Tiger's Curse (48 page)

I clipped off a fast, “No. Definitely not.”

He grinned. “Good!” He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “Then that means you’re free to go out with me. No girl in her right mind would want to be with Ren, anyway. He’s very . . . stuffy. Cold, as far as relationships go.”

My mouth hung open for a minute, shocked, and then I felt anger shove the shock aside and take over. “First of all, I am not going to be with either one of you. Second, a girl would have to be crazy not to want Ren. You’re wrong about him. He’s not stuffy or cold. In fact, he’s considerate, warm, drop-dead gorgeous, dependable, loyal, sweet, and charming.”

He raised an eyebrow and measured me thoughtfully for a minute. I squirmed under his gaze, knowing that I had spoken too quickly and said way too much.

He ventured carefully, “I
see
. You may be right. The Dhiren I know has surely changed in the past couple of hundred years. However, despite that and your insistent claim that you will not be with either one of us, I would like to propose that we go out and celebrate tonight, if not as my . . . what is the correct word?”

“The word is date.”

“Date. If not as my date . . . then, as my friend.”

I grimaced.

Kishan continued, pressing his point, “Surely, you won’t leave me to fend for myself on my first night back in the real world?”

He smiled at me, encouraging my acceptance. I did want to be his friend, but I wasn’t sure what to say to his request. And for just a moment, I wondered how Ren would feel about it and what the consequences might be.

I questioned, “Where exactly do you want to go to celebrate?”

“Mr. Kadam said there’s a nightclub in town nearby with dinner and dancing. I thought we could celebrate there, maybe get something to eat, and you can teach me how to dance.”

I laughed nervously. “This is my first time in India, and I don’t know a thing about the dancing or the music here.”

Kishan seemed even more delighted by that news. “Fantastic! Then we will learn together. I won’t take no for an answer.” He jumped up to rush off.

I yelled, “Wait, Kishan! I don’t even know what to wear!”

He shouted back over his shoulder, “Ask Kadam. He knows everything!”

As soon as he disappeared into the house, I sunk glumly into a depression. The last thing I wanted to do was try to be happy when I was emotionally wrung dry. I was pleased that Kishan was back and in high spirits though.

In the end, I decided that, although I really didn’t feel like celebrating, I didn’t want to dampen Kishan’s newfound enthusiasm for life. I leaned over to pick up our discarded root beer glasses and found that they’d disappeared.

How awesome was that? Not only did the Golden Fruit provide food, it also did the dishes!

I got up to head back into the house and sensed something. Goose bumps stood out on my arms. I looked around but didn’t see or hear anything. Then I felt an electric sizzle shoot through my body. Something tugged at me and pulled my eyes up to the balcony. Ren was standing there, leaning against a pillar with his arms folded across his chest watching me.

We looked at each other for a minute, not saying anything, but I could feel the air between us shift. It became thick, sultry, and tangible—like when the air changes right before a storm. I could feel its power envelop me as it brushed across my skin. Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew a storm was coming.

The sultry air pulled on me like a riptide, trying to suck me back into the vacuum of power Ren had stirred between us. I felt like I had to physically yank myself away from it. I closed my eyes and ignored it, continuing on.

When it finally let me go, a horrible ripping feeling occurred within me, and I spun out into a void alone. As I dragged myself to my room and closed the door behind me, I could feel his eyes still on me, burning a fiery hole between my shoulder blades. I stiffly entered my dark room, trailing the torn threads of disconnection along behind me.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the afternoon. Mr. Kadam visited me and expressed his delight that I would be going out for the evening with Kishan. He suggested that a celebration was indeed in order and that we should all go.

I asked, “So you and Ren want to come too?”

“I don’t see why not. I will ask him.”

“Mr. Kadam, it might be better for you to just have a guys’ night out. I’d just get in the way.”

“Nonsense, Miss Kelsey. We all have something to celebrate, and I will make sure that Ren is on his best behavior.”

He turned to leave, and I said, “Wait! What should I wear?”

“You may wear whatever you wish. You can wear modern clothes or dress in more traditional fashions. Why don’t you wear your
sharara
dress?”

