Liam’s smile faded. “Does it have a happy ending?”

“No.” She was laughing now, her eyes sparkling, so beautiful he couldn’t resist the urge to touch her.

Gently, he brushed her hair back, his fingers skimming over the soft skin of her shoulder. “Maybe we should practice . . .”

Her lips quivered at the corners, and she closed the distance between them, her voice husky and low. “For authenticity?”

“Exactly.”

She slid her free hand over his shoulder, soft breasts crushing against his chest. All his blood rushed down to his groin, taking with it the last vestiges of his rational thought. He locked his arms around her, pulling her so close he could feel each gentle breath as an exquisite stroke on his cock. Raw desire coursed through his veins as his hands skimmed over the sweet softness of her curves.

“Someone is watching us through the window,” she murmured, her breath warm on his cheek.

“All the more reason to put on a good show.” With one hand on her nape, he tipped back her head and covered her mouth with his own.

A moan escaped her lips, filling his head with thoughts of tangled sheets, banging headboards, sweat-slicked skin, and the realization of a fantasy that had consumed him night after sleepless night since she’d turned sixteen and he’d realized she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

He parted her lips with the gentle slide of his tongue, touching, tasting, savoring, pausing between heady sips to let her essence dance over his taste buds. With every breath he inhaled the fresh scent of wildflowers in a rain-soaked meadow, the grassy lawn where they’d played catch in the summer sun. He’d known she was smart and fun and beautiful. But this kiss. These feelings. The throbbing heat of desire. It was all completely new.

With a force of will he didn’t even knew he had, he pulled away, focused on the twitter of birds, the soft hum of an electric car, the faint laughter from inside the house—real sounds, safe sounds, grounding him in the moment instead of the past.

“I think we’ve got it down.” He gave a half laugh, trying to process what had happened. He’d kissed dozens of women over the years. Why was he so shaken?

For a long moment, Daisy didn’t move, face soft, plump lips swollen from his kiss. She swallowed hard and her gaze dropped below his belt where the evidence of his desire was barely hidden beneath his jeans. He draped his motorcycle jacket over his arm, creating a discrete shield and a barrier between them.

“Do you have something to hide, Liam?” All cool and calm like she hadn’t just blown his mind with her kiss, she gave him a teasing smile.

Yeah, he had something to hide . . . the truth. “Don’t want to scare the ladies.”

“This lady isn’t scared.”

He heard a cough and saw Aunt Fiona watching them through the glass door.

“Let’s go with the bus stop in the rain story,” he said, reaching for the door. “Does it have a happy ending?”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

• 16 •

DAISY made a last check in the hallway mirror for anything that would reveal her inner geekiness. She’d decided to play it safe with a fifties-style dress and matching shoes. Although she’d hated to do it, she’d washed out her pink streaks and let her thick, dark hair fall loose and full around her shoulders. Still, an undercurrent of tension knotted her stomach. Working in Silicon Valley and being part of a large, vibrant desi community, she didn’t often find herself in places where she was the odd one out, and she didn’t do well in groups of strangers.

“You look perfect.” Liam caught her gaze in the mirror. As usual he looked mouthwateringly hot in his leather jacket, a blue sweater that matched his eyes, and a pair of jeans that was tight in all the right places.

“I didn’t want to give your family a reason to doubt our relationship was real. You’re not the kind of guy who would date someone who dresses the way I usually do.”

“I like how you dress,” he said softly.

Music and laughter echoed down the hallway. She could isolate at least a dozen voices. Her pulse kicked up a notch and she stared unseeing at the painting in front of her. Why had she agreed to this? Without even a pair of patterned tights, colored sunglasses, or a quirky hat, she felt utterly exposed. Panic slid icy fingers up her spine and she tightened her grip on the box of sweets Mehar Auntie had given her.

“Uncle Liam!” A little boy with a shock of blond hair ran down the hallway toward them. “I got a new plane!”

Liam knelt down and swept the boy up in his arms. “This is my nephew, Jaxon. He just turned five. And this beautiful lady is my friend Daisy.”

“She has a flower name,” Jaxon said.

Liam glanced over and smiled. “It’s pretty. Just like her.”

“Do you want to see my plane?” Jaxon wiggled down. “It’s in the living room.”

“Of course we do.”

“Smile,” Liam whispered as they followed Jaxon into the living room. “Pretend you’re on stage doing the dance that won you first prize in the high school talent contest.”

“You saw that?”

“After watching you and Layla practicing for months, I felt obligated to provide moral support for the performance.”

Before she could process that statement, they were in a large, bright living room, decorated in pink and green and furnished with what had to be antiques.

“Liam, I was wondering when you two were going to come in.” A woman with curly brown hair and hazel eyes greeted them with a smile.

“Aunt Fiona, this is Daisy Patel.” He glanced around and raised his voice. “My fiancée.”

Daisy held out Mehar Auntie’s box, a sinking feeling in her stomach when Liam’s declaration got no response. Maybe they’d miscalculated. After all, she was the only person of color in the room. “I brought sweets.”