Bollywood Fiancé for a Day (10 page)

‘So starchy it makes me itch to lower that stiff guard of yours, yes. Definitely,' he said. ‘But there's more than that to it, you know it, right?'

She didn't answer.

‘Would you like to know what I really think of you?' he continued, ignoring her silence, which he had to know had been discouraging.

‘No.'

‘You would.'

‘I said no.'

‘Why not?'

‘What do you mean—why not? I just don't.'

‘Maybe I can guess.' His gaze stayed unwavering on her face. ‘Either you're afraid of the answer—or you're afraid of revealing the reason you want to know. Either way the answer is important to you. You're just pretending it isn't.'

‘You're working on feeding your ego again.' She got up in an abrupt movement. ‘I suppose that's why it grows so huge, you're always giving it a workout. Besides, I already know what you think I'm like. Stuck-up and always bothering about little things.' She bristled, remembering his comment at the event.

He laughed. ‘Are you still sore about that? I've changed my mind since then. Especially after our kiss.'

Heat shot along her nerves. ‘Maybe I'm supposed to be thrilled to find myself moving up in your estimation, but somehow I can't find the enthusiasm.'

‘Well, you'd better show
some
enthusiasm. You puzzle me, you know.' He shook his head. ‘Anyone else would be crowing it from the rooftops if they got engaged to a famous actor. And here you didn't even tell your family about me!'

‘Careful!' She slanted him a dry look. ‘Your ego's showing again.'

‘And your hang-ups. Oh, come on. Any girl, and especially one who had her fiancé stolen like you did, would want to thumb her nose at the wrongdoers, but you hid the news from everyone like I'm some alien your family would gasp at.'

‘I was getting around to it…' She sighed as his brows rose speculatively. He wasn't going to rest till he heard it, so she might as well come clean. About to launch into the explanation, she paused. What would she say?
I was afraid they wouldn't believe me if I said I was engaged to a dynamite muscle hunk like you?
How would he react to that? With sympathy? Pity? She didn't want it. Hated the thought of it.

But, before they went any further, he had to know he'd overlooked something.

She swallowed. ‘Mia Khan and all the rest of them…I…They…I mean everyone is going to wonder at our getting engaged. They'll know I'm not the kind of woman you usually date.' She trailed off. She had his whole attention and she felt heat rise upwards from her neck at his intense gaze. ‘What I mean is…I'm not glamorous or fashionable or quite like the women in your world.'

‘Maybe that will make it all the more believable,' he drawled.

CHAPTER SIX

Z
AHEER SWAM TO
the steps of the swimming pool and climbed out, dripping water on the deck. The night breeze was cool on his damp skin.

He made his way to the poolside table where the hotel staff had left the Kamikaze he'd ordered. Ice-cold, the way he liked it. The swim had felt doubly good because the exercise had made him forget his thoughts.

He kept ignoring every voice of caution in his head, not that he had much practice of listening to them, but this time he really thought he should be. Vishakha hadn't been so far wrong in imposing limits on their physical relationship. He needed to have them in place. Something to keep the chemistry from kicking to life every time he stepped near her. He'd told Mia he was getting engaged and was in Lucknow, in response to her repetitive texts. He'd told Vishakha he was there to help hold off her father's panic. But if you wiped the steam away from the mirror, the truth was that he'd been thinking of the kiss they'd shared ever since it had happened. Remembering the soft vulnerability, the simmering anger, the suppressed desire. It had been a stupid impulse to kiss her on her porch. Royally brainless coming on to her with the finesse equivalent to that of a caveman. But, dammit, it had been worth it. A kiss that had rocked his world. He was imagining things, he told himself, but the only way to disprove it was to repeat the experience…

A thought that immediately sent blood pumping faster through his system. But the vulnerability he sensed in her…that alone should have been enough to put him in his place. Her outward caustic and biting front hid intense emotions. Something tugged at him to let all that insecurity loose. When she'd said people would be sceptical of their engagement he'd been thoroughly tempted to prove to her just how deluded they—and she—were if they thought he didn't want her. Prove it in a way that left no doubt in her mind.

