The Reluctant Matchmaker

by Shobhan Bantwal

  Even our waitress was a petite and charming girl who spoke stilted English but made up for it with her disarming smile and gracious manner.

  Despite my feeling a bit more relaxed, Prajay did most of the talking. He told me about his emergency—something caused by a power surge that his troubleshooter was working on at the moment.

  His cell phone rang once, and he stepped outside to take the call. It was the polite thing to do, but it left me sitting alone, looking and feeling like the abandoned date.

  He returned several minutes later with a relieved smile and another apology. “Sorry about that, but the problem was solved. My crew’s good, or I wouldn’t have been able to make it tonight.”

  He picked up his fork and continued to eat his now cold dinner. He talked a little more, then stopped to peer at me. “Are you feeling all right? You’ve been very quiet.”

  Took him long enough to notice, or perhaps now that his emergency situation had been successfully dealt with, he realized I’d done very little talking. When I nodded, he frowned a little. “Are you sure? You look tired, and I’m wondering if Great Adventure was a bit too much for you so soon after your injury.”

  “I’m fine.” I changed the subject. “Did you have a chance to contact any of those women on the list I made for you?” Why was I doing this, torturing myself? But I had to know—had to understand if I stood any chance with him at all.

  “No, I haven’t had a single minute to even look at the list you so diligently put together.”

  Hopefully he’d never have a minute to see it. Ever. “I guess you’ll get to it one of these days.” I reluctantly pulled out the updated spreadsheet from my purse and handed it to him. “Here, one more beanpole for your perusal.”

  He thrust the sheet in his jacket pocket and chuckled. “I guess some of them do qualify as beanpoles.”

  “That’s what you’re after, aren’t you, a supremely tall woman?”

  The waitress interrupted us to ask if we had enjoyed our meal, making it impossible for me to get Prajay’s response. When we told her the meal was superb, she started to clear the table. “Dessert, tea?” she inquired with a brilliant smile.

  I said no to both. Prajay didn’t want anything either, so he merely requested the check.

  On the way back to his house he stumped me when he asked if I could go over his list with him, help him analyze it. “If I don’t get to it soon, I’m afraid I never will.”

  “Finding the right woman for yourself is your job, Prajay, not mine. It’s a very personal thing.”

  “I need a woman’s point of view.”

  Sure, I silently fumed, you need someone like a sister to guide you in the right direction. But sisterly affection was far from what I felt for him.

  “Maybe you can tell me what women like, how best to approach them, etcetera,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of his complex.

  This was getting more bizarre by the second. Now he wanted me to be his Love Guru and show him how to go about courting a woman. Lord help me.

  Turning off the ignition, he gave me that helpless male look. “I really could use your guidance, you know.” When I hesitated he added, “I have your check upstairs for you.”

  Here we go again, I thought, my temper rising once more. He’d assumed I was doing all this strictly for the money. Well, I’d let the jerk think whatever he wanted. “Fine, I’ll help you.”

  As soon as he ushered me into his living room and switched on the lights, I turned to him. “Tell me something, Prajay. Didn’t you say you’ve dated a fair number of women in the past? How did you deal with them? From your attitude now one would think you’re a novice at this.”

  “I never had to ask out a single one of them—each was either someone I met through my family or someone I met through well-meaning friends. Somebody always arranged for us to meet somewhere, and the lady in question would show up. I even managed multiple dates with a couple of them without actually asking.”

  “You mean they were bold enough to ask you?”

  “Yes. Women seem to be much more forward than I’d expected,” he said with a puzzled frown, as if trying to figure that out for the first time.

  “The right word is confident, not forward. So, once you met them for the second or third time ... did you at least hold hands ... and ...” Once again, I was setting myself up for major grief.

  He smiled. “I managed to go a lot further than handholding with a couple of them when I was a senior in college. Well ... one of them.”

  If I wasn’t mistaken, Prajay was blushing. So he’d slept with one of those beanpoles, had he? The sharp stab of jealousy nearly made me wince.

