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.
“Oh my God.” Nayna managed to get out a few words. “Is he even real?” Her mouth went dry; she wished she had the guts to go up to him and haul him down to her mouth for a kiss. What a memory that would be in her wrinkly-old-lady years.
“Go for it.” Ísa’s voice in her ear. “That’s your kiss target right there.”
Nayna stared at her friend, wondering when Ísa had lost her ever-loving mind.
“Wild women, remember?” Ísa said pointedly.
“Not humiliated women though.” Madhuri had inherited all the sexy induce-men-to-begging genes in their family. “Have you seen the woman he’s talking to?” she murmured when Ísa nudged her.
Only then did she realize she was still staring at Mr. Gorgeous.
Flushing at the idea of being caught all but drooling, she looked away and tugged at her dress. She knew it covered her butt—she’d checked in the mirror before leaving home—but she’d never worn anything this short. She kept feeling strokes of cool air where air didn’t normally flow.
Jeez, she hoped she didn’t accidentally flash someone. With her luck, it’d be a client.
“If he’s not taken by that woman,” Ísa murmured, undaunted, “and my instincts say he’s not, then I think you’ve got a good shot.” Warm encouragement in Ísa’s tone, but then, Ísa had always been on Nayna’s side. “He was just staring at you.”
Nayna wanted to dig a hole and crawl in it. “Probably wondering what a nerd like me is doing in this den of freakily good-looking people.” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Come on, let’s at least go see some skinny-dipping.”
Sadly, it turned out Tara’s words had been premature. Everyone was still decent. “We’ll be the skinny-dippers,” Nayna said wildly, clenching her gut to control the butterflies yet dancing in there—that gorgeous man was not for her, and silly fantasies about him would just lead to torment. “After the lights are off and everyone’s gone home.”
Ísa’s laugh was warm, lighting up her big, gray-green eyes. “Deal.”
A waiter paused next to them, flutes of champagne on his tray and a “go on” look on his black-goateed face.
Deciding she deserved a glass of bubbles even if she was going to welch on the dare, Nayna reached for a flute. “You want one?” she asked Ísa, and when her friend nodded, she handed it over. She was about to take one for herself when her fingers collided with a big, warm hand. “Oh, I’m so sorr—”
Nayna froze.
It was him.
The beautiful man. The genuine hunk with the jaw he hadn’t bothered to shave and the jeans that had a slight tear on the thigh. Not an artistic these-jeans-cost-five-hundred-dollars tear. No, the rest of his jeans were well loved but whole. It was simply that one spot that was worn away to the point that it had torn.
Why was that so sexy?
“Here.” He gave her a flute of champagne with a moment of intense eye contact that had her butterflies swooning. “I’m Raj.”
She shot Ísa a desperate look, but her traitorous best friend just gave her a small nod and a grin before melting back into the crowd. And that quickly, Nayna was alone with the hunk. She almost begged the waiter to stay, but he was moving off and then someone else slid past her, bumping her in the back.
Raj’s arm came around her. “You won’t be bumped here.” Before she knew it, he’d moved her so her back was to a wall.
Dropping his hand from her back, he kept enough distance between them that she didn’t feel boxed in. Except he had wide shoulders and he’d angled his body in a way that meant she couldn’t be bumped by anyone else—or easily approached.
Like a lion cutting his prey out of the herd.
5
Deliciously Bad Decisions in the Moonlight
Nayna’s thighs squeezed together.
She should’ve worn panties. Definitely. Things could get embarrassing if he kept on speaking to her and sending out those male pheromones that were playing havoc with her whimpering body. But of course he wouldn’t keep on talking to her. Whatever had caused him to decide to approach her, he’d figure out soon enough that she was no sophisticated and experienced partier—even if she was faking it in this dress.
“What’s your name?” His voice was like deep water cascading over her, caressing her in all sorts of impossible places.
“Nayna,” she managed to get out past her bone-dry throat. “I’m an accountant.” OH GOD, NAYNA! She winced inwardly at that silent scream from the part of her that wanted to clamber onto Raj and rub herself all over his extraordinarily gorgeous self. She might as well stamp NERD on her forehead.
That witch Suzanne had written the exact word in permanent marker on her forehead during a school camp—an act through which Nayna and Ísa had both somehow slept. Probably because they’d been exhausted by the compulsory hiking followed by obstacle course runs that ended with a scramble up a rope fence. As if all teenagers were superheroes who chewed steel for breakfast.
But instead of backing off in distaste or confusion, Raj nodded. “Have you done that test you have to do to become chartered? That’s the word, right?”
Nayna blinked at the question that sounded far too serious for a casual party conversation—but at least he wasn’t running away. “Yes,” she said, and it was more air than sound. “Still so new I’m shiny.” She was staring at his mouth, his lower lip fuller than his upper, so she saw that mouth curve.
Just a little. As if he wasn’t a man who smiled much. Which made her want to crack his shell until his grin creased his cheeks. He’d go from gorgeous to flat-out heartbreaking, of that she was sure. Maybe he didn’t smile on purpose. Must be hard to continuously move swooning women out of his path.
Skin heating when she got caught staring, she looked down… and got hooked on the pecs defined by his tee. “What about you? What kind of work do you do?”
