Layla cursed in Urdu using words he’d never heard from a woman before.

“Well, that was neither polite nor demure, and you aren’t very obedient because the only teeth I see are bared, like you want to attack me and eat me for dinner.” He turned over the page. “It also says here that you’re a good girl.” His voice dropped to a sensual purr and he leaned toward her. “Are you a good girl, Layla? You seem very bad to me. If you need a husband who can keep you in line, you’ll have to up your game.” Sam could almost feel Layla’s furious gaze boring through his skull. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.

“Is this your man?” a bewildered Hassan asked, looking from Sam to Layla.

“Hardly.” She glared at Sam. “He’s nobody. It’s sad, really. He seems totally unable to comprehend that he has to leave.”

Sam’s body shook with repressed laughter. “I am all man, sweetheart, which I’m sure you know after you rubbed yourself all over me like a cat in heat.”

“So she is available?” Hassan asked Sam. “We can finish the test?”

“I’m not doing any test.” Layla gave Hassan a tight smile. “I’m terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. My father arranged this meeting without discussing it with me. I’m not looking for a husband.”

“But you’re old,” Hassan said. “And in urgent need. Who’s going to marry you if not me?”

“Someone with whom I can share interests and who supports my independence and my career. Friendship is key, as well as good communication so we have a lasting, maybe even loving, partnership.”

“But you don’t understand,” Hassan persisted. “I need your family to cosign a loan as dowry so I can stay in the country.”

Ah. The truth came out. Sam had been warned about the scam when his family was looking for a husband for Nisha. “So you weren’t really looking for a suitable match or a lifelong companion, you just needed a way to get a visa.” He stood so quickly his chair toppled over. “Get the hell out of the office before I toss you out in VBC.”

“What’s VBC?” Layla whispered as Hassan gathered up his papers.

“Very bad condition.” Sam growled, sending Hassan scurrying out the door.

“Thank you for threatening to harm someone on my behalf.” Layla made her way to her desk after Hassan had gone. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t look at you. I’m afraid I might die of mortification. I had no idea this was going to happen.”

“You might want to take down your online profile,” Sam suggested. “Hassan might be the first of many, and I don’t want to have to deal with men beating down the door to get into your pants when I have a business to run.”

“How considerate.” She pulled up the desilovematch.com website. Sam blinked as his eyes were assaulted with flashing images of happy couples in traditional wedding attire superimposed on bright pink and orange screens.

“I can’t believe people still have arranged marriages.” His lips thinned in disapproval.

“My parents and my brother all had successful arranged marriages.” Layla scrolled through the website. “My parents adore each other, and they found my brother the perfect wife.”

“How perfectly wonderful.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. What the hell was he doing? He had a business to run. One of his clients was waiting for a financial analysis. An HR manager wanted to set dates for layoff meetings. Karen had texted to ask if he had a stethoscope and a pair of rubber gloves, and Royce wanted to talk about a new contract. He was letting himself get distracted by a woman who shouldn’t even be here, and drawn into a world he’d rejected years ago.

This had to end now.

He would ask John for a legal opinion on the contract.

And then Layla would be gone.

* * *

• • •

COULD this day get any worse?

Layla dropped her head into her hands and sighed. First, the visit to the hospital where her dad lay so unnaturally quiet and still, then rolling roti in the kitchen until her fingers ached. And now she had to deal with a cocky, arrogant bastard with no moral compass, strange men with marriage proposals, the knowledge that her father had secretly been trying to find a husband for her, and a website that wasn’t going to let her in without a password.

“What’s the matter?” Sam had returned to his desk and was banging on his keyboard like it had done something wrong.

“I can’t find myself.”

“That’s very profound. I didn’t expect that from you.”

Layla groaned. “I can’t access my profile. I suppose I could set up an account as a man and try to find it but I’m just not in a creative mood.” She hesitated. “Do you have an account?”

He gave an affronted sniff. “Do I look like a man who has trouble getting women?”

She bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. He was beautiful; if that was a word she could use to describe a man. His hair was thick, dark, and neatly cut, and his tanned skin made his light brown eyes seem almost caramel. With that strong jaw and full lips, he was the most breathtakingly handsome man she had ever met.

Sam smirked into the silence. “I’ll take that as a no. But since I’m not going to get anything done with all that sighing, I’ll set one up so you can find your profile.” He crossed the floor to her desk. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll hit the jackpot and women will be beating down the door to get into my pants. Oh, wait. They already are.”

She shifted her chair to give him better access to the keyboard, her body tingling when his arm brushed against her shoulder. “I appreciate the help, but don’t think this means I’m letting you have the office.”

“You can owe me a favor instead.” He grinned, and her heart did a curious flip. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? All that tall, dark handsomeness, the mouthwatering body, the deep voice that caressed her skin like velvet . . . wasted on an arrogant, egotistical jerk.

“It’s not a game.”

“Everything is a game.”

“You have a very cynical view of life.”

“For good reason,” he said quietly as he filled in the form on the screen.

She wondered what had happened in his life to make him so pessimistic. Outwardly, he had it all—looks, charm, a successful company, and the kind of confidence that she admired. There were hidden depths to Sam Mehta. Too bad he wouldn’t be around long enough for her to explore them. She could learn a little something about him, however, by reading his online form.