Love, Unexpectedly. Susan Fox P.

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СКАЧАТЬ our wine. “I’ll leave dinner menus and check back shortly.”

      We thanked him, then when he’d gone Pritam raised his wineglass. His shirt cuffs were unbuttoned, his wrist brown and masculine.

      Very, very masculine and touchable. My nipples tightened against the silky fabric of my camisole.

      “To two strangers meeting on a train.” There was a seductive huskiness to his voice that told me, if he had his way, we wouldn’t stay strangers long.

      My body responded with another thrill of arousal. I touched my glass to his. “And to a pleasant journey.”

      “A very pleasant one.” He drew the words out slowly and, over the glasses, our gazes met. There was no mistaking the sexual spark in his.

      And no mistaking the sparks that heated my blood and made my pussy throb. This was exactly the kind of man who attracted me. Charismatic, sexy, and sure of himself. Attracted to me, and totally focused on going after what he wanted. Pritam’s attention both soothed my heartache and ignited my sexuality. I hadn’t felt so alive, so feminine and desirable, in months.

      I could allow myself this indulgence, and give him my phone number at the end of the trip if I wanted, but I had to remember my new one-month rule. Attraction was one thing, but no head-over-heels stuff.

      He took a sip of wine. “Speaking of which, do you go all the way?”

      I choked on my own wine. “Excuse me?”

      Eyes dancing, he said, “All the way to Toronto, I hope?”

      He’d set me up neatly. In fact, wasn’t that a line from the movie Silver Streak? I chuckled. “Yes, all the way to Toronto.”

      “Good, then we have lots of time to get to know each other. Now, where were we?” He gave me an encouraging smile. The man really did have the sexiest lips, full and sensual and very, very kissable.

      “Uh…” Damned if I could remember. “Tell me what you do in the entertainment industry.”

      “First, you were going to tell me how a girl from Vancouver ended up in Montreal.”

      “Oh, right.” Yes, that’s what we’d been talking about. “By the way, do you speak English?” The first thing I’d said to him had been in English, and he’d understood.

      “Avec compétence, mais je préfère Français.”

      “Then we’ll stick with French.”

      “It is, after all,” he said in French, “the language of love.”

      I chuckled. “Give me a break.”

      He laughed, too. “What can I say? Frenchmen are known for being outrageous, especially when a beautiful woman is involved. And for the moment I live in Montreal, so I’m a Frenchman and entitled. Now, tell me why you moved so far from home.”

      Most men I’d dated had been more eager to talk about their exciting lives than my more mundane one. And I’d hung on their words, fascinated. Curious as I was to learn about Pritam, it was refreshing that he was interested in me.

      All the same, I didn’t want to bore him to tears, so I gave him the short version. “I went to the University of Toronto for undergrad. I wanted to see a new place, meet new people.”

      “Toronto? For a particular academic program?”

      “No. I didn’t know what career I wanted.” Which had pissed off my parents no end. They were career driven and so was my older sister. But I’d had no outstanding talent and hadn’t felt really drawn to any subject in school, nor to a particular line of work. Trying to show myself in the best light, I said, “I’m creative but practical, too, and I’m very social.”

      “An excellent combination. So, how did you decide on your career?”

      “Through experimentation.” I sipped wine. “I took different courses, worked at part-time and summer jobs, figured out what I liked and what I was good at.”

      He nodded. “An intelligent approach.”

      It had felt more like muddling around, and my parents had complained about my lack of focus. They’d urged me in the direction of law, my mother’s field. Not medical research, my dad’s specialty, because I didn’t have a scientific brain.

      “And how did you end up in Montreal?” Pritam leaned toward me, his sleeve brushing my bare arm on the armrest.

      I tried to focus on the question rather than on the way I thrilled to his touch. “I wanted to be fluently bilingual, so after two years in Toronto I went to study in Montreal, at McGill. I loved Montreal. After I graduated, I worked in several hotels, and was assistant to the director of PR at Le Cachet. Then he moved to New York. I got his job, and I love it.”

      “What do you love about it?” His expression was attentive.

      How to put it into words? I wasn’t big on analyzing feelings, I just experienced them. Like, when I walked toward the front doors of Le Cachet, my step was bouncy and I felt like singing. It would sound silly to say that though. “It makes good use of all my skills. The other staff are great to work with, and I love the hotel itself. I’m challenged, alive; each day is different.”

      As I spoke, Pritam had begun to smile. Now he rested his hand on my forearm, making me tingle again. “You’ve found your niche. It feels wonderful when that happens, n’est-ce pas?”

      “Yes, you’re right, that’s exactly it.” If he could relate to the feeling, he must consider the entertainment industry to be his niche. Again, I was about to ask him what he did, but he was going on, a quizzical expression on his face.

      “Your niche in your career, oui. Now, what about your personal life? You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman who has chosen to be single.”

      Chosen? No, I sure hadn’t chosen being single.

      I must have frowned, because he said, “Wait, I’m making an assumption. You’re not single?”

      “Yes, of course I am. I wouldn’t be—” Flirting with him.

      And then something occurred to me. The question I should have asked before I let him flirt with me. “Are you single?”

      “Mais oui.” His brows drew together. “If I was married, I’d never behave this way with you. How could you think that?”

      “Because I don’t know you. You could be one of those men who takes off his wedding band the moment he’s away from his wife.”

      He frowned. “You can’t know, of course. But I give you my word. When I marry, fidelity will be part of the deal.” His dark eyes looked sincere, and in that moment exactly like Nav’s. It was so disconcerting.

      Then he gave a small, mischievous smile. “And no, as you say, you don’t know me. I hope to remedy that in the hours of this trip, Kat.”

      Kat. I stiffened. It was the first time he’d spoken my name. My heart raced. It seemed to me, he’d said Kat exactly the way Nav did. With a Brit accent, СКАЧАТЬ