Love, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  “Yes, but only once you know what it contains. Or do you fall for the fancy wrapping?”

  He was saying the same things Nav had on Saturday night. I stirred restlessly. Hadn’t we come here to dance? “Maybe, and so I have a new rule. I won’t let myself fall in love until I’ve known a guy for a month.”

  “A whole month?”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  His eyes crinkled.

  “Let’s dance,” I said again, starting to rise.

  He stayed seated. “Hang on. This brings me back to my original question. Have you ever truly been in love?”

  Hmm. It was worth looking at my relationships in a new light, because it could help me figure out where I kept going wrong. Slowly I sank back into my seat. “I don’t know,” I said softly.

  “How would you define love?”

  If it wasn’t that head-over-heels exhilaration, then what was it? Had I been searching all my life for something I couldn’t even define? If that was true, how would I know if I found it? “How would you define it?”

  His face softened, eyes glowing. “It’s when you see the whole person, their strengths and their frailties, and love them for all of it. They’re someone you can count on, but who’s always capable of surprising you.”

  I nodded slowly as he went on. “It’s when you look at a face and know it’s the one you want to see every night and every morning for the rest of your life. You want to have kids together, muddle through being parents, muddle through everything else life throws your way, doing it together with tears and laughter and, most of all, love.”

  His words brought tears to my eyes.

  “Kat?”

  “Yes.” I sniffled. “Yes, that’s it.”

  He’d seemed to speak with such sincerity, yet the words must be part of his role play as Dhiraj. Nav, after all, was the smorgasbord dater. Or had he perhaps felt this way about Margaret and the other woman he’d loved, and being disappointed in love had made him swear off it?

  “Have you felt that way about any of the men in your life?” he asked.

  Refocusing on my own life, I reflected. Then I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It sounds so…big. Maybe all my relationships have been small.” Yes, small, despite the fact that more than one had rated photos in People, Entertainment Weekly, or the National Enquirer. Glamorous, yes, but shallow.

  I took a sip of Grand Marnier, trying not to feel depressed. “They started out great, but then either I found out something about the guy that I didn’t like, or he got bored with me and moved on.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Anyone who finds you boring is crazy.”

  “Oh, come on, I’m nothing special.”

  “Damn it, you are. Why don’t you see that?” He stared at me for a long moment. “You really, honestly think you’re uninteresting, don’t you? That’s why, when you talk about yourself, you prefer to stick to the light, fun stuff rather than get into anything too deep or personal.”

  His words paralleled what I’d been wondering about over dinner. Slowly, feeling my way, I said, “Don’t people like talking to someone who’s fun, not all self-absorbed and angsty?”

  “Depends on the people. I’ve enjoyed the conversations we’ve had. About parents and kids, your sisters, arranged marriage, love. They weren’t exactly superficial.”

  “No. But…I guess when I talk about some of these things, I’m afraid I sound stupid. Like, I should have figured things out earlier, made a better job of my life.”

  He gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, shouldn’t we all have? Welcome to the world of being human, Kat Fallon.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

  “That I hate the way you run yourself down.”

  “I don’t!”

  “You say you’re not really pretty, you just make the best of what you’ve got.”

  Wait a minute. That was something I’d told Nav. Now he was definitely crossing a boundary and I was about to call him on it, but he was going on. “You’re not as smart as your sister Theresa, and your job’s not as important as hers or your parents’. You’re not as exciting as those guys you date.”

  “That’s not running myself down, it’s just being accurate. And besides—”

  “No,” he cut me off. “Why compare yourself to others? You’re you. Beautiful, talented, interesting, generous, fun to be with. You’re unique, special, and valuable. Especially when you stop hiding behind insecurity and let your real self out.”

  He thought I was special. And this wasn’t the kind of flirtatious flattery I’d heard from other men; I could tell he meant it. My heart warmed with a sense of acceptance I’d rarely felt.

  But what was he saying? That I could simply be myself, and people would like me?

