by Susan Fox
It made me feel warm. Loved, almost.
Discomfited, I raised my hands to his chest—God, he was firm—and pushed myself away. “We’re using too much water.”
He reached past me to turn off the tap, and suddenly there was silence. We stood, dripping, staring at each other. Then I turned, shoved the shower curtain aside, and reached for the towels. “Let’s get dry.”
He stood back and let me dry myself first. Then I stepped out into the changing area and dressed as he toweled himself.
We hadn’t brought a comb, so all I could do was run my fingers through my damp hair, feeling it curl around them. My makeup must have washed off, or at least I hoped it had rather than leaving mascara streaks under my eyes.
My lover stepped out of the shower stall. His hair was a mop of black curls. Like Nav’s.
Oh, damn. Dhiraj, Nav. Again the boundaries were blurring. And I couldn’t let them.
He tossed down his towel. “Kat, stay with me tonight.”
My breath caught. I only spent the night with a man when I believed a relationship was serious. This one couldn’t be. Not with Dhiraj, because he didn’t exist. And definitely not with Nav, as lovers. We’d promised each other the train games wouldn’t affect our friendship.
I shouldn’t feel so tempted. I forced myself to say, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Was that a shadow of hurt in his eyes? Hard to tell because he bent to put on his briefs, then stepped into his pants. Head down, tone neutral, he said, “We could play Kama Sutra.”
A shiver of lust rippled through me, but all the same, I said, “Not tonight.”
He slipped into his shirt. “My room’s far more comfortable.”
“I know. But I…I’m not comfortable.”
A sigh, as he buttoned his shirt. “I’ll trade you rooms. You can have the big one.”
I shook my head. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but no, thanks.” Without him there, the room would feel too empty. Too lonely.
“As you wish.” His voice was even. Was he annoyed with me?
I wished he’d pull his hair back, so his appearance would match his Dhiraj accent. The stranger game was fun, but I needed him to maintain the role.
We went across the corridor to his room, where I picked up my purse and jacket. “It was…an incredible evening.” I gazed up at his strong, gorgeous face and wondered what it would feel like to spend the night in his arms.
No, I couldn’t risk it. If I did, I might find myself seriously falling for him. That would be a very bad mistake. Best to stick to the fun and games. I cleared my throat. “See you tomorrow?”
Muscles flexed in his jaw. “I imagine so. As for tonight—” he gestured toward the window—“you lie in that single bed of yours and gaze out at the moon. I’ll be lying in my big one, doing the same.”
His tone held a challenge, and the unspoken words, And I dare you to not think about me.
He held the compartment door open. “Seems to me, it would be more fun doing it together. But that’s your call, Kat.”
He dropped a quick kiss on the top of my head and shoved me out the door before I could respond.
Chapter 15
Nav spent a restless night, frustrated that Kat wasn’t there to share the double bed. Why was she so damned resistant?
Or was his plan flawed? In the beginning he’d been carried away by excitement and hope, and he hadn’t realized his scheme held an inherent contradiction. Wanting to sweep Kat off her feet and make her view him differently, he’d created Pritam, then Dhiraj, the kind of men she fell for. It had worked to the extent that she’d let those guys seduce her. But whenever she found herself thinking of him as Nav, she threw up a barrier.
Even though, when he’d been playing Pritam and Dhiraj, he’d told her things he’d never shared before. Couldn’t she see that the honesty and intimacy was happening between her and Nav? Despite the token pretense of the stranger on a train, it was him she was growing close to. Making love with.
Sighing, he figured he’d give her some space. Maybe she’d seek him out. If not, he’d pursue her once more. Remind her of the Kama Sutra prize, which he knew tantalized her.
Outside the window, the first hint of dawn was lighting the sky, the dramatic scenery of the Canadian Shield emerging from the dusk. His photographic eye sharpened.
