Bollywood Fiancé for a Day Read online

  ‘If you thought I’d…that I will…’

  ‘Spend the night with me?’ he supplied, earning a burning look from her.

  ‘Please stop the car. I need to get out.’ She pressed her lips together to prevent their trembling.

  ‘Lady, you practically insisted on my company.’

  ‘Did I? How stupid of me,’ she snapped, so angry she felt tears pricking her eyes. ‘But I didn’t know then it was going to turn out like this. I don’t want it now. Just let me leave. That’s all.’ She hung on to the door handle as though it were a lifeline.

  His chest moved as he filled his lungs with air. He gave a brief headshake. Evidently the gesture seemed to have some pacifying effect on him because his voice was perfectly controlled when he spoke next. ‘Tell me where you’re staying. I’ll drop you there.’

  She opened her mouth to protest but, for all the mild tone he used, the look he gave her was implacable. No room for argument there. ‘What? Have you sprouted a sudden sense of responsibility for me?’ she jibed in a mutinous mutter.

  ‘So you’ve gone from starchy to sassy again?’ he jibed back. ‘I wonder what else I should prepare myself for?’

  She longed to wipe the sardonic look from his face but curbed the wish, telling herself all she wanted was to be free of this date hassle—and her date.

  From the very start it had been an absolute disaster. This evening so needed to be over.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ZAHEER PUT DOWN the emptied glass of his protein shake and frowned at the apple slices on the plate. With the morning sunlight dappling the walls, last night felt like a piece of stupidity. He didn’t make a mistake usually and practically never where women were concerned.

  His mood was less than peaceful for more reasons than one. Not only had he made a move where it had been unwelcome, but he had been thinking about yesterday evening more than he could consider normal.

  The sight and sound of her was etched on his mental Blu-ray. Eyes shooting fiery sparks. Her blistering tongue. Enticing curves delineated by the soft chiffon, her promising dewy mouth, yet the so-accusing gaze. All designed to hitch up his curiosity antennae. You need someone better to write your lines. Involuntarily he smiled, thinking of her sassy retort.

  Till he caught himself at it. He stopped smiling and pushed the plate in front of him away, the frown reforming on his forehead. He still couldn’t help thinking he’d unfairly cut short her evening and it sent an unreasoning stab of regret through him. Why should he bother anyway? As she had admitted openly, she was no fan of his.

  His frown deepened a fraction. She hadn’t been of a mind to indulge in a fling either. With both reasons for her wanting his company excluded, her insistence on the date made no sense. It was a mystery that demanded to be solved.

  A click of heels sounded on his patio and a second later the door swung open to reveal a tall attractive woman in a clingy short dress. Cinched by a leather belt at the waist, the mini exposed long shapely legs as she marched in.

  ‘Breakfasting, Zaheer?’ She bent to kiss him in greeting, a heavy floral fragrance with overtones of musk enclosing him. ‘Surely it’s too early to be up? This routine will make you age early.’

  His gaze focused behind her to his manservant, who had followed the diva and now stood gesturing towards Mia to convey his helplessness in preventing her from barging in. Zaheer gave an ‘I’ll handle it’ nod to him and directed his attention to his unwelcome guest.

  ‘Maybe I can get the anti-ageing therapy from the clinic you visit.’ He leaned back in his chair and saw annoyance flash across her face before it went back to being a beautiful mask. ‘Breakfast?’

  ‘I can’t face food at this time of the day.’ She waved painted and decorated nails. ‘A glass of wine, if you have it.’ She named her preference.

  The servant withdrew and she whipped out a folded newspaper from her voluminous black and white bag. ‘Have you seen this?’

  Zaheer took the thing from her, then immediately his gaze narrowed. A grainy photo showed him and Vishakha together. Probably taken when they had been coming out of the hotel. He had bent towards Vishakha to ward off the drizzle and the posture gave the impression of a more intimate air than had actually existed between them. The title read:

  CONTESTANT SNARES INTEREST OF BOLLYWOOD HEART-THROB!

