Last Man She’d Love
BY
SUMMERITA RHAYNE
Title: The Last Man She’d Love by Summerita Rhayne
Or Last Man She’d Love by Summerita Rhayne
Copyright© 2017 by Summerita Rhayne
All the characters in this ebook have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention. Any resemblance to actual locales, events, persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover Images copyright:© www.canstockphoto.com / Nejron;
© www.canstockphoto.com / Adrenalina
All rights reserved. No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or any other without prior permission of the copyright owner.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook or any part thereof may not be sold or given away to other people. If you’d like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase another copy for the recipient. If you’re reading this book and it wasn’t purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
AUTHOR LINKS
MORE BOOKS BY SUMMERITA
CHAPTER ONE
‘Join me for lunch. Book us a table at Passionfruit.’
The familiar deep voice with its hint of crispness was laced with a languid, laidback sort of command. A large masculine hand with its wrist – a trim one dusted with a sprinkling of dark hair – encased by a luxury, 3D skeleton watch, tossed a computer printout in front of her. She picked it up automatically, its crackle betraying it was fresh out of the printer. A slight frown drew her fine brows together.
Her gaze went down the names printed in a column, but it seemed only half her attention was on this task because it switched from the sheet to the man who stood in a relaxed pose with one hand resting negligently on the back of her chair.
‘Passionfruit?’ Her glance toured up the tan jacket and dark blue shirt front, the collar left open with the top button undone. It went up the strong column of his throat, travelling over the rather sensuous mouth, even now curving a little, his rather straight nose, defined cheekbones to dark eyes that looked full into her gaze and somehow made sustaining the eye contact, an effort. She did sustain it, letting a hint of coolness enter her manner as she tried to disregard the spiky hair falling over his forehead and giving him a devilishly handsome look. Her brow wrinkled disapprovingly. Wasn’t the fashion just now to have the hair all stand up gelled away from the face? But the owner of Gayatri Productions, where she worked as co-managing director/chief creative director, was obviously a little above that.
His smile widened a little now, mockery glinting in his eyes as one eyebrow slanted upwards. ‘Why so surprised about Passionfruit? Haven’t you learnt not to listen to gossip, sweetheart?’
Her mouth compressed a little, indicating her displeasure at the casually uttered endearment. She stared back at him with ice in her gaze.
A lesser man might have found her remote manner a little quailing. Not Guy, however. Something like laughter lurked in his dark eyes.
‘Denying it, dear?’ The eyebrow slanted higher.
She waved a hand, succumbing to the pressure of that questioning dark slant. ‘It did cross my mind why you wanted us to lunch where you usually take your girlfriend –’
‘And that wasn’t mathematically precise, was it? Two and two have to make four in your book.’
‘No, in business, it makes better sense to have it make six.’
He threw back his head and laughed, the deep rich note resounding around and somehow stealing inside her.
‘Are you ever lost for words?’
‘Are you lost for an opportunity to break the office propriety?’ She raised her fine brows. She made no secret of the fact that – where other of the staff found his casual manner friendly – she didn’t relish it in the least.
She was stopped by another deep chuckle. ‘Very complacent this morning, I must say, Ms. Perry. Good to find your engagement isn’t taming you. Getting hitched has sometimes an adverse effect on females. Unlike on males, whom it affects adversely all the time,’ he added.
Lyna gritted her teeth. As always, a fine sarcasm underscored his pleasant deep tones. She took up the sheet and placed it into her memo file, out of habit of being organized. Her desk, dark grey and chrome with its gleaming glass top, held only one untidy corner where a stack of files rested, one of them slightly askew. Otherwise, from her shiny laptop to her gold-plated pens laid in a row of three, blue, black and red, her desk wore a spic and span look. The same look echoed in the rest of her office. The grey carpet and white blinds keeping out the summer sun, the slight hum of the AC and the crisp lemony room freshener she preferred, all spoke of crisp order and sobriety. Only the pervasive odor of the cologne Guy wore disturbed the atmosphere and added a hint of musky spice to the otherwise efficient work environment.
But then his idea of office dress was sometimes a Team India t-shirt and army cargo shorts. Only his expensive colognes and his open work dial, sci-fi watch remained constant. In contrast, her office wear consisted of neat shirts with trouser suits and very occasionally, a pencil skirt.
Today also, it was a knife edge ironed pant suit. Even the blouse she wore was a pale olive green, business-like and demure. Only a gold brooch in the design of two fish in a circle, and a pin in the shape of a leaf, holding her shoulder cut hair to one side, relieved the severe attire.
She regarded him with a dose of severity in her glance. ‘There’s not the slightest need to bring my engagement into this.’