He’d brought his camera and lenses along on the trip, knowing he needed more shots for his “Perspectives on Perspective” exhibit, but so far he’d been focused, so to speak, on Kat.
Quickly he threw on jeans and a T-shirt, unpacked his camera gear, and headed to the observation car with its 360-degree glass dome.
It was empty but for an elderly woman in a green velour tracksuit, with a crossword puzzle book on her lap. He greeted her. “Another early riser.”
She smiled. “Always have been. I’m in the habit of creeping out of bed a good two hours before my husband George.” She gestured toward his Nikon. “That looks like a fancy camera.”
About to say he was a professional photographer, he realized he had to be Dhiraj. A train was too closed a community to allow for multiple identities. He slid a crisper English edge into his accent as he said, “It’s been a passion of mine for a long time.”
Her faded green eyes twinkled. “I know all about men and that kind of passion. With George, it’s golf.”
The train went around a curve, and a pale swath of pinkish light fell across her cheek. She turned to gaze out the window. “Dawn. My favorite time of day.”
Seeing the warm light on cheeks as softly crumpled as tissue, the spectacular scenery behind her, the puzzle book unopened in her lap, Nav lifted his camera. Tough lighting to capture, but it was worth trying.
He clicked a few shots while she admired the view, apparently unaware he was taking her picture. “Amazing scenery, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It is.” The light shifted, the photo op gone now. He checked the images he’d taken and selected the best. “Take a look.”
She glanced at the camera, and her hand flew to her throat. “Oh, my heavens! I thought you were photographing scenery.”
“I was, and the view was lovely.”
“Flatterer.” She smiled, then studied the picture more closely. “You have a talent, young man.”
“I had a good subject. If you give me your name and your address or e-mail, I’ll send you and your husband a copy.” He’d also send a release form asking her permission to use the photograph commercially.
“How lovely.”
Nav pulled out the notebook where he recorded photo information and took down her name and e-mail, then made a few notes about the shots.
He and the woman—Elizabeth—chatted for half an hour or so. When the train approached a station, he rose. “I’m going to get off and take some photos.”
“Have fun.”
A few minutes later, he was on the ground, clicking pictures of the VIA Rail train from various angles, capitalizing on the early-morning light. It was a challenge to find an original way of photographing a train, yet he knew train photos were popular. To a number of people, trains symbolized a romantic, nostalgic form of travel, and now Nav was coming to understand why.
This stop was one where the crews changed, so people were milling about. Against the background of the train, he took shots of a wiry older man laughing with a girl who had tattoos up her arms. The old and the new of the railroads.
Sure enough, when he spoke to them, the man, a sleeping car attendant, said he’d worked the railways all his life and never wanted to retire. The girl, a member of the kitchen crew, was taking a year out of college to travel and make some money.
“I keep telling her she’ll get hooked,” the man said. “Trains get in your blood.”
Before she could answer, the train gave a warning whistle. As crew members scurried aboard, Nav stood back to take a final few shots. A face stared at him out of a window, and he realized it was Kat. As he scrambled to board, he wondered i
f he should go to her.
No, he’d wait and see if she would come find him.
He was still in the T-shirt and jeans he’d thrown on when he got up, his hair loose and uncombed, so he went to his room to clean up before breakfast.
When he entered the dining car, he was Dhiraj, with pulled-back hair and an expensive shirt. Kat wasn’t there. He sat at a table with the elderly woman, Elizabeth, and her husband. Though he saved a seat, Kat didn’t appear.
She must have decided on a snack instead of a real meal. Had he come on too strong, asking her to stay with him last night? Or had the sight of him in the station this morning looking like Nav scared her off?
After breakfast, he wandered around with his camera. When he reached the Activity Car, he realized it was a great source of shots, with people chatting, playing cards or computer games, doing jigsaw puzzles.
An activity director—a perky, ponytailed blonde a few years younger than he—had gathered half a dozen kids, ranging in age from roughly six to ten, to draw train pictures. Nav took a few shots of the children with their crayons and colored pencils.
