Seducing Anjali

by Diana Persaud

  “Yes. That will give me time to start taking hormones to help my body prepare for a pregnancy.”

  “What if you change your mind?”

  She turned to face him.

  “I’m not one of those women who think of a baby as an accessory or a status symbol.”

  She shifted her body to give him her full attention.

  “I have two nieces and a nephew. I’ve changed dirty diapers. Cleaned spit up. Burped gassy babies. I know exactly what I’m signing up for.”

  “Don’t you think a child deserves a home with two parents?”

  No child of mine will ever grow up the way I did.

  “Yes they do, but I can’t make someone be a father if he isn’t interested.”

  “So you’re not even going to give him a chance? Just make a decision without him?” His voice was strained, too sharp.

  “Tom, what are you talking about? I’m not tricking anyone into being a father. The men who signed up to be donors know exactly what’s going to be done with their…donation.”

  Donors. Right. A stranger. No one ever chooses me.

  “I-I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, it isn’t, but I appreciate your…candor.”

  She stood, dusting grass off her blue jeans. He rose to his feet.

  “What if you meet someone? Someone who doesn’t want kids?”

  She straightened and met his gaze.

  “Then I suppose he’ll have to decide whether he wants to pursue a relationship with me…or not.”

  Chapter Six

  Anjali sat in her office chair in front of her computer and opened her current manuscript. She stared at the screen, frowning.

  Focus on the story, Singh. You have to get this chapter done if you want to stay on schedule.

  She read her notes to focus her thoughts.

  Our date was perfect until he asked about my secret wish. Why didn’t I just make up something?

  She typed random words to get her thoughts flowing.

  Why should I have to hide what I want?

  She typed ‘IF HE CAN’T DEAL WITH IT THEN HE CAN GO—’

  Ding-dong.

  Muttering under her breath but glad for the distraction, she went downstairs.

  “Tom? What are you doing here?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck then held up two beers.

  “I had a great time today, Anjali.”

  His eyes darted to her lips then met her gaze.

  Was he thinking about our kiss?

  She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

  “If you think I’m a jerk and never want to see me again—”

  “Tom, you already know where I stand. If you can’t deal with me making plans to have a—”

  “—I just don’t want you to use me for—” he interrupted.

  “—You think I’m going to trick you into fathering my child?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Wow, you do have a big ego,” she replied.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You really weren’t planning on asking me to father your child?”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  She started closing the door. He held his hand out, preventing her from closing it.

  “Wait. What’s wrong with me fathering your child?” he demanded.

  “The fact that you’re not interested in me—”

  “—You’re wrong again,” he replied softly.

  She met his gaze. The hungry look in his eyes stole her breath away.

  “Do you want me to be honest?” he asked.

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “I want you.”

  She gripped the door in case her knees gave out. Heat pooled between her legs. His body was tense, coiled as if ready to sweep her off her feet and carry her to bed.

  If only he would.

  She bit her lip, sensing he was holding back.

  “But?” she asked.

  “How do I know you’re not going to use me?”

  “I should be insulted, but you do have a valid point. Come in.”

  She released the door and found the strength to walk away from him.

  “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She went up to her office, picked up the manila folder and returned to the living room. Tom held a photograph, studying the image.

  “Your parents must be proud of you. Graduating from college is quite an accomplishment.”

  She averted her gaze.

  “They weren’t?” he asked.

  “They…were not happy when I switched majors from Engineering to English Lit.”

  “You followed your dream. That’s important,” he said.

  Tears welled up behind her eyelids.

  “I knew you’d understand.” She took a deep, centering breath. “So what about you? Spend more time at toga parties than in the library?” she teased.

  He stiffened.

  “Didn’t go to college. I dropped out of high school.”

  “You did? Why?”

  He shrugged.

  “Didn’t see a point to it.”

  Why is he telling me this? Is he testing me or trying to push me away?

  “These are some donors I’m considering for IVF.”

  “I’m sure they’re all college grads,” he muttered as he took the folder and sat on her couch. He flipped through the file, his lips getting thinner with each new applicant.

  “Got a thing for blue eyes?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Blue eyes are a weakness of mine,” she admitted, sitting next to him. “But with my dominant genes, any child of mine will have brown eyes.”

  He tapped a profile.

  “How do you know this guy really has blue eyes? Or that he’s as smart as he claims? All these responses could be lies.”

  She shrugged.

  “Like you’ve never lied to a pretty girl to get her into bed?”

  He winced. “I was young and horny. Selfish. I wouldn’t do that now.”

  He shut the folder.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He set the folder on her coffee table.

  “I’m much more experienced now. I don’t need lies when the truth will work.”

  “Truth? Like what?”

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I don’t understand why you would choose having kids over having a relationship.”

  “I’m not choosing one over the other.”

  “Kids are a drag. They’ll ruin a good relationship.”

  “Sounds like a weak relationship if it can be ruined so easily,” she countered.

