by Susan Fox
I headed back to my room to pop a couple of aspirin, then went again to the Park Car. A fresh cup of coffee in hand, I took the stairs up to the dome to enjoy the view and find someone to chat with.
For the next hour I did my best not to think of Nav or Pritam, or my two lucky-in-love sisters, as I talked to tourists from England and Japan. When they departed for the early seating at lunch, I settled into conversation with an older man named Terry who was heading to Victoria to visit his family.
A male voice spoke from the aisle beside me. “Hello, folks.”
I glanced up, then took a second look. The newcomer was tall and movie-star handsome with blond hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes, casually elegant in jeans and a blue shirt that accented his tan. As attractive in his all-American way as Pritam was in his more exotic one.
If I hadn’t just spent an amazingly sexy evening with Pritam, I’d definitely have been interested in this guy.
In the easy way of train meetings, my companion and I both said hello and we all introduced ourselves. The newcomer was Sam Wilbanks.
“What brings you on this trip?” Terry asked him.
Sam leaned a slim hip against the seat in front of me. “It’s research. I’m a screenwriter, working on the script for a movie that’s set on a train. I never travel by train myself, so I’m looking for details to add authenticity.”
How strange that his job was so similar to the one Nav had created for Pritam. Two days, two handsome men. Two possible flirtations, because I could see the interest in Sam’s eyes.
It reminded me of the way Pritam had looked at me, and of all the things we’d done in that hotel room. The heat of arousal pulsed through my veins and I shoved away the memories.
“A Canadian movie?” Terry asked.
“It’ll be filmed here, mostly in Toronto, but it’s a Hollywood production.” Sam named a major studio.
“Wow,” I said. “You’re doing a screenplay for them?”
“It’s my third for them.”
“Well,” Terry said, “I’d love to talk more, but I need to freshen up before lunch.”
“Of course.” Sam stepped aside so the older man could move past me and into the aisle. “We’ll get together and chat some other time.”
“And I’m sure I’ll see you again, too, Terry,” I said.
“I’ll look forward to that, both of you.” He lifted a hand in farewell and headed away.
Sam slid into the seat beside me. “And I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Kat.” There was a flirtatious sparkle in those vivid blue eyes.
It was impossible not to feel an answering tug of interest. And silly to have a twinge of regret that he wasn’t Pritam. Pritam no longer existed, and that’s exactly the way I wanted it.
The public address system announced the second seating for lunch.
“Will you join me?” Sam asked.
“Why not?”
The dining car was laid out simply, with an aisle down the middle and attractively set tables on each side. The main feature was the huge windows or, rather, the view outside.
As we walked down the aisle, the back of a head caught my eye. Glossy black hair, shoulder length, pulled back in a black band.
Oh, my God. It couldn’t be.
Then I heard his voice. Or, rather, a voice that was neither Pritam’s nor Nav’s. “Yes, import/export,” he was saying, in English with an upper-crust Brit accent that had more hard edges than Nav’s.
But no question it was Nav. My heart raced, my stomach did a slow flip, and heat flooded through me. Last night I’d had sex with this man. Amazingly wonderful sex.
What was he doing here? Why was he speaking with a different accent?
He sat across from two women, one in her twenties and the other, with a fading version of the same dirty-blond hair, probably her mom.
I stopped in the aisle and Nav glanced up with a smile and a gleam in his dark eyes. “Good day, miss. My name is Dhiraj. Would you care to join us?”
Dhiraj? He was playing another stranger on a different train? Utterly confused, every cell in my body tingling from the memory of last night’s sex, I could barely form a coherent thought. Except that I had to know what was going on.
Yet again, he looked drop-dead sexy, today in a charcoal sports jacket, light gray shirt, and black pants. Besides, now I’d seen his terrific body and learned how well he used it.
“Kat?” Sam said, and touched my shoulder.
Nav’s—Dhiraj’s—eyes narrowed as he focused on the other man, perhaps realizing for the first time that we were together. Something dark flared. Hostility? Jealousy? Hurt?
