Читать книгу Love, Unexpectedly - Susan Fox P. - Страница 7

“What’s new with me? Only everything!” Nav Bharani’s neighbor Kat widened her chestnut brown eyes theatrically. She dropped her laundry basket in front of one of the half dozen washing machines in the basement laundry room of their apartment building, then hopped up on a dryer, clearly prioritizing gossip over chores.

Nav grinned and leaned back against his own washer, which was already churning his Saturday-morning laundry. “I saw you Wednesday night, Kat.” She’d taken him to one of her girlfriends’ to supply muscle, setting up a new bookcase and rearranging furniture. “Everything can’t have changed in two days.”

Though something major had happened in his own life yesterday. A breakthrough in his photography career. He was eager to tell Kat, but he’d listen to her news first.

She gave an eye roll. “Okay, almost everything. My baby sister’s suddenly getting married.”

Even in the crappy artificial light, with her reddish-brown curls a bed-head mess and pillow marks on one cheek, Kat was so damned pretty she made his heart ache.

“Merilee? I thought she and…what’s his name? always intended to marry.”

“Matt. Yeah, but they were talking next year, when they graduate from university. Now it’s, like, now.” She snapped her fingers.

“When’s now?” he asked.

“Two weeks, today. Can you believe it?” She shook her head vigorously. “So now I have to take a couple weeks off and go to Vancouver to help put together a wedding on virtually no notice. The timing sucks. June’s a really busy month at work.” She was the PR director at Le Cachet, a boutique luxury hotel in Old Montreal—a job that made full use of her creativity, organizational skills, and outgoing personality.

“Too bad they didn’t arrange their wedding to suit your workload,” he teased.

“Oops. Self-centered bitch?”

“Only a little.”

She sighed, her usual animation draining from her face. Lines of strain around her eyes and shadows under them told him she was upset about more than the inconvenience of taking time off work. Nav knew Kat well after two years. As well as she let anyone know her, and in every way but the one he wanted most: as her lover.

He dropped the teasing tone and touched her hand. “How do you feel about the wedding?”

“Thrilled to bits for Merilee. Of course.” Her answer was prompt, but she stared down at their hands rather than meeting his eyes.

“Kat?”

Her head lifted, lips twisting. “Okay, I am happy for her, honestly, but I’m also green with envy. She’s ten years younger. It should be me.” She jumped to the floor, feet slapping the concrete like an exclamation mark.

That was what he’d guessed, as he knew she longed for marriage and kids. With someone other than him, unfortunately. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on his heartache. His best friend was hurting.

He tried to help her see this rationally. “Your sister’s been with this guy a long time, right?” Kat didn’t talk much about her family—he knew she had some issues—but he’d heard a few snippets.

“Since grade two. And they always said they wanted to get married.”

“So why keep waiting?”

She wrinkled her nose. “So I can do it first? Yeah, okay, that’s a sucky reason. But I’m thirty-one and I want marriage and kids as badly as she does.” She gave an exaggerated sniffle and then launched herself at him. “Damn, I need a hug.”

His arms came up, circling her body, cuddling her close.

This was vintage Kat. She had no patience for what she called “all that angsty, self-analytical, pop-psych crap.” If she was feeling crappy, she vented, then moved on.

Or so she said. Nav was dead certain it didn’t work that easily. Not that he was a shrink or anything, only a friend who cared.

Cared too much for his own sanity. Now, embracing her, he used every ounce of self-control to resist pulling her tighter. To try not to register the firm, warm curves under the soft fabric of her sweats. To fight the arousal she’d so easily awakened in him since they’d met.

Did she feel the way his heart raced or was she too absorbed in her own misery? Nav wished he was wearing more clothing than thin running shorts and his old Cambridge rugby jersey, but he’d come to the laundry room straight from an early run.

Feeling her warmth, smelling her sleep-tousled scent, he thought back to his first sight of her.

He’d been moving into the building, grubby in his oldest jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out as he wrestled his meager belongings out of the rental truck and into the small apartment. The door beside his had opened and he’d paused, curious to see his neighbor.

A lovely young woman in a figure-hugging sundress stepped into the hall. His photographer’s eye had freeze-framed the moment. The tantalizing curves, the way the green of her dress complemented her auburn curls, the sparkle of interest in her brown eyes as they widened and she scanned him up and down.

As for the picture she saw—well, he must’ve made quite a sight with his bare arms hugging a tall pole lamp and a sandalwood statue of Ganesh, the elephant god. Nani, his mum’s mother, had given him the figure when he was a kid, saying it would bless his living space.