  What was the matter with me? I hadn’t even known this man when he was in college. In fact I had probably been a freshman in high school when he was sleeping with some floozy. And yet it felt like a hot poker had been thrust into my abdomen.

  This was insanity—jealousy over some woman I’d never seen, never heard of until a second ago. Served me right for probing.

  I went to the couch and sat down, before my legs had a chance to give way and I made a complete fool of myself. Prajay took off his jacket and tossed it on the back of a chair, then asked if I wanted anything to drink. When I shook my head, he said, “I have some excellent coffee-flavored ice cream that my sister-in-law brought from a New York dairy. Want to try some?”

  “Okay, just a little bit. I’m already stuffed.” I should’ve said no. Instead I watched him stride toward the kitchen.

  A few minutes later he returned, bearing a tray with two bowls of ice cream and glasses of cold water. I took one lick of the spoon, closed my eyes, and purred. “This is fabulous.”

  “It’s their best-selling flavor.” He picked up an envelope off the coffee table and handed it to me. “Your check.”

  My hand shook when I accepted it. “You didn’t have to, but ... thanks anyway.”

  “Aren’t you going to open it? Make sure I’ve compensated you adequately?”

  “Since I wasn’t looking to be compensated in the first place, I’m sure whatever is in there is more than adequate.”

  “Suit yourself.” He took a big mouthful of ice cream. When we’d put our empty bowls back on the tray, he went to his jacket and fished out the spreadsheet from the pocket. “Let’s get down to the list, shall we?”

  When he returned to sit beside me, he sat much closer. Although I tried to keep my mind on the sheet of paper, my objectivity was nowhere to be found. His nearness, the warmth radiating from him, and the scent of him were driving me nuts. “What exactly do you want me to do with this, Prajay?”

  “In your opinion, who would best suit my personality? Remember I told you appearance is not the most important thing to me? Hobbies, occupation, family, sense of humor, all those things carry much more weight than looks. There’s a lot more to a relationship than good looks.”

  “I agree.” God, how I agreed. Looks were the last thing anyone should consider. I’d realized that very recently. At first sight I’d thought he reminded me of a big, graceless giant. And here I was, in love with him—a mere four weeks after meeting him.

  An hour after I’d laid eyes on him, I’d looked past the face, the large nose, and the eyebrows that could scare the spots off a cheetah. Now he looked wonderful to me. Right this moment, he was so close that I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and beg him to consider me as the top lady on his idiotic list.

  “Excellent! So taking all that into consideration, who do you think I should contact first, lady number one or number two?” He frowned at the paper. “They’re almost tied for first place.”

  “I put together an entire database to sort the various pros and cons. That’s how I rated them, and so lady number one is still number one. From what I can see, she’d be ... perfect for you.” My voice was turning into a tormented whisper. Why couldn’t I have some control over something as simple as my voice? Good thing I hadn’t gone into acting. I’d make a lousy actress.

&n
bsp; Prajay offered me a glass of water. “Here, you sound like your throat is dry.”

  I took a grateful sip. “I think I should leave now.” I made a big deal about looking at my wristwatch. “It’s late.”

  He took the glass from my hand, and our fingers touched. I shook at the surge of power that shot up my arm. Warm blood rushed to my neck and cheeks. Oh no, my face was probably an open book—a woman completely smitten.

  He must have felt something, too, because his hand looked a little unsteady as he put the half-finished glass back on the tray. He turned to me, a look of startled discovery replacing the casual one that had been there a moment ago.

  He lifted a hand to touch the side of my face. “You ... are ... beautiful, Meena Shenoy.”

  I was trembling so much, I couldn’t think straight. “I ... uh ... thank you.” Why couldn’t I come up with something intelligent and cool to say? I was sitting there like a bumbling moron when I was getting exactly what I wanted—his undivided attention.

  “Beautiful, smart, caring. You’re a very special young lady.” His thumb caressed my cheekbone as he studied my eyes, as if searching for something.

