She shook her head. “Can’t think of any at the moment.”
“Then we’ll go to my hotel and you can tell me why you’re so upset.” He scowled at her. “Don’t look so petrified. I’m not going to take advantage of you or anything.”
“It’s not that. It’s my car; I can’t leave it here.”
“We’ll come back later and pick it up. The pub’s open late, isn’t it?”
She nodded and he put the SUV in gear and drove them to his hotel. She sat stiffly in her seat, intensely aware of the tension pulsing between them. Not a word was exchanged. He kept his eyes on the road and she let her gaze remain on her clasped hands. Minutes later, at the hotel, she meekly let him escort her across the atrium-style lobby and into the elevator.
In the polished chrome walls of the elevator, she caught her reflection. Her hair had a wild, windblown look and her expression was that of an animal caught in the headlights. No wonder he’d concluded she was too upset to drive on her own. And he was probably right.
When they got off on the fifth floor, she noted it was a nice hotel, with wide, plush-carpeted hallways, potted plants, and tasteful art on the walls. His room turned out to be a suite with a sitting room, office area, and kitchenette separated from the bedroom and bath. It was bigger than the apartment she and Vik used to have in Queens.
He gestured toward the bathroom. “Go ahead. Take your time.” He’d obviously read her mind about needing a few private moments.
Grateful for his perception, Anjali locked herself in the bathroom, splashed some cold water over her face, and dried it. When she felt a little calmer she combed her hair and fixed her makeup. Her eyes still looked a bit dilated. She was still wound tight. She needed to sit down, so she sat on the rim of the bathtub.
Her cell phone began to ring. Pulling it out of her pocketbook, she checked the number flashing on it. Kip! She quickly shut off the power. She never wanted to talk to him again.
What was he going to say to her? Sorry, babe, I was only doing what I’m programmed to do: screw as many women as possible. It hurt to think of it in such crude terms, but it was true. He was doing what came naturally to some men. They were probably wired that way at conception. Besides, Kip had never promised her anything other than a romp in his bed.
Up until that moment of discovery she hadn’t ever kidded herself that she was Kip’s only paramour. On the evenings she wasn’t around, she knew he was providing his brand of therapy to any number of lonely women. Her occasional half hour with him was equivalent to reclining on a psychiatrist’s couch. Just like her, other women used the same couch and went home feeling better. And yet, seeing it with her own eyes had stung like an ornery wasp.
Now that she’d had a few minutes to deliberate over what had just occurred, she was beginning to comprehend why she’d reacted so emotionally to something so predictable. What had sickened her more than anything was the fact that she had become involved with a man like Kip in the first place. She, a mature, levelheaded woman, had thrown common sense and caution to the winds and hooked up with the most unlikely man.
That bothered her more than what she’d discovered earlier. That and the important fact that she’d always gone to him, gone to his bed willingly. He’d never come to her.
Well, there was a positive side to this evening’s episode. It had finally opened her eyes. It was time to sever her ties with Kip completely.
She powered up her cell phone again. Mercifully, Kip hadn’t left a message. She sent a text message to him—polite and to the point—that she wouldn’t be seeing him again. On an impulse she added a line to thank him for his past kindness. No matter what his other faults, he’d always been a good listener and he’d offered her friendship and support when she’d needed it.
Then she shut off her phone a second time and shoved it into her pocketbook. It was the end of a slightly disturbing chapter in her life.
After giving herself another moment to settle, she left the bathroom. When she returned to the sitting room, Rishi motioned to her to sit on the couch and brought her a glass of water. Then he sat next to her. “Want to tell me what happened?”
She sipped the water, the cold liquid slowly trickling down and settling in her stomach. It felt good. She realized her throat was parched. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Most women don’t sprint like mad hatters in the dark if there’s not much happening to them,” he said matter-of-factly. “It has something to do with Rowling, I presume?”
“Since you’re such an Einstein, why don’t you figure it out?”
Instead of taking offense at her sarcasm, he eyed her with enviable calm. “Did you and Rowling have a fight?”
“Hardly.”
“Then what is it? Does he have a new girlfriend?”
She set the empty glass of water on the coffee table. “Hmm.”
“I see. Rowling’s playing the rolling stone.” He gave her another long, speculative look. “Did you find him in bed with someone?”
She chose not to answer. He’d hit the nail on the head within three guesses.
“I get the picture. That’s why you were trying to escape from the scene.” He was silent for a minute, seemingly absorbing the news. “It’s hard to face the truth, isn’t it, Anjali?” he said finally.
“Rub it in some more, why don’t you?”
He touched her face. “I know all about it. I’ve been there.”
“You couldn’t have.”
“Remember I told you about Laura? It hurts like the dickens, doesn’t it?” His hand moved to cup her face.
Maybe it was his soft, sympathetic tone, or the tender way he rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. For some unknown reason her eyes filled with tears. When the first one slid down her cheeks, he shifted closer and placed his arms around her. “The man’s not worth your tears. He’s a playboy. He was toying with you.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not stupid.” She was ruining his nice shirt, but it felt good to be held by a strong man. He smelled of warm summer breezes and that elusive aftershave. And he had a nice, wide chest that felt so comfortable to lean into.
