Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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in America,” he explained. “And then I joined the military. I haven’t spent a lot of time watching any movies, much less Indian ones.”
“How did you like the military?” she asked, dipping a piece of naan into a masala sauce before popping it into her mouth.
He didn’t look at her. “Well enough,” he said. “It got me where I am today.”
She could picture him in military fatigues, silver dog tags hanging from a chain around his neck. He was tall, broad, tough—the kind of man to whom a weapon was an extension of his body and not just a foreign object. It’s what made him so good, she realized. And so lonely.
“So where is home for you? Where is the place you most identify with?”
She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if he stiffened. And then he was looking at her sharply before he smoothed his expression. “I’m a mutt,” he said. “I have no specific home.”
“A mutt?”
“Someone of mixed ancestry, like a dog that you can’t quite tell what the dominant breed is.”
“But you live in London,” she said, trying to approach it from a different angle. “Is that the place you prefer over the rest?”
“I don’t prefer anywhere. I go where I want to go.”
“Like here?”
“Precisely.”
She took another sip of wine. “But what about when you’re ready for a family? Where will you settle then?”
His eyes were hard, glittering. “Don’t, Veronica,” he said. “Don’t take this conversation down that road.”
She tilted her chin up to glare at him icily, though her stomach was doing flips. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was simply making conversation, not trying to set up house with you.”
He shoved a hand through his hair and leaned back on his chair. The torches crackled, the sea churned, and he was silent for a long moment. “It’s complicated,” he finally said. “I’m complicated.”
“Aren’t we all.” She said it as a statement, not a question, and he looked at her, appraising her.
“You certainly are,” he said softly. And then he took a drink of his wine. “Family is not for me,” he said. “It’s not what I want.”
Her heart pinched in her chest. Yes, she did want a family—a husband, children—but she didn’t want them right this moment. Nor was she naive enough to think that one night of sex with Raj made him her ideal man, her love for all time. But the fact he could state so emphatically that a family was out of the question …
Yes, it bothered her. Because it seemed as if men never thought of her in terms of family life. They thought of her for sex. For uncomplicated, uncommitted relationships based on physical attraction.
There was nothing deeper. There never had been. And that saddened her.
She set her napkin on the table, pushed back and got to her feet. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” she said. “But I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. It’s time to turn in.”
“Veronica,” he said, standing, holding his hand out as if to stop her.
She turned slightly, her gaze not on him but on a point behind him. “It’s okay, Raj,” she said. “I understand. I’m just tired.”
“It has nothing to do with you. I just don’t feel the need for those things. I’m happy the way I am.”
“Are you?” she said, her voice stiff even though she tried to make it casual.
He looked as if he pitied her. She hated it, because she knew what he was thinking. It made her wish she’d never told him about the baby. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. She didn’t deserve it.
“Not everyone needs the same things out of life. I have money and freedom. I need nothing more.”
“How lonely that sounds,” she said. “And what happens in twenty years when you wake up and realize you have no one who cares?”
He shook his head slowly. “You’ll find him, Veronica.”
“Find who?” she asked, quaking inside.
He reached out and skimmed a finger along her cheek. “The man who will love you the way you want to be loved.”
HE SHOULD have left her alone, should have let her nurture her anger with him and left it at that. He shouldn’t have planned to have dinner with her, shouldn’t have asked her to dress up for him, and shouldn’t have sat for more than an hour talking with her about anything and everything, listening to her bright laughter and falling just a little more under her spell with every word.
Raj shook his head as he stood on the terrace and let the wind whip through his clothes. It was hot and humid, but the breeze took it all away, for a short time anyway.
Why couldn’t he simply leave well enough alone? He’d hurt her when he’d taken her body, and he’d hurt her when he’d betrayed her trust and brought her to Goa against her will. Tonight, he’d hurt her again when he’d been unwilling to tell her why he didn’t feel at home anywhere, why he couldn’t settle into a family life.
Things with Veronica had gotten out of control much too quickly. He’d broken his own code of conduct when he’d gotten involved with her, and he was willing to break it again for one more night in her arms. The truth was that he’d sell his soul for one more night with her.
He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.
She wasn’t like other women. He’d had relationships, some lasting for several months as he’d stayed put in one location or another, but he’d never felt as if his skin was itching on the inside, as if only one woman could soothe the restlessness that plagued him.
It was simply the circumstances of their meeting, he told himself. He’d expected a spoiled, useless brat who’d somehow fooled an entire nation—but he’d found a thoughtful, intelligent woman who hadn’t led a perfect life, but who wanted very much to do a perfect job.
He admired that. Admired her. Two days ago, he’d have never thought that possible.
She’d experienced great sorrow in her life, but she hadn’t let it beat her down. Her spirit was unbroken, though perhaps sorely tested.
She’d trusted him, in more ways than one, and he’d broken that trust. He didn’t like the way that made him feel.
With a curse, Raj strode into the house and to her bedroom door. She’d only been gone for a half an hour or so. She might be in bed, but he would bet she was still awake. He knocked softly.
When she didn’t answer, he knocked again, more loudly. Still nothing.
His heart kicked up. There was nowhere she could go really. They weren’t on an island, but there was nothing for miles—and he did have security on the perimeter. He’d given her the illusion of complete freedom, but he wasn’t so incautious as to leave her unguarded.
Even here.
With a curse, he pushed on the handle … and the door swung inward. The doors to the terrace were wide-open, the white curtains blowing in the breeze. She wasn’t in bed, or in the en suite bath. He slipped out onto the terrace—a different terrace than the one they’d had dinner on, facing a different direction—but she wasn’t there, either.
She was still on the premises, or security would have alerted him. He eyed the path that sloped down to the beach and knew instinctively where she’d gone.
Heart