I glanced up at Sam. “I’m sorry, I have to…You go on, Sam.”
He gave me a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Okay, Kat. Have a nice lunch.”
I felt mean about bailing on Sam, but I had to find out what Nav was doing.
Knowing I needed to explain to the women why I’d ditched my prospective lunch companion to sit with three apparent strangers, I gazed at Nav. “You look very much like someone I know. Are you by chance related to Naveen Bharani?”
Muscles beside his eyes tightened, hinting at a smile. “No, I’m not related.”
As I moved to slide into the seat beside him, he rose and pulled the chair back. I saw the watch and ring Pritam had worn. His hand brushed my shoulder, sending another quivering reminder through me that a dozen hours ago we’d been naked together, crying out in passion.
“But I’m glad for the resemblance,” he said, “if it provided the incentive for you to sit with us.” Nav’s normal speech was a bit less casual than that of people raised in Canada or the States, but there was even more formality to Dhiraj’s.
I wanted to lean into him, feel those wonderful hands all over my body. Stretch up and capture those sensual lips. I saw desire burn in his eyes, as well, even though he was pretending he didn’t know me.
So, Pritam no longer existed, as we’d agreed. Instead, Nav had created Dhiraj? Did he hope to seduce me again? For an entire three days and nights on this train? My breath quickened.
But wait, underneath the Dhiraj façade, this was still Nav, my best friend. The guy who had a revolving-door policy when it came to dating. The man I couldn’t get involved with.
Utterly confused, I sank slowly into the chair, no doubt looking a little stunned.
The younger of the two women across the table smiled brightly. “We’re glad you joined us. I’m Kristin, and this is my mom, Sandra.” Sandra, too, offered a welcoming smile.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Kat. And you said you’re, uh, Dhiraj?” I gazed at Nav.
“That’s correct.”
“He was just telling us,” Sandra said, “that he’s the vice president of an import/export company.”
“I see.” This trip certainly wasn’t going to be boring. For the moment, I decided to play along. “And, pray tell, what do you import and export, Dhiraj?”
“Textiles.”
Textiles? How on earth had he come up with that? Did he have some relative in that industry, too?
“I love your accent,” Kristin said. “You live in England?”
“Part of the time. I alternate between our offices in London and New Delhi.”
My body was totally aware of him, and I was intrigued to find out what he was up to. But the bottom line was, whatever role he might play, he was Nav underneath and I could trust him. Because of that simple fact, I was starting to relax.
“New Delhi.” I shot him a mischievous glance. “Isn’t that where they make those Bollywood movies?”
He made a sound, a choked-back laugh, but managed to stay straight-faced. “No, that would be Mumbai.”
“I’ve heard about those movies,” Kristin said. “They have a lot of song and dance, don’t they? Like musicals?”
“I love musicals,” Sandra said with relish. “My Fair Lady, South Pacific.”
“Yes, there are similarities between Hollywood musicals and Bollywood movies,�
� he said. “Romance and drama.” He glanced at me, eyes dancing. “Sometimes even a secret identity to add to the fun.”
“If only real life were so exciting,” I said, still unsure how I felt about him being here. What was better? The memory of one fantastic night, or the tantalizing possibility of more?
Kristin laughed. “You can say that again.”
A waitress came to ask if we’d like something to drink.
Nav—Dhiraj—said, “Would you ladies do me the pleasure of sharing a bottle of wine? I think the beginning of a cross-country trip calls for something special.”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Sandra said, and her daughter promptly agreed.
“I had a bit too much to drink last night.” I slanted him a glance.
A concerned, vaguely guilty expression flashed across his face, though it wasn’t his fault I’d kept slugging back the champagne. “Hair of the dog is the traditional remedy,” he responded.
When I agreed, everyone discussed their preferences. From the all-Canadian wine list, he ordered a bottle of unwooded chardonnay from a BC winery, Grey Monk, to go on his tab.
Again I wondered where he was getting the money for this. And why. It truly was as if he’d turned into a different person.