The woman in the hallway gave him a bright smile. “Bonjour, mon nouveau voisin,” she greeted him as her new neighbor. “Bienvenue. Je m’appelle Kat Fallon.”

Her name and the way she pronounced it told him that, despite her excellent Québécois accent, she was a native English speaker like Nav. He replied in that language. “Pleased to meet you, Kat. I’m Nav Bharani.”

“Ooh, nice accent.”

“Thanks.” He’d grown up in England and had only been in Canada two years, mostly speaking French, so his English accent was pretty much intact.

His neighbor stretched out a hand, seeming not to care that the one he freed up in return was less than clean.

He felt a connection, a warm jolt of recognition that was sexual but way more than just that. A jolt that made him gaze at her face, memorizing every attractive feature and knowing, in his soul, that this woman was going to be important in his life.

He’d felt something similar when he’d unwrapped his first camera on his tenth birthday. A sense of revelation and certainty.

Already today, Ganesh had brought him luck.

Kat felt something special, too. He could tell by the flush that tinged her cheekbones, the way her hand lingered before separating from his. “Have you just moved from England, Nav?”

“No, I’ve been studying photography in Quebec City for a couple years, at Université Laval. Just graduated, and I thought I’d find more…opportunities in Montreal.” He put deliberate emphasis on the word “opportunities,” wondering if she’d respond to the hint of flirtation.

A grin hovered at the corners of her mouth. “Montreal is full of opportunity.”

“When you wake up in the morning, you never know what the day will bring?”

She gave a rich chuckle. “Some days are better than others.” Then she glanced at the elephant statue. “Who’s your roommate?”

“Ganesh. Among other things, he’s the Lord of Beginnings.” Nav felt exhilarated, sensing that this light flirtation was the beginning of something special.

“Beginnings. Well, how about that.”

“Some people believe that if you stroke his trunk, he’ll bring you luck.”

“Really?” Her hand lifted, then the elevator dinged and they both glanced toward it.

A man stepped out and strode toward them with a dazzlingly white smile. Tall and striking, he had strong features, highlighted hair that had been styled with a handful of product, and clothes that screamed, “I care way too much about how I look, and I have the money to indulge myself.”

“Hey, babe,” he said in English. He bent down to press a quick, hard kiss to Kat’s lips, then, arm around her waist, glanced at Nav. “New neighbor?”

Well shit, she had a boyfriend. So, she hadn’t been flirting?

Her cheeks flushed lightly. “Yes, Nav Bharani. And this is Jase Jackson.” She glanced at the toothpaste commercial guy with an expression that was almost awestruck. “Nav, you’ve probably heard of Jase—he’s one of the stars of Back Streets.” She named a gritty Canadian TV drama filmed in Ontario and Quebec. Nav had caught an episode or two, but it hadn’t hooked him, and he didn’t remember the actor.

“Hey, man,” Jase said, tightening his hold on Kat. Marking his territory.

“Hey.”

“Jase,” Kat said, “would you mind getting a bottle of water from my fridge? It’s going to be hot out there.”

When the other man had gone into the apartment, Nav said, “So, you two are…?”

“A couple.” Her dreamy gaze had followed the other man. “I’m crazy about him. He’s amazing.”

Well, hell. Despite that initial awareness between them, she hadn’t been flirting, only being friendly to a new neighbor. So much for his sense of certainty. The woman was in love with someone else.

Nav, who could be a tiger on the rugby field but was pretty easygoing otherwise, had felt a primitive urge to punch out Actor Guy’s lights.

Now, in the drab laundry room, hearing Kat sigh against his chest, he almost wished he’d done it. That rash act might have changed the dynamic between him and Kat.

Instead he’d accepted that she would, at most, be a friend and had concentrated on getting settled in his new home.

He’d just returned from a visit to New Delhi and a fight with his parents, who’d moved back to India when his dad’s father died last year. In their eyes, he’d been a traitor when he’d rejected the business career they’d groomed him for and moved to Quebec City to study photography. Now that he’d graduated, his parents said it was time their only child got over his foolishness. He should take up a management role in the family company, either in New Delhi or London, and agree to an arranged marriage.

He’d said no on all counts and stuck to his guns about moving to Montreal to build a photography career.

Once there, he had started to check out work opportunities and begun to meet people. But he’d moved too slowly for Kat, at least when it came to making friends. She’d figured he was shy, taken him under her wing, kick-started his social life. Enjoying her company—besides, who could resist the driving force of a determined Kat Fallon?—he’d gone along.

