by Nalini Singh
“Argh!” She buried her face in a pillow and reminded herself that it was highly unlikely she’d have to do anything at all. Not only was he furious with her, but physically speaking, Raj was out of her league. The man was flat-out beautiful and she hadn’t had the advantage of moonlight last night.
Shoving aside the pillow on that less-than-cheerful thought, she wrenched off the sheets and gathered her towel and everything else she needed for the shower before stumbling out and down the hall to the bathroom she shared with her grandmother. It was bright white and clean and felt blinding to her gritty eyes.
Squinting against the burn, she put her stuff on top of the closed laundry basket, stripped, then stepped under a scalding-hot spray in a vain attempt to wash away the dreams that had tormented her all night long. Of a certain gorgeous, serious man whom she much preferred with a bit of scruff on his jaw rather than clean-shaven as he’d been last night.
Her body shivered in secret, unfamiliar places at the memory of how Raj’s stubble had scraped against her when they kissed. He had hair on his chest too. Crisp and silken at the same time. Not too much. Just enough to tantalize a woman into rubbing up against him.
Her clit pulsed.
“You’re heading into cold-shower territory,” she moaned at herself. “You hate cold showers.” But even that warning didn’t stop her from fantasizing, and she was flushed under the rich darkness of her skin when she stepped out of the shower.
As she rubbed the towel over her skin, she couldn’t help but remember how Raj had stroked it, making it patent that he liked it a whole lot. Her nipples pebbled, standing out impudently on the taut mounds of her breasts. He’d liked those too. Tight and firm, he’d called them. Like just-ripe peaches.
Nayna shivered and slathered on the body cream she loved, let it sink in. The rest of her morning routine was fairly quick, and she was soon back in her room, ready to dress for work. Something made her reach deep into her closet to pull out a skirt suit she’d never before worn. She’d bought it on sale because the deep crimson of it looked glorious against her skin—and the fit was flawless off the rack, which never happened with her boyish hips and small breasts.
However, it had always seemed too out-there for an accountant. Today it felt like armor. Because one thing was certain: at some point during the day she’d get a call or a text from her parents saying that Raj had turned her down. Her stomach clenched even though that was what she wanted—for him to be the bad guy. She could then bounce off the rejection—and the sympathy it would engender—to broach the subject of her own change of mind when it came to the plan her parents had for her life.
“Rejection’s a normal part of the process,” she reminded herself. Even if it would come from the only man she’d ever truly wanted. In some ways the arranged-marriage mart, as she and Ísa had termed it, was far more honest than dating. No sparing feelings, no trying to be kind and accidentally stringing people along. One set of parents would simply tell the other that it wasn’t the right match and on it went.
Some people got bent out of shape about it, but Nayna liked the idea of knowing where she stood. And it wasn’t as if she’d always been the first one to say no. Three times, the jackasses who’d come to meet her had sent her parents a message before they’d even pulled out of the drive.
“Good riddance,” her father had muttered each time and deleted the number from his phone.
Pulling on a fitted white shirt that she tucked into the skirt, she shrugged into the jacket and buttoned it up. It fit as sweetly as it had in the shop, skimming the lines of her body and making her feel sexy even though the pencil skirt was a perfectly respectable length.
“At least I have a butt.” She patted the only really curvy part of her, which the skirt gently emphasized.
She decided to accessorize the suit with a pair of small gold earrings that her grandmother had given her when she turned eighteen. Of a rich yellow twenty-two-karat gold, the floral design was distinctively Indian, and it spoke to the part of her nature that had grown up watching Bollywood movies with her mother and going to the temple with her grandmother.
Her hair she brushed and pinned into a neat roll at the back of her neck. Makeup took only five minutes—she had the morning routine down pat. Popping her lipstick in her purse to put on in the car after she’d had breakfast, she slipped on low-heeled work pumps in black patent leather, picked up her work satchel and purse, and walked into the kitchen.