Another very sexy one. My body vibrated with awareness of his. Every time he shifted position so his clothing brushed me, I had to stop myself from jumping.
Over wine and smoked lake trout, accompanied by scenic views of Muskoka cottage country, the two women said that Kristin lived in Vancouver and her mom in Toronto. Sandra was going out for a visit with her daughter’s family. The younger woman’s husband had volunteered to look after their kids so Kristin could fly out to Toronto and the two women could travel back by train, enjoying some mother-daughter time.
The two of them related to each other so easily and affectionately, I wished my mother and I were more like that. It reminded me of the day Mom took me shopping for a prom dress—just the two of us, an entire day together, shopping, sharing lunch, gossiping like girls, and not a hint of pressure or judgment from her. It was so rare for Mom to let down her hair like that.
Kristin brought out family photos, and I fought back another wave of envy over her happy marriage and lovely children.
Nav, too, admired the photos and seemed genuinely interested in hearing stories about the kids. Then he got Kristin talking about her part-time job as a website designer, and Sandra sharing stories about her career as a high school teacher.
Normally, I was the outgoing one, but he’d thrown me so off balance I wasn’t myself.
I bit back a chuckle. I wasn’t myself; he wasn’t himself.
This man, this Dhiraj version of Nav, was definitely attractive. Confident and poised like the men I typically dated, yet not a spotlight hog.
He wasn’t flirting with me, which was disconcerting given how aware I was of him. And yet, it would have been embarrassing if he’d acted flirtatious, if he’d shut out the mom and daughter and focused on me.
All the same, he could’ve shown a little more interest. Was Dhiraj playing hard to get?
The four of us had almost finished lunch when he finally turned to me. Touching my bare forearm lightly, making me tremble at the memory of those talented fingers caressing me in far more intimate spots, he said, “How about you, Kat? Where do you live and what do you do?”
Did he expect me to pretend to be someone else, too? I toyed with the idea. But one secret identity at the table was enough. “I’m the PR director for a boutique hotel in Montreal.”
“How exciting,” Kristin said. She and Sandra began to ask questions, and I told them a little about my job.
Dhiraj mostly listened—of course Nav had heard all this before—but he shifted position often, drawing my attention to him. To his well-shaped hands as he lifted his glass. To the scent of sandalwood and the brush of his arm as he slipped off his jacket and draped it on the back of his chair. To the way the silvery gray of his shirt made his dark skin even more dramatic. To the strong, beautiful angles of his face. My fingers trembled with the desire to touch him.
As fruit salad and coffee were served, he said, “Hotels are a world of their own. People lose their inhibitions in the privacy of their rooms.”
He was deliberately reminding me of the way Pritam had made me come in front of that big undraped window in the elegant suite at the Royal York. My pussy tingled and dampened, and I squeezed my thighs together against the memory of—the yearning for—orgasm.
“I’d hate to be a chambermaid,” Kristin commented dryly.
Grateful to her for interrupting my sexy thoughts, I joined in the laughter.
“People think of a hotel as a different world, where normal rules don’t apply.” Dhiraj reached for the sugar and his hand brushed mine as if by accident. But it was no accident. Nav drank his coffee black and unsweetened. “I’m new to train travel,” he said, “but I heard someone say the same thing about trains.”
This Dhiraj person was less overt than Pritam, but the occasional brushing touches, the gleam in his eyes when his gaze locked with mine, the innuendo in the current topic of conversation, kept me totally aware of him. And growing increasingly horny.
Sandra said, “Yes, I agree with you, Dhiraj. On a train, we passengers are on hiatus from normal life. We get to sleep in, play Scrabble all day, drink wine at lunch.”
“Enjoy getting to know strangers.” He raised his coffee cup in a toast.
“And I find,” Kristin said, “that there’s freedom in knowing we’ll probably never see each other again. People reveal more personal information.”
“So, there’s a certain intimacy?” He put a slight stress on the last word, and under the table his foot nudged mine.
“Yes, that’s a good word,” she said.
