Bollywood Fiancé for a Day (9 page)

Then he lifted his head. Stared down into her mesmerized eyes for frozen seconds. His arms dropped away.

‘Quite the enigma, aren't you? Starchy as hell on the outside but melting honey once you—'

‘You beast!' She backed off till she hit the pillar. She needed the support anyway. ‘When you knew I couldn't stop you in case I smudged my hands! How unscrupulous can you get?' She tried to contain her outrage in fierce whispers.

He shrugged casually. ‘You could have stopped me. Though there's no telling what conclusions anyone would draw if they saw your handprints on my shirt.'

‘You're nothing but a pawing gorilla!' she snapped. ‘I suppose you're proud of yourself for forcing yourself on me.'

He exhaled. ‘Actually, no. But if I said you've been sending me messages to kiss you via your eyes, you won't admit it. So I won't bother.'

The needling words lit a fresh spark to her rage.

‘God, do you think you only have to lift your little finger for any woman to drop in a dead swoon? I think I'm going to break out into hives any minute after this.'

She was treading too far over the line, she knew. While she certainly hadn't expected it and he hadn't asked her permission for it, she knew she hadn't been left untouched by the possessive mark of his kiss. The warmth of it was still imprinted on her lips, the effect still thudding in the beat of her heart.

He paused then moved forward. Tawny flecks showed in his eyes in challenge. ‘Break out then,' he told her and his hands came up to clamp on her upper arms, his hold tight but not painful, enough to let the warmth of his grip seep into the pores of her skin. He hovered too near, his gaze tangling with hers, his face so close she could feel his breath touch her skin. An unmistakable surge of curiosity shot into her blood, images that shocked her even as they made her pulse hammer forming in her head. A taunting light entered his eyes as her startled gaze flew to his, mistrusting his action, and a quiet chuckle escaped him.

‘I think you should have your allergies chart rechecked,' he drawled, not moving away. She inhaled the lime and musk cologne he wore and wished she hadn't breathed in so deeply as her stomach clenched with tension. His fingers came up and he brushed the backs of them down her cheek, his touch feather-light yet oh, so acutely felt at each tiny nerve-ending that she stopped breathing, afraid of betraying her reaction. ‘Petal-soft,' he murmured. Then he let her go.

Her heart beat fast; she couldn't understand her response at all. It was more potent than any exothermic reaction and yet the stimulus had been so light…

‘Checked your rash yet?' he taunted.

She became aware that the damn man was grinning away, well satisfied with himself. Infuriated, her fingers curling into her palms, she gritted, ‘Don't think you'll get away with this.'

‘And what have I done exactly?'

Made her think he was going to kiss her again. And she'd forgotten even to try to squirm away this time…

Damn! She uncurled her fists, the dark green paste smeared badly across her palms. Her
mehndi
was all spoilt now…

‘Vishakha, what are you—'

Mom! She whirled to see the older woman carrying a huge plate piled with round yellow
ladoos
stop short in surprise, her mouth falling open when she saw who stood with her daughter.

‘Mom, this is Zaheer Saxena,' she offered rather inadequately.

‘I know that!' Her plate seemed in danger of slipping and Zaheer stepped forward to offer support, simultaneously bending to touch her feet in a traditional gesture of respect which made Vishakha raise her eyebrows in surprise. Her mother murmured her blessings reflexively.

‘Er…he and I…we met, you know, at that event…'

‘What your daughter means to say—' Zaheer smoothly took over her faltering explanation ‘—is that, instead of mam, I'll soon be calling you
mom.
'

This time the plate decidedly slipped and he deftly reached out to catch it.

What was she going to do? The damn man had upset everything. Her
mehndi.
Her mom.

Her peace of mind.

* * *

‘You had no business taking over everything like that,' Vishakha fumed. ‘Why did you come today, anyway? What we agreed on was the morning of the wedding. One day in each other's company, not an entire week. Now you've been invited to the whole wedding and you had to say you're between projects and wouldn't miss it for anything!'

Her too obviously gratified relatives had left them too obviously alone for dinner.

