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“India is my dream,” he says. “I’d like to visit the Taj Mahal.”

Genuinely interested, I ask, “What’s the attraction?”

“I love curry,” he says with a shrug.

I laugh at that.

“Seriously.” He brushes back his hair. “I’ve been fascinated by the Bollywood culture since I was a kid.”

“Really?” I have a hard time pegging him as a Bollywood fan.

He grins. “That’s probably not the kind of information I should be sharing on a first date.”

“No,” I agree, laughing more. “But since the cat is out of the bag, tell me more about your fascination.”

As he chats about his love of Indian food, movies, and fashion, I discover two things. One, Phillip is easy to talk to, and two, he’s uncomplicated and sincere. He’s everything the left side of my brain approves of in terms of relationship material. I can see why my mom wanted me to meet him. He’s the kind of guy who will make a good father and faithful husband—reliable, loving, and trustworthy.

I focus on those pros, and by the time we’ve shared a plate of baked nachos and I’ve finished my second glass of wine, I can’t come up with any cons. I’m buzzing a little from the alcohol, my cheeks hot from the stuffy, artificial heat inside, so when he grows quiet and leans over to my side, I don’t pull away. I close my eyes when he presses his lips to mine and focus on analyzing the feeling.

His lips are soft for a man. He doesn’t try to part my lips or sneak his tongue inside my mouth, but I can taste the wine and guacamole on his lips. I wait for the sparks or a flicker of arousal, but there’s nothing. No zap of lightning or heat igniting under my skin. I’m relieved when he pulls away, but the slight shaking of his hand as he brushes my hair over my shoulder tells me his reaction to the kiss isn’t the same.

It would be wrong to give him hope when there’s no attraction from my side. That lesson is the one good thing I’ve taken from my fling with Alex. If being with him has taught me anything, it’s that without the attraction, all the pros in the world aren’t enough. The signs were there with Tony, and I didn’t heed them.

“Phillip.” I gather my words, trying to think of a tactful way to break it to him.

He gives me a half-smile. “That didn’t rock your world, did it?”

My answering smile is apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a bold move, a bit too soon as well, so maybe I should try again. What do you say? Shall we start over?”

I open my mouth to give him another apology when he’s jerked from his chair so suddenly that the glass of wine in front of him topples over. The wine splashes over the table, drops landing on my chest as the bulk of it runs into my lap. I jump up, soaked in wine and confusion.

Alex is pinning Phillip to the wall between our coats, his forearm pressed on Phillip’s neck. “Don’t ever lay your hands on her.”

“Alex!” My chair falls over in my rush to get to them. I grab Alex’s bicep, trying to pull him off Phillip. “Let him go.”

Phillip raises his hands, his voice steady. “I’m not touching her.”

Alex’s calm returns as the words register. Slowly, the scowl on his face evens out. The bar has gone quiet, all heads turned our way.

“Let him go,” I say again, tugging on Alex’s arm. I may as well be trying to move a tree trunk.

“Don’t touch her ever again,” Alex says with a clenched jaw.

“She’s all yours,” Phillip says, not breaking eye contact with Alex. He’s treating him like a feral predator, I realize. Which is what Alex might as well be at the moment.

Alex lets him go with a shove. “Get out of my sight before I break your fingers.”

“Alex!” I can’t believe my ears. “Phillip, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Phillip says, barely glancing at me as he takes his coat from the hook on the wall. His gaze is still fixed on Alex as he takes his phone from his pocket and asks, “Do you want me to call the police, Kate?”

Alex watches me with a dark smile, waiting for my verdict as if he’s intrigued about what my answer will be. I should call the cops on his ass, but it’s hardly the way to repay him after he’s saved me from an attack in a dark alley and replaced my bank cards, phone, and keys.

“No,” I say. “I’ll handle this.”

Phillip gives me doubtful look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I bite my lip, guilt eating at me for how Alex is behaving when Phillip has been nothing but nice. “I’m really sorry about this.”


Tags: Anna Zaires White Nights Crime