Not unless talking spreadsheets and financial forecasts was sexy.
So she, a woman addicted to historical romance novels, had convinced herself she’d be okay with a “suitable” match. Sometimes she was an idiot. But she’d made a promise and she’d keep it. Her family needed her to keep it. They were still so fragile, the hurts and the anger of the past a lingering cloud that had never quite dissipated.
“But,” she said to her grandmother, “I think I should have some secrets to take into a marriage, don’t you?”
Her grandmother’s laugh was a big, warm thing. “Yes, I think so.” She lifted a finger to her lips. “But go now. Don’t let your parents find out. I love my son, but he was born a fifty-year-old curmudgeon.”
In full agreement, Nayna snuck out. Once in her car, she drove down the block, then ditched her coat and the sensible shoes. The heels she slid on were considerably skinnier and sexier, and as for the coat, that was going to stay in the car.
She blew out a breath and put her hands on the steering wheel. “This is it, Nayna. Tonight, you be bad if it kills you.” Being a virgin at twenty-eight was one thing—yes, it was unusual, but contrary to what the media might have people believe, she wasn’t a unicorn. She knew that because she’d googled it in a fit of midnight desperation.
One study had shown that one in eight of her generation stayed virgins till at least twenty-six. Religion and culture were two reasons why, but shyness played a role for many. It did for Nayna. And like her anonymous brethren worldwide, she kept her mouth shut when others exclaimed over the improbability of a late-twenties virgin. As a result, the vast majority of the populace didn’t believe her kind existed.
So yes, she could deal with not having lost her virginity yet.
But being a virgin who hadn’t really done anything, that sucked.
She’d been such a nerd at school and university that boys hadn’t seen her as anything but a source of study notes. With graduation had come professional confidence. She was fine with male clients—but that confidence didn’t translate to dealing with men on a male-female level.
“Tonight it does.” She squeezed the steering wheel. “Tonight you’re a fearless femme fatale with no panties and a plan to be bad.”
3
Warning: Collision Imminent
Raj walked into the party with his friend Sailor by his side. “Thanks again for the company, Sail.” He liked the couple giving the party and had wanted to show up for at least a short while but had a feeling the crowd wasn’t going to be his usual, so he’d asked Sailor along.
“No problem.” Sailor scowled. “It’s not like I had anything better to do.”
“Still moping about the girl who kissed and ran?” Intriguingly, that was all Sailor had said about the woman responsible for his current mood, but she must’ve been something special. Because while Sailor was four years younger than Raj, the two of them having met through a social rugby team, the other man was as focused on his business as Raj was on his work.
Those rugby games and family events were about the only times the two of them took off.
“Raj!” His hosts came over.
“Tara, Geoff.” He shook Geoff’s hand, got a kiss on the cheek from the statuesque brunette who was Geoff’s wife. “How’s the house holding up?” He’d worked on this project three years earlier.
“Brilliant! We adore it!” Tara waved her arms open wide. “You and your crew do stellar work. I’ve just recommended you to two friends of ours, so look out for a call from the Fabers.”
Raj allowed himself a quiet smile; it was good to hear the praise after a day spent dealing with a dickhead who wanted Raj’s people to do double the work on half the budget. Raj had shut that down hard, but making the dickhead see the light of day had screwed with his entire schedule. All he wanted was a beer and the TV, but he couldn’t stand up Tara and Geoff.
“This is Sailor,” he said. “He actually did a little work on your grounds while he was apprenticing.” Raj’s friend was naturally skilled with plants, but he’d needed more experience on his CV before he could pitch himself to clients. “He’s got his own company now and does great landscaping if you decide you need a change outside. He’s done several homes for us.”
“Oh, wonderful. We’ve been thinking about maybe jazzing things up for next summer.” Geoff shook Sailor’s hand. “But no work tonight. It’s a party!”
“Wait, before you go.” Raj showed them an image on his phone. “I built you a replica of that small side table you wanted. I’ll drop it off tomorrow.” A gift had seemed appropriate since this party was both a pre-Christmas bash and an anniversary celebration.
Tara screamed. “Oh my God! It’s perfect!” Another kiss on the cheek on a wave of opulent perfume before the couple dragged him and Sailor off to introduce them around.
As Raj had expected, the crowd was composed of rich people with white-collar jobs; he and Sailor stuck out like toughened steel at a platinum shindig, but they both ended up making a number of good business contacts. Unfortunately, they also attracted women who wanted “a bit of rough” for the night.
Raj had to fight to stay polite while they looked him up and down like a side of meat.
“An hour,” he muttered to Sailor after they’d both grabbed a beer.
His friend tapped his bottle to Raj’s, his blue eyes piercing. “Lot of women here who seem to be on the prowl. You might find one who leads you astray from the whole marriage deal.”
“Yeah, I don’t see it.” These women saw Raj as a body, nothing more.
And Raj was after something else altogether. For a man who’d been abandoned by his biological mother at four years of age and adopted two long years later at six, family meant everything. The bonds of history and tradition, they anchored him. Where others might rail against those bonds, he embraced them. And it wasn’t as if his family was arranging introductions with utterly unsuitable women.
All the women he’d met so far had been sweet and intelligent. But Raj kept saying no. He didn’t just want a wife. He didn’t want a woman for whom he was just an acceptable choice. He wanted a lover who saw him and who would become his in the deepest possible way, a lover with whom he could create a family of their own—a family she wouldn’t mind dedicating herself to loving and raising.
His younger sister called him a throwback, but Raj was open in his desire for the traditional setup, in wanting his children to have a parent around when they came home from school. His mother had been his father’s right hand in the family business, but as they’d run it out of their home all through Raj’s childhood, he’d had her there always.
To walk in to be hugged in welcome, it had mattered to a boy who’d been unwanted for six formative years. He wanted that same sense of security for his children. Which was why his parents had been seeking out smart but traditionally minded women for him; the last thing Raj needed was to end up with a woman who found his desire for home a regressive imposition. He’d make her miserable, and she’d do the same to him.
One thing you could say about parental matchmaking—it was honest. No setting up disparate types in the hope opposites would attract. That was for the movies and for books. In real life, it was better to lay all your cards on the table.
And Raj’s cards said tradition, family, domesticity.
Other people could chase fiery passion and wild adventures. Raj was planning on stability and loyalty.
4
Nayna & Raj & Champagne
They’d arrived.