up out of the blue, took her by surprise? An initial shock, then days together in that special, sexy world where normal rules didn’t apply. Might she see him differently?
If he analyzed his idea, he’d decide it was crazy and never do it. So, forget about being rational. He’d hustle upstairs and go online to arrange getting money transferred out of the trust fund he hadn’t touched since coming to Canada.
It had been a matter of principle: proving to himself that he wasn’t a spoiled rich kid and could make his own way in the world. But now, principles be damned. Train travel wasn’t cheap, and this was a chance to win the woman he loved.
Unrequited love was unhealthy. He’d break the good buddy limbo, stop being so fucking pathetic, and go after her.
But first, he had to set things up with Kat so she’d be totally surprised when he showed up on the train. “Yeah, okay.” He tried to sound casual. “I’ll be your token good guy. I’ll fly out for the wedding.”
“Oooeeee!!” She flung herself into his arms, a full-body tackle that caught him off guard and almost toppled them both. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She pressed quick little kisses all over his cheeks.
When what he longed for were soul-rocking, deep and dirty kisses, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. Groin to groin.
Enough. He was fed up with her treating him this way. Fed up with himself for taking it. Things between them were damned well going to change.
He grabbed her head between both hands and held her steady, her mouth inches from his.
Her lips opened and he heard a soft gasp as she caught her breath. “Nav?” Was that a quiver in her voice?
Deliberately, he pressed his lips against hers. Soft, so soft her lips were, and warm. Though it took all his willpower, he drew away before she could decide how to respond. “You’re welcome,” he said casually, as if the kiss had been merely a “between friends” one.
All the same, he knew it had reminded her of the attraction between them.
She would be a tiny bit unsettled.
He had, in a subtle way, served notice.
Token good guy? Screw that.
He was going to be the sexy guy on the train.
Chapter 2
The buzzer on Nav’s dryer went off, but he hadn’t returned to the laundry room yet.
He’d said yes to coming to M&M’s wedding, then just when I’d been gushing thanks all over him, he’d taken off, saying he needed to do something upstairs.
Well, first, he’d given me that look. The one that downright sizzled. Then he’d kissed me and I’d almost expected…almost wanted…I touched my lips, still burning from that one brief brush of his.
No, that was crazy.
What Nav and I had was perfect just as it was. Though I’d always had lots of friends, I’d never felt as connected to any of them as to him. Other women said boyfriends come and go, but it’s your friends you can count on. I’d never understood what they meant because I’d never had that close a friend. Now that I did, I wasn’t risking our friendship, not when every romantic relationship in my life had ended in disaster.
Besides, while I was looking for a husband, Nav’s dating behavior was pure player. He hadn’t got serious with anyone in the two years I’d known him. Every month it was someone new: a female smorgasbord. He gave lip service to believing in marriage, but whenever I commented that his revolving-door policy wasn’t the best way of finding a wife, he’d say—wink, wink—he was holding out for the perfect woman. Yeah, right.
He still hadn’t returned and his laundry would be getting wrinkled, so I opened the door of his dryer and got to work. I folded sweatpants, jeans, T-shirts. Nary a designer label. Nav’s clothes sense was pretty much “starving artist” even though I kept telling him about reasonably priced consignment stores that carried stylish outfits.
Into the hamper went the running shorts that showed off his lean, muscular legs and awesome butt. Faded rugby jerseys with their Cambridge red lion crest. A Cambridge man. How cool was that?
Boxer briefs. Black and navy, plain old Stanfield’s. Soft cotton that hugged his private parts. Damn, it would be so much easier if my best friend was a woman.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Nav’s package, but the thing was, he had an excellent one. In fact, his whole bod was pretty fine, as I’d discovered bit by tempting bit. Like, when I hugged him. Or when he ran down the street for his morning jog, and I just happened to be at the window when he left. Or when he stretched up to hang my new light fixture, or hefted my new desk, or fixed the plumbing under my kitchen sink…No, I wasn’t creating I need a man chores; it was just so much nicer to have his help than to figure things out on my own.
The view didn’t hurt one bit, either. He had strong shoulders, firm pecs, and a breathtakingly tight butt, as well as the aforementioned package.
Which I shouldn’t be thinking about. None of it. Not that, nor the drop-dead sexy English accent, nor that gorgeous skin the color of cinnamon. I should focus on the unstylish clothes, the shaggy hair that always needed a trim, the beard and mustache that hid half his face.
Even if he hadn’t been my best friend, and even if he had been into marriage, Nav wouldn’t be my type. I went for the polish of a successful, cosmopolitan man mixed with the edgy excitement and unpredictability of a bad boy. A man who’d grab me and kiss me senseless rather than give me a brotherly peck on the lips.
So, I was glad Nav had only done the peck thing. Of course I was. Because if he’d really kissed me, I might have kissed him back. And if we’d done that, we’d have crossed a line I had no intention of crossing.
Once, a few years ago, I’d fallen for a neighbor. When we broke up, I’d moved out of the building because I couldn’t stand seeing him. I wasn’t about to repeat the mistake and risk ruining the best relationship in my life.
All of which meant the size of Nav’s package was utterly irrelevant to me, and no way was I going to think about it.
“Kat, what are you doing?”
I swung around, boxer briefs in my hands, to see their owner, still clad in those skimpy shorts. Fighting back a flush, I said, “Folding your laundry.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” He tilted his head, studying me. “You’re blushing.”
Damn. I folded his undies and put them in his hamper. Totally casually. And lied. “I was thinking about the wedding. My family.”
“Ah.” He turned toward his dryer. “They really get to you.” Muscles flexing in his forearms, he heaved the rest of the dry items on top of the ones I’d folded, guaranteeing wrinkles.
Distracted by his muscles, I tried to remember what he’d said. “Yeah. Isn’t that what family’s for?” I gave him a rueful grin. “In my family, love’s unconditional, but it sure isn’t nonjudgmental. There’s a reason I don’t visit more than every year or so.”
Home was no longer
