Bollywood Fiancé for a Day (7 page)

‘What the hell do you know about me, anyway?' she bit out. ‘It was just a dress, nothing to go toll the bell for.'

‘Definitely a dress which might cause bells to toll.' His tone was low and silky. She felt her cheeks heat up. Of course he had complimented the dress, not her. Besides, she didn't want compliments from him,
remember
? They probably meant nothing more than being practised seduction phrases.

‘As for what I know about you…' He began to count with his thumb on his fingers. ‘You don't drink, you get het-up easily, you're punctilious about being stood up. Presumably you don't have casual flings.' His gaze ended up contemplatively on her face. ‘In fact, Daddy's good girl from every angle.'

She inhaled. It hurt. He couldn't have known it. But it did.

‘Yeah, I'm a really
good girl.
' She had no idea how to deal with the hollow sensation his comment left her with. She blinked sudden stupid tears away. That was what she was. A good girl. Not smart, beautiful, sizzling or funny. Not even able to hold on to her own fiancé.

God! She wished she would stop being so pathetic. In another moment he would catch on to her dipped mood.

‘Did I touch a nerve?'

There it was, a softly voiced question that was more difficult to answer than the toughest quiz she had faced in her medical career.

‘Let me guess,' he said softly. ‘Boyfriend trouble? You wanted to show him, prove something, maybe, but went in way over your head?'

Well, he was close, though probably not the way he thought. ‘Fiancé trouble,' she confessed reluctantly. Avoiding it would only make it seem more important. She tried to be casual, though how could she be casual about a broken engagement? ‘My sister ran off with my fiancé and they're getting married this week.' She sounded like a parrot, mouthing the words. But their sting couldn't be avoided. Gathering courage, she met his gaze. ‘I didn't mean to attend the event that night, even though I won the competition. It's just that I needed a break, any break. Then, when you backed off from going on the date with me because you were running so late, it seemed like…like I was being sidelined again.' Her voice became strained and she stopped, biting her lip.

A small silence fell. With an effort, she continued. ‘That's why I pressed you to go out with me regardless. I was afraid of feeling like a dud if I came back home without having that time with you. Stupid, I know, but there it is.'

‘Not stupid. Sensitive, maybe, but in the circumstances…' He left it unfinished. ‘That explains a lot. I did want some answers about why you acted that way.'

She dredged up a smile. ‘Well, now you have them.'

‘I'm sorry about your engagement. Any girl would take that hard.'

‘It isn't easy to take everyone's pity.' The admission seemed to break from her suddenly. ‘I never thought I wouldn't want to attend Saira's wedding, but…' With an effort, she collected herself, forcing a shrug. ‘It's not as if it's just a social obligation one can get out of. I might hate what she did but she's still my sister.' Despite herself, her voice stretched over the last words, almost breaking.

‘After what she's done, you'll still go to her wedding?'

‘I haven't much choice.' She shouldn't share this with him but emotions too long bottled up finally spilled out. ‘She's family. No matter how angry I feel inside I have to show I stand by her.' Guilt assailed her at confiding this to an almost stranger.

In her thoughts she'd rant at Saira. Demand explanations. Refuse to forgive her. But every morning reason reasserted itself and she told herself she shouldn't feel like this. Saira—well, Saira had always been given what she wanted. Vishakha had always lived her life on that principle.

So had the whole family.

She quickly dismissed the disloyal thought. Saira was her baby sister. How could she begrudge her happiness? It was just unfortunate it had come at the cost of her own dreams.

Saira wasn't a bubbling five-year-old any longer, another mental voice pointed out. And the truth was, she had to have known what she was doing when she'd overstepped the boundaries with Munish.

‘Don't just keep on feeling angry about it. Do something.' The command startled her.

‘Like what?'

‘Something to show her.' The comment caught her attention. ‘The best revenge of all is to live well,' he quoted softly.

‘Meaning?'

His eyes held a sudden gleam. ‘Meaning that instead of sitting moping around like the ditched ex-fiancée, you could show off the new man in your life and let them know you're more than all right.'

She laughed. ‘What man would I show them?'