I stifled a chuckle, but he’d made his point and I was definitely craving intimacy—of more than a conversational nature. Would I be crazy to go along with this new seduction of his?
Sam Wilbanks came down the aisle and paused. “I hope you had a good lunch, Kat.”
“Yes, thanks, Sam.” Conscious of Nav—Dhiraj—at my side, I wondered if I should introduce everyone.
Sam decided the matter. With an easy smile, he said, “Hi, folks. I’m Sam Wilbanks.”
Kristin and Sandra smiled back and gave their names.
“Dhiraj.” This time there was no smile, only a nod.
“I’m sure we’ll meet up again.” Sam lifted a hand in a casual good-bye.
When he’d gone, Kristin said, “He’s sure good looking. I bet he’s an actor.”
“Close,” I said. “A screenwriter. He’s doing research for a Hollywood movie.”
“That’s almost as glamorous,” Kristin said.
“Time for us to head off,” Sandra said. “We have a half-finished Scrabble game calling.”
Kristin touched her shoulder affectionately. “Mom’s an English Lit teacher and she knows all the fancy words, but I beat her on the modern tech stuff.”
Their easy camaraderie again made me envious. Even though I was known in the family as Mommy’s girl, that had mostly meant having Mom on my case about finding a career and never settling for a man who was less than I deserved. I’d felt pressure rather than the acceptance Sandra showed Kristin. Of course, maybe Kristin had never disappointed her mother the way I’d so often done mine.
When they’d gone, my companion turned to me, “Will you stay and talk a while longer?”
“With…Dhiraj?”
“Of course.” He was still speaking in that crisp, formal English voice. There was an edge to it when he added, “Unless you have a prior engagement with the screenwriter.”
A touch of jealousy? But no matter how attractive Sam was, the man beside me was far more tempting. “No.” I gave a small grin. “It’s interesting, though. It must be my week for the movies. Yesterday I met a Bollywood producer.”
His eyes twinkled. “I must seem quite desperately boring, with my in
ternational import/export company.”
“Boring isn’t a word I’d use to describe you.” It was so natural, after last night, to fall into a flirtatious rhythm. And inevitable that I’d feel so aroused I could barely sit still.
“Good.” He rose to take the chair across from me. “Now I can see you properly.”
And I could see him properly, too. He really did have striking features, and he looked every bit the international businessman in the stylish but moderately conservative clothes.
“And I very much like what I see,” he said, eyes glowing with appreciation. Under the table, his foot nudged mine again.
Damn, I was falling into this seduction. I had to get things straight before we went any further. I drew my foot away. “Nav, what game are you playing now? I thought you were going back to Montreal. You have the exhibit to prepare for.”
He gazed consideringly at me for a few moments and then answered in Nav’s voice. “I never said I was going back, Kat. You made an assumption.”
“I thought we agreed that last night would just be…” I flushed. “That we’d only, you know…that it was a one-time thing.”
“Another assumption.”
Indignantly, I said, “You said nothing Pritam and Kat did would affect Nav and Kat’s friendship.”
“I did. And we agreed Pritam would vanish, which he did.” He switched to Dhiraj’s voice. “Now you have me. A new train, a new stranger. Relax and have fun. What happens on the train stays on the train.”
Slowly I said, “You’re proposing the same game—rules—as with Pritam? Dhiraj will disappear, too, as if he’d never existed? My friendship with you—with Nav—won’t be affected?” Even if I had sex with Dhiraj?
He gazed at me for a long moment. “If that’s what you wish.”
Troubled, I stared back. “This is all so unlike you.” With lovers, I found unpredictability exciting. However, Nav had always been predictable, reliable, and this new behavior, along with the new look that was so not Nav, rattled me, body, mind, and soul.
He frowned slightly, then studied me intently. “Would you rather be on the train with your old friend Nav?”
“Yes!” I imagined the old Nav across from me. Shaggy hair, unshaven face, friendly smile. Cute, even hot, but also comfortable. And resistible.