Bollywood Fiancé for a Day Page 6

  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.

  ‘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 p
ride 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

  VISHAKHA 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 h
arem 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.