  Still tongue-tied, I let my eyelids fall. It was hard to hold his gaze and not throw myself at him. No matter what, I still had to hold on to my dignity. And thrusting myself on him was likely to make him recoil. His other hand slowly came up, and he cupped my face with both hands. His palms felt strong and hard yet tender.

  I didn’t know exactly what happened or how—who leaned forward first, but suddenly his lips were on mine, warm, soft, gentle for a big man. Instinctively my mouth opened for his kiss. This was what I’d wanted for the last couple of weeks. I had dressed in one of my most seductive outfits just so I could have this. And yet, I hesitated to touch him. Oh, I wanted to very much, but one wrong move could ruin the fragile moment.

  Most Indian men didn’t like aggressive women. So I kept my hands tightly clasped in my lap while his full mouth glided over mine, his teeth nipped at my lower lip, and his tongue played with mine.

  A yearning sigh escaped from my mouth. He must have heard it, too, because his hands left my face and his arms locked around me. I was hauled against him in one quick move, taking the breath right out of my lungs.

  God, this was good—better than anything I’d ever felt in my whole life.

  Although his hold on me felt like a vice grip, I liked it, basked in it. His next kiss was harder, more demanding, that of a hungry male rather than a tender admirer. And all the while my mind sang: He wants me. He wants me.

  I couldn’t hold back any longer. My hands rested on his shoulders, savoring the tautness of the muscle and the soft feel of his shirt for a moment, and then my arms slid around his neck, clamping his mouth to mine. I never wanted to let go. This was a minor miracle. I’d come here to help him locate a woman who’d make him a suitable wife, and instead I was clasped in his arms, his mouth making scalding, passionate love to mine.

  Even in my wildest dreams I hadn’t thought it would be this wonderful. His cologne was rousing, his hair ticklish on my fingers, and his chest was hard as a rock against my pliant breasts. This felt so damn right.

  Just when I thought this was heaven on earth, he abruptly loosened his hold on me, a puzzled look coming over his face once more. But this time the bafflement was not mixed with wonder and awe. It was more like an unpleasant shock.

  I had done it—exactly what I didn’t want to do—I’d repulsed him. Why the heck hadn’t I behaved like a nice Hindu girl and held myself in check?

  He took me by the shoulders and set me away from him. “I’m so sorry. I—I don’t know what came over me.”

  All I could do was stare at him. What was he talking about? “What do you mean?” I managed to ask.

  “I’m sorry for taking advantage of you. I should be shot in the head for what I just did to a sweet, innocent young lady.”

  So that’s what this was all about. “But I’m not innocent. And I’m not all that ... young,” I protested. My voice was back to its normal pitch. Most women my age would have loved to be called sweet and innocent and young. But at the moment I hated it.

  He gave a wry laugh. “Of course you are. You’re young and bright and you have a big heart. When I asked for your help, you gave it to me wholeheartedly. When most people would have brought a lawsuit against me for the stupid way I knocked you to the floor a month ago, you forgave me.”

  “It was an accident, Prajay.”

  “Then right after that you plunged into the project I gave you—finding me the right bride.”

  “But I only did—”

  “And here I am,” he cut in, “taking advantage of you when I should be treating you like a lady. Like a sister.”

  “Sister?” I made a disgusted face. “When we were kissing a moment ago I hardly thought of you as my brother.”

  “Well ... maybe not,” he allowed.

  “I couldn’t imagine my brother kissing me like that!”

  Prajay lifted his glass from the tray and took a sip. “Meena, I think that wine you had earlier is affecting your thinking. Just look at me, and then look at yourself. I’m easily three times your size. I’m a huge, ungainly giant, whereas you’re dainty and delicate as a doll. Another minute of that kind of rough handling and I’d have broken your ribs.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have,” I argued. “I liked it. I felt a bond between us when we kissed. I know you liked it, too. I could feel the passion in you when you held me.”