The activity director tossed him a flirtatious look. “Hey, there’s a participation rule. If you want to hang out with us, you have to draw, even if you think you’re not very good.”
A tiny Chinese boy, probably the youngest kid in the group, gave him a shy grin. “You can share my crayons.” That smile tugged at Nav’s heart.
“That’s nice of you.” Nav hung his camera around his neck and sank down beside him. “You sure you don’t mind a big kid in the group?” he asked the young woman.
“It’s nice to have company.” She handed him a sheet of drawing paper. “I’m Emily.”
“Dhiraj.” He glanced at the boy beside him. “And who are you?”
“Kevin.”
They went around the circle, the kids all giving their names. Then Nav took Kevin up on his offer to share crayons, Emily added several colored pencils, and he began to draw. Nav was a decent artist; he chose to sketch the train as it had looked standing in the station a few hours ago. He used a slightly cartoonish style, like an illustration in a kids’ picture book. The children chattered about this and that as they worked, and he joined in, and also occasionally lifted his camera to take some shots.
As an only child, he’d always envied friends who had siblings, and he enjoyed the company of children. Sometimes he felt he had more in common with them—with their curiosity and spontaneity—than with other adults.
He was looking forward to being a parent. His kids would get encouragement and support. He’d provide gentle guidance rather than try to run their lives.
Emily said, “It’s almost lunchtime. You have five minutes to finish up; then let’s see what everyone has done.”
Nav had been drawing faces peering out the train windows, making each one a cute caricature of one of the kids. Now he added Emily, with her ponytail, in the driver’s seat.
As everyone showed off their artwork, he, like Emily, found enthusiastic compliments for each. When it was his turn, everyone oohed, aahed, and laughed at the funny details he’d added. He gave the drawing to the little boy, Kevin, who’d shared his crayons.
“Are you an artist?” Emily asked.
“No, a—” He stopped himself from saying “photographer.” “I’m in business.”
“I bet you’re successful at everything you do.” Her admiring look held more than a hint of a come-on.
Not wanting to encourage her interest, he said lightly, “You’d lose that bet.”
As she helped the kids pack up the art supplies, he glanced around the Activity Car and was surprised to see Kat across the room beside an older man, a jigsaw puzzle in front of them. How long had she been there, sitting behind him and watching him draw with the kids?
Quickly he went over to her. She looked great in figure-hugging jeans and a short-sleeve blouse in a flowery, feminine fabric, but he paid more attention to her expression, which was wary. “Kat, hi, I missed you at breakfast.”
He smiled at the older man and held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Dhiraj.”
“A pleasure. Terry.” The man gave a warm, firm shake.
“Dhiraj,” Kat said, “what’s with the camera?” She was frowning slightly, clearly disconcerted by the reminder of Nav.
“Every businessman needs a hobby,” he said, letting a spark of mischief color his tone. “It keeps me from being utterly boring.”
As Nav had hoped, her lips quirked. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem.”
Terry chuckled.
Nav addressed both of them. “There’s something I need to do right now, but I wonder if we all might meet up for lunch?”
“Sounds good to me,” Terry said promptly.
“I’d already arranged to lunch with a woman named Lynn,” Kat said.
“Would Lynn mind the company of two gentlemen?” Terry asked.
Kat glanced at Nav as if trying to make up her mind. “I suppose not.”
“Great,” Nav said. “First one there claims a table. See you then.” He hurried away to catch the parents as they came to collect their kids for lunch so that he could get their information and send releases if the photos turned out.
At lunch, Kat made the introductions, then the other woman, Lynn, said, “Well, isn’t this fun? Four people who’ve only just met, looking forward to a pleasant lunch together.”
“Trains are good for that,” Terry said.
“This is my first time,” Nav said. “It’s fascinating. And getting to know people is the best part.” He smiled at Lynn, then Terry who sat beside him. Then he let his eyes linger on Kat, across the table.