‘Isn’t there? When you see someone stepping into a ditch they dug for themselves, well, I for one can’t stay out of it. Whatever did you see in that lumpy sack?’
A sound rose in her throat which might have been a choked giggle or an indignant protest. It was quickly strangled.
‘You know…’ Regaining control, she smiled pleasantly at him, adding in a conversational tone, ‘Only the thought that behind your atrocious banter, is a working brain, keeps me from detesting you totally, Mr. Jashith Gayatri Pratap Singh.’ For a second, she wondered if she’d gone half a step too far. But the curve of his mouth deepened, casting slight grooves by his mouth.
‘A lovely back-handed compliment. You’re getting better at sardonicism. Must be my influence. Well, entertaining though it is to spar with you, I have…’ He glanced at his watch. ‘A meeting in ten minutes and so must part from you. Aanya is stro
ngly recommending we take up some new faces for the coming season. Hence this list.’ He began to discuss the business side of things, advising her on what to bring for discussion at the lunch meeting. This included plans to seek out some locations in Gujarat for the new serial, deciding whether to sign up a bestselling author for the new script, and going over final updates on marketing and research.
‘Got it.’ She’d anticipated most of what he enumerated and she only needed to recheck if she was on top of all of those.
‘Cool, huh? That’s what I love about you. Thanks.’
About to dismiss with a customary eye roll his casual use of ‘love’, she paused at the last word which seemed out of place in his usual brashness.
‘For what?’ For a second, her grey blue eyes widened betraying her surprise.
He grinned, but she wasn’t sure if it held hidden mockery. ‘For not making me regret making you co-managing director.’
She bit down her instinct to smile back. He had that kind of grin.
‘It’s only been six months,’ she reminded him. She was still cautious of her new position. Her predecessor had gone on maternity leave and never returned. She didn’t know how permanent her position was likely to be. Although Guy had assured her several times, in that inimitable way of his that her job was secure – ‘I’m hardly likely to turn you on to the streets, my dear. You might scare the traffic,’ – she still remained unconvinced of her future with GP. It had factored in when she got engaged.
‘A fruitful six months,’ Guy said.
About to agree with that, she was again taken off course as he added, ‘We progress. Just think, you’re about to dine at Passionfruit with me,’ His voice dropped to a low, sexy note.
Lyna heaved an inward sigh. That’s what. With him, you never knew where you were.
‘How lucky can you get?’ he continued in the same rhetoric mocking style.
‘Guy,’ she warned.
‘The food, girl. I meant because of the food, of course. What else? Now you know why I haunt the place so much.’
‘Great. I would have died without that bit of information.’
‘I was just in time then.’ With the parting shot and a mocking salute, he went out of her office.
CHAPTER TWO
Passionfruit had the lucky mix of wealthy young clientele and freshly hewn celebrities in its patronage. Hence, its ambience catered to a discreet elegance combined with pep. So, while its chairs were upholstered in satin and flowers, fresh and green-house exotic, its music was the latest remixes played over high-quality speakers. Its waiters might be uniformed, but their attention was friendly and open rather than discreet. The food and wine guaranteed high quality, but the menu was updated every week to keep up with the eternal need of the young adults for experimentation.
It was one of the new places in Llwellpore, the hot and happening entertainment hub in Mumbai. When Jashith had taken over, he’d advised the staff in a meeting to take leased apartments. His advice hadn’t been far wrong, because rents had shot up almost overnight as the quiet suburb place somehow became a center for tele and cinematic production. Its location near the hills and accessibility from the City had caught the fancy of young and upcoming businesses and soon the retiring town had become a teeming sub-city. The restaurant was just one of the new and successful ventures.
She had been here just once before and that time with Aanya who wanted to make an impression on someone by being seen there.
Guy wasn’t wrong about the food. Smoked salmon in honey, saffron flavored chicken rezala, a hot chili and chocolate sauce. She’d had a light breakfast and ordered dessert without compunction. A bittersweet chocolate marquis with cherry sauce. Gooey, rich, smelling like heaven. She savored the texture of melt-in-the-mouth chocolate and rich fruity sauce.
‘I really appreciate that you do justice to the meal, but you shouldn’t sigh that ecstatically. It puts ideas in my head,’ Guy told her from across the table.
Unnerved, because his dark gaze was staying too long on her face, she didn’t answer back immediately, her spoon staying in the air as her gaze entangled with his velvety dark one. With sinful chocolate and wine by the side, her defenses were less than battleworthy.
‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that we work together and you owe me a modicum of – of courtesy?’ She flung at him, needled by her own reaction. ‘I’m not very fond of your flirting manner.’
‘I thought it would be a refreshing change from Brijesh Talwar,’ he said blandly. ‘He’s not likely to flirt if you put his head in the line of an incoming Metro.’
‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ she said icily, ‘But I haven’t chosen Brijesh for – for –’
‘His sensuality?’ he said helpfully.
She glanced up and right into dark eyes suspiciously wide and innocent of laughter.
Her mouth tightened ominously.
He raised those mobile eyebrows, inviting her opinion. Sadly, at that moment a memory of Brijesh’s rounded face and plump girth, his small eyes blinking with some deliberation as he took in his surroundings, all the time roaming around and rarely focusing on her, swam into her consciousness. She was torn between joining in his amusement out of habitual honesty and being self-righteous and flinging her dessert – she glanced down at the gleaming slightly dewy chocolate – no, not her dessert – it was much too good.
‘Let the laugh come through,’ Jashith Pratap Singh, devil incarnate, said gently, ‘You look like a mischievous nymph trying to look innocent…and failing.’
The second time in minutes when he had used that tone of warm intimacy. She glared at him because the compliment made her feel much like the gooey melting chocolate in her spoon. And it meant nothing, she reminded herself.
‘You’re outrageous.’
‘There she said it.’ He shook his head as though thunderstruck. ‘In all the five years we’ve known each other, at last. One compliment. I must capture this moment.’ He moved near to click a selfie of them both. Regretfully vain enough not to show her temper in front of the camera, Lyna smiled as much as she was able, pushing away as he went back to his seat.
Her dessert waited as she considered the man leaning back in his chair. The spikes still fell on his forehead. ‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘No, don’t spoil it now. You can’t take back your words.’
‘You are,’ she added disgustedly, ‘And we haven’t known each other for five years. Only three. Five years is the time I’ve been here before you took over and the company became GP.’
‘Whatever.’ He ordered coffee, with the ease of one who knew what she liked. ‘Hazelnut and espresso.’
How could he forget how long he’d known her? But remember what she liked to drink?
‘Now something serious, Lyna.’ His words brought her from her thoughts. ‘You can’t throw your life away on a fool like that crapsack.’
She nearly choked. Hurriedly, she reached out for the glass of water. She should have known!
‘What? You don’t like me to be serious?’ He was solicitous as though born to bother about her.
Recovering, she shot arrows at him through her gaze. ‘Stop it,’ she ordered. ‘You can’t use words like that at lunchtime.’
‘My apologies. Not my fault though. I can’t find an accurate enough description for the old beansack.’
‘You’re only worried because he’s a rival. He’s into cinema while you’re at small screen.’
‘You have a point. Thanks for putting me in the mind of it. To continue, as you have made me realize, what would I do without you, darling?’
‘You’ll find someone even more talented than me,’ she suggested.
He threw back his head and laughed. She was pleased he found her retorts good. She glanced at him in that unwary moment, enjoying the sound of him, rich and deep with an edge of huskiness that made her stomach churn. Resolutely, she presented him with a cool smile.
She was glad of the break as the waiter
brought coffee. ‘Looks like you’re both in a wonderful mood, sir, ma’am. Happy to serve you this afternoon.’ He bowed with warm courtesy.
‘You always say that, but never with so much sincerity,’ Guy told him outrageously.
‘That’s because you never laugh so much, sir,’ he answered just as impudently.
‘See,’ he said to Lyna as the man turned away with a smile on his face. ‘You have a beneficial effect on me. Tell you what, you would do better to have an affair with me than jump into wedlock with the buffoon.’ He jerked a thumb in a vague direction indicating the offices of Talwar Entertainment.
She hiccupped and swallowed, taking another drink of water. ‘Cut the kidding, Guy,’ she said, out of patience now. ‘It’s a step forward for my career. He has promised to make me a forerunner in production. And you know how serious I am about my career.’
‘Marriage for benefits?’ he drawled.
‘Ok, I have no scruples admitting the truth. It’s a leap for me professionally. I don’t pretend.’
‘No, it’s admirable, I should say. Someone with a level head and cool outlook would be just right doing this. Are you sure you want to?’
She glanced at him, wondering if she’d imagined the note of seriousness. ‘Quite sure,’ she said. ‘Most people look for some advantage in marriage,’ she pointed out. ‘Arranged marriages, so often celebrated in our country, are made that way. And the rest, the so-called love marriages, are basically delusions people indulge in, aren’t they?’
‘I’m not judging you,’ he said. He seemed to shake off the somber air as his grin flashed on again. ‘But hey, the time is ripe for an extra engagement affair – you know, better than extra marital and twice as much fun. Something to remember before you tie yourself to dull sexlessness forever. Or are you planning on one of those open, understanding kind of marital liaisons?’
‘You’re irredeemable.’
‘Maybe that means you’re softening up? Two compliments in one day.’
The maître d’ came over to ask them if they’d enjoyed their meal and he settled the bill.
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