Opening her door, Nayna glanced over at ísa—whom she’d picked up on the way to the party. Her gorgeously curvy friend looked at her, swallowed, then gave a nod, the red of her hair vibrant against the rich cream of her skin. She looked stunning, but those same curves, hair, and skin had made her life a misery as a teenager. The queen bitch of their high school had made it her mission to torment ísa with a side helping of meanness doled out to Nayna.
“Nerd No Tits,” that had been Suzanne’s loving way of addressing Nayna. Nayna knew ísa was infuriated at the fact that her chief tormentor and the major-league asshole who’d dumped her in such a cruel fashion in college were getting a happily-ever-after, but personally, Nayna saw no happiness in either one’s future. Cody was a sniveling slimeball with no concept of loyalty, and Suzanne was pure, black-hearted evil.
Nayna wished them an eternally hellish life together.
Meanwhile, she and ísa were going to paint the town red.
Together they stepped out into the balmy night air. December in Auckland was the start of true summer, with the heat building to a searing burn by February. It could still be a little chilly at night this time of year, but they were currently having a run of near-January weather.
The two of them giggled as they walked, neither one used to such thin heels. Nayna caught ísa trying to tug down the hem of her strapless dress of sequined blue, found herself doing the same.
ísa’s shoulders shook before she hooked her arm through Nayna’s. “Devil women,” she said. “That’s what we are tonight.”
“Wild, wild devil women,” Nayna replied. “Definitely not good girls who do what their families want.” She felt a primal desperation inside her that she knew was dangerous, but she didn’t care. Tonight could well be her last night of freedom. Her parents had stepped up the speed with which they were arranging introductions—the Sharmas were serious about making sure their youngest daughter settled down.
Sooner rather than later would walk in an eligible man who ticked all the right boxes and didn’t alienate her parents, and then Nayna would be stuck.
“I dare you to kiss a random guy tonight,” ísa whispered wickedly. “A gorgeous, ripped guy you’d never normally approach.”
“Dare accepted,” Nayna said without pause, though she’d never propositioned any man, much less a gorgeous, ripped one.
Liquid courage might be the order of the day. Enough tequilas in her and maybe she’d turn into a siren, luring men to their doom in her arms. Or—more likely—she’d pass out comatose at the feet of the hunk she was attempting to kiss. New plan: she’d just pretend she was someone else and go hell-for-leather.
“Since we’ll never again see each other,” she said to ísa on the topic of the poor, ripped man she was planning to accost, “who cares if he thinks I’m a crazy woman?”
A tiny frown between ísa’s brows, as if her friend had picked up on Nayna’s true level of crazy tonight. “Just tell me if you’re going to go off with someone so I don’t worry.”
“You do the same.” Stopping by the open front door, Nayna took a deep breath. “Let’s go do bad-girl things.”
ísa, at least, had gotten a start on that with her make-out session with a blue-eyed gardener. Nayna still couldn’t believe her buttoned-up and often self-conscious best friend had gotten wild with a man whose name she didn’t even know, but she was taking inspiration. If ísa could jump a gorgeous guy in a school parking lot, surely Nayna could find a likely suspect at a party?
The partygoers were in great form when they stepped inside. Nayna took in the sprawling lounge that opened out into an equally sprawling deck that ran to the edge of a crystalline pool lit from within. Several people swam in it already, splashing one another playfully while in one corner of the lounge, another group danced under shimmering disco-ball lights.
Regardless of race, height, or hair color, it was as if they’d all come out of a catalog titled “Beautiful People with Beautiful Bodies.”
More beautiful people mingled in the rest of the lounge.
Nayna wished she’d worn her reading glasses; she didn’t need spectacles in normal life, but she could’ve done with another level of armor. Her face felt so bare, so open to judgment. Fighting the urge to tug at the hem of her dress again, she reminded herself she was a modern woman. Her dress was sexy.
And she had no real breasts to speak of, piped up a morose part of her brain.
“Nayna!” Tara walked toward Nayna, arms open. She was tall, brunette, and looked like a retired supermodel who might still strut the catwalk for the right designer—which was exactly what she was. A regular at international shows these days, often as a judge, Tara was one of Nayna’s favorite clients at the firm—Nayna had started doing some work on Tara and Geoff’s business account as a junior associate before slowly becoming their main point of contact.
After returning Tara’s hug, she gave the other woman the spa package she’d picked up as a gift and received a delighted smile in response. Wealthy as she was, Tara remained cheerfully happy with life, nothing jaded or false about her. It helped that she and Geoff had been together fifteen years and their love showed no signs of waning. Just last week, they’d been snapped indulging in a very public display of affection.
Nayna looked at smart, accomplished, happily in love Tara and saw the woman she wanted to become. “This is my friend ísa,” she said, well aware that she wasn’t likely to end up with a man who didn’t mind a little PDA. Not that Nayna was as self-assured as Tara about such things, but it must be nice to know your husband loved you so much that he didn’t care who saw him adoring you.
Tara hugged ísa too. “I hope you two brought swimsuits,” she said, her tone sinful. “Though”—she winked one lusciously made-up eye—“from the look of it, not everyone is bothering with suits.”
Another woman tugged Tara away before Nayna could reply. ísa and Nayna looked at one another, both of them grinning before they headed directly for the pool. Nayna’s heart thumped at the idea of skinny-dipping, but she wasn’t ready to be that wild. She needed time to build up to such an extreme level of craziness.
Madhuri had probably done it multiple times by now. Only… her sister didn’t do things that messed up her hair or makeup, so likely Nayna could be the first Sharma daughter to skinny-dip. On the other hand, how did a woman in an arranged marriage go about skinny-dipping? From her experience so far, men who wanted an arranged marriage tended to be stuck on the stuffed-shirt end of traditional. A man like that would never be her partner-in-crime in throwing off the shackles and breaking the rules.
The only thing such men wanted was a woman who was a paragon of virtue and tradition.
The fourth ass she’d met had actually rated the snacks she’d made on a scale of one to ten. He’d given her a five-point-five. “Plenty of room for improvement.”
That was when her grandmother had put on her “sweet old lady” face and lied her ass off, saying she’d made all the food since Nayna had been held up at the office. The would-be-bridegroom had frozen while stuffing his face. Horrified at the gaffe, his parents had hustled him away.
Five-point-five. Hah! She’d like to see him make fresh bhajias as good as hers. The only thing he’d probably get a ten out of ten in was eating. Nayna would never judge anyone’s weight, but she did judge thirty-year-old men with overhanging beer guts. Especially when those men felt free to judge her out loud.
She was not too thin, thank you very much. She was—
Oh.
Her internal muttering came to a sudden and abrupt halt, snagging on a male who was the definition of rugged and ripped and way out of her league. He was taller than her by a good few inches, had bronzed skin that glowed with health, and muscles that didn’t look real, they were so perfect. Not too big, not too small. Just right.
His black hair was a little messy, his jaw rough with dark scruff.
While his jeans were comfortable rather than ridiculously tight, his T-shirt fit well, hugging his pecs and biceps. The man was just beautiful.