But even as he dated other women, his feelings for Kat grew. He’d known it was futile. Though her relationship with Jase broke up, and she ogled Nav’s muscles when he fixed her plumbing or helped her paint her apartment, she went for men like Actor Guy. Larger than life—at least on the surface. Often, they proved to be men who were more flash than substance, whose love affair was with their own ego, not their current girlfriend.

No way was Nav that kind of man. In the past, growing up in England with wealthy, successful, status-oriented parents, he’d had his fill of people like that.

Though Kat fell for other men, she’d become Nav’s good buddy. The couple times he’d put the moves on her when she’d been between guys, she’d turned him down flat. She said he was a really good friend and she valued their friendship too much to risk losing it. Even though he sometimes saw the spark of attraction in her eyes, she refused to even acknowledge it, much less give in to it.

Now, standing with every luscious, tempting inch of her wrapped in his arms, he wondered if there was any hope that one day she’d blink those big brown eyes and realize the man she’d been looking for all her life was right next door.

She gave a gusty sigh and then pushed herself away. She stared up at him, but no, there was no moment of blinding revelation. Just a sniffle, a self-deprecating smile. “Okay,” she said. “Five minutes is enough self-pity. Thanks for indulging me, Nav.”

She turned away and opened two washing machines. Into one she tossed jeans and T-shirts. Into the other went tank tops, silky camisoles, lacy bras, brief panties, and thongs.

A gentleman would never imagine his friend and neighbor in a matching bright pink bra and panties, or a black lace thong. Nor would he fantasize about having hot laundry-room sex with her.

Glad that the loose running shorts and rugby shirt disguised his growing erection, he refocused on Kat’s news. “So you’re off to Vancouver.” That was where she’d grown up, and where her youngest sister lived with their parents. “When are you leaving? Are you taking the train?” She hated to fly.

She flicked both washers on, then turned to him. “I plan to leave Monday. And yes, definitely the train. It’s a great trip and I always meet fascinating people. It’ll take my mind off my shitty love life.”

“No problem getting time off?”

“My boss gave me major flack for leaving in June and not giving notice. Gee, you’d think I was indispensable.” She flashed a grin, and this one did sparkle her eyes.

“I’m sure you are.” He said it teasingly, but knew she was usually the center of the crowd, be it in her social life or at work.

“We sorted it out. My assistant can handle things. But it’s going to be a crazy weekend. There’s tons to organize at work, as well as laundry, dry cleaning, packing.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Could you look after the plants while I’m gone?”

“No problem.” He’d done it before, along with playing home handyman for her and her friends. She in turn sewed on buttons, made the best Italian food he’d ever tasted—she’d once dated a five-star chef—and shared popcorn and old movies.

“Thanks. You’re a doll, Nav.”

A doll. Also known as a wimp. As one of his friends said, he was stuck in the buddy trap.

Brushing away the depressing thought, he remembered his good news. “Hey, I have exciting news, too.”

“Cool. Tell all.”

“You know the Galerie Beau Soleil?”

“Yeah. Ritzy. Le Cachet buys art there.”

“Well, maybe they can buy some of my photographs.” He fought to suppress a smug smile, then let go and beamed.

“Nav!” She hugged him exuberantly, giving him another tantalizing sample of her curves. “You got an exhibit there?”

“Yeah, in three weeks.” He scraped out a living doing free-lance photography and selling stock photos, but his goal was to build a career as a fine art photographer. He wanted his photos to display his vision and perspective, and eventually to hang on the walls of upscale businesses, private collectors, and galleries.

This would be his first major exhibit of fine art photography. “They called yesterday. Someone had to cancel at the last minute, and they asked if I could fill in.”

“That’s fabulous.” She gave him another squeeze, then stepped back. “This could be your big breakthrough.”

“I know.”

For a long moment, while washing machines chugged and whirred, they smiled at each other. Then she asked, “Do you have enough pieces for an exhibit?”

“I’ll need a few new shots. Everything has to fit the theme.”

“You already have a theme?”

“We’re calling it ‘Perspectives on Perspective.’” His photographs featured interesting lighting and unusual angles, and often incorporated reflections. They were accurate renditions of reality but from perspectives others rarely noticed. He liked shaking people up, making them think differently about things they saw every day.

“Ooh, how arty and highbrow. It’s great. I am so happy for you. This is going to launch your career, I just know it. You’re going to sell to hotels, office buildings, designer shops, private collectors.” Her eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “And I’m going to be able to say ‘I knew him when.’”