“You don’t think I’d be out of place?”

“No. There are many women who wear them for celebrations. It would be perfectly acceptable.”

My face fell, and he added, “If you don’t wish to wear it, you can wear your regular clothes instead; either choice is appropriate.”

He left and I groaned. Being alone and trying to celebrate with Kishan was bad enough, but at least he didn’t make me feel like I was drowning in emotional turmoil. Now, Ren would be there. It would be miserable.

I felt stressed about going out. I wanted to wear regular clothes, but I knew the boys would probably be wearing Armani or something like that, and I didn’t want to stand next to them in jeans and sneakers, so I opted for my
sharara
dress.

I pulled the heavy skirt and top out of the closet, ran my hand over the beading, and sighed. It was so beautiful. I spent some time doing my hair and makeup. Playing up my eyes with more mascara and liner than I usually did, I also smudged some purple-gray shadow over my lids and used a flat iron to straighten my hair. The feel of smoothing it out in long strokes was very therapeutic and helped me to relax.

By the time I was finished, my golden-brown hair was sleek and shining and hung in a curtain down my back. I carefully slipped the purple-blue bodice over my head and then picked up the heavy skirt. I centered it on my hips and aligned the glittering folds, liking the weighty feel of it. Fingering the intricate pattern of teardrop pearls, I couldn’t help but smile.

I was just lamenting that the Golden Fruit could not create footwear when a knock sounded at my door. Mr. Kadam was waiting for me.

“Are you ready to go, Miss Kelsey?”

“Well, not exactly. I don’t have any shoes.”

“Ah, perhaps Nilima has something in her closet you can borrow.”

I followed him to Nilima’s room, where he opened her closet and pulled out a pair of golden sandals. They were a little big, but I laced them tight and they worked fine. Mr. Kadam offered me his arm.

“Wait just a second. I forgot something.” I ran back to my room and grabbed my dupatta scarf, wrapping it around my shoulders.

He smiled at me and offered his arm again. We walked outside to the front drive where I expected to see the Jeep, but parked there instead was a glossy platinum Rolls-Royce Phantom. He held the door open for me as I sank into a luxurious smoke-gray leather interior.

“Whose car is this?” I asked, rubbing my hand across the polished dashboard.

“Oh, this? This, is my car.” Mr. Kadam beamed with obvious love and pride for his vehicle. “Most cars in India are very small and economical. In fact, only about one percent of the population owns a car. When you compare automobiles of India to American vehicles . . .”

He rattled off several more automobile facts before turning the key while I grinned and sank back in my seat listening with rapt attention.

When he finally started the car, the engine didn’t roar to life, it purred.
Very nice.

“Kishan is on his way down, and Ren . . . has opted not to come.”

“I see.”

I should have been glad, but I was surprisingly disappointed. I knew it was better if we didn’t spend time together until this crush, or whatever it was, went away, and he was probably just honoring my wish to not see him, but there was still a part of me that wanted to be with him at least this one last time.

I bit back my emotion and smiled at Mr. Kadam. “That’s okay. We’ll still have fun without him.”

Kishan darted out the door. He wore a lightweight burgundy V-neck sweater over pressed khaki slacks. His hair had been trimmed to a shorter length and was cut in angled, choppy layers that had been styled to give him a dramatic fall-in-your-face Hollywood look. The thin sweater showed off his muscular build. He looked very handsome.

He opened the back door to the car and hopped in. “Sorry I took so long.”

He leaned up between the front seats. “Hey, Kelsey, did you miss—” He whistled. “Wow, Kelsey! You look amazing! I’m going to have to beat the other guys off with a stick!”

I blushed. “Please. You won’t even be able to get near me what with the crowds of women that will be surrounding you.”

He grinned at me and leaned back in his seat. “I’m glad Ren decided to back out. More of you for me that way.”

“Hmm.” I turned around in my seat and buckled the seatbelt.

We pulled up outside a nice restaurant with an outdoor wraparound porch, and Kishan rushed forward to open the door for me. He offered me his arm while smiling at me disarmingly. I laughed and took it, determined to enjoy my evening.

