Bollywood Fiancé for a Day (8 page)

‘Wouldn't it be better if the director knows about his wife?' Vishakha put in. Maybe she was thinking of her own narrow escape from her louse of a fiancé.

‘He's certainly insecure about her. But I doubt if he would hear anything against her, being more than a bit besotted with her. And I don't have anything to back me up except my own word.'

‘And he'd be more likely to believe his wife?'

‘You're certainly quick on the uptake. I can tell you didn't pass your medical exams by cheating.' His mouth curved in a mocking slant.

‘Of course I didn't.' She straightened with annoyance. ‘But I'd bet you got through school by looking over your friends' shoulders at their notebooks.' She couldn't resist that.

‘Right first time.' He raised brows in exaggerated surprise and she bit back a chuckle.

‘So is it a deal?' he drawled.

‘I don't know. I don't think I can carry it off,' she said doubtfully.

‘It's what you need to do if you want to make it through that wedding.'

Attractive though the idea might be, it would still bring him closer into her circle than felt entirely comfortable. Did she want that? Charm was his forte and all that chiselled attractiveness spelled danger in letters a mile tall. Not that she was as susceptible to his appeal as other girls seemed to be, she assured herself. As long as he kept away from kids.

‘And what happens when it's all off and we each go our own way? I'm going to be worse off than before. It'll be all over the press that I've been ditched by a Bollywood star. Has that occurred to you?'

‘That can be remedied. I won't ditch you,' he said casually, but with all the aplomb of having dropped a bomb, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes at witnessing her mouth-dropped-open reaction.

‘What?'

‘That's what I said. Until you find someone and choose to end the agreement, it will stand. We can carry on with our lives with no one else the wiser. So you can keep your pride for ever or till the cows come home. Whichever is later.'

‘That's crazy. How can we remain engaged for what could be months? Years?' She had a sensation she'd stepped into Alice's rabbit hole—or at least got a good look down it! ‘What if you fall in love before I'm ready to call it a day? What happens then?'

‘Not a chance of it happening,
chica
,' he said. ‘I don't believe in all that falling-in-love thing. And don't let what you read in the gossip columns mislead you. You deal every day with predicting the outcome from the symptoms, Dr Vishakha. So prescribe for me. I'm twenty-nine now and I haven't found a girl I wish to marry. And I've met God knows how many. So who should know better than me how unlikely it is I will break a deal like this one?' He added in a softer tone, ‘It could be a different experience for both of us. Secure in the engagement, we can have a more peaceful life. Keep away the unwanted elements.'

‘And what unwanted elements are there for you, may I know? Am I supposed to rescue you if you get too crowded by women like Mia Khan?'

‘You've got a tongue sharp enough to cut them, so why not?' His mouth tilted in a half smile.

Right. Next thing she'd be saying to the nurse,
Hold on, Savita, get this intravenous line going. I'll be back soon—have another emergency to attend to right now. Rescuing Zaheer Saxena from yet another female's clutches.

Zaheer was speaking. ‘The more I think of it, the more it seems to me it could work out quite perfectly. I don't want the hassle of marriage. This could be a way to keep the nosy parties away. Would even keep my mum contented for a considerable time…

‘And you can thumb your nose at your relatives. So what do you say?' he asked.

Why should she agree to this? Because, a streak of self-knowledge made her admit, she was shallow enough to want the kind of support he offered. A Bollywood actor had to be the catch of all seasons. Even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

‘It's a deal.' She echoed the phrase he'd used earlier. A part of her still had a dumbfounded reaction, the reasoning part of her brain sent warning bells pealing like a frantic fire engine, but she uttered the words anyway.

Some vestige of reason crawled into her consciousness. ‘You'll have to meet my parents first. They may not like it, they are so hung up on the arranged-marriage thing. It's bad enough for them having to adjust to Saira getting her own way. You'd better arrange to come and ask for their permission first. And they'll be sure to want a formal ceremony.'

‘No problem. The more the news spreads, the better we can convince Mia.'