Whatever doubts had been worrying her, her smile suggested she’d banished them. “Speaking of which, Dhiraj, you’re a man of hidden talents. Not only do you run an import/export business, you’re an amateur photographer and artist.” Her eyes gleamed. “Any other talents you’ve been keeping a secret?”
“Maybe one or two. But I’m a humble man. I don’t like to talk about myself. You’ll have to discover them for yourself.” He hoped Kama Sutra sex leaped to her mind.
From the flush on her cheeks, he had guessed right.
Terry buried a soft chuckle against the edge of a water glass, and Lynn flashed Nav a grin.
The four of them had a pleasant lunch, the conversation coming easily. Nav had brought his camera and asked permission to take pictures, hoping it wouldn’t throw Kat out of her relaxed mood. He usually left his camera at home when he was socializing, as he’d learned the hard way that friends could be offended if he seemed more interested in setting up shots than in enjoying their company.
Now he shot a few pictures of Kat, animated as she asked questions, intent as she listened. Of Lynn, face glowing as she talked about her long-distance romance. And of Terry, when he spoke with baffled resignation about his wife, who had Alzheimer’s and was in a care facility in Toronto.
“I hate to leave her,” the man said, “but the sad truth is, she rarely recognizes me. The grandkids in Victoria are getting older and I want to be in their lives, so I hop a train every few months and make a short visit.”
“My gran has Alzheimer’s,” Kat said. “It’s so sad what it does to people.”
Lynn put her hand on Terry’s arm. “You do your best. That’s all anyone can do. My husband died of lung cancer, and it was a long, painful period.” She patted him a couple times, then said, “Tell us about your happier days. How did you and your wife meet?”
Terry’s face brightened, and again Nav lifted his camera, imagining several portraits of the man framed together. Reflections on a marriage: the optimistic beginning, the patiently loyal end, the wistful joy of memories.
It made him think about him and Kat. He hoped nothing bad ever happened to her, but he wanted her for life—whatever their lives might bring. If he ever got to say those wedding vows to her, he’d mean them with all his heart.
He realized he was staring a
t her, probably with a sappy expression on his face, because her eyebrows rose and she mouthed, “What is it?”
Quickly he shook his head, tuned back in to Terry’s story, and raised his camera again.
They had finished dessert and were lingering over tea and coffee when the public address system announced an upcoming station where passengers could get off the train and shop.
Lynn said, “There’s a lovely First Nations gift store at this station.”
“Yes,” Kat said, “it’s great. Dhiraj, you might get some more pictures.”
The four of them joined other passengers who were heading for the exit. Once in the store, each went their own way.
Nav tried for a few shots pairing the displayed pieces of art with people’s reflections against the glass of the showcases. As he worked, he perused the items for sale, looking for a gift for Kat. A ring would be pushy, but he knew she liked to wear dangly earrings when she went out. The carved silver and gold hummingbirds, graceful and lively, seemed right for her.
After tucking the small package in his pocket, he moved outside to take a few shots of the train and station, then caught up with Kat as she came out of the store carrying a bag. “What did you get?”
“A T-shirt.” She tugged on the strap of his camera as they strolled back to the train. “Did you get all the pictures you wanted?”
“At the shop, yes. But I have another idea.” He moved closer so their arms brushed, and she didn’t move away.
“Oh?”
“You.”
She tilted her head up to him. “Me? You want to photograph me?”
He’d snapped shots of her occasionally in Montreal, but this time had something much different in mind. “You’re photogenic.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not especially.”
“Trust me.” He touched her back, turning her toward the car that housed his sleeping compartment. “Let me show you.”
Her “hmm” sounded curious, and she went without protest.
He opened his door and ushered her inside. “Let’s play a game.”
“The board game?” The corner of her mouth tipped up, perhaps thinking about that Kama Sutra prize they’d yet to reach.
