First Comes Like (Modern Love #3) - Alisha Rai Page 0,3
the rest of the famous men in his family, but the others could keep their handsome. Stern had its own thing going for it.
His lean lanky body wore that designer suit with casual elegance, like he’d been born to couture, which he had, as the eldest Dixit grandson.
He’s far too sophisticated for little old you.
No, he wasn’t. He was older than her, yes, thirty-two to her twenty-nine. She didn’t have much experience with men, between school and med school and quitting med school and her internet side hustle becoming her main hustle. In her sleuthing, though, she’d discovered little in the way of an excessive or extravagant life for him.
All she wanted to do was gallop toward him eagerly, but she settled on a sedate walk. When she was a couple of feet away, Dev turned his head. Their eyes met, and Jia swallowed the lump of excitement in her throat. “Hello.” Her voice was breathier than she’d ever heard it. Almost sexy. Not her usual vibe.
Dev’s gaze dipped over her, and a flush worked its way to her cheeks. She could put to rest her worry about the physical attraction, on her end, at least.
Since she’d decided to crash this party, she’d played this scenario out in a dozen different ways. He’d be shocked, delighted, annoyed, angry, panicked.
Not one of those expressions was on his face right now. Which made sense! He was an actor and good at controlling his emotions. Of course he wasn’t going to rear back in surprise or wrap her up in an embrace here in public.
“Hello,” he said, his voice low, and that was all she needed to nearly swoon. He had such a clipped and sexy accent.
“Hi,” she nearly responded, then mentally kicked herself. She’d already said that.
He held out his hand, and she accepted it automatically. His skin was a darker brown than hers, and a scar ran across his thumb. She almost jumped from the spark that leapt between them as flesh met flesh.
“I’m Dev Dixit. And you are . . . ?”
The spark extinguished at the splash of cold reality, and her hand slipped from his. He wasn’t possibly going to . . . pretend he didn’t know her?
Nobody. Didn’t. Know. Her.
Lots of people don’t know you.
She hushed her tiny voice of logic. That wasn’t what he meant. He has a reason for this. It’s a joke. It’s an act, for . . . reasons.
Her heart supplied excuse after excuse, even though her rapidly growing logic shot them all down. He’d offered her a casual handshake, then asked who she was. If it was an act, he was committed.
She had to know. “Are you serious?”
His hair brushed his high cheekbones. It was longish, carefully cut to frame his face. “I . . . yes. I’m sorry. Have we met?”
She breathed deep, her brain racing. “You— We’ve been conversing.”
“I converse with any number of people, I’m afraid.” His smile was painfully polite, showed no teeth. “Apologies. Could I trouble you to give me a reminder?”
What on earth? He’d done this to multiple women? Found them on the internet, sent them messages? Wormed his way into their hearts? Why? Why do that?
“You’re really saying you don’t know who I am?” Her voice was hoarse.
His smile faded, and wariness replaced the charm in his eyes. He placed his glass of wine on the high-top table between them. “Uh. No. I don’t think I do.”
The cold ball of anger and panic that shot into her belly was welcome. It was a sharp distraction from the crack of her heart. After he’d written her long blocks of texts about how much he liked and admired her? He was going to do this? She took a step closer, and then another one, until they were only a few inches apart. She’d ignore his tall body and how much bigger he was to focus on this hurdle. “Where’s your phone?”
His thick eyebrows rocked up. “I beg your pardon?”
“Give me your phone.”
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else, Ms. . . . ?”
Her hands curled into fists. If her mom or sisters had been here, they would have seen the warning signs of her surge of emotions and immediately removed her from the situation, lest her impulsiveness take over her common sense. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered and was horrified at the pinprick of tears at the corners of her eyes.
Not as horrified as he was, though. He swayed forward, brow creased. “Are you okay?”