  How could I buy that? I’d thought Ms. Sociability was a role that played to my strengths. Had it really been a way of hiding my insecurity?

  “Hey.” He stroked my hands and I realized I’d clasped them together, tight with tension. “Relax, Kat. I’ll stop pushing.”

  I took a deep breath, let it out, and realized the sound system was playing “Dancing Queen,” an ABBA song.

  It made me smile. ABBA was familiar, not just from the movie, Mamma Mia! “My mom—my career-driven lawyer mom—loved ABBA. When I was little, sometimes she’d play their music in the kitchen and we girls danced with her.” Oh, yes, there were times Mom had let down her hair and fooled around with us. Why did I so rarely think of them?

  “Then we should dance.” He stood up and held out his hand.

  I jumped to my feet, then said, “Oh, no,” realizing the song had ended. But then the next one began, and I grinned. It was ABBA again, this time “Take a Chance on Me.”

  The Aussies packed the floor, dancing energetically, but somehow we made a space for ourselves. With all those bodies jammed together, there wasn’t much we could do but bounce around with the others, everyone bumping up against everyone else. The others were laughing, the mood infectious, and we all sang along to the chorus.

  I could put the troubling conversation behind me and simply enjoy the moment. My partner in his sleek black looked so much more sophisticated than the other guys in their T-shirts and jeans, typical Nav clothing. And, though he danced as energetically, his athletic grace showed in his movements.

  I’d been to clubs with Nav; we’d probably been on the dance floor at the same time, so how had I never realized he was such a great dancer?

  We all chanted, “Ba ba ba ba baa” to the final chorus, ending with the plea to take a chance on me. The music ended and I grinned up at Nav. No, Dhiraj, I reminded myself.

  He grinned back, then another song began and everyone whooped as they recognized the opening to “Mamma Mia.”

  Again, everyone sang along to the chorus, hamming it up. More than a dozen pairs of hands went up in the air as we all chanted, “Mamma Mia.”

  Deliberately, I widened my eyes and put on a flirty face as I sang, “My, my, how can I resist you?” to my partner.

  He laughed, and I couldn’t remember when I’d had such pure fun, dancing with a sexy man amid a boisterous group of strangers, letting go and chanting lyrics even though I couldn’t carry a tune. Hey, if Pierce Brosnan had had the guts to do it on-screen, why shouldn’t I?

  When the tune ended, everyone clapped. Laughing, gasping for breath, I let myself fall against my partner, who wasn’t even breathing hard.

  His arms circled me. “Hey, dancing queen, I could handle a slow one.” His hips bumped mine suggestively.

  Chapter 17

  Though the ABBA songs had been great fun, when the next tune started, Nav was pleased to hear Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” Now he could hold Kat in his arms.

  The Australians left the floor and several couples got up to dance, but the floor was no longer crowded.

  He held out his hand to Kat, she took it, and he eased her into dance position for a foxtrot. Her hand grazed his shoulder almost tentatively, then se
ttled. He rested his hand on her upper back, bare above her black camisole top, and nudged her closer so his right side pressed gently against hers from midtorso to midthigh. A warm thrill coursed through him.

  Then he stepped forward, leading her in the familiar slow, slow, quick, quick rhythm. She felt wonderful, warm and light in his arms, following his lead easily into a promenade. He stuck to the basic steps for a minute or two until they got a feel for each other. Her smile was bright, her eyes sparkled, and the hummingbird earrings caught the light as she moved.

  He’d seen how uncomfortable she’d been with their earlier conversation and was glad dancing had lifted her spirits. But he didn’t regret pressing her the way he had. She was coming to know herself better, and he loved having an increased intimacy with her.

  Even if she wanted to pretend it was Dhiraj she was talking to.

  He led her into another promenade, their hips separating on the “slow, slow” steps, then joining again, pelvises pressing against each other. He was almost glad she was wearing a denim skirt rather than last night’s skimpy dress, because, even with the heavier cotton between them, he was getting aroused.

