KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      It’s been great fun writing the “trains” segment of my sexy “planes, trains, automobiles, and a cruise ship” Wild Ride to Love series starring the Fallon sisters. (The first book in the series, Sex Drive, written under the name Susan Lyons, is available from Kensington Aphrodisia.)

      As always, I want to thank my critique group, who accompanied me on this journey and provided guidance each step of the way: Elizabeth Allan, Michelle Hancock, and Nazima Ali. Special thanks for research assistance goes to Nisha Sharma, Alice Valdal, and Laura Resnick for providing facts that I then proceeded to twist to suit my story. Thanks also to my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, and to Audrey LaFehr and Martin Biro at Kensington.

      And of course, thanks to my readers, and especially the ones who take the time to drop me a note. It always brightens my day to hear from you.

      Readers can e-mail me at [email protected], write c/o P.O. Box 73523, Downtown Postal Outlet, 1014 Robson Street, Vancouver, BC, Canada V6E 4L9, or contact me through my website at www.susanfox.ca, where you’ll also find excerpts, behind-the-scenes notes, a monthly contest, my newsletter, and other goodies.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 1

      “What’s new with me? Only everything!” Nav Bharani’s neighbor Kat widened her chestnut brown eyes theatrically. She dropped her laundry basket in front of one of the half dozen washing machines in the basement laundry room of their apartment building, then hopped up on a dryer, clearly prioritizing gossip over chores.

      Nav grinned and leaned back against his own washer, which was already churning his Saturday-morning laundry. “I saw you Wednesday night, Kat.” She’d taken him to one of her girlfriends’ to supply muscle, setting up a new bookcase and rearranging furniture. “Everything can’t have changed in two days.”

      Though something major had happened in his own life yesterday. A breakthrough in his photography career. He was eager to tell Kat, but he’d listen to her news first.

      She gave an eye roll. “Okay, almost everything. My baby sister’s suddenly getting married.”

      Even in the crappy artificial light, with her reddish-brown curls a bed-head mess and pillow marks on one cheek, Kat was so damned pretty she made his heart ache.

      “Merilee? I thought she and…what’s his name? always intended to marry.”

      “Matt. Yeah, but they were talking next year, when they graduate from university. Now it’s, like, now.” She snapped her fingers.

      “When’s now?” he asked.

      “Two weeks, today. Can you believe it?” She shook her head vigorously. “So now I have to take a couple weeks off and go to Vancouver to help put together a wedding on virtually no notice. The timing sucks. June’s a really busy month at work.” She was the PR director at Le Cachet, a boutique luxury hotel in Old Montreal—a job that made full use of her creativity, organizational skills, and outgoing personality.

      “Too bad they didn’t arrange their wedding to suit your workload,” he teased.

      “Oops. Self-centered bitch?”

      “Only a little.”

      She sighed, her usual animation draining from her face. Lines of strain around her eyes and shadows under them told him she was upset about more than the inconvenience of taking time off work. Nav knew Kat well after two years. As well as she let anyone know her, and in every way but the one he wanted most: as her lover.

      He dropped the teasing tone and touched her hand. “How do you feel about the wedding?”

      “Thrilled to bits for Merilee. Of course.” Her answer was prompt, but she stared down at their hands rather than meeting his eyes.

      “Kat?”

      Her head lifted, lips twisting. “Okay, I am happy for her, honestly, but I’m also green with envy. She’s ten years younger. It should be me.” She jumped to the floor, feet slapping the concrete like an exclamation mark.

      That was what he’d guessed, as he knew she longed for marriage and kids. With someone other than him, unfortunately. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on his heartache. His best friend was hurting.

      He tried to help her see this rationally. “Your sister’s been with this guy a long time, right?” Kat didn’t talk much about her family—he knew she had some issues—but he’d heard a few snippets.

      “Since grade two. And they always said they wanted to get married.”

      “So why keep waiting?”

      She wrinkled her nose. “So I can do it first? Yeah, okay, that’s a sucky reason. But I’m thirty-one and I want marriage and kids as badly as she does.” She gave an exaggerated sniffle and then launched herself at him. “Damn, I need a hug.”

      His arms came up, circling her body, cuddling her close.

      This was vintage Kat. She had no patience for what she called “all that angsty, self-analytical, pop-psych crap.” If she was feeling crappy, she vented, then moved on.

      Or so she said. Nav was dead certain it didn’t work that easily. Not that he was a shrink or anything, only a friend who cared.

      Cared too much for his own sanity. Now, embracing her, he used every ounce of self-control to resist pulling her tighter. To try not to register the firm, warm curves under the soft fabric of her sweats. To fight the arousal she’d so easily awakened in him since they’d met.

      Did she feel the way his heart raced or was she too absorbed in her own misery? Nav wished he was wearing more clothing than thin running shorts and his old Cambridge rugby jersey, but he’d come to the laundry room straight from an early run.

      Feeling her warmth, smelling her sleep-tousled scent, he thought back to his first sight of her.

      He’d been