THANKS FOR YOUR WONDERFUL AND HEART TOUCHING COMMENTS……
The girls disappeared. They simply melted into the landscape of parked cars. No one
stayed to back Swara up, no one remained to lend support. And there was no one left to
take that blasted candle but herself.
Swara stared in dismay at the pink wax held out in Sanskar’s long, tanned fingers. “Uh,
thanks,” she said, and plucked it from his grip. She was sure her face had turned as red as
Sanskar’s. But that was nothing compared to the rapid-fire beating of her heart. He was here.
Why was he here?
Worse, why was she so excited to see him?
“I have, you know,” he said.
With no idea what he was talking about, Swara fumbled the candle into the front
pocket of her sweat jacket. “What?” she asked.
“Come to apologize,” he repeated.
At that Swara had to look at him again. His gaze was dark, focused entirely on her.
God, Swara thought, whatever his sins, he was still the handsomest devil she’d ever
seen. And he was also — still — so different. For half a second that bothered her, how
different he was, not that she believed his story of hypnosis for one second. Frantically,
she reached for some level of sanity. “You can’t exactly apologize for walking out on me.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No, I can’t make up for that.”
Ha! Swara thought.
“But I am sorry I didn’t believe you when you came to my office the other day.”
His gaze sharpened on her. “I shouldn’t have called you a phony. I shouldn’t have assumed you were anything but exactly what you claimed to be.” He paused. A different muscle
twitched in his jaw. “My wife.”
“Uh huh.” Swara shook her head, trying to digest it all. He was here. He’d flown all the
way across the country to tell her…this? “So you’re still saying you don’t remember me,”
she declared, just to make it clear to both of them.
His lips thinned. “I’m not ‘saying it.’ It’s true.”
Their eyes met, and locked. Never had Swara met a crumb who could look so sincere.
Sincere? He looked positively annoyed.
“Uh huh,” she said, confused. Why was he annoyed?
His next remark answered that. “Believe me or not, Miss Bose, but we are legally
wed. That gives us matters to discuss.” He looked at her, implacable.
Swara stared back at him, uncomprehending. Then it hit her. The divorce. “Oh,” she
said. He was sincere, all right. Sincere in his desire to get rid of her. She squelched a
ridiculous little pang beneath her br*astbone. This fellow wasn’t the man she’d once
believed him to be, not the sweet and tender love of her life. It was okay, it was good, to
put an end to this.
“Matters,” she said. “Fine. Wonderful.”
His gaze averted. “I have a place we can be private.”
###
Swara had to admit herself impressed. He was all prepared. In the hotel, he’d reserved
a conference room for their little meeting, with scattered sofas, end tables, and lamps.
Formal, impersonal, and the message clear: neutral territory.
She strode in ahead of him, reassured. Neither emotions nor passion would get
involved here. This was, indeed, simply business. And simply business was all Swara
wanted it to be. Handsome as he was, the man still wasn’t admitting he even knew her. A
crumb to the end.
“Please,” he said, indicating a pink-striped sofa. “Have a seat.”
Swara glanced at him. His expression was cool, calm, even pleasant. A crumb with
impeccable manners. With her fists clenched in her jacket pockets, she sat.
Sanskar moved with easy grace to a red floral chair to one side. He picked up a briefcase
and set it on the coffee table between them.
So, Swara thought, he already had the papers drawn up. Quite…foresightful. And quite
unlike the man she’d known. That, apparently, had been one big, fat masquerade.
But whatever. All she had to do was sign. She did not lean back against the sofa
cushions. Why, she’d be out of here, done with the whole humiliating episode in minutes.
Sanskar set one hand atop the leather briefcase. “I understand you don’t believe me
about the hypnosis, or about forgetting everything that happened during the ensuing two
days. But I wonder if you wouldn’t mind…humoring me for a few minutes.”
“Um. What?”
He opened the clasps of the briefcase with a simultaneous click. “I’d like to know
what I did for two days. You could help with the answers to a few simple questions.”
Swara chewed the inside of her cheek. She was supposed to humor him? To what end?
“Well, I don’t — What’s that?” He’d drawn some sheets of double-folded paper from his
case.
“This is my credit card report, starting with the plane tickets I bought Friday
evening.” He shook it open. “The first item I don’t understand is a place called ‘Nat’s.'” He
looked over at her.
Swara looked back. Did he really think she wanted to play this game? And why? She
wasn’t going to fight a divorce.
His brows rose. “Bar?”
Swara’s breath rushed out. She didn’t go out to bars with men she met after the show!
He tilted his head. “You’re just humoring me, remember? Not admitting my story’s
true or anything.”
