“You are so much like your dad.” Officer Pataudi laughed as he tore up the ticket. “For Bambi.”

“Thanks, Ajay.” Layla smiled. “See you at the next wedding. Give Ayesha a kiss for me.”

“What the hell just happened?” Sam asked as the police officer walked away.

“Family. He’s my father’s cousin’s sister’s husband’s nephew.”

“Where did you find this little firecracker?” the driver asked as they drove away.

Sam tightened his arm around her. “I didn’t find her. She found me.”

* * *

• • •

“STOP being such a baby. I know what I’m doing.” Layla wrapped the tensor bandage around Sam’s wrist. After dropping the car off at the nearest garage, they’d caught a cab back to the office so Layla could close up and Sam could dig out his insurance paperwork. After the final checks had been done, she had insisted on wrapping his wrist, dragging him into the back office where the first aid kit was kept.

Sam winced when she tightened the bandage, but it wasn’t the pain that discomfited as much as the lingering scents from the kitchen—the warmth of cardamom, the spice of cumin, the rich fragrances of incense and tarragon—so painfully familiar that he felt an unexpected pang of regret that he’d turned his back on a culture he had loved. Even in the office, far from the kitchen, there was no escape.

“I’m the doctor. If I say it’s too tight, then it’s too tight,” he grumbled, his irritation not really with her but with the disaster of a night and the pull of longing that was making it difficult to stay still.

Seated across from him on a worn, black desk chair, Layla froze. “I thought you’d given up medicine for the joy of firing people for a living.”

“I don’t just say You’re fired and show them out the door. I give them a motivational speech about what a good opportunity redundancy can be.”

“You—Sam Mehta—give them a motivational speech?” Her eyes widened, incredulous. “Does it consist of grunts and growls, or actual words?”

“It’s a good speech. They appreciate it.”

“How do you know they appreciate it?” She moved closer, rolling the chair between his spread legs. His blood rushed to his groin as he imagined wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, reassuring himself that she was safe and unharmed. He had protected her tonight. When the deer had jumped in front of them, he had reacted with lightning speed, veering off the road and into the bushes, the damage to his car caused not by his lack of skill, but by the unfortunate position of a fallen tree.

Sam shrugged. “They say ‘thanks.’”

“Maybe they say ‘thanks’ because they’re in shock.” Her voice wavered the tiniest bit. “They don’t know what to say or do. Their minds are going a mile a minute thinking about rent and car payments and student loans and helping their parents out. Maybe it’s their friend’s birthday and they’re supposed to be picking up a cake and a bunch of balloons for a surprise party. Suddenly, the thought of spending that much money makes them sick. They almost can’t believe what’s happening. Maybe the boss made a mistake, and tomorrow she’ll be back at the water cooler with a box of donuts and a story about some guy the boss hired to fire her who gave her a pep talk after destroying her life.”

Taken aback by her outburst, he frowned. “Are these hypothetical people, or is this about you?”

“Why would it be about me? I got fired but I was fine. I’d just lost my boyfriend, my apartment, my liberty, and my reputation, but I kept it upbeat. I tried to think of it as an opportunity. I went to the party, had a great time, filled my purse with hors d’oeuvres because I didn’t know where my next meal was going to come from, drank too much free booze so I couldn’t feel the pain, and threw up all over my friend’s bathroom floor. There was a guy in that mix, but I don’t remember anything about him except that he left before dawn.”

The niggle of warning returned. He studied her face, noting the lines of worry on her forehead and the slight dilation of her pupils.

“I think you’re in shock. I should have noticed it earlier.”

“I’m not in shock.” She reached up and brushed his hair away from the cut she’d just tended, her touch feather light on his skin. “You’re the one who was driving and got injured. If anyone is in shock, it’s you.”

Sam cupped her jaw, holding her head still. “Your pupils are dilated.”

“It’s a design flaw. It happens when sexy men get too close.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “You think I’m sexy?”

“You are when you talk in that soft, deep voice and sit so close I can feel the heat of your body, and wear that craze-inducing cologne, and cradle my face like I’m a delicate flower.” She licked her lips and his gaze fell to her soft, lush mouth. It was an invitation he couldn’t ignore.

“You forgot the part where I tried to kill you by crashing into a deer at high speed,” he offered, just in case he was misreading the signs.

“I’m trying not to remember it because you busted out some pretty slick moves to keep us from going over the cliff. Nothing sexier than a man who can stay calm in a crisis and save a girl so she can live to get fired another day. You, Sam Mehta, are a hero.”

She thought he was worthy. It was a balm to his soul.

Reassured, he slid one hand beneath her hair to cup her nape. “You’re trembling. That’s another sign of shock.”

“I’m cold. I dressed to test-drive Harman, not pay a late-night visit to the ditch.”

“Then I’d better warm you.” He edged closer and swept back her hair to nuzzle the soft skin of her neck.

“Most men would offer a sweater or a blanket. Maybe a cup of tea.” She tipped her head to the side to give him better access, her hands sliding between them to press against his chest.

“I’m not most men.”

“Definitely not. Your warm-by-seduction technique is second to none. I’m hot all over except my lips. They’re still cold.” She hesitated only an instant. “Maybe you could warm them, too.”

“With pleasure.” He twisted his hand through her hair and tugged her head back before giving her a soft kiss, his tongue sliding over hers. She tasted sweet and tangy, with a hint of spice.

“Not bad,” she whispered. “But I think we need to get back to tending your injuries. Where else are you hurt?”

“I think I bumped my head.” He pulled her off her chair and onto his lap, unable to fight the pull of desire any longer.