To her surprise, her mother was bustling at the kitchen counter, in the process of making roti, the simple flatbread that it was usually Nayna’s job to make. Nayna stuck to cereal or toast in the mornings, but her father and grandmother liked a vegetarian Indian meal. Her mother usually made the vegetable dish while Nayna did the roti.
“Ma.” She put her satchel and purse down out of the way. “I was just about to do that.” She normally did it before she got dressed, but she was perfectly capable of handling the task by throwing on an apron over her suit.
“Oh, it’s fine. You work so hard, beta.” Her mother kissed her on the cheek when she neared. “I like the red.”
Nayna ran her hands down the front of her jacket. “Not too much for the office?”
“Why not?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “Today’s a special day. That Raj was lovely, wasn’t he? So manly and tall—and so dedicated to his family and the business. He’s a man who knows how to commit to things, will make a good husband.”
A rush of love filled Nayna’s heart. Hugging her mother from behind, she said, “He’s far too good-looking for me. You know that.” Whatever he’d seen in her at the party had been a thing of moonlight and madness; Madhuri was the stunning one in her family, Nayna her plainer shadow.
Her mother’s face turned mutinous. “You’re my beautiful, smart, funny girl, and he’d be lucky to have you.”
Moving to pour herself a cup of unsweetened chai, Nayna smiled. “Unfortunately, not everyone sees me through my mother’s eyes.”
Shilpa Sharma snorted. “Well, if he doesn’t see your beauty, then he doesn’t deserve you.” With a sniff, she went back to rolling out the roti. “Though I think you’re wrong. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
Nayna wondered if she should tell her mother that his eyes had been glaring as he forced himself to drink the overly sugared tea she’d served him in retaliation for his subtle needling. “Well, just text me when you hear from his family.”
Her father walked into the kitchen then, and he was smiling too. But he didn’t bring up the topic. Nayna knew the reprieve was only temporary. If Raj’s family, for some reason, didn’t contact her family, then her parents would contact his. No one liked to leave things hanging when there were other possible matches out there who’d appreciate their offspring (as spoken by countless parents, disdainful sniff and all).
Forget about internet dating. All this traditional meet and greet and reject stuff was brutal. At least Raj’s parents were lovely and wouldn’t be like asshole number 4’s parents, who’d told her parents their son hadn’t found her “pretty at all” and wanted a more “womanly looking and beautiful” bride.
It wasn’t like he’d been a prize himself, the Napoleon-sized mouth-breather.
Her mother was the one who’d taken the call from Number 4’s mother. Her response to the nasty rejection had been: “In that case, he should go to the doll shop they show on late-night TV. He won’t have much luck anywhere else.”
Nayna had almost choked—and then she’d gotten up and hugged her mother. Because the “doll shop” ad that had somehow been given clearance to advertise on late-night local television was about a boutique sex-doll website. Nayna’s mother was a very polite and gentle woman, so her fiery response had showcased just how much she’d despised the pompous ass and his parents.
The polar opposite of her reaction to Raj.
Putting down her tea when her stomach twisted again, Nayna said, “Say good morning to Aji for me when she gets back from her str
oll. I think I’ll go to the office early. I’m hoping to open up some time so I can take Ísa to brunch for her birthday tomorrow.” If Ísa’s divorced parents held true to form, they’d forget their daughter’s birthday.
“Eat some cereal or toast before you go,” her mother ordered. “Or at least take one of those bar things you like—I went to the shop and bought a new box for you yesterday. Raj is a big strong man. He won’t want a wife who can’t keep up with him.”
Groaning inwardly at the continued hope in her mother’s eyes—echoed by the slight smile on her father’s face—Nayna grabbed an apricot-flavored breakfast bar. She was about to escape to the sanctuary of her car when her mother called out, “I’ll make a cake for Ísa, one of those small, flourless chocolate ones she likes. You two can share it over brunch.”
