“I swear when I get a list of dates that includes things I would never do at places I would never go.” He leaned in, so close she could smell the leather of his jacket and the rich scent of his cologne. “For example, Date #4 is a movie. Two hours of sitting in the dark not getting to know each other. What about a bar or club? Somewhere fun.”

Heat flooded her face. “It’s not just any old movie. If you’d looked at column J, you’d see I’d planned for us to see Pufferfish, an acclaimed Belgian absurdist dystopian black comedy that challenges us to be bored while refusing to be boring.”

“Yawn.” Liam tapped his hand over his mouth. “I’m bored already. No need to be challenged.”

“Clearly I expected too much.”

Far from being insulted, Liam just laughed. “The only reason men agree to movie dates is so they have a chance at getting to second base in the dark. So unless you want a little loving between the seats—”

“I’ll cross the movie off the list,” she said quickly, although her mouth had gone dry and all she could think about was Liam in the dark with his hands under her clothes.

“Appreciated.”

“What about Date #5: coffee?” She pulled out her phone to make the necessary adjustments.

“People don’t get to know each other over coffee,” Liam said. “It’s like trying to get to know someone while they’re brushing their teeth. It’s a non-activity. You walk into the café. You order your venti seven-pump vanilla soy twelve-scoop matcha 180-degree no-foam green-tea latte. I order a simple filter coffee with cream and sugar and send the world of overpriced designer drinks into a tailspin. We make awkward, banal conversation with the fifty other people who are waiting for the newbie barista to figure out how to steam the milk while her colleagues gossip over at the panini press. By the time we get our drinks, there is nowhere to sit. So we say goodbye and drink our now cold coffees alone. Fun.”

“When did you become so hard and bitter?”

“When I realized I didn’t fit in. So, around three years old.”

He wasn’t joking, she realized, but his absent expression made her wonder if he even knew what he’d said. She decided against sharing that she also knew what it felt like to be an outsider, and brought him back to the plan instead. “Fine. No coffee. What would you like to do instead?”

“Oh. I get a choice?” He feigned shock, thudding his hand against his chest. “In that case, let’s have a sports night, and don’t even think about shaking your head because I know for a fact that you like sports.”

“I like to watch sports, not play them. If you remember, I’m lacking in body awareness.”

Liam’s voice dropped to a sensual purr. “I’m very aware of your sexy body, so that’s not a problem.”

He thinks I’m sexy. She shoved that delicious little nugget away to savor later. “Fine, you can have your sports. What about Date #6? You can’t possibly have any objection to a walk.”

“We’re walking now. What amusing anecdotes will this delightful date provide?”

“Daisy, who is this?” Deepa Rao, Layla’s cousin on her mother’s side, and second-in-command at the store, intercepted them between the salwar suits and the sherwanis.

“This is Liam.” She didn’t give his last name in case his identity got through to her father in Belize before she could share the big news that she was engaged to the man who had broken her heart. The Patel gossip mill worked faster than the Internet. “My . . .” She stumbled over the word. “Fiancé.”

Liam reached out to shake Deepa’s hand after Daisy introduced them, turning up his megawatt smile. Daisy bit back a laugh when his charm offensive didn’t produce the usual results. Deepa was resistant to anything except the sound of money.

“This must be the boy Salena told me about.” Deepa’s eyes glittered. “I was wondering when you’d be coming in to buy your wedding outfits.” She pulled out her tape measure and wrapped it around Liam’s chest.

Daisy felt a sudden irrational stab of jealousy as Deepa’s hands slid over Liam’s pecs. Why did Deepa get to touch him, and not her? “Actually, Deepa, he just needs a tux. He’s not—”

“I have the perfect outfit for you,” Deepa said, cutting Daisy off. “Quiet and understated, yet powerful and strong. It’s Burma ivory with Banarasi silk, yarn-dyed and hand-spun to create a soft and luxurious quilt. The Bengal-tiger buttons are circled with Japanese cultured pearls. Perfect for a man of your size and stature. It’s got a magnificent shawl made of the highest quality chikankari with a zardosi border. And, of course, you’ll want a sword.”

“Sword?” Liam brightened.

Deepa’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll go get a sample. I know the perfect one.”

“The sword won’t go down so well at city hall,” Daisy muttered under her breath. “They don’t think too highly of concealed weapons. You’ll probably get arrested. Although, I have to admit it sounds kind of exciting being married to a criminal.”

A maelstrom of emotions flickered across his face, and then they were gone. Moments later he was back to his teasing self. “I have a concealed weapon in my pocket I could show you,” he whispered.

“Don’t you dare . . .” She trailed off when he pulled a small penknife out of his pocket. Small and sleek, it had a wood inlay that had been worn smooth in the middle.

“My grandfather gave it to me when I was a boy.” His face softened and his eyes misted the tiniest bit. “I always keep it with me.”

She was touched by his fondness for his grandfather and the rare glimpse into his more serious side. “It’s a lovely memento.”

Deepa returned a few moments later holding up an exquisite sherwani, the material of the long, coatlike garment so soft and fine it glittered in the overhead light.