Free Craving Temptation by Deborah Fletcher Mello

their waiter ensured everything about the experience was met with approval.
    Troy had requested a corner table and the spot was quiet and intimate. The restaurant’s ambiance was sultry and romantic, easily a favorite for anniversaries, engagements, or special date nights. Fresh flowers and candlelight graced the table and the lull of soft music was beguiling. Neither Amina nor Troy could remember the last time either has been so completely enamored.
    Troy had ordered for them both, starting their meals with an appetizer of lobster ravioli. Salads followed; watermelon, mint, and red onion tossed with a light balsamic vinaigrette. By the time the entrée was served, a seafood-stuffed flounder served on a bed of spring vegetables with a miso lemon brown butter, Amina couldn’t imagine the evening being more perfect.
    The conversation between them had been as easy as breathing. Both felt completely relaxed, each other’s company feeling like home. They’d laughed with each other and had laughed at each other, the wealth of it like a warm blanket laid over their shoulders. As the waiter delivered their desserts, a decadent Memphis Belle pie filled with Georgia pecans and rich dark chocolate, neither could imagine the evening ever ending.
    Troy leaned back in his seat. “I couldn’t eat another bite,” he said.
    Amina pulled the last forkful of her pie into her mouth. She nodded in agreement. “You? I’m about to bust,” she said, washing down that last bite with a swig of lemon tea.
    â€œIs that why you’re still chewing?” Troy teased.
    Amina laughed. “Yep! I have no intentions of leaving one crumb on my plate.”
    Troy laughed with her. He leaned forward in his seat, pulling his elbows against the table as he dropped his chin into his hands. His gaze washed over her, as he tried to record every line and dimple of her profile. Amina was all charm, her demeanor as polished as her looks. He couldn’t remember ever having had a better date and he said so. “I have had a great time, Amina. I don’t want it to end.”
    She was thoroughly elated and it shimmered in her bright eyes. She nodded in agreement. “I feel the same way. I feel so comfortable with you, Troy.”
    Troy found himself staring. Her complexion was flawlessly smooth and her features were perfectly sculpted. Her narrow face was complemented by her sultry eyes with their unique color, high cheekbones, and lips that begged to be kissed. His gaze focused on her mouth, the curve of her slight smile and the hint of pink tongue causing a rush of heat to sweep across his groin. Her smile was the sweetest, the beauty of it engaging. Her teeth were pearl white and there was a hint of a dimple in each of her cheeks. Amina met the stare he was giving her and he felt his heart skip one beat and then a second. He was staring so intently he barely heard the waiter calling his name.
    He was still staring as the young man named Steven laid the tab on the table, asking if there was anything else that he could do for them. When neither responded he backed away from the table, leaving them to their moment.
    Troy couldn’t resist reaching out to brush a stray hair from her eyes, his finger lightly tracing her profile. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his words like a gentle flutter against her ears.
    â€œThank you,” Amina whispered back. A hint of color flushed her cheeks.
    â€œWhy do you hide yourself?” he asked.
    â€œYou mean with the veil?” she questioned.
    He nodded. “I’ve known Muslim women who wear the headscarf that covers their heads and chest but they don’t conceal their faces. Why do you conceal your face?”
    â€œWe’re taught that we should not display our beauty except to our husbands, fathers, and sons. In Islam, the major school of thought is that our clothing should not be formfitting and the hijab should be worn as a symbol of