His smile was faint. “I’ve made a bed or two.”
Oh gosh, why did the word bed sound so sexy? She took a giant step away from the sofa. “Thought I’d help you out.”
“I appreciate it.” He walked closer. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You seem nervous.”
“Me? Thhppt.” She fiddled with the cord of her sweatshirt. She had so many cute pj’s at home. Even her unicorn onesie was better than this.
“I wanted to thank you for how good-natured you’ve been about this. I feel bad about getting us stranded here.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Um, I’m the reason we got into this mess, ’cause I wanted to take some silly pictures.”
“Silly pictures? They were for your work.”
Gratitude rose up in her throat. So few understood that there was a serious, disciplined side to what she did. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For, like, taking me seriously. Taking photos of me without getting impatient or thinking I’m vain. I don’t know. Stuff like that.” She was so used to having to prove herself. She hadn’t had to do anything to earn this man’s respect. He freely gave it to her. How weird.
“Do people not do that?”
“Some people don’t, no.”
“Well, perhaps it’s because they haven’t tried to do what you do. I couldn’t do it. Anyway, I enjoy taking photos of you. It’s fun. You make most things fun.”
“You do, too,” she breathed. “Even getting trapped in a ghost town.”
He took another step closer, and she mirrored it. They were so close she could look up and count each individual eyelash of his. Jia licked her lower lip, and Dev’s gaze dipped over it. What could she say? That she was growing more into him with every second, despite the short period of time they’d spent together? That she’d forgotten everything that had come before the second she’d walked up to him at a party dressed in gold? That she wanted him for more than playing her suitor with her family, that she wanted to pursue something real with him?
He released his breath in a big sigh, finishing with her name. “Jia.”
That was it, only her name, said in that way that made the syllables go up and down, along with the butterflies in her stomach. She dared to edge a little bit closer. Only a breath separated them, and she inhaled it. He still smelled woodsy and dark, and she wanted nothing more than to bury her face in his neck. Jia drew in a deep breath and held it, going light-headed.
His hand came to hover over her arm, and it was like an electric shock ran through her, from innocent elbow to other not-so-innocent parts of her. They were in one room with each other, wearing their night clothes. There was a bed not so far away. The only bed in the whole place.
It had been easier to decide to wait for sex when she wasn’t faced with a tall drink of water walking around with just the right amount of scruff on his face. One who let her beat him at Scrabble and then refused his rightful winnings. One who took her and her ambitions seriously.
Yes, men in the abstract were much easier to resist than this specific Man. His thumb gently brushed her elbow and she shivered. Would a kiss be the worst thing?
A tiny, disapproving Noor popped onto one shoulder. Yes, it would. Go to bed. You’re not dating this man, you’re not engaged to him. Did our parents raise some girl who goes around kissing strange boys?
Sadia popped up on her other shoulder, casually cradling her big belly. Counterpoint: you honor yourself and your desires, honey. If that means kissing him, kiss him.
Damn it. That was a strong counterpoint, one which justified her kissing him. If she rose up on her tiptoes . . .
He took a giant step back. “Good night, Jia.” His words were rusty, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
She licked her lips. Okay, no shoulder gallery needed, he’d made the decision for them. Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. “Good night,” she whispered. She scurried away into the bedroom and shut the door. She pressed herself back against it and touched her lips. They tasted like herself and no one else.
Oh, for crying out loud. If she’d been on the fence before, it was no longer in doubt. She’d gone and fallen hard for her fake boyfriend. The guy who let her win at Scrabble and apparently faced no epic internal struggle about kissing her. What a mess.
Chapter Sixteen
“YOU AND your friend sleep well?”
The question from behind him almost had Dev dropping the carafe of black coffee he’d picked up. “Uh.” Your friend.
He hated that word in connection with Jia and wanted to slap it out of his own ears, but that was his problem, not Jenny’s. “Very well, thank you.”
Jenny walked behind the bar. “Can I get you any breakfast?”
“No, I’m good.” He carefully poured a cup of coffee and placed the carafe back.
“Kim called. Your car should be delivered soon.”
“Excellent.” Then they could head back home. That should make him happy, but he wasn’t.
You just want to go back upstairs and almost kiss her again.
Well, obviously. And that could happen, but they needed to work some stuff out first. Big-time.
“You look so familiar.”
Dev glanced at Jenny warily. “Do I?”
“I actually went online last night, because I thought, gosh. That face. But I couldn’t find anything. And then my friend mentioned he saw you after you got stuck and that you looked like this actor who was going to be in a new show with Hudson Rivers and Richard Reese, and that was when the lightbulb went off.”
He took a sip of his coffee. She looked too certain and self-satisfied for him to feign confusion, sadly. He thought about how much cash was left in his wallet. “You got me. I’d rather people not know I was here. You understand.” Especially that he’d spent the night in one suite with this particular woman.
Call him old-fashioned, but he knew how things worked. They could ride the line of titillation, but they couldn’t flat out metaphorically French kiss in front of cameras. Getting caught seemingly sleeping together was a step too far.
“I’d rather they did!” Jenny pointed at her wall. “If you could take a photo for our wall of celebrities, that would be fantastic. Is your friend famous, too? ’Cause I have space . . .”
Dev peered at the wall in the dusky light. Sure enough, there were more than a couple of celebrities up there, though the majority appeared to be artists. If he agreed, perhaps Jenny would be satisfied. “Very well. But no, she’s not.”
Jenny raised her hands. “Got it.”
And that was how Devanand Dixit, eldest grandson of Shweta and Vivek Dixit, left a Polaroid photo of his face on the wall of a tired hotel in the middle of the desert.
His life sure had gotten turned upside down since he’d met Jia.
Dev ventured out the front door of the inn, holding the paper cup of now lukewarm coffee. The sun kissed the horizon, sending fingers of light over the almost silent town. The temperature hadn’t quite warmed up yet for the day. He’d barely slept the night before and had almost fallen out of bed when Jia’s alarm had gone off for morning prayer, piercing through the thin walls of the suite.