  “Have you seen mothers in public? They let themselves go.”

  “Nobody stays young and pretty forever, Tom. Are you going to be one of those dirty old men chasing after twenty year olds?”

  He laughed, shaking his head in denial.

  “I’m not interested in insecure twenty-year-olds.”

  “No? What kind of woman are you interested in?”

  He lifted her and settled her on his lap. One hand splayed against her back while the other settled on her thigh. His fingers inched up her thigh, seeking her heat.

  She held her breath, waiting for his touch.

  Featherlight caresses made her squirm against him. The hard length of him pressed against her intimately.

  A soft groan escaped his lips and his fingers grew bolder.

  The rough fabric of her jeans grazed against her nub, setting her body ablaze. Her hips moved on their own, bucking against his fingers, sliding back and forth.

  Storm clouds swirled in his eyes, pulling her into a tempest.

  And yet her fire raged on, burning hotter and brighter until she feared it would consume her.

  As if by magic, her buttons were undone. Rough fingers trailed along her breasts. Her nipples felt tight, her breasts heavy and aching. She needed them to be free.

  Ding-Dong.

  She groaned with frustration.

 
“Ignore it. They’ll go away,” he whispered, his stubble grazing against her cheek. The deep gravelly sound of his voice unleashed something inside her. She fought the urge to pull down her bra and force her breast into his mouth.

  “Anjali?”

  “Oh, no!” she whispered, clinging to him. “It’s my sister.”

  She shoved his hands away and leaped to her feet.

  Ding-Dong.

  “You-You have to go!”

  Grabbing his hands, she pulled. He didn’t budge.

  “Tommy, please!”

  “But I was having so much fun—”

  “Tommy!”

  “I want to meet your sister.”

  “Anjali!” her sister shouted.

  “She’s worse than Mikey.”

  He finally relented and allowed her to pull him to his feet.

  “Out the back door!”

  She shoved him to the back of her house. She yanked open the door. He turned and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. His mouth latched on to her neck.

  She stifled a groan, cursing her weakness.

  “I’m not leaving until you promise to see me again.”

  “Yes. Now go.” She shoved at his chest.

  Ding-Dong.

  “Don’t forget to button your shirt,” he said with a satisfied smirk.

  Cheeks red, she slammed the door shut and raced to the front door. She buttoned her blouse and took deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

  Before her sister could pound on her door, she whipped it open.

  Nandini’s warm smile faltered.

  “What took you so long to answer? I was beginning to worry.”

  “Sorry Jiji.”

  She opened the door and stepped aside.

  Jiji gave her a peck on the cheek. She sniffed.

  “Have you changed your perfume? You smell different.”

  A guilty flush colored her cheeks.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “With Ma. I wanted to talk to you,” Jiji said.

  “Sure. Come in.”

  She closed the door and followed Jiji into her living room.

  “Can I get you something to drink or a snack?”

  “No thanks. Come. Sit.”

  Jiji sat gingerly then patted the seat beside her. She plopped down beside Jiji, pulling her legs up to her chest.

  “Dinesh’s friend needs a wife.”

  “‘Needs’ a wife?”

  Jiji snorted.

  “Of course men ‘need’ a wife. They need someone to take care of them.”

  “You mean they can’t change their own diapers?”

  “Anjali, that’s exactly why you’re still single.”

  “I want a partner, Jiji. Someone who will pitch in and help, not create more problems.”

  “Taking care of a man you love isn’t a burden,” Jiji insisted.

  “Helping your wife shouldn’t be a burden, either.”

  “Dr. Kumar is an anesthesiologist. You won’t have to worry about money. You can stay home and raise your children.”

  “I’m not worried about money, Jiji.”

  “He’s going to call you later.”

  “Wh—call me? Why?”

  “Dinesh brought him to dinner last night. He saw your photograph. He thinks you’re pretty and would make a good wife.”

  “He doesn’t know me.”

  “He’s ready to marry,” Jiji said.

  She shook her head. “What kind of marriage—”

  “A good one. He will provide for you and you will take care of him.”

  “Sounds like he’s in the market for a housekeeper, not a wife.”

  Jiji clucked her tongue.

  “I thought you wanted to get married.”

  “Only to someone who loves me.”

  “What’s that on your neck?”

  She leaped off the couch as if it were on fire.

  “I’m thirsty. Would you like some tea?”

  She hid in the kitchen, heating water to make tea, hoping Jiji would forget the obvious love bite on her neck. She poured tea into delicate tea cups then reached for the sugar bowl.

  Jiji placed a hand on her back.

  “Anjali, are you seeing someone?”

  “Why on Earth would you ask that?”

  “Because you just put six teaspoons of sugar in your tea.”

  Jiji gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

  “Who is this man that has you so preoccupied?”

  Ding-Dong.

  Grateful for the reprieve, she hustled to her front door.

  “Tom? What are you—”

  Jiji appeared beside her. She glared at him, silently wishing him away.