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.
“Oh my God.” Nayna managed to get out a few words. “Is he even real?” Her mouth went dry; she wished she had the guts to go up to him and haul him down to her mouth for a kiss. What a memory that would be in her wrinkly-old-lady years.
“Go for it.” Ísa’s voice in her ear. “That’s your kiss target right there.”
Nayna stared at her friend, wondering when Ísa had lost her ever-loving mind.
“Wild women, remember?” Ísa said pointedly.
“Not humiliated women though.” Madhuri had inherited all the sexy induce-men-to-begging genes in their family. “Have you seen the woman he’s talking to?” she murmured when Ísa nudged her.
Only then did she realize she was still staring at Mr. Gorgeous.
Flushing at the idea of being caught all but drooling, she looked away and tugged at her dress. She knew it covered her butt—she’d checked in the mirror before leaving home—but she’d never worn anything this short. She kept feeling strokes of cool air where air didn’t normally flow.
Jeez, she hoped she didn’t accidentally flash someone. With her luck, it’d be a client.
“If he’s not taken by that woman,” Ísa murmured, undaunted, “and my instincts say he’s not, then I think you’ve got a good shot.” Warm encouragement in Ísa’s tone, but then, Ísa had always been on Nayna’s side. “He was just staring at you.”
Nayna wanted to dig a hole and crawl in it. “Probably wondering what a nerd like me is doing in this den of freakily good-looking people.” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Come on, let’s at least go see some skinny-dipping.”
Sadly, it turned out Tara’s words had been premature. Everyone was still decent. “We’ll be the skinny-dippers,” Nayna said wildly, clenching her gut to control the butterflies yet dancing in there—that gorgeous man was not for her, and silly fantasies about him would just lead to torment. “After the lights are off and everyone’s gone home.”
Ísa’s laugh was warm, lighting up her big, gray-green eyes. “Deal.”
A waiter paused next to them, flutes of champagne on his tray and a “go on” look on his black-goateed face.
Deciding she deserved a glass of bubbles even if she was going to welch on the dare, Nayna reached for a flute. “You want one?” she asked Ísa, and when her friend nodded, she handed it over. She was about to take one for herself when her fingers collided with a big, warm hand. “Oh, I’m so sorr—”
Nayna froze.
It was him.
The beautiful man. The genuine hunk with the jaw he hadn’t bothered to shave and the jeans that had a slight tear on the thigh. Not an artistic these-jeans-cost-five-hundred-dollars tear. No, the rest of his jeans were well loved but whole. It was simply that one spot that was worn away to the point that it had torn.
Why was that so sexy?
“Here.” He gave her a flute of champagne with a moment of intense eye contact that had her butterflies swooning. “I’m Raj.”
She shot Ísa a desperate look, but her traitorous best friend just gave her a small nod and a grin before melting back into the crowd. And that quickly, Nayna was alone with the hunk. She almost begged the waiter to stay, but he was moving off and then someone else slid past her, bumping her in the back.
Raj’s arm came around her. “You won’t be bumped here.” Before she knew it, he’d moved her so her back was to a wall.
Dropping his hand from her back, he kept enough distance between them that she didn’t feel boxed in. Except he had wide shoulders and he’d angled his body in a way that meant she couldn’t be bumped by anyone else—or easily approached.
Like a lion cutting his prey out of the herd.
5
Deliciously Bad Decisions in the Moonlight
Nayna’s thighs squeezed together.
She should’ve worn panties. Definitely. Things could get embarrassing if he kept on speaking to her and sending out those male pheromones that were playing havoc with her whimpering body. But of course he wouldn’t keep on talking to her. Whatever had caused him to decide to approach her, he’d figure out soon enough that she was no sophisticated and experienced partier—even if she was faking it in this dress.
“What’s your name?” His voice was like deep water cascading over her, caressing her in all sorts of impossible places.
“Nayna,” she managed to get out past her bone-dry throat. “I’m an accountant.” OH GOD, NAYNA! She winced inwardly at that silent scream from the part of her that wanted to clamber onto Raj and rub herself all over his extraordinarily gorgeous self. She might as well stamp NERD on her forehead.
That witch Suzanne had written the exact word in permanent marker on her forehead during a school camp—an act through which Nayna and Ísa had both somehow slept. Probably because they’d been exhausted by the compulsory hiking followed by obstacle course runs that ended with a scramble up a rope fence. As if all teenagers were superheroes who chewed steel for breakfast.
But instead of backing off in distaste or confusion, Raj nodded. “Have you done that test you have to do to become chartered? That’s the word, right?”
Nayna blinked at the question that sounded far too serious for a casual party conversation—but at least he wasn’t running away. “Yes,” she said, and it was more air than sound. “Still so new I’m shiny.” She was staring at his mouth, his lower lip fuller than his upper, so she saw that mouth curve.
Just a little. As if he wasn’t a man who smiled much. Which made her want to crack his shell until his grin creased his cheeks. He’d go from gorgeous to flat-out heartbreaking, of that she was sure. Maybe he didn’t smile on purpose. Must be hard to continuously move swooning women out of his path.
Skin heating when she got caught staring, she looked down… and got hooked on the pecs defined by his tee. “What about you? What kind of work do you do?”