“Do you want a fancy box for it?” her father grumbled from behind his morning newspaper. “I’ll pick one up from John’s shop when I go to the office to get some papers.”
Love overwhelmed Nayna all over again. “Thank you,” she said, her throat thick. “I’m sure Ísa would love that.”
Her mind was a whirl of confusion. She did not want to break their hearts. Madhuri had hurt them so much—first by running away with her boyfriend, then by staying out of touch for a long six months while they were all frantic. Part of Nayna would never forgive her sister for that selfishness. Their parents had even called the police, they’d been so frightened something had happened to her.
The police had told them that Madhuri was an adult who’d left of her own free will. There was nothing they could do. Nayna could still remember the deep grooves of strain and worry that had marked her father’s face, the extreme thinness of her mother. And Aji, who’d prayed night and day for her granddaughter’s safety.
No, Nayna couldn’t bear for them to be hurt that deeply ever again. She’d lived the life she had, made the choices she had, because of those memories of terrible pain. But more and more, she felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if her entire life was a cage. The only freedom she’d found had been that moonlit night in Raj’s arms.
She squeezed the steering wheel and thought of the passion and of the man who’d asked her if she liked rock climbing and Egypt. Maybe that could’ve been something, but she’d wrecked it with words spoken in panic. The chance was gone.
“It was only a fantasy,” she reminded herself softly. “For one night only.”
11
Uh-Oh… and Uh-Oh Again
Nayna was grateful for the work she had to clear if she wanted to take part of the morning off tomorrow. It kept her mind from wandering, and one particular project was so absorbing that she jumped when her cell phone vibrated with an incoming text message.
Taking a quick glance to make sure it wasn’t a client with an urgent request, she felt her heart kick.
We should go to lunch and have a proper talk. No point trying to make a decision about the rest of our lives based on two short meetings. That is, if you’re interested in my brain now. – Raj
Mouth dry and her blood roaring in her ears, Nayna stared at the phone for a long minute before carefully putting it aside and returning to work. She did not have the head space to deal with this. Also, how had he gotten her cell phone number anyway? Her parents? Tara?
When Ísa called not long afterward, Nayna spilled all. She also found herself telling her best friend that she was going to accept the lunch offer, though in truth, she wasn’t sure. She had no idea what Raj was up to, no idea what she wanted, and no idea what this would cost her.
Putting her head down, she continued to work, well aware she was avoiding the issue.
The shrill ring of her desk phone not long after ten interrupted her in the middle of a complex piece of work factoring in exchange rates and payments made across two continents. She should’ve already finished this, but she kept glancing at her cell phone, her head tangled up in a chaos of thoughts.
She picked up the receiver while frowning at a spreadsheet laid out across her wide screen. “Nayna Sharma,” she said even as her brain attempted to reconcile two figures. The client’s bookkeeping staff must’ve—
“Hello, Nayna.”
Her brain froze, her hand clenching on the receiver. That voice… Dark water cascading over her senses. A husky roughness in her ear. A pointed oh at the mention of parties and Nayna being a good girl.
Raj didn’t balk at her silence. “How many teaspoons of sugar was it?”
“Seven,” she said, finding her voice. “Why are you messaging and calling me? It’s protocol for the families to touch base.” She didn’t actually know if that was true, but it sounded right.
“Don’t you want to know?” A rumbling question that sounded serious. “Whether we could be something?”
Nayna’s hand curled on her desk, the temptation fierce. In her mind rang the advice she’d given her best friend just last night, right at the end of their conversation, while Nayna was hyperventilating in the bathroom.
I’ve played it safe my whole life, and now I feel like I’m going to shatter if I don’t spread my wings. Take a chance. Make that mistake. Even if it hurts… At least you’ll have lived instead of being driven by fear.
Strong words. True words. But could she take a chance this big?
“I told my parents no more introductions,” Raj said when she remained silent, his voice holding the dark intensity she’d noticed from their first meeting. “I also told them no interference.”
