-piece swimsuit. Seeing its homeliness in Asher's manly grasp was almost as mortifying as if he'd pulled out her period panties.

“That's my…” Sera stared uncomprehendingly. “How did you…”

“I asked Pauline to sneak into your things and grab a bathing suit for you. She passed it to me on the sly yesterday. I didn't want you to catch wind of where we were going ahead of time and spoil the surprise.”

“But I… You said…” Sera looked around. It didn't look like anyone else was wearing a swimsuit under their kimono.

“Most people do bathe nude, Bliss. But I would never presume like that on our first date. I brought one for myself, see?” He held up another scrap of spandex he'd dug out of the bag.

Dear lord, a
Speedo.
Probably quite common for Israelis, who seemed far less body-conscious than their American counterparts.
What was I hoping for, board shorts? Or am I
actually bummed he's not going full Monty?
A blush flamed across her cheeks. Asher had never had any intention of putting the moves on her. While she'd been picturing the sex scene from
Showgirls,
he'd had a G-rated kiddie pool romp in mind. She felt sheepish for her unworthy thoughts—of course Asher wouldn't subject her to some sleazy setup on their first date. Yet now that she knew he hadn't, there was a small part of her that wished he
had.

Asher put his arm around her. “Come,” he said, drawing her toward the rear exit. “There are women's locker rooms to the left, over there.” He pointed. “The men's are upstairs. I will meet you at the bath—see, the symbol for ours is on the key.” He pointed to the Japanese character inscribed on the big wooden key fob in his hand. “We've got the waterfall tub. Since I'll probably be ready before you, I'll go in and leave the door unlocked—all right?”

“Yup, meet you there,” she said, pasting on a smile.

Hot tub, here I come.

Wrapped and double wrapped in the capacious kimono, feet sliding a bit in the rubber sandals the spa provided, Sera tiptoed through the thoughtfully landscaped grounds, nodding politely to other guests as she went.
A bathrobe isn't exactly my best look,
she fretted. Thank goodness it was dark, and the lighting was as discreet as the location was elegant. She moved through gnarled trees that looked like supersized bonsai, passed paths inlaid with slate paving stones and bordered with weathered wooden beams, noting how the spa's architects had created private enclosures through creative use of the mountainous terrain and discreet fencing, along with climbing vines and trees. Almost too soon, she located the symbol for the waterfall tub and eased the sliding door open.

As Sera's eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw she was in a spacious outdoor enclosure, walled to her right by the side of the main building, and on the left, screened by a coyote fence from the prying eyes of other guests. At the back was a sauna with a small closet for robes and towels, and nearby she spied what must be a cold plunge with a tiny waterfall splashing into it.
No, thanks,
Sera thought.
I've got cold enough feet as it is.

The center of the space was occupied by a capacious, sunken hot tub carved from natural stone, steaming gently against the rapidly falling nighttime temperature. It was perfectly landscaped into the native stone tiles that covered the ground, with a pleasingly curved lima bean shape to it and several benches at different depths for bathers.

Asher was waiting in the deep end.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hello again, Bliss.”

He wore the wet look well. Even with the meager lighting, Sera could make out beads of moisture running down his chest, spreading a sheen across his shoulders and arms, which he'd draped across the back of the tub. Crisp bronze fur dusted his chest just the right amount, and his damp blond hair was appealingly disheveled. Beneath the gently roiling water, Sera could only imagine the rest—Speedo and all. Her mouth went dry.

Ready or not, here I come.
She wondered how Asher would react to her “suit.”

For, somewhere between stuffing her shoes and stockings into her cubby and taking a deliciously hot, yuzu-scented shower in the locker room, Sera had come to a conclusion. She was, metaphorically speaking, about as “in Rome” as a girl could get. There would never be a better time to do as the Romans did. Asher might be a gentleman, but that didn't mean
she
had to be a lady—not if she wanted to challenge herself to get over her past. At the last second, she'd stashed one final item in her locker before heading out to meet her destiny.

Now, aware of Asher's studiedly polite gaze, Sera sucked in her gut, straightened her shoulders, and slid her robe off. She paused for a beat to let him get a gander…

Then jumped, full Monty, into the tub.

“Hoo! Hah! Hot, hot, HOT!” she shrieked.

Stunned by the sizzling heat on her autumn-chilled skin, Sera thrashed over to a bench near the shallow end. She was caught between wanting to stand up and cool off in the nippy night air, and a belated attack of modesty that had her needing to shield her more… buoyant… assets from her date's interested eyes. She elected to endure the heat, scrunching down as low as she could get on the stone bench.

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” Asher remarked, half walking, half swimming to her end of the pool. Smiling, he tucked a strand of wet hair behind Sera's ear as he loomed over her, sending hot water lapping up to her shoulders. “So, Bliss… either you forgot your suit or I'm overdressed,” he said, brow quirked inquiringly.

“I… uh…” Suddenly, all the lines she'd practiced in her head melted like snowflakes in the steamy air. She ducked her head, pretending to study the jet system set into the stonework at her side.

Asher tilted her head back his way, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Listen, sweetheart… I didn't bring you here for this.” His fingers stroked lightly down her neck, across her shoulders, making her shiver and belying his words. “I only wanted you to enjoy this very special place. I never intended or expected that we should…” He left the rest unsaid.

He called me “sweetheart”!
Her heart did a little happy dance.
Yeah, Sera—and then he said he didn't want to fool around,
the Negative Nelly part of her mind reminded her. The bottom dropped out of Sera's stomach, and suddenly she felt very, very naked indeed.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, sinking lower in the steaming water. “I shouldn't have… I'll go back and get my suit…”

“Please don't,” said Asher, coming to rest beside her on the bench—close, but not touching. “I only meant…” He stopped, sighed. “Bliss, I want very much to be with you—be
naked
with you—but I remember what you told me, and I didn't want you to feel any pressure…” He slid away to dip his head under the water. He let the steaming liquid sluice his hair back from his forehead, as if it would help clear his thoughts.

“What I told you?” Sera ventured. She had an uneasy feeling she knew what he meant.

“About your, ah… condition.” Now it was Asher's turn to look uncomfortable. “I didn't want to rush you into anything, but believe me, Bliss… this Speedo doesn't fit quite as well as it did before you left that robe behind.”