Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Maisey Yates

“There’s one more thing.” He pointed to the couch.

  “What?” Her hand flew to her mouth to keep from screaming. On the couch was a Martin guitar case. Her mouth hanging open in shock, she stepped to it and unbuckled the latches. Lying inside was a handmade acoustic guitar with a maple-gloss top and rosewood back and sides. She picked it up reverently.

  “This is the top-of-the-line Martin guitar. How did you even know that I play acoustic?”

  “Someone showed me this trick where you look up someone on social media and then search their friends’ pictures to find out information that might not be on their own pages.”

  “How did you get this here so quickly?”

  He shrugged. “This is New York. Not a lot you can’t buy here in short order.”

  Especially when money is no object. She ran her hands over the wood. Her guitar at home was a Martin, but she didn’t have the latest model. She picked a few strings, then began tuning it with expert hands. It was only when room service showed up at the door that she realized she’d been lost in the guitar. She hadn’t even thanked Ethan.

  After the waiter had taken the old cart and left a new one, she stood and went to Ethan. “I love the guitar, but I can’t accept it. You’ve already done much too much for me, and you don’t even know me.”

  He shrugged. “Money…”

  “I know, money doesn’t mean much to you but it’s also the time you’ve taken to be with me, to fly me across the country, to search for the perfect guitar for me…” Her voice cracked.

  How dare he do the most perfect thing in the world for her?

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked and she felt a tear slide down her cheek.

  She shook her head, unable to speak through the big lump that had lodged in her throat.

  “What is it?” He reached over and brushed the tear from her cheek, his touch so light and gentle that her chest squeezed even tighter.

  “It’s…” She struggled to find the word in English. Aaapnapan was the word in Hindi. Someone who treated you like their own, someone who knew you better than you knew yourself. He seemed to understand what she needed at a level that even her family didn’t.

  “Would you like to hear one of my songs?”

  He grinned. “I’d like nothing more.”

  She strummed a few strings to test out the guitar, then sang one of the love songs she’d written. Her eyes closed, and the words bubbled up from deep in her plexus. It was a song she’d written for her brother Sameer when he was in a bad place. It had helped heal him and her. Ethan wouldn’t know the words in Hindi, but they were what she needed to hear.

  My heart doesn’t know what to feel, my lips don’t know what to say, but I’ll be okay. I know I’ll be okay because you’re with me. I don’t know what I want, I haven’t for a while, but as long as I have you, I have hope of better things to come.

  When she was done, there were fresh tears on her cheeks. It was as if something had burst open inside her. Promise me, Divya, that if we get through this, we’ll stop living for our parents and start living for ourselves. She had forgotten that hospital-bed promise she and Sameer had made to each other.

  “Wow, that was incredible.”

  She opened her eyes to see Ethan staring at her. “You’re just being polite, you didn’t even know what the words meant.”

  “No, but I could feel the pain in your melody, the hope in your voice.” He paused. “What was the song about?”

  She put the guitar in the case. “A couple of years ago my brother Sameer was in a bad accident. His whole body was broken. We weren’t sure if he’d survive. I wrote this song for him. It is about hope and about not letting your fears stop you.” She closed the guitar case and turned to him. “I think I’m going to give that record company guy from Café Underground a call. I’ll ask Rajiv if he can put up with me for a few weeks so I can give this music thing a shot.”

  “I already asked Roda to check out that guy, plus I’ve put feelers out among my friends. Somebody will know an industry contact. And my jet is at your disposal. Whatever you need.”

  “We hardly know each other. Why are you doing all this for me?”

  He shrugged, then he looked out the window like he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Maybe it’s because you’re the first person I’ve met for whom I seem to be able to do something right.”

  There was so much longing in his voice that she wanted to hug him and tell him all the ways in which he was a great guy. But something held her back. He hadn’t wanted her to kiss him. Maybe friendship was all he wanted to offer, and she didn’t want to mess that up.