‘Don't worry—' he lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug, as cool as she was fuming ‘—I won't be in your hair. There are lots of nice girls around who look like they'd be pleased to keep me company.'

‘Don't you dare ogle my cousins!' she snapped, spooning chili cheese onto his plate. Left to her, she'd have fed him boiled vegetables instead of the spicy red bean curry she served him next.

‘Oh, what a possessive woman I'm hooked to!' He sighed exaggeratedly. ‘OK, darling, whatever you say!'

There were giggling noises behind the couch where they were seated and Vishakha realized that for once she had to be thankful for his acting talent and that ability to create laughs. She got up and went to catch two small ears and fish out two wide-eyed small figures. Zaheer winked at them and the next moment their hands clamped to their mouths to suppress laughter.

‘Didn't your mummy tell you not to listen to other people?' she demanded.

‘It was Mummy who sent us here!' the boy, who was the younger of the pair, squealed, then squealed again as that exposé earned him a jab in the ribs from the girl.

‘Well, shoo away, both of you!'

With parting giggles at the winks Zaheer exchanged with them, they scampered away.

‘Am I glad I'm not marrying you for real!' Zaheer drawled. ‘Might be rendered earless if I did.' He rubbed his own gingerly.

Vishakha looked at his perfectly shaped ear and cocked her head. ‘Hmm, I wonder if that'll work at keeping you in line?'

‘So that's the kind of kids' doctor you are. And here I thought you were all soft-hearted because you were a child specialist.'

‘If I was soft-hearted I couldn't jab them with needles,' she pointed out.

‘So had I better be on my guard from now on?'

He had it wrong. That was what
she
needed to do.

Anger worked well as a shield. It kept other things away. Like adrenaline-pumping thoughts. Every time she relaxed, she began to remember how it had felt to be held by him. Touched. Kissed.

‘What you're completely overlooking, darling, is that the more we're together, the more convincing it will be. What could be more natural than I should attend the multiple ceremonies with my
mangatar
?' He made it sound so reasonable. ‘Besides—' he fished out a newspaper from his jacket ‘—here's proof I had reason to come here today. It slipped my mind to discuss this with you earlier this evening.'

She took it, the picture of herself and Zaheer leaping out at her. She was clamped against him by his arm as he bent close, as though to say something intimate to her. The lights of the hotel glimmered behind them.

‘Oh God, if Papa saw this—'

‘Thought you'd say that.' Satisfaction oozed from him. ‘In the light of this, I decided it would be better to move up our engagement. So your family won't be too alarmed if they see it.'

‘That was thoughtful of you.' Her voice softened. Had he really that much sensitivity to think of how worried she would be about her parents' reaction?

‘Not at all,' he disclaimed gracefully.

She gave him a dark look. This wasn't the way he was supposed to be at all.

What an evening! She'd certainly not thought it would end with her eating
rajma chawal
with the Indian Die-Hard, as he was often nicknamed, but so it had.

Her mother had been too stunned to formulate the news to anyone. And when everyone had excitedly gathered in the large sitting room, with the whole spread of
samosas
and
kachoris
practically concaving the table, Zaheer had announced in his typical drawl that if he started eating his mouth would be too stuffed to speak and they'd all expire of curiosity, so he thought he'd better declare now that he intended to take their blessings to wed their daughter, sister, niece, aunt, granddaughter and whatnot. Only they were all this one beautiful person, his Visha.

His little speech had stunned and elated the whole clan and Vishakha had never witnessed such a babble of noise before in her life. They'd all enthusiastically given their consent as Zaheer asked each person individually, turning on that magnetic charm. Heating up all over from the attention, deep down inside she was rather touched by his gesture and ultimately racked with guilt when everyone looked so happy. Then there wasn't time for guilt. Plans had been laid at his insistence for the engagement ceremony next morning. Her stepfather had intervened to say that it could occur only if their horoscopes matched. At that comment absolutely everyone had thrown glares his way for being a spoilsport, which had taken him aback slightly.