  “Hi. I’m Tom. I live next door.”

  He jerked a thumb toward his house, his attention focused on Jiji.

  “This is my sister, Nandini,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you, Tom,” Jiji said with a polite nod.

  “I noticed your car is leaking oil. Left a big puddle in the driveway,” Tom said, pointing to Jiji’s car.

  “Oil? Is that a big problem? I should call Dinesh-”

  “I can top it off for you, Ma’am. I’m a mechanic.”

  “You can? You are? Oh, thank you, Tom,” Jiji said.

  “When you’re ready to leave, I’ll need you to pop the hood for me so I can refill your oil.”

  “I suppose I should get going then. Let me get my keys,” Jiji said then returned to the living room.

  Tom gazed at her silently, the heat in his eyes making her shift uncomfortably.

  “Here you are—” Jiji held her key out to him. She studied Tom’s face then raised a brow. She dropped her car key into his palm and watched him walk to her car.

  “Stay away from him, Anjali. He’s only after one thing,” Jiji warned.

  “I’m a grown woman, Jiji. I know what I’m doing.”

  Jiji gripped her arm, turning her away from Tom.

  “Don’t waste your virginity on that…mechanic.”

  I can’t believe she still thinks I’m a virgin.

  “There’s nothing wrong with him being a mechanic. He’s a good man.”

  “So is Dr. Kumar. Plus he’s a doctor. Much better man than…Tom.”

  “Jiji!”

  She pulled her arm away.

  “How can you say that? You don’t know him.”

  She strained to keep her voice down so Tom wouldn’t overhear their argument.

  “I don’t have to. A man of his means can never be good enough for my sister.”

  “I want a man who loves me, Jiji.”

  “Love? Respect is more important than love,” Jiji insisted.

  “You respect Dinesh, but does he respect you?”

  “Anjali—”

  “Ahem.”

  Tom glanced from one sister to the other.

  “Everything all right?”

  Jiji snatched the keys from his hand.

  “My sister was never this disrespectful until she met you, Tom.”

  “Don’t blame him. He has nothing to do with-”

  Jiji marched toward her car.

  “Jiji-wait!” she called, running after her. “Jiji, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about you and Dinesh. If you’re happy with him, then I’m happy for you.”

  Jiji’s stiff shoulders sagged.

  “No marriage is easy, Anjali. But some are easier than others.”

  Jiji glanced at Tom, standing by the front door watching them.

  “The right partner makes all the difference. Choose wisely,” Jiji said.

  Once Jiji’s tail lights disappeared around the bend, she returned to her front porch.

  “Two beautiful women fighting over me? I must be doing something right.”

  His voice was light and teasing, but his eyes were guarded.

  “My sister—”

  Unable to think of a polite way to convey Jiji’s objections, she fell quiet.

  “—is probably right
about me.”

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets.

  She raised her chin.

  “My sister doesn’t know you.”

  Her phone rang the same time Mikey’s car pulled into Tom’s driveway.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said before jogging over to Mikey’s car.

  With the wedding less than two weeks away, she barely saw Tom. He had to plan and host the Bachelor party and attend the dreaded rehearsals. Janice wanted everything to be perfect and insisted on several rehearsal dinners.

  While Tom was busy with Janice’s wedding of the century, she completed her manuscript one week ahead of schedule. To celebrate, she decided to treat herself to a shopping spree. The day before the wedding, she went shopping at a nearby mall.

  “Anjali?”

  Tom stood in the aisle. His eyes lit up when he noticed the dress she was holding.

  “I was just—”

  She shoved the dress back on the clothes rack.

  “No, I like it,” Tom insisted.

  He reached around her, grabbed a hanger and held it up.

  She cringed inwardly. A size ten.

  “Try it on, Anjali.”

  His voice seemed smokier.

  “For me?”

  The excitement in his eyes made it difficult to refuse.

  She bit her bottom lip.

  Her heart beat faster and her stomach felt odd.

  Will he think I’m sexy in this dress or will I look like a giant tomato?

  She found her confidence in his sexy smile and teasing eyes.

  She took the hanger from him and returned it to the clothes rack. She searched through, found the correct size then led him to the changing rooms. He sat on a floral chair and waited for her to try on the red dress.

  Anjali closed the dressing room door and hung the dress on the small metal peg. She undressed, folding her clothes neatly before placing them on the small peach platform bench behind her.

  She unhooked the clasp and pulled on the dress. She clasped the top behind her neck and turned around to face the mirror.

  This looks awful with this bra. It bunches up and looks awkward. Definitely not sexy.

  She took off her bra and adjusted the top. The soft fabric clung to her body and draped gracefully around her hips.

  Marilyn Monroe in red. Very sexy.

  Tom knocked gently on the door.

  “Everything all right? You’ve been in there awhile.”

  She stared at her chest. Her erect nipples were visible against the clingy fabric.

  He can’t see me like this! It’s too embarrassing.

  “Let me in, Anjali,” he pleaded.