  ‘I thought I should let you know in case you face any unpleasantness because of this.’ Her mellow husky tone set off a warning bell in Zaheer’s mind. ‘After all—’ the patterned nails traced a path up his sleeve ‘—we were friends once, Zaheer.’

  He smiled back, with a finger moving those predatory nails away. ‘We were lovers, not friends, Mia. And, as you just said, it was quite some time back.’

  ‘We shared great chemistry.’

  ‘We still do—onscreen.’ He said pointedly, ‘That’s why your husband cast us together.’

  At the mention of her husband, a frown came and went on her face. Zaheer wondered if she ever let any expression sit there for long. Not enough to risk any lines, for sure.

  ‘So now you have taken up with ordinary plain-looking contest entrants?’ she jeered, dropping the well-wisher façade. ‘Your taste has certainly deteriorated, Zaheer.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. She has a certain charm.’ His gaze went back to the picture. The comment wasn’t made wholly to needle Mia, but her reaction was instant.

  ‘She’ll definitely tarnish your guy-about-town image, darling! You need to ditch that piece faster than you change clothes.’

  About to deny anything existed between himself and Vishakha, he paused. It might not be a bad idea to let Mia presume there was someone in his life. As offended as she looked at the idea, he might get a breather. In a few days shooting would resume. He could do with a shield to keep her claws from sinking into him. It was getting thoroughly tiresome.

  This movie was a meaty one. A saga that spanned a generation of Rajput rule and ranged location-wise from northernmost India to the actual Thar, which had been the home of the ancient warrior clan, and even included the adventures of the men whose rule had extended to the extreme east and south of India, it promised to have mass appeal. It could set him up there among the established actors.

  The only drawback was that the director, Armaan Khan, had chosen to cast his wife opposite Zaheer. Discussing the script with him before the flick went on the floors, Armaan had let him know, ‘Working together is a matter of trust, Zaheer. I expect, as a professional, you know that. One should maintain one’s proper position.’

  He hadn’t pretended to misunderstand him. Hell, if he had a wife like Mia he would be insecure as hell too. ‘I’m in this industry because I try the limits,’ Zaheer had told him, ‘but only where acting is concerned.’ They had shaken hands on that.

  He didn’t need Mia acting up now. Pity she’d grown bored with her marriage so quickly. Less than six months had passed. But that was none of his business.

  ‘When I need your advice to pick the women in my life, sweetie, I’ll let you know.’

  Not a great idea to anger her, he mused later, but it was satisfying to watch her storm out of the room. Vishakha might not have the full-blown-rose type of beauty but her delicate features definitely held more appealing charm than Mia’s. Couldn’t the diva see that?

  Why was he so protective on the behalf of a woman he’d just met, anyway?

  Moreover, he’d spent more than half of the time with her warding off her tartness.

  Must be something to do with the guilt of making her miss the date she’d been so set on. Well, right now he had an advertisement shoot to attend. He couldn’t sit and ruminate the whole morning. He picked up his car keys and made his way out.

  * * *

  It was close to evening when he shook hands with the director. ‘We have one more sequence to finish. See you tomorrow?’ she asked.

  ‘Uh…no, the day after.’ His answer surprised the woman as much as Zaheer himself. All day the thought had been hov
ering over his mind like foam in his coffee cup and now he needed the action. ‘I’ve something to take care of in Lucknow tomorrow.’

  ‘Fine. Hope you get it done.’ She waved goodbye and Zaheer made his way to his car. Home, to change for a last promo appearance for his newly released film.

  Lucknow. Where had that come from? Sure he had been having some guilty niggles, but did he actually intend to go and see Vishakha? Had he forgotten the ice shower she’d subjected him to—her inimitable way of showing she meant business? Only a crazy person would put his hand in the lion’s—correction—the lioness’s mouth.

  Well, apparently he qualified. With flying colours.

  Where the impulse takes you… He repeated the old mantra to himself. But the voice of caution hooted its disapproval.

  * * *

  ‘He’s what?’ Vishakha stared disbelievingly at the neatly turned out suited young man standing before her desk. Slowly she took down the stethoscope from around her throat.