Nav chuckled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Kat hopped lithely up on the closest washer, catlike, living up to her nickname. Sitting cross-legged, she was roughly on eye level with him. “You’re a fantastic photographer and you deserve this. You’ve made it happen, so believe in it. Don’t dream small, Nav.”

If only that would work when it came to winning Kat.

“Believe in how great you are.” She frowned, as if an interesting thought had occurred to her, then stared at him with an expression of discovery. “You know, you really are a great guy.”

It didn’t sound as if she was still talking about his photography, but about him. Nav’s heart stopped beating. Was this it? The moment he’d longed for? He gazed into her brown eyes, which were bright, almost excited. “I am?” Normally he had a fairly deep voice, but now it squeaked like an adolescent’s.

Her eyes narrowed, with a calculating gleam. “You know how unlucky I’ve been with my love life. Well, my family blames it on me. They say I have the worst taste in men, that I’m some kind of jinx when it comes to relationships.”

“Er…” Damn, she’d changed the subject. And this was one he’d best not comment on. Yes, of course she had crappy judgment when it came to dating. The actor, the international financier, the Olympic gold-medal skier, the NASCAR champ? They swept her off her feet but were completely wrong for her. It was no surprise to him when each glittery relationship ended, but Kat always seemed shocked. She hated to hear anyone criticize her taste in men.

“Merilee said I could bring a date to the wedding, then got in this dig about whether I was seeing anyone, or between losers. I’d really hate to show up alone.”

He’d learned not to trust that gleam in her eyes, but couldn’t figure out where she was heading. “You only just broke up with NASCAR Guy.” Usually it took her two or three months before she fell for a new man. In the in-between time she hung out more with him, as she’d been doing recently.

Her lips curved. “I love how you say ‘NASCAR Guy’ in that posh Brit accent. Yeah, we split two weeks ago. But I think I may have found a great guy to take to the wedding.”

Damn. His heart sank. “You’ve already met someone new? And you’re going to take him as your date?”

“If he’ll go.” The gleam was downright wicked now. “What do you think?”

He figured a man would be crazy not to take any opportunity to spend time with her. But…“If you’ve only started dating, taking him to a wedding could seem like pressure. And what if you caught the bouquet?” If Nav was with her and she caught the damned thing, he’d tackle the minister before he could get away, and tie the knot then and there.

Not that Kat would let him. She’d say he’d gone out of his freaking mind.

“Oh, I don’t think this guy would get the wrong idea.” There was a laugh in her voice.

“No?”

She sprang off the washer, stepped toward him, and gripped the front of his rugby jersey with both hands, the brush of her knuckles through the worn blue-and-white-striped cotton making his heart race and his groin tighten. “What do you say, Nav?”

“Uh, to what?”

“To being my date for the wedding.”

Hot blood surged through his veins. She was asking him to travel across the country and escort her to her sister’s wedding?

Had she finally opened her eyes, opened her heart, and really seen him? Seen that he, Naveen Bharani, was the perfect man for her? The one who knew her perhaps better than she knew herself. Who loved her as much for her vulnerabilities and flaws as for her competence and strength, her generosity and sense of fun, those sparkling eyes, and the way her sexy curves filled out her Saturday-morning sweats.

“Me?” He lifted his hands and covered hers. “You want me to go?”

She nodded vigorously. “You’re an up-and-coming photographer. Smart, creative.” Face close to his, she added, eyes twinkling, “Hot, too. Your taste in clothes sucks, but if you’d let me work on you, you’d look good. And you’re nice. Kind, generous, sweet.”

Yes, he was all of those things, except sweet—another wimp word, like doll. But he was confused. She thought he was hot, which was definitely good. But something was missing. She wasn’t gushing about how amazing he was and how crazy she was about him, the way she always did when she fell for a man. Her beautiful eyes were sharp and focused, not dreamy. Not filled with passion or new love. So…what was she saying?

He tightened his hands on hers. “Kat, I—”

“Will you do it? My family might even approve of you.”

Suspicion tightened his throat. He forced words out. “So I’d be your token good guy, to prove you don’t always date ass-holes.”

“Ouch. But yes, that’s the idea. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please? Will you do it?”

He lifted his hands from hers and dropped them to his sides, bitter disappointment tightening them into fists.

Oblivious, she clenched his jersey tighter, eyes pleading with him. “It’s only one weekend, and I’ll pay your airfare and—”

“Oh, no, you won’t.” He twisted away abruptly, and her hands lost their grip on his shirt. Damn, there was only so much battering a guy’s ego could take. “If I go, I’ll pay my own way.” The words grated out. He turned away and busied himself heaving laundry from his washer to a dryer, trying to calm down and think. What should he do?