Papa hadn't looked as if he was in the mood to entertain Zaheer's proposal, no doubt distrusting of his reputation. He'd taken Zaheer in his den and Vishakha had paced outside, wondering what she'd got herself into, but when they came out, surprisingly, her father had given the nod, even acquiescing to Zaheer's suggestion that the ring ceremony be the next morning.

Now enlightenment dawned.

‘Oh, I get it. You showed him the photo from the paper, didn't you?'

‘He wasn't going to have his girl's reputation damaged by being seen out on the town with a playboy. I assured him I am quite reformed now, but he wasn't taking any chances.'

She raised her brows at that comment but let it pass. It occurred to her if he planned to stretch this fake engagement over a span of time, he might have to be creative about satisfying his playboy needs. At the very least he would need to be extremely discreet, which must be close to impossible for someone as in the public eye as him. But speculating how he was going to manage his sex life while being locked into a platonic fake engagement to her was no concern of hers, she told herself.

‘You'd better let me know what I'll be supposed to do in my turn in order to protect you from Mia.'

‘Oh, just be in Mumbai and attend a social event or two with me. I won't impose on you if you're busy at work. I know doctors don't get much leave.'

She thought it over for a moment. ‘I'd like to have a look around Bollywood,' she said. ‘As for work, I could take some time off.' She had enough due because she'd been doing others' duties as well, so could call on a few favours so her leave wouldn't be impacted on.

She took advantage of the pause that fell to ask, ‘You're quite cool about this. Did you really mean that about not ever getting married?'

‘I may get tied up some day,' he said, ‘but it won't be a flurry of red roses and pink hearts.' Despite the words, his face was set almost determinedly for an instant. Then it eased imperceptibly into a smile. ‘Surprised? Well, of course it won't be any time soon. But say maybe ten years from now, I'll have to do my duty to the family name. Carry on the Saxena torch to the next generation.' He sounded so cynical and uncaring. Her spoon paused in the air, then hit the plate with a clatter.

‘What? Have I said something wrong?'

‘I'm a paediatrician, Mr Saxena. You can't expect me to let a comment like that pass.'

‘I was waiting with bated breath for when you'd next go all prim and starchy on me. Must be a masochist to ask but…OK, shoot.'

She knew even before she spoke that she would sound every bit of what he'd called her but she had to say it. ‘I work hard to see them get well every day. Kids should be born because you want them, not out of a sense of duty, as you've just said. If you can't love them, then don't even think of marriage. Besides, marriage isn't a tool. It shouldn't be—'

He held up his hands in a mock hands-off gesture. ‘One lecture is enough, babe. Don't make me lose my interest in you completely. Not to mention my libido. Long discussions turn me off like a light.'

Her mouth compressed. ‘Really, I'm not interested in talking about your…your…'

‘Sexual habits?' He grinned unrepentantly. ‘Maybe we should talk about yours. For starters, do you prefer the lights on or off? I'm betting off…' His voice became low, insidiously enticing.

‘Zaheer!' Her voice shook with outrage.

He seemed to be considering her, head slightly to the side. She tried to hold that gaze but failed. Somehow it was easier to glare at him in anger, but this time the soft burn of the hazel made her flinch away from what she saw there. Indignation gave way to something else. Something dangerous and intimate. Could she chalk it up to an overactive imagination? There was no denying it, anger definitely helped in dealing with this man. She needed the extra burst of energy to keep up with that powerful magnetism he possessed in spades. To avoid it. Her gaze fixed on her plate.

‘I didn't know I could make you blush.' One finger tried to tilt her chin to face him but she pulled away.

‘I don't blush.'

‘Your cheeks are a nice shade of pink,' he told her unrepentantly. ‘You're a walking temptation, you know. In more ways than one.'

Her startled gaze flew to his, then she cursed herself for the betraying gesture, jumping in to say, ‘You like to get my back up because I'm easily annoyed. Yeah, I know.'

‘Maybe that wasn't what I meant.'

The words lay between them but for Vishakha it felt as if they were a heap of coiled snakes. To go into that territory…actually admit that she wanted him to say provocative things like that to her for real.
Temptation.
Just the word carried so much…much…
temptation
that she felt hard put to maintain her balance.