He seemed very uptight about that. Was it really his film he was so worried about or had it something to do with the beautiful actress? Gossip had abounded about them several months back, before Mia had married the director, and then Armaan Khan had surprised everyone by casting Zaheer opposite his wife, stirring a giant wok of curiosity.

‘The wedding is two days from today. You can come early in the morning and meet Mom and Papa and we can tell them we want to get engaged.' The plan formed in one part of her brain while another rebuked her about wanting to deceive everyone. No question of taking anyone into her confidence. Not when she'd been pretending to everyone she was so cool about Saira's wedding. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she debated the point.

‘Don't look so tense,' he told her. ‘This is going to work out perfectly.'

Was it, though?

CHAPTER FIVE

V
ISHAKHA SAT DOWN
in her favourite spot and leaned back on a pillar.

The trees in the garden threw dark shadows as electric light from the porch fell on them. A small summer breeze made the wisps of hair escaping from her topknot stir on her neck. The sounds of singing and the beat of a
dholki
came from inside. It had resumed when she left the room. She blinked away silly tears. It should stop being so hurtful but it didn't.

Every time she went where the relatives were gathered, a hush seemed to fall over the room. Instead of the wronged one she was beginning to feel like the culprit. How could she make them understand that? Saira pointedly ignored her except when she absolutely couldn't. Her aunts spoke to her in overly honeyed tones till she felt she'd scream.

When the call for playing the inevitable
antakshari
of film songs went round, she'd quietly slipped away. She raised her knees and looked down at the intricate henna design on her hands. One of her girl cousins had dabbed on a lemon and sugar mix to make the dark green
mehndi
paste stick to her palms—for better colour, she'd claimed. Inside, her sister was getting the bridal mehndi done but, instead of taking part in the excitement, she was left out here. Alone.

She sighed.

One more thing lay heavy on her mind. The matter of her supposed engagement.

She still couldn't believe she'd made that crazy pact with Zaheer Saxena just a few hours ago. Had the overload of patients finally driven her out of her mind? She wasn't the impulsive kind. It felt unreal, so much so that she hadn't had the nerve to mention it to anyone, much less prepare the ground to her parents for Zaheer's coming. Deep inside, she knew why. Her reluctance stemmed from anticipation of the incredulous reaction it was bound to generate. It had been tempting at the time but, really, who'd be convinced she'd captivated a superduper perfectly chiselled hunk like him? Munish, with his modestly thick waistline, had been described as ‘just right' for her. As though their bulk as well as their horoscopes had to match for the marriage to be made in heaven.

Zaheer Saxena was simply…electric. For all that laid-back charm, the hazel eyes held an unsettling keenness. Even without his Bollywood connection, people would be hard put to believe he'd fallen head over heels for her, banana peels being absent, and she simply didn't have the spirit to carry out the farce in front of that hawk-eyed duo of her paternal aunts.

Maybe she should text him to say that it had all been a joke on her part. But what if he'd already forgotten about it, an inexorable punishing voice mocked. What if the joke was on her?

God, she had to stop going to pieces like this. Zaheer Saxena was no fool. And what he'd told her about Mia Khan definitely rang true. Everyone knew Mia had left no stone unturned in projecting herself and Zaheer as the ultimate happening couple of the film industry after their last release together. The romantic number
Hum Ko Milna Tha Yesterday
, shortened to
HKMTY
, had brought long Hindi film titles back into vogue. Teens and young adults were emulating the apparel of the film's stars and its songs still topped the charts. Mia had looked all set to announce their wedding date but, shockingly, the announcement instead had come of her marriage to Armaan Khan. Bollywood diehards like Vishakha and her friends still speculated about it.

So no surprise there if Mia was after him again.

And now he wanted her, Vishakha, to act as a barrier between them.

She moaned silently. She was hopeless at pretending. Saira was more suited to this kind of charade. In fact Saira would have enjoyed this, fitted right into this adventure like a fish taking to water.

A shadow fell on the dark green design on her hands and she looked up.

‘Don't girls usually have their fiancé's name inscribed in the
mehndi
?' Tall as ever, so that her neck threatened to have a crick if she continued staring up at him, Zaheer stood, his mouth curving in that attractive way he had.

