“So, he understands you.”
“I don’t even understand me,” she said dryly. “I can’t imagine the guy I was trying to prime for Parvati would have better insight.”
“Parvati wants him?”
“She’s hot for him, but because she had to sit with the bridal party, she asked me to be her wingwoman. I was supposed to talk her up and keep all the competition away. Honestly, between helping out Parvati, keeping the hirsute pole dancer away, checking in on you and Binita, and trying to get people talking, the evening has been utterly exhausting.”
His lips twitched, but his voice was even. “Why would you be checking in on me and Binita?”
“In case she was the one, and I could add a match to my season scorecard.” She tossed her hair, trying to show him it didn’t matter that he’d been all careless whispers and touchy palms with a stranger he barely knew. “Or . . . is it Indra? I heard you two got together.”
Part of her hoped he would say yes. They’d had their kiss and it was great, but he’d found someone else. But another part, the deep secret part of her that felt so calm and safe when he was near, hoped for a different answer, even though it scared her.
“I’m not interested in either one of them.”
Her heart skipped a beat then pounded in her chest. “Why? What’s wrong with them?”
“Not my type.”
“I thought you and Indra had dinner and talked long into the night.” She shivered from the intensity of his stare.
“I wanted to buy some artwork. Indra ordered dinner so I could take my time looking through the portfolio.”
“Oh.” Her breath left her in a rush. “Of course you did. That’s what I thought. You’re not really the type who would be into selfie-takers with palm fetishes or gallery owners who show suggestive fruits.”
“You were jealous.” Lips quivering in a smug smile, he closed the distance between them, backing her up against the brick wall.
“Don’t be silly. I just wanted to get my facts straight so I would know when to add your match to my wedding season scorecard. When I heard about your visit . . .”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How did you hear about it?”
“There are no secrets in the Patel family. Everybody knows everything. Gossip is an Olympic sport. It’s only surprising that it took two days instead of two minutes.”
“I have a secret nobody knows.” He braced one arm on the wall beside her head and she mentally engaged in unhealthy booze-fueled speculation.
They’d agreed on one kiss. What if he wanted more?
• 16 •
Zara wasn’t listening.
Jay knew it for a fact because her eyes were slightly glazed. When she was listening, or talking, Zara stared directly at him, giving him all her focus and attention. The only time she hadn’t focused was when he’d kissed her, and since it was all he’d been thinking about since the last time he saw her, he was pretty sure she was thinking about it, too.
“What secret?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and damned if he couldn’t take his eyes away.
“I’m good at hugs.” He traced the thin strap of her choli with his finger, and she drew in a sharp breath.
“I know.”
“I’m also good at kisses.” He followed the embroidery, his finger skimming over the crescent of her breast. It was her passion that drew him, he decided, that and her ability to make the best of every situation even if it meant putting herself out there and suffering as a result.
Constrained by a fierce desire to succeed, to prove himself to a father who didn’t want him, he had sought that same freedom in the air force, where he could lose himself to the adrenaline rush and the endless blue sky.
“Is your secret a supreme self-confidence and an ego so big I have to step around it?” She put one hand on his chest. For a moment he thought she’d push him away but when she didn’t move, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He’d wondered all week if he’d scared her away with that kiss. It had been hell giving her space, but he couldn’t take any chances. Slowly but surely Zara was working her way under his skin.
“I don’t give my secrets away for free.” He slid one hand around her waist, pulling her close.
Zara melted against him, hands sliding up and over his shoulders. “Will you tell me for a kiss?”
“Possibly.” He drew his finger down, following the edge of her top where it dipped low between her breasts. Her skin was soft, her perfume so lush and sensual it clouded his senses.
She leaned up, feathered kisses along his jaw. “Can it be now?”
He meant to give her a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, testing the waters to see if she truly wanted to come on this ride with him. But the moment their lips met, something snapped inside him. Four days of longing and fantasies. A lifetime of loneliness. A need so fierce, he twisted his hand in her hair and claimed her mouth in a fury of passion and desire.
Zara groaned and melted against him. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart, taste the sweetness of chocolate in her mouth. Never comfortable with public displays of affection, he didn’t care if the entire world saw them so long as she kept kissing him and never stopped.
“Jay.” She drew back, breaking the spell. “What’s the secret? Tell me or I won’t kiss you like that again.”
Laughter warmed him. “The secret is . . .” That he wanted her. Needed her. Was willing to do whatever it took to convince her that he was nothing like the lovers who had hurt her in the past. But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not if he wanted to keep her in his life. “I want to put a pause on our deal.”
“What does that mean? You don’t want me to find you a match?”
“I think you need to get to know me better,” he said, nuzzling the slim column of her throat. “Then you’ll know my perfect match when you see her.”
“Mmmm.” She tipped her head to the side, giving him better access. “Good idea. I really shouldn’t have jumped into this without doing the proper research. Usually I know the people I’m matching, but you are still a bit of a mystery.”
A smile spread across his face. “I am open to being unraveled.”
* * *
• • •
He was only vaguely aware of their trip to her house. There was a company limo—he didn’t know who ordered it, maybe him?—and Zara straddling his lap, grinding against him until he was so hard he could barely see. Eyes watching in the rearview mirror. Someone—the driver?—mentioned something about a privacy screen. And then they were alone behind a smoky glass shield, and his fingers were buried in the softness of her hair, and he was devouring her mouth like he hadn’t kissed a woman in years.