  She poured him a cup of coffee from the room service cart and handed it to him. “Thank you. For everything. Now, let’s eat this cold breakfast.”

  The rest of the morning went by in a blur as she shopped for some basic items. When she returned, she donned a cream silk shirt with dark blue–patterned pants. She let her hair loose and swiped some makeup on her face. Ethan had changed into dress pants and a collared shirt. He whistled when he saw her, and she couldn’t help but smile. She’d put a little extra effort into her appearance.

  They met Rajiv and Gauri in the hotel lobby.

  “Divya, oh my God!” Gauri was petite, about five feet tall with large luminous eyes. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail. She wore a black dress and dangling diamond earrings. Divya hugged her back. Rajiv had a town car waiting, which took them a few blocks down the road to one of the most exclusive French restaurants in the city.

  At first they stuck to safe topics like politics, religion and money. But inevitably, her runaway status came up during a dessert of Grand Marnier soufflé and pistachio crème brûlée.

  “So what mysterious plans did you have last night?” Gauri asked, throwing a suggestive look at Ethan. He nearly choked on his espresso.

  “I was tired and went to bed early. Ethan had some business to take care of.” She could feel Ethan looking at her, but he kept quiet.

  Gauri narrowed her eyes at Divya but didn’t say more.

  “So, what’s the plan exactly?” Rajiv asked. “Your parents and Arjun have been calling everyone you know.”

  Divya shifted in her seat. “I just want some time for my family to cool off, then I’ll go home. I emailed Arjun to tell him that I’m safe.”

  “Yes, thank you, you used the hotel business center, and he tracked the IP address to New York and grilled me. You know I owe your brother a lot. I feel very bad lying to him.”

  Divya felt a pang of guilt. “I’m so sorry to put you in this position. We’ll leave.”

  “You can stay as long as you need,” Rajiv said halfheartedly. “I’m only saying there may be a better way of handling things.”

  Rajiv and Gauri looked at each other, then Gauri spoke up. “Look, Divya, I know we’ve been out of touch, but we were good friends once, so I feel I should be honest with you.”

  Ethan stiffened next to her.

  “If you two are together, that’s fine. We can accept that. Rajiv’s brother married an American, and our family dealt with it. But this hiding is not good. It’ll be hard for your family to accept Ethan if you continue on this way. He already has a reputation, and well…” Gauri trailed off as Divya shot her a murderous look.

  Ethan didn’t deserve to be attacked for her decisions. “Ethan and I aren’t together. He accidently crashed the wrong wedding and I used the opportunity to run away. All he’s been doing is helping me hide.”

  Gauri raised her brows. “Then, what are you still doing together? He’s done his job. You are safe with us. Why is he staying with you?”

  “I’m right here, you know,” Ethan said quietly, but the anger in his voice was clear. “What Divya and I do is our business. We appreciate your hospitality, but we’ve clearly outstayed our welcome.”

  Divya winced. Ethan didn’t know her fri
ends and didn’t understand that they were just looking out for her. His tone had been unnecessarily harsh.

  Gauri reached out her hand and grabbed Divya’s, clutching it as she turned toward Ethan. “Please, don’t take it the wrong way. We are only concerned about our friend. It’s in our nature to speak plainly. We didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I know you didn’t, and your point is well-taken. I will think about it,” Divya said soothingly. She held up her spoon, eager to ease the tension around the table. “This crème brûlée is to die for.”

  After they were finished with lunch, Gauri cornered Divya when they returned to the hotel. Ethan looked at Divya, and she nodded to him, so he excused himself and went to the room.

  “Divya, you know the rumors going around about you and Ethan.”

  She nodded. She had resisted the urge to google their names, but she could only imagine the media storm that was raging.

  “What are you doing with him? If this continues, you will never get a good rishta, and your reputation will be ruined forever. It’s not like you to be running around with a strange man. Especially not a gora.”

