Page 1 of Pillow Talk (Rally Romance #1)

S en buttoned his shirt but his eyes lingered on her.

Her dark, curly mass of hair was scattered on the pillow and her face was angelic.

Angelic? He stopped himself chuckling out loud.

Shona Shah was no angel. She was chaos. Her hair was damp with perspiration and, although her arm was flung over her face, he caught a glimpse of her mouth slightly ajar.

Shona was real. She was unapologetically authentic.

He got his car key out of his pants pocket and picked up his wallet and phone from the nightstand next to the bed. The crowded nightstand. Books, a hair tie, lip balm, a favour from a wedding that took place two summers ago, and other knickknacks that screamed ‘Shona’.

She stirred for a moment and then turned onto her belly, her even breathing telling him she was still asleep.

Sen padded out of the bedroom and spontaneously shook his head: earlier, they’d been forced to eat their cheeseburgers in the living room because a heap of white fabric, which to him looked like net, was obscuring the dining table.

Shona’s sewing machine, boxes of ‘stuff ’ and a horrifying mannequin took up the remaining space.

He moved towards the living room, the only organised room in the house.

The contrast of the spotlessly neat living room and the chaos in the dining room had a deeper meaning but he wasn’t going to explore it – at least not tonight.

He looked at his watch: 1am. He certainly didn’t want to be likened to a living room at this hour, or any hour.

I need sleep, he thought as he let himself out. He waited to hear the Yale lock click into place behind him, hurried down the stairs and strode to his car, which was parked on the street. Before getting in, he glanced up at Shona’s apartment. Why Shona? Why is it always Shona, he asked himself.

Shona slammed the invoice book on the table.

‘Aruna, can you not just convince them? This is madness,’ she said, pointing to the invoice book.

Her sister sighed and fell into the nearest chair. ‘They won’t listen, Sho. We’ve been through this every single day for as long as I can remember. No one can talk to them.’

Aruna went back to whatever she was doing on her cellphone.

Even pouting, because she was annoyed with Shona, she looked beautiful.

She was effortlessly graceful and the image of her sitting on that beat-up office chair could easily be on the cover of any fashion magazine.

Aruna had inherited their mother’s looks: high cheekbones, deep-set almond eyes and a sharp jawline.

Her long, black hair was straight and always silky, even when it was braided like today.

She moved like a dancer because she had the body of one – slender and tall.

Shona, on the other hand, had inherited her father’s thick, wavy hair.

The style she’d chosen was flattering; her hair, which was the same rich midnight black as Aruna’s, framed her round face and brushed her shoulders.

Her skin was warm brown and smooth. She had dark, steady eyes, a straight nose and full lips that were often poised on the brink of a smile.

Her arms and hips were strong but soft, and her waist pulled in just enough to show a classic curve.

Today, she wore a simple black blouse with earthy embroidery and fitted jeans.

Silver bangles circled her wrist, catching the light when she moved.

Shona looked like a woman completely at ease with herself, but there were many days when she envied her sister’s grace and figure.

Shona would smile politely as if it was a compliment when people commented that she looked like her father’s mother. But she loathed the idea of any resemblance to her paternal grandmother.

She picked up the invoice book again. ‘Fine. Fine. We’ll do it their way.’

Shona was in no mood to get into it with Aruna, who was more than happy to stay and die in this tailor shop that was still stuck in the era when their grandparents managed it.

She, however, didn’t want to work there forever.

She knew she had to or her parents would fail, but it was starting to weigh her down.

Her father didn’t want to evolve. He insisted on everything staying the same.

Perhaps it made him feel closer to his parents, who had long passed.

Or maybe he was just too stuck in his ways.

Her mother simply went with the flow. She was all about ‘appearances’ – although Shona’s family had nothing to boast about.

Sure, the family was a household name in the fashion scene.

Well, you couldn’t really use Rally and fashion scene in the same sentence.

Rally was a small town where everyone knew one another.

Community spirit was at the forefront of everything because that’s what Rally was named after.

The town’s tourism office spun a story that many moons ago during a devastating flood, which no genuine historical organisation could confirm, the community rallied together to rebuild the town.

The town’s council was so committed to the story that when Shona was about three, they installed a statue in the town’s square to depict the spirit of Rally.

It was supposed to be of two neighbours helping each other.

But without a real sculptor in town, it was made by a local construction company with ambitious ideas and no clue how to sculpt.

So, as its main feature, Rally got two clumps of cement, one with a red hat, the other with a blue hat, marble eyes and some other unrecognisable elements to finish it off.

It was hideous. But it was Rally’s pride and joy.

People still took photos in front of it as keepsakes and every important town event happened in front of the ghastly statue.

With the thriving city of Durban less than an hour away, Shah couldn’t he see that this shop was sucking the life out of him, out of her, out of them?

Her mother was out that morning. She insisted on attending those ridiculous Women in Business tea parties.

Never mind that she knew nothing about the very business that had been a part of her life since she’d married Shona’s dad 35years before.

Prithi Shah would probably stick out like a sore thumb at the tea.

She wouldn’t be comfortable in some tailored business suit – one that would definitely not have come from their shop!

She would be worrying about the grey that was starting to peek through her brownish hair.

But for one day a week, she got to pretend that they were like every other business family in Rally: rich, sophisticated and happy.

Shona jotted down MrAiyer’s measurements and pursed her lips when her father insisted on giving him a ten per cent discount on the three suits he’d ordered.

MrAiyer was polite enough to decline. He was the wealthiest man in Rally, yet he was surprisingly kind and thoughtful. He was also Sen’s grandfather.

‘Shona, I haven’t seen you in a while. You must be very busy with your new business,’ MrAiyer commented cheerfully.

Shona was surprised but tried to hide it. Of course, her expressive eyes were not on board with that plan, so she stood there wide-eyed, staring at the distinguished older gentleman before he cleared his throat.

She quickly blinked. ‘You know about my business?’

MrAiyer chuckled. ‘Of course I do. Senthil told me all about it. He talks about you often.’

Shona avoided his eyes. ‘Business is going well so I’ve been busy,’ she said.

‘I’m glad, my dear. My grandson raves about it,’ he replied.

Shona’s cheeks flushed and she murmured a thank you before the old man waved and went on his way.

She wanted to wring Sen’s neck. Why on earth was he talking about her when ‘they’ were a secret?

On the other hand, maybe she was overreacting because everyone in town knew they were good friends.

They’d known each other since they were kids before he was sent off to boarding school.

When he returned, they hung out in the same circle of friends.

Actually, it was the only circle. The town was small and even the 25- to 30-year-olds who had gone to school together hung out together.

There really was no other choice. One weekend, while she was away at college, Sen’s university friend Sam tagged along when he came home to Rally.

He took one look at Anni and that was it for him.

Now that their best friends were married, she and Sen spent more time with each other.

How did they end up in a no-strings-attached fling?

Shona wasn’t sure. It started as soon as Anni and Sam left on their honeymoon.

Shona vaguely remembers her dusky pink bridesmaid’s dress being ripped off her body.

No, she was lying. Her memory was not vague; she vividly remembered every moment with Sen.

He was a good distraction but a distraction all the same.

She took her phone out of her pocket and typed:

Coming over tonight?

A few dots appeared on her screen as Sen wrote his response:

Depends. What are you offering?

Hotdogs.

I’m in.

Yep, Sen was in. And hard to shut out.