Practicalities first. If he agreed, would it affect the exhibit? No, all she was asking for was a day or two. He could escort her, make nice with her family, play the role she’d assigned him. He’d get brownie points with Kat.

“Nav, I couldn’t let you pay for the ticket. Not when you’d be doing me such a huge favor. So, will you? You’re at least thinking about it?”

Of course he’d already accumulated a thousand brownie points, and where had that got him? Talking about roles, she’d cast him as the good bud two years ago and didn’t show any signs of ever promoting him to leading man.

He was caught in freaking limbo.

The thing was, he was tired of being single. He wanted to share his life—to get married and start a family. Though he and his parents loved each other, his relationship with them had always been uneasy. As a kid, he’d wondered if he was adopted, he and his parents seemed such a mismatch.

He knew “family” should mean something different: a sense of warmth, belonging, acceptance, support. That’s what he wanted to create with his wife and children.

His mum was on his case about an arranged marriage, sending him a photo and bio at least once a month, hoping to hook him. But Nav wanted a love match. He’d had an active dating life for more than ten years, but no matter how great the women were, none had ever made him feel the way he did for Kat. Damn her.

He bent to drag more clothes from the washer and, as he straightened, glanced at her. Had she been checking out his ass?

Cheeks coloring, she shifted her gaze to his face. “Please, Nav? Pretty please?” Her brows pulled together. “You can’t imagine how much I hate the teasing.” Her voice dropped. “The poor Kat can’t find a man pity.”

He understood how tough this wedding would be for her. Kat had tried so hard to find love, wanted it so badly, and always failed. Now she had to help her little sister plan her wedding and be happy for her, even though Kat’s heart ached with envy. Having a good friend by her side, pretending to her family that she’d found a nice guy, would make things easier for her.

Yes, he was pissed that she wanted only friendship from him, but that was his problem. He shouldn’t take his frustration and hurt out on her.

He clicked the dryer on and turned to face her. “When do you need to know?”

“No great rush, I guess. It’s two weeks off. Like I said, I’ll probably leave Monday. I’ll take the train to Toronto, then on to Vancouver.”

“It’s a long trip.”

“Yeah.” Her face brightened. “It really is fun. I’ve done it every year or so since I moved here when I was eighteen. It’s like being on holiday with fascinating people. A train’s a special world. Normal rules don’t apply.”

He always traveled by air, but he’d watched old movies with Kat. North by Northwest. Silver Streak. Trains were sexy.

Damn. He could see it now. Kat would meet some guy, fall for him, have hot sex, end up taking him rather than Nav to the wedding.

Unless…

An idea—brilliant? insane?—struck him. What if he was the guy on the train?

What if he showed up out of the blue, took her by surprise? An initial shock, then days together in that special, sexy world where normal rules didn’t apply. Might she see him differently?

If he analyzed his idea, he’d decide it was crazy and never do it. So, forget about being rational. He’d hustle upstairs and go online to arrange getting money transferred out of the trust fund he hadn’t touched since coming to Canada.

It had been a matter of principle: proving to himself that he wasn’t a spoiled rich kid and could make his own way in the world. But now, principles be damned. Train travel wasn’t cheap, and this was a chance to win the woman he loved.

Unrequited love was unhealthy. He’d break the good buddy limbo, stop being so fucking pathetic, and go after her.

But first, he had to set things up with Kat so she’d be totally surprised when he showed up on the train. “Yeah, okay.” He tried to sound casual. “I’ll be your token good guy. I’ll fly out for the wedding.”

“Oooeeee!!” She flung herself into his arms, a full-body tackle that caught him off guard and almost toppled them both. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She pressed quick little kisses all over his cheeks.

When what he longed for were soul-rocking, deep and dirty kisses, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. Groin to groin.

Enough. He was fed up with her treating him this way. Fed up with himself for taking it. Things between them were damned well going to change.

He grabbed her head between both hands and held her steady, her mouth inches from his.

Her lips opened and he heard a soft gasp as she caught her breath. “Nav?” Was that a quiver in her voice?

Deliberately, he pressed his lips against hers. Soft, so soft her lips were, and warm. Though it took all his willpower, he drew away before she could decide how to respond. “You’re welcome,” he said casually, as if the kiss had been merely a “between friends” one.

All the same, he knew it had reminded her of the attraction between them.

She would be a tiny bit unsettled.

He had, in a subtle way, served notice.

Token good guy? Screw that.

He was going to be the sexy guy on the train.