  Divya took a deep breath. Every Indian parent with a daughter of marriageable age was on the hunt for a good rishta, a suitable match for their child.

  “I don’t want or need a good rishta. And Ethan is a perfect gentleman. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? There might not be anything going on between you now, but I see the way he looks at you. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a move, and then what’ll you do?”

  Jump his bones. The thought of Ethan making a move on her made her warm all over.

  “I can take care of myself,” she said cagily.

  “Listen, Divya, I know it feels good to be out and about by yourself. To not have rules or restrictions. But trust me, Ethan is not the right man for you. He’s hot, no doubt, but he’s not marriage material.”

  “Why not? Because he’s American?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly why. Rajiv’s brother is married to an American woman, and let me tell you, it’s like lunch was today.”

  “What was wrong with lunch today?”

  “We had a polite conversation. We didn’t talk about anything real. I didn’t get to tell you that Rajiv’s parents are really upset with my sister-in-law because she traded in the family jewelry they gave her for their wedding for something more modern. We didn’t get to talk about how your parents are going to react when you go back. That’s how it is in my house. We talk to his brother and sister-in-law about meaningless things, like they’re strangers. There is always an awkwardness when you don’t marry someone from your culture. And look, when I did try to talk about something real, he got angry.”

  “You were a little rude.”

  “I was being honest. But that’s how it is. If he had been Indian, he wouldn’t have taken offense like that, he would have understood where we were coming from.”

  Divya sighed. Why was she even having this conversation with Gauri? It’s not as though she and Ethan were together or that she was even thinking about him in any serious capacity. Yet she felt an anger inside her and wanted to defend the idea that they could have something real.

  Gauri touched her arm. “I’m just saying think about things carefully. Your parents will forgive you. Vivek still wants to marry you. The story came out that Ethan was dating some other Indian girl, so they know you didn’t really run away with him. They all know it was cold feet and will forgive you. Take it from me. I couldn’t wait to get away from my parents. Now I miss them every day. We only get to go to India once or twice a year and I savor every visit with them. You don’t know what you’re missing until you don’t have it anymore.”

  Divya murmured a platitude, gave her friend a hug and said goodbye. Gauri hadn’t said anything that Divya hadn’t thought herself, but now every fiber of her being wanted to disagree with her friend, to prove her wrong.

  When she returned to the room, Ethan was sitting on the couch with his feet up and his laptop open. She went and sat in a chair across from him. She owed him an explanation. To his credit, he didn’t ask.

  “I didn’t want to tell them about the singing.”

  “It’s something that’s yours. You don’t have to share it until you’re ready.”

  And just like that, he struck a chord in her heart and she wanted to run back down and tell Gauri that this American, the one who didn’t know her culture or speak her language and had known her for all of two minutes, understood her better than anybody else.

  “Gauri didn’t mean to offend you. She was just being blunt.” Divya kept her voice light.

  “She wasn’t blunt enough. What she meant to tell you is that you’re ruining your life by running around with me.”

  “You were a little forceful too.”

  “How did you expect me to react?”

  “With some patience. If my brother finds out that Rajiv lied to him, it’ll jeopardize their lifelong friendship. He’s stuck his neck out for me. You could have been a little more polite.”

  “So it’s okay for them to be rude to me?”

  “They weren’t being rude. They were asking a genuine question.”

  “Which was what exactly?”

  “Why you’re still here. You aren’t romantically interested in me, and yet you’re buying me guitars and making wishes come true. Why?”

  He looked away from her, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. She stepped to him, bent down and kissed him hard on the lips. He opened his mouth and kissed her back with the same hot intensity. This time, she broke the kiss.

  “You’re lying to me and yourself if you still think there isn’t something between us,” she said, then walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Divya dressed for dinner in an off-the-shoulder black dress she had bought that morning and comfortable flats. It wasn’t the look for a fashionista, but with her hair curled in stylish waves and her eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner, she knew she looked good. As she stepped into the common area of their shared hotel room, Ethan gazed at her with darkened eyes. “How many looks do you have, woman?”

