Book 2: Misguided Masala Matchmaker
Excerpt from Swipe Right for Marriage where Shanti is having brunch with her family and receives a showy bouquet of flowers, and just as everyone tries to guess who sent them and guess their meaning, Rakesh arrives, interrupting brunch and asking to speak to Shanti privately.
Conversation muted. Attention shifted and fixed on him. Mouth dry as dirt, Shanti sat straighter in her seat, relieved she’d kept her Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses on during brunch.
“Traitor,” she mouthed at Rohan who relaxed back in his chair, arm around his fiancée, like Shanti wasn’t about to leap across the table and threaten to behead him.
“Rakesh,” she said evenly, proud that her voice betrayed none of the weird and unexpected emotions roiling around inside of her as he stopped beside their table. “Thank you.” She nodded toward the flowers, channeling her inner queen.
“A peace offering,” he said.
“Why?” she asked coolly.
The waiter along with other staff arrived with their food, and her avocado toast and arugula with the sinful side of maple bacon was set before her.
“For what I’m about to do.”
“Now you’ve intrigued us all,” she drawled, taking a lazy sip of her mimosa. Darn. Her glass was empty, berefting her of a suitable prop.
“I only need to intrigue you.”
“Knock yourself out,” she invited, waving her hand casually.
Rakesh dropped to his haunches. “I don’t like being ignored,” he said softly in her ear. Rani practically crawled into her lap to hear. Shanti was very aware that not only was her family agog but so was most of the patio.
“I want to talk to you. We had an appointment, and you blew me off. Again.”
A frisson of worry warred with excitement and skittered down her spine.
“We didn’t have a set time,” she argued, wishing she didn’t feel in the wrong. “I’m with my family,” she said, a bit shocked that her voice sounded like she was trying to soothe him when she so was not.
“You have a choice,” he said quietly. “You can come with me and have a respectful, adult conversation, no games. Or I can join you and discuss Rani’s upcoming arraignment with everyone here.”
His breath was warm on her ear, but she felt like he’d just poured a cooler of ice down her back. She didn’t bother with a feminine protest like ‘you wouldn’t dare,’ because he absolutely would. But she didn’t want to be publicly bested.
“I was going to call you later,” she whispered tightly.
“Now works for me.”
“Not for me.”
“Choice two it is. I’ll join you.” He fluidly stood and signaled a waiter.
She balled her fists. “No.”
He looked down at her, speculation in his gaze. With the sun behind him, he looked like an angel, but she knew he was a devil. Only a devil could kiss like sin. Only a devil could have lips that were so sexy and voluptuous and sinful but that still looked masculinely sculpted from marble.
He kicked her chair back from the table. Damn he was strong, and then Rakesh put his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned into her space, so close that she could see the flecks of warm chocolate in his onyx irises. “There’s always a third option,” he purred.
“I knew you could be reasonable.” She refused to let him see that he’d definitely caught her off guard. Ten years of avoiding him, and she’d utterly lost her edge in dealing with him. He was like a barely leashed, edgy beast, and she could not let him think for one second that she was not the boss of all she surveyed.
“I could carry you out of here, ass up, your short little skirt maybe or maybe not doing its job, and we’ll see how fast patrons are with their cameras.”
Shanti did something she never thought she’d do again. She put both hands on his very hard, very defined chest and pushed him back even as she stood. Her chair legs scraped on the brick patio, an ugly sound that matched her mood, and she felt like an avenging angel when she stalked across the patio away from her family and an audience. Her four-inch gold and black striped Pura López pointy-toe ankle booties tapped out her irritation.
“I’m not wearing a short little skirt,” she said tightly, pissed at the triumph she’d seen flash in his eyes.
“Excuse us,” she heard Rakesh say to her family. “Five minutes.”
He better not be stealing a slice of her bacon.
Shanti walked around to the front of the restaurant but away from the door. She spun around, and dammit, he was chewing on a piece of her bacon. Of course he was.
“Five minutes,” she scoffed. “I can verbally knock you on your ass faster than that. Thirty seconds tops.”
“Thirty seconds,” Rakesh drawled. “Losing your edge, Shanti.”
“Never.”
He smiled and it was full of wicked promise. “I haven’t lost anything in ten years except some patience,” he said. “And you know I don’t need thirty seconds to have you screaming my name.”
Her mouth dropped open, shocked that he’d go there while they stood on a public sidewalk, people milling around waiting for a table. Instantaneously she had a very vivid picture of Rakesh, kissing her crazy against the door of his college apartment while she ripped at his clothes, and they barely managed to stumble inside before he kicked the door shut and had her on his kitchen granite island—fruit bowl crashing to the floor. Then his dark head had been between her thighs. He’d ripped off her plum lacy panties with his teeth, and his mouth had engulfed her untutored mound and his tongue had found her clit and she’d orgasmed before she’d had any idea of what was happening. He’d laughed against her clit before really getting down to business and showing exactly why there was so much fuss about sex.
Heat and fury roared through her. She tried her best to forget that night. She’d acted like a lovelorn, stupid sexed-up coed—just like all the other women who had orbited around Rakesh since he’d hit a show-off early puberty.
She crossed her arms and tapped one foot. “Well, here I am.”
“Nice boots.” Rakesh finished the bacon and licked the pad of his thumb and forefinger, and she wanted to slap herself because the answering response of her body was visceral. “Ever take anyone’s eye out with one of those?”
“This is quite possibly the morning,” she deadpanned.
“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Shanti.”