  “So I’m a normal man with all my instincts and hormones intact.” He shut his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, chastising himself. “In a crazy moment of passion I grabbed the first female I’d been physically close to in almost a year. Combine that with a glass of strong Thai beer, and I lost control. It was ... lust, that’s all.”

  My shoulders slumped. Was that all it was to him? A moment of craziness brought on by a bottle of beer? While I was baring my soul to him, he was reducing our kiss to a momentary lapse in judgment. “Is that all you think it is?” I tried to keep my voice even, but it seemed like it was going to crack at any moment. The tears were very close to crashing through the flimsy walls I was trying to hold on to.

  “It has to be.” He took another sip of water and rose from the couch. “What else could there be between us? I’m so much older and a lot more mature than you. I’m the boss who made a move on his pretty, young employee, and what choice did she have but to put up with the indignity?”

  He began to pace the length of the room, glass still in hand. “In power, physical strength, maturity, you’re no match for me.” He stopped pacing for a moment. “It was wrong of me to force myself on you. My sincere apologies. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “But you don’t understand, Prajay. You didn’t take advantage of me. I was a willing participant. I wanted it as much as you did. Can’t you understand that?”

  He shook his head. “You’re too young and inexperienced to know what you want, Meena. As the only girl between two brothers in a Konkani family, I’m sure you lead a sheltered life. You’re misinterpreting this for something deep and ... romantic.”

  “That’s not true.” It had been a huge mistake telling him that I had two brothers and old-fashioned parents. Me and my big mouth. Now all that talking had come back to bite me.

  He tossed me an indulgent, paternal sort of smile. “If you’re like my female cousins, you probably read those romance books. That’s not real life. Believe me, I’m not the hero type. I’m a big, rough man with a cutthroat business to run. I need a big, practical woman who’ll understand my ways and accept me for what I am.”

  It was a losing battle, I realized with a sinking heart. He had such ridiculously exaggerated notions about my supposed innocence and cloistered lifestyle on the one hand, and his own bigness and clumsiness on the other.

  Nonetheless I tried to set him straight. “You’re wrong, Prajay. I’ve dated before. I’m more experienced than
you think. And I like your large, manly looks.”

  “Really?” He looked more mystified than ever.

  “I like your gruffness. I appreciate the fact that you’re a busy man with a challenging business to run. I happen to like who you are.”

  He set the glass down and approached me. For a moment my heart somersaulted with anticipation. Maybe I’d convinced him with my argument. He was coming back to me, to hold and kiss me again.

  I was dead wrong. He ran a fatherly hand over my head. “You’re sweet. You’ll make some lucky man a wonderful wife. You’ll make a great mom, too. You were fantastic with Rahul and Riya yesterday—so patient, so much fun. They kept talking about you this morning, especially Riya. She loved you.”

  “But ... Prajay—”

  “Go home, Meena—go home before you tempt me some more.” His eyes were clouded with regret. “After you’ve had a chance to sleep on it, you’ll realize the foolishness of it all.”

  This time the tears gathered in my eyes. “I guess I won’t have a job in your company anymore?”

  His response was a shaky chuckle. “Don’t be silly. You’re a great PR manager, and I’m sure you’ll continue to do a good job for us. I consider you not just an employee, but a friend.”

  My response was a muffled sniffle. I couldn’t talk.

  “Now go home, sweetheart. It’s getting late; it’s not safe for you to drive home late at night.” He looked at his watch. “Besides, we both have to work tomorrow.”

  I grabbed my purse and walked out of his house in a daze, stumbling toward the elevator, nearly blinded by my tears. Fortunately, there was no one else inside the elevator, so I could indulge in a crying fit. Outside, on the walkway leading to the parking lot, a young couple strolling toward the building gave me an odd look when I rushed past them.

  In my car, I sat for several minutes, bawling like a baby. He’d even called me sweetheart and then tossed me out of his house. I wanted to die. I was in love with him. Crazy in love. It had crept up on me insidiously, little by little, but now it was as clear as the fat iron lamppost sitting ten feet away from my car.