“Mona.”
The older woman widened her eyes in faux-innocence. “Bird. Also, his prison conviction was just expunged.”
Katrina stifled her grin. She might have to start dating somewhere, but she felt like she had to aim a little higher than “has hair follicles” and “prison record clear,” big... bird or not. “I’ll take the coffee.”
There was a savvy glint in Mona’s eye as she pushed the order forward. “That’s what I thought.”
Once Mona’s back was turned, Katrina slipped a fifty-dollar bill out of her pocket and dropped it in the tip jar, burying it under the dollar bills Mona filled it with in the morning to stage the thing.
When Katrina was in her early teens and starting to model, her father had made her spend an hour every day in the living room, smiling. Constant, unceasing smiling. Different kinds of smiles, big smiles, small smiles, smiling with her eyes, smiling as she sat motionless, smiling while talking.
Yes, her dadhadbeen quite the prince.
It had been the worst hour of her day. The only possible upside was that she was now excellent at smiling, even when her stomach was roiling in the throes of an impossible crush.
She balanced the tray and pasted a cheerful smile on her face as she made her way to the occupied table.
Jasvinder Singh was many things: her friend, her bodyguard, her medical contact, her shadow.
He was also beautiful. Today he was dressed casually but fashionably, his tall, lean frame displayed in camel-coloredslacks and a red sweater. His beard was sharply trimmed to showcase the line of his jaw and the curve of his cheek, and he carried himself with the ease of someone who was utterly comfortable with their own body.
She’d met him almost a decade ago, when she’d married his wealthy boss, international jeweler and investor Hardeep Arora. Hardeep had kept a whole security team on their toes, and Jas had been in charge of it.
He’d been in her life for so long; she’d always been objectively aware of his beauty. She’d only recently started taking it personally, tracing his bold features repeatedly with her gaze. She’d become especially obsessed with his eyebrows. They were slashing and black and thick and prominent, and she didn’t understand why her sexual awakening was tied to a man’s eyebrows of all things, but here she was.
When she neared, he glanced up at her from behind the book he held, a thick biography, and as those black eyes pinned her she tripped on... well, she wasn’t sure what she stumbled on. Air? Could one’s feet fumble over the strong breeze from an AC vent?
With some fancy juggling she managed to salvage the coffee, though it sloshed over the sides of the mugs.
The plate, however, flew right off the tray. It could have crashed on the floor or clattered onto the table. But no.
It landed in his lap. Facedown.
Just a plate.
And a croissant.
And jelly.
And butter.
Her smile gone, she groaned and set the tray down on the table. “Yikes, I’m so sorry.” She reached for the plate, but caught herself. A few months ago, she would have cracked a joke and helped him clean up, but she couldn’t possibly now. What if she, like, touched him? She’d die.
His reflexes were quick, and before she could act, he scooped the food and plate off his lap. “Don’t worry about it.”
Katrina grimaced. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay awhile.” There were few things in life that were certain: death, taxes, and Jasvinder Singh’s sense of responsibility. He was her employee, so she could technically tell him that they would be staying, but their relationship had never worked like that.
The doors might remain locked for another twenty minutes, Mona and her the only ones in here, but Jas wouldn’t leave her alone in public. Hell, it had taken all of Katrina’s negotiating powers to get him to sit out here during her therapy session. He’d wanted to stand outside the office door, and had only acquiesced when she’d told him that would make her too self-conscious to talk.
He arched a perfect eyebrow at her. “We can stay.”
“You’ll probably want to go home and clean up.”
Mona popped up, holding a small bowl of water and a towel, as well as a new croissant. “Here you go.”
“I can clean up here.” Jas accepted the items. “Gracias, Mona.”
Mona said something to Jas, too fast for Katrina to catch. Her Spanish skills were limited, and Mona and Jas were definitely advanced-level. Jas’s family was mostly PunjabiAmerican, but he had a Mexican grandparent or great-grandparent, if she remembered correctly, and had grown up in a multilingual community where English, Punjabi, and Spanish were spoken fluently.