“Are you in love with him?”
“No. Kip’s not exactly a lovable sort.”
“Then what sort is he?”
She had to take a moment to think. “He’s…a ladies’ man. He’s charming and sexy and treats women and sex as competitive sports.”
“I suppose he’s an avid sportsman and competes frequently?”
“You could say that.”
“Then why in heaven’s name are you wasting your tears over him, Anjali?”
“Why?” She pulled away from his arms, but he kept his hands on her shoulders. She blew her nose with the tissue she’d picked up in his bathroom. “Maybe because I went there for some TLC and received shock treatment instead.”
“There, you’ve answered your own question.” He stopped for a beat. “Why were you looking for TLC from Rowling when you have such a kind family to turn to?”
She rolled her eyes inwardly. Was he deliberately acting dense or was he poking fun at her again? Did he really think she meant TLC in the literal sense? Well, maybe he’d had his own brand of TLC with Samantha in London and couldn’t understand other people’s need for it.
“Maybe I can give you the TLC you need,” he said. “I’ve even got some chocolates around here somewhere if you’d like. I’ve been told chocolate has a calming effect on women.”
Realizing that he was indeed clueless, she snickered. “Do you even know the meaning of ‘tender loving care’?”
He raised a single dark eyebrow at her, but there was a hint of humor in his expression. “You don’t think I have warmth and sensitivity?”
She shook her head, thinking once again what a fine man he was. Too bad he wasn’t exactly her type. Although at the moment, with him close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, she was beginning to feel something clearly sexual. Right now he looked good enough to�
��Oh dear! It had been a while since she’d been in Kip’s bed, but this was ridiculous. She was beginning to hallucinate.
Before she could utter another word Rishi’s expression changed. He caught her face between his hands and his mouth descended on hers. It was a gentle brush of lips.
This was unexpected. But it felt nice. Better than nice.
His heartbeat felt a little erratic under her open palm. His lips were soft and warm. So she relaxed, a little reluctantly at first, but he must have sensed her surrender, because he deepened the kiss. In a minute his tongue was diving into her mouth, urging her to respond. And she did. It was sweet and tender and erotic all at the same time.
Warmth and tenderness.
Kip had rarely kissed her in the real sense, because he went straight to the main course without any appetizers. But this was different. Rishi was an expert kisser and he was making her feel like a woman—a desperate, hungry woman who needed compassion as well as male strength. And God knew this guy was giving it to her now. Suspending all other thoughts from her mind, she slipped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses with equal ardor. She hadn’t been kissed like this…since…Vik.
Vik! Oh God! Abruptly she drew back. “I can’t do this.”
Rishi stared at her. “I’m sorry.”
She extricated herself from his arms. “No. I’m the one that’s sorry. I was asking for it. Shameless, that’s what I am.” She used her balled-up tissue to wipe away the moisture from her lips.
“You’re not shameless.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
He shook his head. “You’re a passionate woman and you’ve been a widow far too long. Every woman needs love in her life. You’re doing what comes instinctively to every woman.”
“Is that what it is, instinct? Then what was your reason for kissing me? Instinctively missing Samantha?”
He got to his feet, went to the refrigerator, and got a couple of cans of soda for the two of them. “Samantha and I are no longer together.”
She frowned at him. “Not long ago you told me you two were a couple. When did this occur?”
“During this trip. I think it was inevitable. It was going to happen sooner or later, and my visit to London proved to be the ideal time to put an end to it.”
“What exactly happened?” She wasn’t sure if he was going to answer that.
But he did. “I wasn’t happy with our living arrangement any longer and told her so. Then she accused me of trying to stay away from her deliberately. And she may be right.”
“Oh?” She couldn’t wait to hear why.
“When I left London more than two months ago I had told her she could join me here, and that maybe we could take a nice holiday somewhere.”
Pulling the tab on her soda can, she took a long swallow. “So why didn’t you invite her?”
“I didn’t feel like it. I told her that, too.”
“She didn’t take it well?”
“Not at first, but in the end I think she understood why I had to do what I did. Samantha is a practical and smart woman.”
“Precisely why did you do it, Rishi?” Anjali asked, curious to know everything about it.
He turned that laser look on her, suddenly making her feel like her bones were about to disintegrate. “The truth? Because I didn’t want to encourage her anymore since I saw no future for us. Because I had no deep feelings for her. Because I met someone more interesting in the U.S. And because I’m hoping that lady will return my sentiments.”
She turned suspicious eyes on him. “Sejal? Eww! She’s almost young enough to be your daughter.”
“I know that.” For the first time since she’d met him, Rishi actually rolled his eyes. “Are you that blind and naïve? Or has Rowling’s tomfoolery made you suspect all men? The lady I spoke of is you, you daft woman.”
“Me?” She sat up straight. “But you hardly know me.”
“I’ve known about you. Jeevan-kaka’s been telling me about his talented American niece for years.”