We were seated at a table in the back of the place. The waitress came by, and I took the liberty of selecting cherry colas for me and Kishan. He seemed happy to let me make suggestions of food choices for him.

We had a fun time looking through the menu together. He asked me what my favorite foods were and what he should try. He translated what the menu said, and I offered my opinions. Mr. Kadam ordered some herbal tea and sat quietly, sipping it as he listened to our discussion. After we ordered our food, we sat back and watched couples swaying on the dance floor.

The music was soft and slow, timeless classics, but in a different language. I let melancholy sweep over me and fell quiet. When the food arrived, Kishan dug into it with relish and then happily finished mine when I gave up trying to eat. He seemed fascinated with everything— the people, the language, the music, and especially the food. He asked Mr. Kadam thousands of questions like “How do I pay?” “Where did the money come from?” “How much money do I give the server?”

I listened and smiled, but my thoughts were far away. Once our plates were taken away we sipped refills of our drinks and watched the people around us.

Mr. Kadam cleared his throat. “Miss Kelsey, may I have this dance?”

He stood up and held out his arm. His eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling at me. I looked up at him with my own watery smile and thought about how much I would miss this kind man.

“Of course you may, kind sir.”

He patted my hand on his arm and led me to the dance floor. He was a very good dancer. I’d only danced with high school boys at dances before, and they usually just moved in a circle until the song was over. It was nothing interesting or exciting, but dancing with Mr. Kadam was much more exhilarating. He led me all around the dance floor spinning me in circles that made my skirt fan out. I laughed and enjoyed my time with him. He twirled me out and then brought me back deftly each time. His skill made me feel like I was a good dancer.

When the song was over, we walked back to the table. Mr. Kadam acted as if he was old and winded, but I was actually the one breathing hard. Kishan was thumping the floor impatiently with his foot, and as soon as we returned, he immediately stood up, grabbed my hands, and led me back out to the dance floor.

This time, the song was faster. Kishan seemed to be a quick-study as he carefully watched and copied the moves of the other dancers on the floor. He had good rhythm, but he was trying too hard to look natural. We had a good time, though, and I laughed through the entire song.

The next song was a slow love song, and I started to walk back to our table, but Kishan grabbed my hand and said, “Wait a minute, Kelsey. I want to try this.”

He watched another couple near us for a few seconds; then, he placed my arms around his neck while he encircled my waist with his. He kept his eyes on the other couples for only a few more seconds and then looked at me with a rakish smile.

“I can definitely see the benefit of this kind of dancing.” He pulled me a bit closer and mumbled, “Yes. This is very nice.”

I sighed and let my thoughts drift for a moment. A sound suddenly vibrated through my body. A deep rumble. No. A soft growl. Barely heard over the music. I looked up at Kishan, wondering if he’d heard it too, but he was staring at something over my head.

A quiet but indomitable voice behind me said, “I believe this is
my
dance.”

It was Ren. I could feel his presence. The warmth of him seeped into my back, and I quivered all over like spring leaves in a warm breeze.

Kishan narrowed his eyes and said, “I believe it is the lady’s choice.”

Kishan looked down at me. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I simply nodded and removed my arms from his neck. Kishan glared at his replacement and stalked angrily off the dance floor.

Ren stepped in front of me, took my hands gently in his, and placed them around his neck, bringing my face up achingly close to his. Then he slid his hands slowly and deliberately over my bare arms and down my sides, until they encircled my waist. He traced little circles on my exposed lower back with his fingers, squeezed my waist, and drew my body up tightly against him.

He guided me expertly through the slow dance. He didn’t say anything, at least not with words, but he was still sending lots of signals. He pressed his forehead against mine and leaned down to nuzzle my ear. He buried his face in my hair and lifted his hand to stroke down the length of it. His fingers played along my bare arm and at my waist.

When the song ended, it took both of us a minute to recover our senses and remember where we were. He traced the curve of my bottom lip with his finger then reached up to take my hand from around his neck and led me outside to the porch.

I thought he would stop there, but he headed down the stairs and guided me to a wooded area with stone benches. The moon made his skin glow. He was wearing a white shirt with dark slacks. The white made me think of him as the tiger.