He had to be crazy to even think it. He was here for a purpose, not to dally around with any cute doctor. And certainly not to sort out her emotional baggage.

Just help her pick it up.

He put down the glass and picked up the towel to rub his face and chest. He'd adjusted his schedule to stay here till her sister's wedding. Why, when he could have flown back after the ring ceremony? Why was he juggling his life around to make sure he met Vishakha's needs? The ad director had to be told to postpone his shoot. His Adventure Club pals had wanted to meet to schedule another adrenaline pumping stunt and he had put them off. Hadn't he always avoided marriage just because of these kinds of hassles?

* * *

Similar thoughts occupied his mind the following morning at the ring ceremony. He looked around the pale yellow-and-violet-themed ballroom, finding himself surrounded by all the things he'd sworn to avoid for as long as possible. The crowd of overdressed relatives. The ring burning a hole in his pocket. Round yellow
ladoos
under transparent yellow covering in the red and gold cardboard boxes. Strings of jasmine and marigold over the centre stage proclaiming the piousness of the occasion. Even
jamun
leaves glued to the overhead rafters of the
shamiana.
Or were they mango? What the hell did it matter?

This was
so
not him.

The safe and conventional path wasn't for him; he'd flouted it at every step. Had rebelled at the engineering career his father had carved out for him, run away from home to pursue his Bollywood dream. Three years later, when it had looked as though he wouldn't make it in the movies, he'd set off to taste adventure in its most daring form. He could still taste the exhilaration of riding narrow potholed strips of tarmac up five thousand metre high passes to the remote but starkly beautiful Ladakh, the dangerous lure of lone surfing on Andaman Archipelago, the most isolated surfing spot on the planet, the careless indulgence of chancy dirt track stunts. All that adventure had not been in vain—his films were known for daring action thrills stunted by him.

In the hip circles he frequented, he'd deftly shaken off the most determined society mamas to preserve his freedom. Convention and he just didn't go together.

Now he was bowing down to it, inviting relatives he hadn't contacted for years to give him away. OK, scratch that. To welcome his bride-to-be to the family. It was all staged by him but the problem was he had finally registered it was happening and that to everyone, other than himself and Vishakha, it was real. So real, in fact, he was in danger of being sucked into it all.

He felt a sudden uneasiness and ran a finger round the inside of the round collar of his royal-blue
sherwani
, the traditional richly embroidered knee-length coat that his tailor had personally delivered this morning.

Hell, he needed a drink.

He walked to where the bar was set up, then remembered. As the esteemed son-in-law, he shouldn't fall from grace. Then he shrugged. What the hell, he needn't cater to his new-found relatives. Already all this was beginning to feel too real.

One of Vishakha's uncles wandered over and saw him toss down a measure. ‘I drank too at my wedding,' he told Zaheer. ‘They wouldn't have got me tied to your
masi
otherwise.' He chuckled hugely at his joke, clinking glasses with Zaheer.

Your masi.
God, he was already collecting relatives en masse and he hadn't even got the band encircling his finger yet. Last night he'd been all too eager, his inner voice mocked him. That was what came of being kind. He hoped Vishakha appreciated what he was doing for her.

Although, with their currently virtuous relationship, he couldn't even claim her appreciation in the time-honoured way.

His newly formed brothers, Vishakha's cousins, led him to the flower-decorated stage, with two silver-gilded chairs arranged in the centre. After the fashion of a wedding ritual, brightly dressed girls escorted Vishakha to him.

At least something was worth all the hassle. She looked stunning in a peach and blue body-hugging top and long-skirted
lehanga
that left her slim waist bare. Tiny bead-like
ghungroo
edged the hem of her bodice tantalizingly. A gauzy
dupatta
was draped on her head over glossy black tresses, arranged to show off silver and blue bunch-hoop earrings. He liked the way her eyes widened as she took him in.

‘Thanks for the compliment,' he whispered, offering a chivalrous hand to help her on the stage and drawing her nearer than she would have come otherwise, liking the sparks forming in her eyes as she understood his meaning.