He said, ‘Well, for instance, there's me.'

She stared at him. If he was joking, he was carrying this a bit far. The idea! Why was he suggesting something so totally unthinkable as to be absurd? And why was her stupid heart beating so fast at his dumb proposal?

‘But why? Why would
you
come to my sister's wedding?' God, that sounded so much as if he was some demigod, so she added, ‘Why would I take you?'

‘To impress your ex-fiancé and sister. Hold me like a trophy, and say, “Here's what I have, you losers! So stop being so smug.” You would be my girlfriend, of course.'

‘Wow!' she breathed, batting her eyelashes once more in an exaggerated fashion. ‘That would be really something, wouldn't it?'

Zaheer grinned, totally unconcerned at her small dig. ‘Don't try it. Sarcasm doesn't suit you, babe.'

‘Then take a reality check, Mr Saxena,' she flared. God, he was so,
so
complacent. So egotistically sure she'd just melt at his grandiose offer. ‘My family is very conventional; they are all about old values. No one will be impressed by my bringing home an actor. Moreover an actor with the sort of reputation you have. They'd be more likely to hang me than hug me.' She could imagine her Papa giving her an eye-bulging hyperthyroid look with blood vessels popping. Zaheer was notorious for his two-minute-noodles type affairs. That she was another one on that growing-like-a-rabbit-tooth list would be enough to cause a scandal in her house and the entire neighbourhood. So much for his bright ideas!

‘But you'd be able to get back at your sister and ex-fiancé,' he said persuasively. ‘And don't say you don't want revenge. Believe me, you don't want to be a doormat.' He seemed to feel quite strongly about it.

‘What would you get out of it?' she was moved to ask.

‘Something worthwhile.'

Disbelief caused her to half-gasp, ‘If you mean—'

‘Tut tut, what a dirty mind you have, Vishakha.' A twinkle danced in his eyes for a moment. ‘I'm not open to you dumping another load of ice all over me, thanks.'

Her eyes met his, guilty for a second as she remembered showering him with ice cubes. Then she caught the glint in his eye and gave him a sheepish smile. A smile that widened and then grew into a fit of giggles. ‘Oh well, that
was
a bit much, wasn't it? But so were you.'

* * *

He liked the way the twinkle lightened her eyes, giving her an impish look, like the small girl in the yard who had filled both her fists with the sweets he had offered her.

Something about Vishakha was drawing him in—those big eyes, her fragile air—as though he was being reeled in like a fish.

Those trembling lips and the way she'd fought back genuine tears as she'd told him what had happened to upset her made his fists clench. He found himself mentally cursing people he'd never met in his life.

Maybe it was her vulnerability. He could relate to a woman's angst. Inexorably he was reminded of his mother. What was Vishakha but another female trying too hard to please someone? Crying over someone who didn't give a damn. And like he'd been protective of his mother, the same tide of feeling had risen inside him, making him react on an instinctive level to save her embarrassment. He wanted to make her smile somehow, let her guard down.

He must have left his thinking cap at home. Like travelling along a flyover under construction, the path his delinquent thoughts were taking had all the possibilities of ending up
exactly nowhere.

Vishakha wasn't a suave society girl of the kind that usually inhabited his world. She was different enough as to be almost from another planet. Her instant defusing of his attempt at kissing her made that amply obvious. What he should do was stay away from her.

Did he need it spelled out? Vishakha Sehgal wasn't his type.

The problem was, the more she rejected him, the more this inconvenient attraction was persisting.

The orderly brought them tea and she poured it. Zaheer's gaze stayed on her face, taking in the tendrils escaping her bun to play against her cheek, small hands handling the kettle. A single line on her forehead which marked a habitual expression of concentration.

All he could think of was loosening the bun and playing with those strands. Entwining the small hands in his. Wiping the preoccupation away and jerking her to a buzzing awareness of him.

She handed him the cup, looking up, and their gazes fused for one hot instant.

The next awkward moment they both looked away. Zaheer sipped a little tea. Hoping but not expecting that it would cool his libido.

What was he thinking? Any association between them could only be related to the fix she was in.

