Page 10 of Driven By Desire
“Sorry to disappoint.” Pretending to consider her baggy cream cargo pants and mint green tank top in mock disillusionment, she said, “If I’d known I had expectations to meet, I would have grunged up some.”
“Sweetheart, all the grunge in the world won’t make you look like the mechanics I am used to. Most of them are big, burly men with moustaches that are their pride and joy.”
Tilting her head contemplatively to one side, she offered, “Give me a month. I can work on the moustache.”
Throwing his head back and laughing, he stepped back and gestured her forward. “I’m Chirag.” Grinning, he added, “The missing brother, apparently.”
“Is it safe to come in? I heard the most unholy commotion from this side of the door.”
“My sister.” Was all the explanation she got before he continued, “Why exactly do we need a mechanic? Who called for one?”
“Mr. Mehra. Your brother?” Catching herself, she added, “I mean, not Aditya, the other one.”
“You know Aditya as well?”
“We attend a guitar class together.”
Wincing at that, Chirag shut the front door and moved forward, “I’m so sorry for the loss of your hearing. Your ears couldn’t possibly work anymore, could they?”
“No.” Grinning, she said, “Probably because they never really did when it came to music. I’m even worse than your brother.”
“Then why the classes?”
“That’s exactly why the classes. Life would be very boring if we only played to our strengths.”
Smiling, she preceded him into the drawing room. An overturned coffee table rested on smashed bottles of paints, scrunched up and torn papers and what looked like a well-loved soft toy in the shape of a frog. A frog that was currently blue.
The scowl was back as Chirag surveyed the destruction. Gesturing to a sofa at the other end of the room, he said, “Please excuse the mess. Sit down. Bhai hasn’t come home as yet from the office. Let me just call him and see how long he will take to reach.”
Yanking his phone out of his back pocket, he stalked off in the direction of the kitchen. Finding herself alone in the room, Max surveyed the damage more carefully. Fingers itching to clean up the mess, she was just about to start picking up the papers when he marched back into the room.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.” Unable to help herself, she blurted, “Can I help you clean this up?”
“This?” Raising an amused eyebrow, he slanted a quizzical look at her, “A vintage car expert mopping our drawing room floor? Idon’t think that’s what my brother had in mind when he asked you to come over.”
“I’m sorry,” Smiling a little sheepishly, she spread her hands out, palms up, “I can’t help myself. I have a touch of OCD when it comes to cleanliness.”
Chuckling, Chirag threw himself into the armchair across from her, “How do you manage to stay clean when you’re working on a car?”
“I don’t,” she admitted, “But I clean like a demon the minute I’m done.”
Watching him laugh, she settled more comfortably into the couch. This was a much better reception than she’d expected. She was actually starting to enjoy herself.
“What the hell happened here?”
Ahh. There it was. The glower, the smoldering intensity and complicated vibes that she’d been missing until then. Looking up, she took in the sight of Krish standing in the doorway and glaring at them. In a beautifully tailored dark grey suit, with a crisp white shirt and deep red tie knotted to perfection, he looked the picture of a suave, successful businessman. The heavily laden grocery bags balanced precariously with his laptop bag added an intriguing twist to the picture he presented as did the frustrated, harried look on his face. As devastatingly handsome as his brother, Chirag, was, he didn’t make her breath catch or her heart jump the way the irritable, grumpy man in the doorway did.
“Chirag, I have some files in the backseat of the car. Could you grab them for me?”
“Sure.” Winking surreptitiously at her, Chirag skirted his brother and headed out.
Taking a deep breath to calm her suddenly jittery nerves, Max stood to face him.
“Need any help with that?”
“No.” The abrupt refusal had her stiffening. Eyeing the bag on top that was tilting precariously to one side, she asked, “Are you sure?”
