****
Sam let herself into the quiet apartment, her gaze falling immediately on the cream Gucci purse sitting on the coffee table and heaved a sigh of relief.
She set her own less elegant bag down beside it, crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of chilled orange juice. Twisting the cap open, she took a long swig, one hand reaching up to loosen her hair from its confinement, letting the heavy mass tumble past her shoulders to the small of her back.
Her body felt like a tightly coiled spring, body aching from the tension that had seeped into every pore, hell, even her gums ached.
Clutching the remnants of her drink, she headed for her bedroom, with the intention of taking a good, long luxurious bath. As she passed Yash's bedroom, the sound of muffled feminine laughter, followed by her brother's deeper chuckle floated through the shut door.
She tapped twice on the door to let them know she was home and to limit their hanky panky to the bedroom, and continued on her way, a wry smile playing on her lips as she recalled the first...and hopefully the last time those two had treated her to an unwanted show in the living room. Her poor retinas were still traumatised by the sight.
She pushed open the door to her bedroom, the soothing familiarity of the cream and light green furnishings easing some of the tension.
While the bathtub filled, she slipped out of her clothes, checked her personal email and groaned aloud at the message from her mother, as usual with a new list of ‘suitable’ Indian men currently living in the States. Parvati had actually included a short bio next to all five names. She scanned the first name on the list.
Vihaan Patel(34) - Lawyer, graduated top of his class at university and makes a very good income. (Best of all, he also lives in Boston! I know his grandmother and she has promised to help you get in touch with him. She also assures me he is a very nice boy).
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. How in the world did her mother even get ahold of these names?
Not bothering to reply, she skipped to Instagram instead and spent the next few minutes chuckling at pictures from some old friends back in Mumbai.
Much as she'd been eager to leave, there were moments when she sorely missed her old life back home.
She'd had a bustling, carefree, social life, days spent at work, and evenings hanging out with friends she had known since secondary school and university, going places with Zahir or just spending a quiet evening indoors with him, watching old movies, discussing their wedding plans, and making love.
After his death, unable to stand the whispers and pity, Sam had slowly withdrawn into a shell of secret guilt and grief, much to her parents’ dismay.
She’d endured for eighteen months, then had made the decision to start over in a new place, as far away from the past as one could get, and resolved to avoid any emotional involvement.
That is, until a drunk handsome stranger with the most entrancing eyes had smiled at her.
She snorted in derision and tossed the phone on the bed and headed for the bathroom.
Now that she had come to know the man behind the grey eyes, her infatuation with Ryan Silverton now seemed a grave error on her part, though her body still hadn't got the memo.
Sure, he was still sexy, even more so sober, but he was the most annoying, stubborn man she'd ever had the misfortune to meet.
Heaving a sigh as she slid into the welcoming scented bath, Sam leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling tightly coiled muscles loosen. The tension eased, to be replaced by a different kind, and almost of its own volition, one hand slid down to delve into the heat between her legs, head thrown back and the room filling with soft moans as she brought herself to an orgasm.
Minutes later, dressed in a pair of cotton shorts and tank top, she followed the mouth watering aroma of dinner back to the living room, where Deepti, her best friend and Yash's girlfriend was busy stirring vegetables over the stove, clad in a deep blue silk slip that hugged her full curves.
“There you are!” Dee caught sight of Sam and paused from her cooking to beam at her. “I was just about to come drag you out of your room. How'd your first day go? Did you meet Grey Eyes? Did he remember you?”
“Okay, yes and no.” Sam grinned, and slid onto a stool on the island counter, and grabbed piece of roasted chicken, which she bit into, savoring the burst of flavours that hit her tongue. “Mmm, this is heavenly, Dee! Thank goodness you’re around to cook today. I don't think I can stand another takeout. Where’s Yash by the way? Sleeping?”
Dee frowned, light brown eyes studying her friend in concern. “You're trying to change the subject. That's not a good sign.” She flicked off the fire and crossed to take a seat beside Sam. “What happened?”
Sam sighed, taking her time to chew and swallow before she replied. “Know the saying that goes, ‘never meet your heroes?’ well, let's just put a twist and say ‘you should never meet the stranger you're infatuated with.”
“Okay, so what exactly was the problem? He's gained thirty pounds? Has severe halitosis, or has the personality of a door nail?”
“He’s leaner, but it suits him,” her mind replayed the scene in his office, when they'd stood so close her breasts had brushed against his chest, and the way her traitorous body had responded, the way her nipples had hardened, and heat had pooled between her legs. A flush crept up her neck at the memory of how she'd gotten off just minutes ago thinking about him.
Oh god! I'm a lousy creep!
“The first time we met, he made it very clear he didn't want me in the office.” She replied, hoping to hell Dee hadn't noticed her flushed skin. “And there wasn't even the slightest flicker of recognition in his eyes when he looked at me.”
She gave Dee a rundown of their encounter, grateful to have someone to unload the burden she'd carried.
“After that argument, we just kind of spent the rest of the day avoiding each other, until he left to meet someone, I guess -” she studied her hands and shrugged again. “I guess we're just not compatible.”