Chapter 9

Nine

“ W hat do you mean we missed the train?” Tamara stared at Ethan in open-mouthed shock, his calm expression only serving to rile her. “You said we had plenty of time.”

He shrugged, and checked his watch again. “I made a mistake. Sorry.”

“ Sorry ? Is that all you can say?”

As the concierge glanced their way, she lowered her voice with effort. “This is ridiculous.”

“Look, it’s no big deal. We get a couple of rooms for the night, then make arrangements to catch the train at the next stop.”

“It’s not that simple.” She sank into the nearest chair, tired after their long day, annoyed he’d made them miss the train, and afraid of spending the night in this romantic hotel with Ethan.

There was a difference between not acknowledging the newly awakened awareness that shimmered between them hotter than the Indian sun, and trying to ignore it in a place like this.

“We’ll miss the next stop tomorrow and that leaves the last day, the most important of the whole trip.”

“Because of the Taj?”

She nodded, a tiny pinch of latent grief nipping her heart. “And the birds. My mum was obsessed with birds. She collected figurines of anything from geese to cranes and she always wanted to visit Bharatpur’s bird sanctuary.”

He must’ve caught the hint of wistfulness mingled with sadness in her tone, because he slid his phone out of his pocket and leapt to his feet. “I’ll handle this. We’ll stay here tonight and tomorrow we’ll head to Bharatpur, then Agra.”

Before she could respond, his thumbs tapped furiously on his phone. “Don’t worry, you won’t miss a thing.”

“But all my clothes are onboard. I don’t have—”

“I’ll sort everything out. Trust me.”

He held up a finger as someone answered on the other end and she snuggled into the comfortable lobby sofa, grateful to be stuck with someone so commanding.

Making all the decisions over the last year had been exhausting: when to return to work, what to do with the house and with her stock in Ambrosia , whether to take this trip. She’d appreciated the independence, especially since she’d been robbed of it for so long, but here, now, with Ethan taking charge, she was happy to sit back and go with the flow.

Strangely, she did trust him; with their travel arrangements, at least. He’d make things happen, he was that kind of guy.

“Right, all taken care of.” He thrust the phone into his pocket and dusted off his hands, mission accomplished.

“With one call?”

He grinned and held out a hand to help her up from the sofa. “My PA’s handling all the arrangements. In the meantime, let’s grab a room.”

Her heart stuttered, her pulse skipped, and she broke out in a cold sweat before realising it was a figure of speech. He meant two rooms, he’d said as much earlier.

“Or we could get the Honeymoon suite if you’re feeling particularly adventurous.”

Her shocked gaze flew to his, only to find his too-blue eyes twinkling adorably.

With a shake of her head, she waved him away. “As tempting as that sounds, I’ve already told you, I’m not another statistic.”

His mischievous grin had her wishing she could throw caution to the wind and become just that. “Too bad, my bedpost needs a new notch.”

“You’re—”

“Adorable? Endearing? Growing on you?”

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing out loud, she said, “Pushing your luck. Now, I’m beat. How about we get a couple of those rooms?”

He grinned and muttered “spoilsport” under his breath, before charming the check-in staff as easily as he did everyone else.

Glancing around at the marble floor, the majestic columns, the sweeping staircase, and the shimmering chandeliers, Tamara couldn’t help but be glad.

Spending the night in a beautiful palace on a world famous lake with the most charming man she’d ever met would be memorable. And while she could vehemently deny her insane attraction to a guy so totally wrong for her, it didn’t hurt to let some of the romance of this place soften the edges of her hard resolve, right?

There was a difference between Tamara’s resolve softening and it melting clean away, and staring at Ethan in her doorway, with champagne in one hand and a glossy Taj Mahal brochure in the other, her resolve had flowed into the lake.

“Mind if I come in?” He asked.

Yeah, she minded, especially since she’d rinsed her dress and underwear and was in a fluffy complimentary hotel robe. If she felt vulnerable to him in her clothes, what hope did she have naked?

Yikes, she couldn’t think about being naked under her robe, not with him staring at her with those twinkling cobalt eyes, as heat crept into her cheeks.

“I come bearing gifts.” He waved the champagne and brochure to tempt her. Like he wouldn’t be enough to do that, and the thought had her gripping the door, ready to close it.

“Actually, I’m pretty tired.” And confused, drained, and a tad excited.