“My uncle says nice things about all his family. He’s a bit prejudiced when it comes to the Kapadias.”
“That’s what I’d thought all this time. I hadn’t paid much attention. But after I met you I realized he was right.”
She twirled her soda can between her fingers. “What exactly did he tell you about me?”
“In his own words, ‘I am telling you, beta, our Anju is bahu soondar, bahu saras.’” Very pretty, very good.
Anjali melted into amused laughter at Rishi’s Indo-Brit imitation of Jeevan-kaka. “Where did you learn to do that hilarious imitation of my uncle?”
Rishi started chuckling. “I’ve known him long enough for his accent to rub off on me.”
“Exactly how long have you known Jeevan-kaka?”
“Curious about my relationship to your uncle, are you?”
She angled a narrow-eyed look at him. “You’re not by any chance his…um…love child or anything, are you?”
It was his turn to explode into laughter. “Do I look like I’m even remotely related to Jeevan-kaka? Besides, he’s very faithful to his wife, so illegitimate children are highly unlikely. And why would I call him Jeevan-kaka if he’s my father?”
“Precisely what is he to you, then?”
His response was total silence.
Chapter 17
Anjali could see Rishi wasn’t about to reveal anything regarding her uncle and himself—at least not right away. He had an entirely different agenda and she was waiting for it to unfold.
Instead of discussing Jeevan-kaka, he said, “I want you to tell me something first.” He reached out and took her hand. “Did you feel anything at all when I kissed you?”
He was a clever one—trying to steer her attention away from what she was dying to know. But she humored him anyway. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“Yes, I could. You gave back as enthusiastically as I took. Am I right?”
“Um…I guess. So…what are you saying?”
“That we’re both free individuals. I’m no longer with Samantha and you’re no longer with Rowling, so I’d like to kiss you again. I want to see if there’s any chance this could go further.”
She shook her head. “I have no desire to take this further. Just because I’m still reeling from discovering my boyfriend with some woman, I’m not going to hop into another man’s bed on the rebound. I’m not that kind of person.” She rubbed her forehead for a moment. “I don’t even know why I was having an affair with Kip. It just sort of…happened.”
“You were lonely, Anjali,” he murmured, stroking her wrist with his thumb. “There’s nothing wrong in being human. Don’t punish yourself like this. Vikram died, what…ten years ago?”
“But he was my husband. I loved him.” Loved him so much that the ache in her chest was almost physical at times.
“And I’m sure you miss him, but getting involved with another man is not betraying him or his memory in any way. Wouldn’t he have wanted you to find happiness again?”
“Having sex is not finding happiness. Each time I fulfill my need for sex I feel awful. I go home feeling like—like a whore.”
“I’m not asking you to go to bed with me. I respect you too much for that. You’re a lady and I’m asking if you’d allow me to see you socially.”
“Even when you know I’ve been sleeping with another man?”
“I was sleeping with another woman until recently myself. In our own way we were both fulfilling our basic needs and nothing more.” He quirked a brow at her. “Do you think we stand a chance?”
She sighed. “We have nothing in common, Rishi. You’re a jetsetter with businesses scattered around the globe. Women seem to find you wildly attractive. I’m just a middle-class widow with a struggling store that you and my uncle are trying to save. My life’s here in Jersey. I can’t give it up just to sleep with a guy like you every now and then, whenever you’re in town.”
“Bloody hel
l!” He startled her. Sparks were flying out of those awesome eyes. She’d seen them cold, hard, angry, but not livid. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me every now and then.”
“Then what are you asking of me?”
“I’m asking you to open your mind a little…accept me as a man with possibilities. If nothing else, we could be friends. Maybe we could give this a chance. Jeevan-kaka’s been hinting for years that we’d be perfect for each other.”
“Jeevan-kaka’s a conservative old man who thinks in terms of marriage and family, not in terms of sleeping with each other to scratch an occasional itch.”
“Will you just listen? After meeting you, I’ve been thinking about Jeevan-kaka’s hints—more and more in the past few weeks, especially since you and I had that little talk about your life with Vikram Gandhi.”
“So you’re propositioning me?” She was angry now. How dare he pretend to comfort her at first and then solicit her? Just because he’d guessed she was having an affair with Kip and she was upset over his infidelity, this guy could just assume she’d be available…as a convenient call girl of sorts?
He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Good God, Anjali, didn’t I just say I respect you too much to proposition you?” He shut his eyes for a moment before turning to her. “Tell me, how did you and Vikram meet?” His voice had softened. The annoyance had clearly subsided.
“We were introduced by mutual friends.”
“Then what happened?”
“He asked me out.”
“Did you go out with him the first time he asked?”
“Yes,” she said warily.
“How long were you seeing each other before you fell in love?”
“About four months. What is this, an inquisition?”
He ignored her question and continued. “Then he proposed to you?”
“Yes.” She sent him a piqued look. “Where exactly is all this leading?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. When did you get married?”
“About six months after the engagement.”
“So, approximately four months after you started dating you fell in love, and six months after that you married the man.”
The Sari Shop Widow Page 16