She took a step away, her eyes widening again as her sense of smell worked. ‘You drank at my engagement!' she said in an undertone. She sounded aghast.

‘Just one quick drink. Relax. No one's going to get close enough to find out except you. You may have a problem kissing me, though. Not liking alcohol and all.'

‘Since there's not likely to be a repeat of that kiss, there's no problem at all,' she whispered back fiercely.

‘Is that a challenge, babe?'

More sparks from the brown eyes. She said, ‘Before we get this engagement done, we'd better be clear about this. There won't be any fringe benefits.'

‘I told you before that your bossiness is very tempting. You should know by now that setting rules like that is just inviting me to break them. Tell me one more time what I'm not supposed to do…'

‘OK…' She cast a look around. ‘How about you're not supposed to slap Bubbly Auntie on the bum?' She tried to keep her mouth straight and failed as they both looked at that lady's ample sari-clad bottom. Their eyes met and they exchanged grins.

‘So you do have a sense of fun. Surprise! Wonder what we can do with it?' he mused.

He looked down at her, slender except for the lush curves of her figure. The upturned bow of her mouth still betrayed her amusement, nut-brown eyes alight with mischief. He had an insane impulse to kiss her again.

He realized he was leaning towards her, smiling down at her, and straightened. What? In full view, right in the midst of her clan? Though it would give them something to talk about for the next five years at least, he thought wryly.

Behind them the ring boxes were being opened. He'd given Vishakha's ring to his aunt, who had arrived hurriedly just at the start of the function.

He looked straight ahead as he spoke. ‘Don't worry about the kiss, OK? That one yesterday was very spur of the moment. I have no intention of repeating it.' He hadn't, he told himself. And now he doubly didn't when he'd practically told her that. ‘Besides, I know we can't go far in that direction. You are not the type to want a casual fling.' Was the warning for himself or her?

‘As though I'm even considering—' She broke off to add instead, ‘You're right. I'm not.'

They were handed the rings. Applause broke out as Zaheer slipped the ring on Vishakha's third finger.

‘So I'm glad that's sorted.'
Oh, really?

‘Me too.'

His gaze held hers as she slid the broad gold ring encrusted with a square-cut diamond into place on the ring finger of his right hand. She held his hand as they looked into each other's eyes for the photographs.

Tension simmered between them. She looked away, face perfectly composed. He had the instinct to cage her hands and drag her to face him, force that shield to crack. That wasn't what she'd been like last evening in his arms. The memory of her soft mouth beneath his flooded him, the sudden need to recapture that moment making his body tighten in anticipation.

Cheering broke out, along with foam spray, and someone popped open champagne. Zaheer breathed in and came back to earth, smiling with practised ease. The girls showered flower petals till they tangled in everyone's hair, the air filled with the heady scent of rose and the piquancy of marigold.

He found himself cursing mentally. Not a pleasant feeling that he was having now. The girl he had by his side, the girl whose kiss had inspired a huge chunk of his dreams last night, he'd just promised to keep his hands off.

If he was suffering from frustration, the best thing would be to get away from her. Instead he had signed on for spending several days with her. Maybe the novelty would fade over time, he reasoned. Meanwhile he had some mingling to do with the relatives. Dancing commenced and he was roped in, the single reporter he'd allowed in getting swollen fingers from clicking shots.

It hit him again that he was doing everything he'd always sworn not to do. Being part of the whole Indian ceremonies thing. Enclosed in a crowd of people who welcomed him as one of their own.

Getting in too deep, Saxena?

The price would be worth it, he told himself. He had to have Vishakha's trust for this scheme to succeed. He'd just have to keep his libido on hold and concentrate on the objective.

* * *

Looking into the amber-green gaze as she moved with the music, shoulder to shoulder with him in the
bhangra
steps, Vishakha searched the depths that gave nothing away. What was she looking for anyway? Nothing mattered to him. Zaheer was no gentleman, even if the term had become unfashionable now. His parents hadn't come for the engagement. She wondered what they would say to his ostensibly proposing to her. He hadn't mentioned them at all. It had disturbed her even as she had taken the blessings from his maternal uncle and aunt, who'd come for the event.