He’d showered too, and with this slicked-back wet hair and sexy smile, he looked more like a dangerous pirate than ever. Too glib, too smooth, too gorgeous.

At that moment, she knew exactly why she found him so attractive. She’d married Richard because he’d made her feel safe. The older guy who loved her, took care of her, made her feel special, and while it may not have lasted, that hadn’t stopped her from cherishing the feeling of security he’d brought to her life.

Which explained why she now found Ethan so appealing. That edge of danger, of unpredictability, was something she’d never experienced, and for someone who’d played it safe her entire life, she understood the appeal.

He held up the brochure, cleverly homing in on her weak spot. “Share one drink with me, whet my appetite for the Taj Mahal, and I’m out of here. Promise.”

Her instincts screamed she should refuse, but he’d been nothing but helpful in organising their rooms, transport for tomorrow, and entry to the bird sanctuary and the Taj. The least she could do was appear grateful rather than churlish.

“Okay.”

Besides, having one drink together would barely be enough time to make small talk let alone anything else happening. Not that she wanted anything to happen. If only she believed it. Her cheeks heated again and she opened the door wider to usher him in.

“Is your room okay?”

“Are you kidding?” When she’d wanted to stay here, she had no idea the rooms would be this gorgeous: the cusped archways, the carvings, the bohemian crystal lights, the miniature paintings. Like living in a fairytale, being a princess for a night. “It’s fantastic.”

“Good. For a while there, I thought you’d slug me for making us miss the train.”

“It wasn’t like you did it on purpose.”

A flicker of guilt tightened his features as he turned away to uncork the champagne and pour it into the exquisite crystal flutes that were standard room supplies, but it disappeared when he handed her a flute and she must’ve imagined it.

“Here’s to the rest of the trip being as eventful.” He raised his flute to hers, tapped it, and took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

She glimpsed something in his stare… something resolute, unwavering, and it made her shiver. She had to look away to break the spell cast over her the moment he’d walked into the room.

Though in reality, he’d cast a spell on her the moment he’d landed in India and railroaded her trip.

Lowering his glass, he placed it on a nearby table and did the same with hers before leaning forward, way too close.

“Tell me. Is my being here making you uncomfortable?”

“A little.”

She settled for the truth, hating how gauche and out of her depth he made her feel. She hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t fostered this attraction or encouraged it, but it was there all the same, buzzing between them, electrifying, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

“Why?” He didn’t back away. If anything, he leaned closer and her skin tingled where his shirt cuff brushed her wrist.

“Because you’re the type of guy any woman in her right mind should stay away from,” she blurted, silently cringing at her blunt outburst.

Rather than offending him, he laughed, the deep chuckles as warm and seductive as the rest of him. “You keep coming back to the playboy thing. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a ladies man?”

“Let’s just say my reputation may be embroidered somewhat.”

His laconic response made her smile, because while Ethan tried to downplay his reputation, she had little doubt every word was true. She’d seen his passing parade of women, either in the tabloids or at the restaurant, and while she should be the last person to judge who he paired up with—look at the monumental mistake she’d made in marrying Richard—the vacuous women didn’t seem his type.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it? My past?”

She shrugged. “Not really. It’s none of my business.”

“I’d like it to be.”

He’s moved closer, his murmured words feathering her cheek, and she held her breath, wanting to move away, powerless to do so.

If she turned her head a fraction, he’d kiss her. He’d made his intentions clear—with his words, his closeness, his body language—and she exhaled softly, her body quivering with the need to be touched, her heart yelling, ‘no, not him.’

Rivers of heat flowed from her fingertips to her toes, searing a path through parts of her she’d forgotten existed. Her body blazed with it, lit up from within, and in that instant her resolve to hold Ethan at bay was in danger of going up in flames.

“Tell me what you want, Tam.”

The fire fizzed and spluttered and died a slow, reluctant death as reality hit. She knew what she wanted: to build a new life, to move forward without the encumbrance of a man.

Yet she wavered, contemplating giving in to her irrational attraction for this man; not just any man, a man totally wrong for her.

The thought of their incompatibility snapped her out of the erotic spell he’d wound around them and she stepped back, forcing a laugh to cover the relief mingled with regret that she’d come to her senses in time.

“I want to take a look at that gorgeous brochure. So, hand it over.”

He let her get away with her diversion, but not before she saw the glitter of promise in his eyes.

This wouldn’t be the end of Ethan’s charm offensive, far from it.