The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(41)

“We’re here,” she called out.

“Are you okay?” Parvati joined them a few moments later, eyes narrowing on Jay’s jacket, hanging on Zara’s shoulders. “It took me forever to find a bag for the ice. Let me take a look.”

“I’m good. Really.”

Parvati squinted in the dim light. “Your pupils are dilated. That’s not a good sign.”

Zara coughed, choked, shot a panicked glance in Jay’s direction. “It’s just the light, Parv. I’m fine.” She shrugged off the jacket and handed it to Jay without meeting his gaze. “Thanks. I’ve warmed up now. Nothing like an exhibition of vulva fruit to freeze the blood in a person’s veins.”

Jay folded the jacket neatly over his arm. “Anytime.”

“I’d better get in there and congratulate my dad.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and he had a sudden fear he’d broken something between them.

“Indra is proclaiming it a huge success.” Parvati turned Zara’s head from side to side, inspecting her face.

“I hope he doesn’t move on to breasts as bread loaves next.” Zara gave a hollow laugh. “I don’t think I could take dual pumpernickel with almonds on top.”

Parvati snorted as they walked away. “He could do desserts. Plum pudding would work nicely. Or gulab jamun.”

“You’re going to ruin desserts for me forever.” Looking over her shoulder, Zara called out to Jay, “Aren’t you coming?”

“I have to get back to the office.” He was in no condition to go back into the gallery, much less wander through an exhibition of erotic art. What he really needed to do was go home, take a cold shower, and try to clear his mind of soft lips and warm hands and heavy gazes filled with lust.

Her shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Indra.”

“It was for the best.”

Still, she didn’t move. “Jay?”

“Yes?” He couldn’t leave until she left. Couldn’t move in case she came running back to him. Couldn’t breathe because desire still had him in its grip.

“Excellent brakes.”



* * *



? ? ?

Zara’s head had only just hit her pillow when her phone buzzed with a text. Marmalade, annoyed at the interruption, put a furry paw on her cheek as if to hold her in place. The ginger cat had squeezed in an open window one afternoon when she and Parvati were at work and had made their apartment his permanent home.

“I need to get that. Don’t steal my pillow.” She rolled over to grab her phone and Marmalade swiftly moved into position.

“I can put you out,” she warned him as he made himself comfortable in the center of her pillow. “You’ll have to sleep all alone on the couch. How would you like that?”

Marmalade twitched his tail and closed his eyes. He knew she didn’t have the heart to move him.


JAY: Did you get home safely?

ZARA: Yes. Parvati had the strange idea that we were being followed, but I told her she watched too many crime shows.

JAY: Head okay?

ZARA: Fine. Dr. Parvati put me to bed with an ice pack and two aspirin and told me to wake her in the morning.

JAY: What happened in the alley . . .

ZARA: Stays in the alley. It won’t happen again.



It couldn’t happen again. She could still feel his hands on her body, his lips brushing her cheek, the firm grip of his hand on her neck, the raw heat of him. If Parvati hadn’t found them at that exact moment, Zara might have gone too far. He was too damn hot, too sexy, too irresistible. Too utterly wrong for her. Jay Dayal was a dangerous man.


JAY: I owe you a celebrity introduction. We’ve been hired to provide security for a movie wrap party on Tuesday for a zombie film. I can get you in if you’d like to meet the star, Bob Smith. The movie is called “Day of the Night of the Evening of the Revenge of the Bride of the Son of the Terror of the Return of the Attack of the Alien, Mutant, Evil, Hellbound, Flesh-Eating, Rotting Corpse Living Dead Part 6: In Shocking 4-D.”

ZARA: Did you just put “zombie,” “movie,” and “celebrity” in the same sentence? The answer is YES!

JAY: I’ll send details.





* * *



? ? ?

“Parvati! Wake up!” Zara flicked on Parvati’s bedroom light, startling her friend awake.

Instantly alert, Parvati rolled over. “What is it? Fire? Breakin? Do you have a headache? Dizziness?”

“Jay invited me to a wrap party. I’m going to meet the stars of Day of the Night of the Evening of the Revenge of the Bride of the Son of the Terror of the Return of the Attack of the Alien, Mutant, Evil, Hellbound, Flesh-Eating, Rotting Corpse Living Dead Part 6: In Shocking 4-D next Tuesday. What am I going to wear?”

Parvati groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. “Maybe we could discuss it when it’s not midnight and I have to get up in five hours for my shift.”

Zara paced around Parvati’s room, stepping over clothes, pizza boxes, and piles of medical books. “I need to borrow your black dress. I saw Lucia Sanchez at Jay’s office and she looked very chic in all black. That’s going to be me. Conservative and professional. I’ll introduce myself, hand out a few cards, and leave. No booze. No food. No dancing. No fangirling. No asking for autographs except maybe one on my arm. No trips, falls, accidents, or chaos . . .” She trailed off when Parvati pulled off the pillow to shake her head.