  ‘Here,’ he repeated patiently. ‘And he wants to see you.’

  She rubbed her hands on her white coat. Wasn’t that typical of a show-off Bollywood star—to send his PA, commanding her to be shown into his magnificent presence?

  Why was he here, anyway? He must have some work here, she decided. The old city of Nawabs, Lucknow was a favourite haunt for film shoots. The historical minarets and domes formed a great backdrop.

  That still didn’t explain why he wanted to see her. She was tempted to go just to find out.

  Not that she would actually follow that peremptory order to do just that.

  ‘Could you tell him to go soak his head?’ She smiled politely at the man’s stunned look. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  Before he could detain her any more on Zaheer Saxena’s behalf, Vishakha directed her attention to the attendant sitting on the revolving stool, holding a baby.

  Honestly, what did Zaheer expect after the way he had acted in the car? She shook her head. The memory of his touch still rattled her enough that she didn’t want to think of it. Impossible to admit that just for those seconds she’d been enthralled by the hazel-gold gaze, the warmth and strength of him as he’d slipped his arm around her waist…

  Changeable eyes, she reminded herself. A sure sign a person couldn’t be trusted.

  So what was he doing wanting to see her? And when would her errant thoughts let her concentrate on her work? she moaned silently as she smiled apologetically at what was her last patient for the day and asked the mother to repeat the child’s symptoms.

  Thankfully, her job required her whole attention and for the next few minutes she was able to get rid of her wandering thoughts.

  But, coming out into the compound as she clicked the automatic lock for her white Estilo, she was assailed by a piercing regret for turning away the PA. She wished she could zap away the idiotic feeling. After all, she didn’t even like Zaheer. It was highly unlikely she would want any more association with him. Even if the mystery of his seeking her out did bug her a bit, she was better off without satisfying her curiosity.

  She was busy, she reminded herself. Today was her day for visiting the OPD centre for children at an old orphanage. And, knowing from past experience the patients would be waiting for her, she pressed the accelerator. She didn’t want to be late.

  * * *

  Vishakha made her way down the bare austere corridor, aware of the queue of patients following behind, which made her automatically speed up her steps.

  Initially she’d started visits here just to check up on the kids at the orphanage. An NGO had solicited paediatric volunteers from their hospital and each was deputed for two hours two days a week. But child patients had started pouring in from the nearby slum area and a proper OPD had been established and the hours had been extended.

  She had barely donned her white coat and called in the first patient when an agonized wailing couple rushed in, holding a semi-conscious child in their arms.

  She heard the babbled history of diarrhoea and didn’t need to look at the slightly uprolling eyes of the child to know that immediate action was needed. The nurse had gone to get dressing drums and her only orderly was nowhere to be seen. She set up the fluids that could be life-saving only if instantly transfused and sent an attendant for the nurse. The panicking parents were no help at all, nearly collapsing dazed at her feet. She took a deep breath to calm herself and glanced up unexpectedly into a pair of hazel eyes.

  Zaheer? What the hell was he doing here?

  But never mind about that now. ‘Hold his arm,’ she instructed him, her mind on the immediate events as she gestured to the child. ‘Tightly, like this.’

  Thankfully, he had good reflexes. After an initial blank look, he put a large hand firmly around the child’s upper arm and another to hold the puny restless legs as well.

  She tore free the cannula. The vein wasn’t visible. She had handled blind pricks by the dozen but the dehydrated state of the child worried her. Sending up a prayer, she stretched the skin over the bony elbow where it was supposed to be and plunged the needle in.

  Red fluid oozed in and, under her directions, Zaheer connected the cannula to the IV line. Quickly she taped it, her heart in her mouth as the precious fluid seeped into the child’s body.

  The nurse came in and she handed over the charge to her, preparing the rest of the prescription while trying to quiet the weeping parents.

  When things had finally calmed down, she glanced at her saviour.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ The mocking tone in the deep voice was just as she remembered. ‘Sit down.’ He sat down opposite her as she complied and took the cover off the glass of water on her table. ‘Drink this.’

