“It’s not Mr. Mehta,” Mariel said, batting her false eyelashes in the most baffling manner.

Naina threw up her hands. “Have we got the résumés the doctors lined up?”

“Doctors?” Mariel said as though she were entirely unaware of the concept.

“Yes, doctors. The people who treat people when they’re sick. In our case the people who will take care of pregnant women and their babies before, during, and after birth in Nepal. The thing we’ve been working for months on?” Naina hung her jacket up on the hot-pink coat tree.

The smell of musky, lemony cologne hit her before his voice did. For a moment Naina thought Yash was here, because the brothers wore the same scent. But their voices, or rather their tones, were as different as could be. This one was deep, droll, and terribly amused at the world.

“Is it employee training day? Will there be a quiz after?” He was standing in the doorway of her office, leaning into the frame, arms crossed for maximum biceps display, dimples out in full force.

“Vansh! What are you doing in my office?” She threw a glare at Mariel, whose pupils had dilated like someone watching an erotic scene in what she’d expected to be a family film.

Mariel’s only response was to lick her lips and smile in Vansh’s direction.

Sadiya, the economist grad student intern who was helping Naina with the administrative setup of the gramin banks in Nepal, came out into the lobby.

Did Sadiya just flip her hair?

Then Makayla, the international law expert who’d worked with Naina in Nepal for the past five years and had never been anything but immovably disinterested in any behavior she deemed frivolous, sauntered out of her office, pretending to be searching for something.

Did Makayla always sway her hips like that when she walked?

“Good afternoon, Naina,” both women said to Naina in unusually breathy voices, bright (and super-creepy) smiles lighting up their faces.

“Coffee?” Makayla asked, eyes drifting to Vansh.

“No, thank you. Caffeine does a number on me. I’m more of a green tea guy,” Vansh answered in a low-pitched fuckboy tone she’d never heard him use.

“I think Makayla was talking to me,” Naina snapped.

“I’d be happy to get Mr. Raje green tea,” her lawyer said. “Do we have any green tea in the office?” She threw the question at Naina, without looking away from Vansh.

Nice.

Mariel jumped out of her chair. “It’s my job to get people tea,” she tittered rather than spoke.

“I’ve never seen you get anyone tea before,” Sadiya said.

“That’s because none of you drink tea.”

“When did you stop drinking tea? I thought it was all chai all the time,” Vansh asked Naina with far too much familiarity, and the expressions on the faces of the three women turned to what could only be described as aggressive suspicion.