Her cell phone buzzed with an incoming text message. It was from her mother:
Raj’s parents called. It’s very strange, beta, but they said Raj will talk to you himself. It’s not how this is done, but I suppose he’s more modern. I think maybe he wants to talk properly to you—I told your father it’s the way things are now. Okay, tell us when he calls.
Nayna read the hope between the lines, and her heart hitched again. But she knew she couldn’t let her parents influence any decision she made. It was her time to live, her time to stretch her wings and fly out of the cage.
A sudden rush of sound from the other end of the phone line, including a voice calling Raj’s name. “I have to go. Site manager needs to talk to me. What’s your answer?”
It was strange, but his brusque bluntness made her relax. This man wouldn’t play games with her. If he broke her heart into a million pieces, it wouldn’t be done in malice. With her and Raj, all the cards would always be on the table… and maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t cut off her nose to spite her face.
After all, she’d chosen him first, before her parents and his got involved in the matter. “I’ll meet you at one,” she said, her heart a pounding drumbeat.
* * *
Raj had intended to change his T-shirt at least before he arrived to meet Nayna, but an entire wall had threatened to go wrong at the site when an apprentice used the wrong size nail, and he’d spent precious time fixing the error so his builders could complete another part of the job without delay. As a result, he arrived at the nice little café in sophisticated Mount Eden, sweaty and with dust on his T-shirt and jeans. He didn’t notice his work boots were edged with dirt until he stepped out of his utility truck.
He had washed his face and hands and arms, but he definitely wasn’t in any state to be meeting the sexy and beautiful woman who was crossing the road to the café just as he walked up from another direction. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, had her hair up. Her skirt suit was stoplight red and hugged her body in all the right places—and he wasn’t the only male who had noticed.
He scowled at the blond man nearby who’d pursed his lips in a silent whistle. The guy shrugged sheepishly. “She’s hot, man. I can’t help my eyes.”
That too was true. Nayna wasn’t obvious in her sensuality, but it was there, a simmering ember below the surface that made a man want to unlock her, find out how her sleek body would move in bed, over him, under him. Her beauty was the same—not blatant and in your face, but quiet, lovely, changeable with he
r moods. He had the feeling he could look forever at her and be fascinated each and every time.
She hadn’t spotted him yet, her focus on avoiding being tripped up by a middle-aged lady with three dogs on leashes. Her lips, painted red to match her suit, curved as the tiny dogs attempted to bounce toward her rather than following their owner’s commands.
His body hardened. Those lips. Nayna had the most lush lips. “Try anything and I’ll break you in half,” he all but growled at the blond when the man looked like he was weighing up his chances.
The other man took a good look at Raj and threw up his hands before backing off. “Like I said, hot. You’re a lucky guy.”
Having successfully bypassed the hyperactive menaces on four legs, Nayna finished crossing the road and looked toward the café. Her smile faded when she spotted him waiting for her, to be replaced by a look he couldn’t read. It was only when she reached him that he remembered the height difference between them—and thought immediately of the dreams he’d had that involved lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist while he pressed her to a wall.
She’d be the perfect height then. Especially if she was naked.
Not that she was apt to be thinking of getting close to him at the present time. “Sorry about the gear,” he said with a wave at the state of his clothing. “I probably stink of sweat so we should sit outside.”
“You smell fine.” She tugged up the strap of her small purse. “But we can sit outside if you like. The sunshine’s not too much yet.”
He watched her mouth as she spoke even though it was a very bad idea. Nayna had a mouth that did things to him without even trying, made him want to act in ways primal and raw that he’d never previously considered.
Raj was a healthy male in his prime, but he’d never had trouble controlling his sexuality. He’d always had very little sympathy for men brought low by their urges. Well, the joke was on him, because Nayna Sharma could bring him to his knees with her mouth alone… and he wasn’t sure he liked that. No woman should have that much power over a man.