Besides, she had already been hurt badly by a man letting her down. He needed to take that into account.

* * *

Vishakha held the cup carefully, hoping her jittery nerves wouldn't make her spill the tea. But, as though that moment of sudden intensity had never been, Zaheer continued, ‘If you don't want your relatives pitying you because the groom preferred your sister and at the same time you don't want to miss the wedding, this would be your best bet. Show up with someone who any number of girls are setting their caps at—hold the outrage,
chica
—everyone will shut up and you won't have to cut a sorry figure.'

‘I told you—'

‘That you cannot be my girlfriend.' He paused. A significant pause, she realized by his next words. ‘How about my fiancée, then?'

‘Fiancée?' Her disbelief seemed to amuse him, a now familiar gleam appearing in the hazel eyes.
Arrrgh!
He knew he had her floored and was enjoying it. Maybe that was the reason he was an actor, she thought scathingly. He liked to be a showman. It was probably necessary to him, like breathing air was to everyone else.

‘A pretend fiancée,' he continued. ‘We met and knew straight away we were meant for each other. Just like in the movies. Why not?' he asked. ‘It'll be a big feather in your cap to wave at your dear sister and ex-fiancé. Hell, it'll be a damn ostrich plume. A veritable peacock's tail.'

‘So eloquent, aren't we?' She brought up an overly sweet smile for him. ‘Not to mention modest.'

He shrugged, drawing attention to those massive shoulders encased in his soft cotton shirt. How inconvenient to remember the smooth, almost downy feel of the T-shirt he'd worn on the date and the feel of that hard wall of muscle beneath. Her hand curled into her palm as the memory took her breath away.

‘There's no point in denying what I have, so I won't. When I'm ready to help you out, I don't see why you should object either.'

The annoyance faded and Vishakha felt incredibly tempted. The image he painted for her was so strong. She could see the eyeballs bulging if she turned up with, of all people, Zaheer Saxena. She could imagine the comments. Studious Vishakha had caught a Bollywood heart-throb? And not just any heart-throb but…
Zaheeer Saxenaaa
?

But…

‘Why would you do this for me?' She came back to her earlier question.

‘I have a problem which you can help to solve. My director's wife has been giving me hell pursuing me. I need to divert her attention away from me. And a fiancée would be just the thing for it.'

‘Mia Khan,' she pronounced, having quickly searched through the latest snippets stored in her mind. ‘Rumour had it you might tie the knot with her but she ended up marrying Armaan Khan. Everyone wondered why at the time.' She couldn't resist that, her Bollywood curiosity rearing its head for some hands-on news.

‘I'm impressed by your knowledge of celebrity gossip. Really!' He resumed, without catering to her curiosity, ‘Even after her marriage, Mia hasn't stopped trying to throw herself my way. She delayed me that day of our date, deliberately too. She's more persistent than Columbus was for his voyages. Plus the fact that she happens to be my current leading lady complicates things for me.'

‘So you need a barrier, namely a fiancée, to show her you're unavailable? But why? I mean why would you object to her attentions?'

‘Her attentions…as you put it…aren't welcome. The foremost reason is because she's married, of course.'

‘And you have scruples?' She couldn't help sounding patently disbelieving.

‘You wound me,
señorita
! Yes, even I have them, bottom of the gutter that I am, according to you. I draw the line at married females. Besides, it would be career suicide to take up with my director's wife.'

‘So you want me to pretend to be your fiancée to get Mia off your back?'

‘Once she's satisfied I'm engaged and not likely to be interested in her, she'll leave me alone. She's getting more and more temperamental and I don't want her upsetting the shoot. I've put a lot into this movie and I'm not letting it suffer for any reason if I can prevent it.'

The film had become a top priority.

He'd done the so-called masala films in their hordes. While they sold well, he knew he wasn't considered a ‘serious' actor. Now he had the opportunity to do something the celluloid slammers would sit up and take notice of. The film was an epic tale—an authentically researched period drama. He had high hopes it would propel his career into a different stratosphere and win him critical acclaim. He didn't want anything to hamper this.