  She did need it. The five minute movie-style drama had taken a toll on her nerves.

  ‘His eyes are open,’ the nurse reported from the examination table. ‘A few minutes more and we can shift him to the ward.’

  ‘Thank God,’ she said fervently. ‘The angels must have sent you,’ she told Zaheer. ‘A minute more and—’ She suddenly came alive to his presence. ‘What are you doing here, by the way? I told your PA I was busy today.’

  ‘So you did.’

  ‘He looked pretty much scandalized.’ She couldn’t help recollecting the loyalty of his employee. Besides the surprise, there had been a definite touch of offence taken in his expression.

  ‘Hmm, he does hero-worship me a bit since I rescued him from being a druggie.’

  ‘You did?’ Vishakha’s brows rose, her surprise patently obvious.

  The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. ‘Yeah, you do want to hang me by a bad name, don’t you, but I’ve been resisting your attempts. Just because I was delayed that day…’

  Delayed. A small bell trilled somewhere in her mind. That was what he’d said then. Had she misunderstood? Worse. Leapt to the conclusion that he had been late for his own selfish purposes? Could he have been genuinely detained somewhere? She looked at him, searching for the answers to her silent questions, finding herself spellbound by something in the green depths of his eyes.

  Then she tore her gaze away from his mesmerizing eyes. Much as she wanted to prolong this time near him and satisfy her curiosity as well, she couldn’t escape the horde of suffering people outside the door.

  He seemed to sense her change of mood. ‘When can we talk?’

  The quick query sent excitement thudding through her. She tried to tone it down. He was probably worried she would give him bad press. The way they had parted must have made him suspicious of her babbling to the media. Didn’t a PR team handle such matters though, for people like him?

  ‘As you see, I’m going to be very busy for a while.’ She gestured beyond the door. ‘It might take me anything from half an hour to an hour at least to examine this group.’

  ‘I’ll wait.’

  He would? Surely it had to be something important. Pertaining to his career? She admonished her errantly skidding heart. For God’s s
ake, why would a drop-dead gorgeous star like him single her out?

  Not that she was admitting, even to herself, that he was gorgeous.

  Come on, Vishakha. You aren’t going to add lying to your failings, are you?

  * * *

  The time Vishakha had predicted stretched to one and a half hours as more crying and scared mites poured in, dark thin faces with slender bodies, the young ones carried balanced on their mother’s hip. Seated in what she had termed her office, a box of a room with hard wooden furniture, Zaheer remembered the feel of the thin limb beneath his hand as Vishakha had pierced the child’s vein. How helpless the poor kid had been.

  The look on Vishakha’s face, scared and determined at the same time, tugged at some unknown soft corner in his chest. For an instant he’d been swamped by the impulse to hold her in his arms and wipe away that fear. Hold her safe.

  Dressed in a simple green churidar with a modest knee-length tunic and her thick white apron over it, she didn’t qualify as the next hot female to catch his fancy. Yet those nut-brown eyes had held him bound for the scant moments he had been seated before her. Was it curiosity for the unknown? She was totally out of his league and he was itching to find out what she was made of.

  He glanced at his watch, inching to the two-hour mark since he had been waiting, and nearly groaned as he glanced out and caught sight of a small group of individuals coming in.

  And he had been known to refuse lucrative film offers because he lacked dates.

  Dr Vishakha was certainly hard to corner. After she’d dismissed his PA, for a moment he’d considered turning back. But, dammit, that evening still rankled with him and he needed to ease his conscience. Plus he intended to warn her about the gossip column piece in case the reporter tried to follow it up with her. She wouldn’t be hard to trace through the contest. Hell, he had done it himself.

  So he’d followed her to this rundown area with decrepit buildings and parks left to waste. This one had a better coat of paint but he’d still been surprised to see the board, Sambhavana Anathalaya, outside the gate. He had heard of dedicated doctors doing volunteer work and he couldn’t help feeling a stab of admiration for her. She hadn’t even taken a break before getting here.