  Divya had avoided him for the rest of the afternoon. She’d heard him moving around but had kept her bedroom door firmly shut, spending the time tuning her new guitar and practicing her songs. She’d made her move, now it was his turn.

  He offered his arm and she took it, noticing the clean scent of his soap and aftershave. She resisted the urge to lean into him so she could breathe him in. They took a pedicab, and she was somewhat surprised when they pulled up to a food stand outside Madison Square Garden. The city was alive with the sounds of honking cars and people bustling everywhere. The air was thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and cooking food.

  “This is our big dinner out?” she quipped, tucking her hand into his arm.

  “This place has the best hot dogs ever. And then I have a surprise for you.”

  They ate the hot dogs, standing on the sidewalk, watching the crowds flow out of Penn Station and stream into Madison Square Garden. There was a show on tonight and the headliner was a popular hip-hop artist.

  “Have you ever been to a show here?”

  Divya shook her head. Ethan pulled two tickets from his jeans and Divya’s eyes widened. They made their way into the arena. Ethan’s tickets were on the floor, toward the middle. When the opening act was introduced, Divya realized why Ethan had brought her here.

  “Tina Roy. She’s an Indian artist who mixes Indian and Western music,” Ethan whispered to Divya.

  The music was fantastic, and the crowd ate it up. Divya watched Tina dance around onstage, wearing a short fringed skirt and a tube top. She pictured her parents sitting in the audience, watching this woman grind with the male backup dancers and thrust her hips to the beat of the music. Her fam
ily wouldn’t be proud; they’d be embarrassed. Her mother didn’t even like Divya wearing skirts around the house. Appearances are important, Divya. What will the staff think of you parading around with bare legs?

  Her mother would have a coronary if Divya ever wore an outfit like Tina Roy’s, let alone performed onstage in it. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of her dad seeing her in such skimpy clothes.

  Tina started her second number. The music, the clothes, the special effects were all designed to rile people up and Divya could feel the crowd practically vibrating. She closed her eyes and pictured herself on the stage at Café Underground, the energy that had pulsed through her as the audience appreciated her singing. She’d never felt that kind of power surge through her body. A crowd like the one at Madison Square Garden right now would be addictive.

  Tina Roy’s performance was amazing, but she wasn’t a fan of the main act when he came onstage. “Do you mind if we leave?”

  Ethan smirked. “This guy is no Tina Roy. Let’s get out of here.”

  Ethan asked the taxi driver to take them back to the hotel. Divya laid her head back on the seat. Her heart raced. Life is too short not to live it on your terms. After Sameer had gotten out of the hospital, she’d spent all her free time working on her music. But as time went on, she’d slipped back into her mother’s society life and the family business.

  She looked out the window. “Can you pull up to the curb?” she asked the taxi driver. They were at Fifth Avenue and East Seventy-Second Street. Central Park stretched out on the right-hand side of the cab. “Can we go for a walk?”

  Ethan paid the driver and exited behind her. They walked in silence, her hand tucked into his arm. Even at that time of night, the city was bustling. Birds chirped in trees, joggers pounded the trail, dogs walked with their owners, occasionally stopping to sniff something interesting.

  “When I was growing up, my dad fulfilled my every wish. At the age of eight, I wanted a horse. I’d just read about Jhansi ki Rani, who’s like the Indian equivalent of Joan of Arc, and I thought I would be great at horseback riding because I could feel the spirit of Jhansi ki Rani. My mother, who is always the realist in the house, told my father that it was a fad and not to go overboard. But of course, he didn’t listen to her. He bought me a magnificent horse and hired a professional trainer to teach me how to ride. He even began renovating the ancient stables on our property. At first, I loved riding, but then as the lessons wore on, it wasn’t fun anymore. It became a matter of working hard to learn how to ride. Each lesson left me sore and aching.”