  On the next promenade, he spun her under his arm, then repeated the maneuver. Completing the second turn, she gave a delighted laugh. “You really know how to dance. Not many guys your age do.”

  Dancing had been part of the high-society life his parents had lived in London. “Didn’t I tell you Indian men get a thorough education?”

  “I do seem to recall mention of the Kama Sutra,” she murmured, eyes sparkling up at him. “But you’ve yet to follow through on that one.”

  “That’s what you think. Didn’t you recognize the Twining Position? How about the Yawning Position? Oh, and I recall Congress of a Cow, too.”

  “Congress of a Cow? What are you talking about?” She pulled her head back an inch—which thrust her hip forward against his pelvis—and stared up at him.

  Battling against an erection, he said, “Most of the sexual positions you’ve ever tried are in the Kama Sutra. It’s just that people generally think of the more exotic ones.”

  “Exotic. Hmm.” Her eyelashes drifted down then up again, flirtatiously. “Perhaps you could describe one or two?”

  “Well, let’s see. There’s the Top.”

  “As in, the woman’s on top? What’s so exotic about that?”

  “Yes, she’s on top and he’s inside her. But that’s not where the name comes from.” He spun her out, then guided her back in and caught her lightly at the waist, letting their pelvises rub again. “Holding him inside her, she kind of spins around on his body. Like a top.”

  “Oh, my gosh, she’d have to be an acrobat.” The flush on her cheeks told him she was imagining it.

  The song was ending, so he dipped her, supporting her back, gazing into her eyes for a long, sultry moment, then raising her and brushing his lips across hers.

  The next tune was an old romantic one, “Lady in Red.” A perfect excuse to drop the more formal foxtrot position and snug Kat’s body closer to his. He pulled their clasped hands in so they rested against his chest, and let his other hand drift down her back to settle at the curve of her waist. “Bet you’d like Lotus.”

  “That’s another Kama Sutra position? Nice name.”

  “You know the Lotus Position in yoga, where you cross your legs?” When she nodded, he said, “Imagine lying on your back and lifting your legs up in Lotus Position. Your partner enters you. You can’t move much and he has control.”

  Her eyes glinted up at him. “All very well for the man.”

  “Actually, the Lotus is really good for hitting your G-spot.”

  Her tongue tip emerged, circled her lips. “I’d like to try that one.”

  “Then we will.”

  The song was romantic; the sway of her body in his arms was heaven. He dropped their clasped hands to their sides, and without his urging she moved closer and rested her head against his shoulder. He tilted his head so his cheek touched her curls, glad his beard was gone so he could really feel her.

  Neither of them spoke as they moved in easy harmony. He was aroused, but the feeling was a warm song in his veins, not an urgent hunger. For as long as he lived, he would remember this dance and the feel of this woman in his arms, where she belonged.

  The number drifted to an end on the singer’s whispered words, “I love you.”

  Lips against Kat’s hair, Nav silently repeated those three words and longed for the day when he’d be able to say them aloud to her.

  Reluctantly, they separated and he said, “I think that’s a good note to end on.”

  She nodded, eyes dreamy. “Perfect.”

  “I want to be alone with you.”

  “Yes.”

  There were other people in the lounge, but he didn’t look at them, only at Kat as, arms around each other, they headed toward his room.

  Once inside, he pulled her close for a long, tender kiss. The way she responded told him she, too, was in the mood for romance rather than quick passion.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

  “I’m just going to…” She gestured toward the tiny bathroom.

  “Help yourself.”

  While she was in there, he lit the sandalwood candles and turned out all the other lights. Now, what would most please Kat?

  He grinned as an idea struck him, then took out the hearts deck from the Nice ’n Naughty board game. When she rejoined him, he held out the deck. “Let’s say you’ve rolled and landed on a heart. Draw a card.”

  “Oh, we’re skipping the rolling part, are we?” She drew a card from the deck.