‘You! How…why are you here?' Had her thoughts built up a hologram? But no, he looked real enough. She struggled to stand up, while taking care not to smudge her hands. ‘You weren't supposed to get here till the day after tomorrow!'

‘Be a little more welcoming,
meri jaan
!' Hazel eyes were alight with laughter. What was he doing here? And why did she react to his presence like this? Her skin prickled with sensual awareness.

He had changed, now dressed in a blue on white striped shirt with a grey-and-black slim tie, teamed with grey trousers, all obviously designer, looking so dressy she began to feel totally inadequate and mousy in her old T-shirt and loose harem pants with her hastily tucked away hair.

‘And how did you get in here?' she wondered. She was at the side of the house. She glanced at the walls. No windows on this side but if anyone came by…how would she explain his presence?

‘No one seemed to be about so I just drove in, walked around and saw you trying to find the secrets of the universe in this
mehndi
of yours.'

‘The gatekeeper must have gone to get more
samosas
,' she said absently. Of course everyone was at the impromptu
sangeet.

He didn't ask about eating
samosas
at this time of night but caught hold of her wrists, pretending to study her hands deeply. ‘You haven't got my full name there. And no Z, A, H, E or R that I can make out scattered here and there. You've really hurt me, my lovely betrothed.'

‘You should have called me before coming over. Warned me…' Vishakha fretted, pulling away from his grasp.

‘Is that any way to greet your fiancé?' he drawled.

‘I wouldn't have been this mess if you'd at least called. I'm not even properly dressed for guests.' The cotton top hugged her curves and probably made her look podgy.

His glance dropped over her in an all-encompassing look. ‘As usual, you're tense for no reason, sweetheart. You look perfect.'

‘I don't need lip service, thanks. You can keep it for those who are deluded by it.' She knew she was being hypersensitive. But, standing next to him, she became desperately aware that anyone seeing them together would laugh at the idea of her being engaged to him, when he was looking like a perfect male model who'd just stepped off the catwalk.

‘I wasn't trying to delude you, Visha. I do like the casual look. It's much more natural. Will you relax? You're as wound up as a Siberian husky's tail.'

‘I didn't give you leave to shorten my name.' It sounded so intimate on his lips, the sound sent tingles down her spine. No one had ever shortened her name like that. Damn, he was distracting her. ‘You've timed it so wrong. Anyone could come here and find you. I haven't had a chance to explain things yet. I'm not as good at lying as you.' That was uncalled for, she admitted to herself.

The scent of citrus and musk wafted on the breeze blowing towards her. He looked good, better than hot double cheese pizza. The comparison was unfortunate, adding to her nervousness.
Snap out of it. Next thing you'll be wondering what he
tastes like—
No, damn it, I'm not.

She felt her gaze drawn to his mouth, that lower lip sensuous and curving.
O ma
, he was looking at her! Had she given herself away?

Damn! This sort of thing didn't happen to her. She was the cool one. A little smug too, when the girls professed to be weak-kneed for the white coated Romeo in Orthopaedic OPD or the Shahid lookalike in the Surgery unit and she was left completely unmoved. Finding herself fighting a fierce attraction to a man was new.

Also tough.

Inconvenient
, when it would be much better to just give in to the impulse to—

To what? Touch him? Or more…?

‘I don't lie when I pay a compliment.' He took a step nearer. ‘Maybe I need to be more convincing.'

Mental warning bells went off again, making her head ring. ‘What do you think you're doing?'

‘Greeting my fiancée properly.'

Before she could react, he caught her round the waist. With her still wet hands spread and out of action, she might have squirmed to get free, but his arm was like a steel band. ‘No—' Her protest was cut off as his mouth possessed hers. Sensuous, warm, velvety. Like fleshy mango pulp. Sweet and pungent. Her bones disappeared. One large hand stole up to the back of her head to hold her still as he continued his possessive exploration, till it felt as if warm honey had infused her veins and flowed rich and sweet inside her. It turned into an electric charge making desire come alive. Spread into a heatwave, sizzling her nerve-endings. Became a fierce longing…