  Before she could turn it over and read it, he took it from her. Pretending to read, he said, “It says, ‘Your partner must give you anything you want. Tell him what that is.’”

  She reached for it. “Is that really what it says?”

  He held it away from her. “Does it matter?”

  A puzzled expression crossed her face, then she said slowly, “If I said I just wanted to cuddle for a couple hours, would that be okay?”

  It would take all his self-control, but the idea of holding her for two hours sounded great. Like a gift of trust and intimacy. “Of course.” He caressed her cheek, her ear, down her neck, and let his hand come to rest on her shoulder.

  “Or, if I said I wanted you to—” she flushed—“make me climax with your hands and mouth?”

  “Oh, yeah. Whatever you want, Kat.”

  She studied his face. “You were pretending to read from the card, and you could have said it the other way around. Said I had to do anything you wanted.”

  “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?” he joked.

  Her lips tipped up at the corners. “Because you’re not like that. You’re a generous lover, not a selfish one.”

  “Seems to me, lovemaking should be about generosity and sharing. Giving someone pleasure is a wonderful thing.”

  “True. But I guess I’ve always felt like I needed to impress the guy. To measure up to the other women he’d been with. Don’t get me wrong, I like orgasms, but if I just lie back and…take them, I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

  Even in bed, she was trying to prove herself. “Kat, lovemaking is about two people and how they relate to each other, and it’s going to be different each time. Can’t you just relax and enjoy it?”

  Her gaze was soft and vulnerable. “In my relationships, sometimes it’s me who breaks it off. But sometimes I get dumped, and I always wonder what’s wrong with me. Like, I must be boring company; I must be a bad lover.”

  “No.” He stared deep into her eyes. “That’s not true. Kat, stop trying to impress people. Be yourself; open up. Show the world the person you really are. Otherwise, even if someone likes you, it’s not really you they’re interested in; it’s only the façade you’ve put on.”

  She gazed down at her feet and when she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “What if I do as you say? And no on
e likes the real me?”

  Her vulnerability made him feel tender and protective. Gently he tipped her chin up until she met his gaze. “That won’t happen. Look at the people you’ve talked to on this trip. Maggie and Jim, Lynn and Terry, Kristin and Sandra. You’ve opened up with them, and that’s led to meaningful conversations. Much more than superficial chat. They like you, Kat. The real you, not that Ms. Sociability person. And so do I. Sure, there’ll be some people you don’t click with. Big deal, who needs them? It’s their loss.”

  Her eyes lit with something that looked like hope, maybe revelation.

  “Now.” He waved the card. “Tell me what you want.”

  After a few moments’ silence, she said, “I’d like to dance. The way we were to that last song, but even closer and sexier, since no one’s watching.” A spark kindled in her eyes. “And while we’re dancing, let’s take off each other’s clothes.”

  “I like the way you think.” His groin tightened. “But is that it, just take off each other’s clothes? Isn’t there anything more you want?”

  The spark in her eyes flamed. “Once we’re naked and horny, I want to try that Lotus Position.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He eased her into his arms, holding her the way he had when they’d been dancing to “Lady in Red,” and began to move them around. The tiny amount of floor space didn’t allow for much more than a back-and-forth shuffle, but that was enough to let their bodies slide enticingly against each other.

  She freed the hand he’d clasped in his and raised her arms, circling his neck. “You look like a panther tonight in those sexy black clothes. The fabric’s so thin, I can feel your…mm-hmm…muscles as you move.”

  “Oh, is that what you’re feeling?” He pumped his hips so his erection rubbed her stomach. Then he slid his hands between their bodies, to the button at the waist of her denim skirt. “I wouldn’t mind feeling more of you.” He undid the button, slid down the zipper.

  The skirt fell to the floor and she stepped free of it, kicked it out of the way, and then settled her body back against his. The soft flesh of her almost naked tummy was so much more tantalizing than denim.