“It’s a diner,” Swara blurted, as if he didn’t know that perfectly well himself. They’d sat
over the same pair of free refill coffees for three hours. He’d smiled at her as they’d talked
and talked, a smile all slow and tender. She’d begun to melt, thinking he really cared.
Yeah, right. Just showed how much she knew.
Sanskar’s eyes went back down to his sheet. “A diner. That sounds pedestrian enough.
But what about this sailboat? I rented a sailboat in Las Vegas?”
“No, that was Lake Mead.” Swara snapped her mouth shut. What was she doing? He
had to know they’d spent the day on the lake, just lazing and looking up at the blue, blue
sky. He had to remember they’d shared their first kiss in the shadow of a narrow river
canyon. The boat had rocked beneath them. And so, she’d thought, had her world.
“Pardon me. Lake Mead. That should have shown up on the printout.” He frowned
down at the paper. “We got there awfully early.”
“We drove through the night.”
He shot her a penetrating look. “I…see.”
Swara felt her eyes widen. “We drove,” she said firmly. “Besides, we weren’t married
yet.” But she supposed he’d ‘forgotten’ that, too. Forgotten her stammered explanation of
her no-s*x-without-marriage policy, forgotten his serene acceptance of her restriction,
followed by his own, incredible proposal.
Apparently so, for his gaze went back down to his paper printout and his voice went
dry. “Oh, yes. Our wedding, held at the Little Chapel of the Dawn. My investigator
confirms: all perfectly legal. I even bought you a ring and — ” His implacable face
suddenly reddened. “Party favors.”
Swara found herself blushing, too. On the way out of the chapel, laughing, he’d bought
a pair of handcuffs. “It was no big deal,” she now claimed. They’d been fur-lined and
hadn’t even had real locks — nor had they ended up getting used.
His face resumed its normal color as he set his printout to the side. “You’re right. Not
much of a big deal, compared to what is conspicuously missing. Miss Bose — ”
Slowly, he clasped his hands and set them around one knee. His dark lashes lowered.
“Miss Bose, nowhere on this credit report is there a record that I bought protection.
con**ms. Anything of that nature.”
Swara stared at him.
“I assume we had s*xual relations and so I need to ask.” He lifted his lashes enough to
give her an amazingly direct look. “I have to ask: were such relations unprotected?”
Swara continued to stare. His eyes were steady, his mouth flat. “We didn’t use
protection,” she heard herself admit.
His stare went into laser-mode. “Then you could be — ”
“No.”
“But — ”
“I’m not pregnant.” Her gaze averted and she found herself blushing all over again. “I
already know.”
“Oh,” he said a moment later, and released a deep breath.
“God.” Swara jumped from the sofa, stalked to the nearest wall, and crossed her arms
tightly. She glared at a painting of a beach. “What a thing to have to tell a rank stranger.”
They both stopped. A heavy silence descended on the room. As she stared at the
beach, Swara felt a prickling all over her skin. Slowly, she turned.
He was watching her, very alert. Waiting.
Swara’s heart started pounding. Was it possible — ? Could he actually — ? That is,
she’d considered the scenario for half an instant here and there, but could it actually be
true? Was he a rank stranger, someone who didn’t remember meeting her…or anything?
Swara swallowed. She didn’t want to believe it. It was too outrageous. It smelled like
getting bamboozled again. She cleared her throat, intending to tell him she wasn’t fooled
when, even as she looked at him, he transformed.
Not physically. No, physically he was the Sanskar she remembered; dark hair, wavy, left
a little too long, blue eyes like a midnight sea, body like a panther. But behind the eyes —
Behind the eyes was someone she’d never met before, herself.
Swara had to think in order to breathe. Her knees felt shaky. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”
The new man, the stranger, got to his feet. “There is one other document. Would you,
please?” He indicated the sofa with his hand.
Swara shifted her gaze to the sofa but didn’t dare move. She tried to go back to
skeptical mode, but it wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t be the other man again, the one she
knew. He was…somebody else. Somebody who’d been hypnotized, who didn’t even
remember meeting her, let alone remember falling in love.
Apparently giving up on the idea she would sit, he plucked up something from his
briefcase. It was a tiny piece of paper, only about an inch square and soiled, as by kitchen
oil. He held it out to her.
The insistence in his gaze finally made Swara move. She took a step, close enough to
see he was holding a receipt. “Duncan’s Donuts,” she read aloud. The prickling sensation
returned, sweeping over her tenfold.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
Swara could feel a bubble of hysteria inside. “You got the donuts.”
“I was holding a bag of them when I ‘woke up.’ For you, I presume. I never eat such
things, myself.”
The bubble of hysteria inside Swara expanded. She started to laugh. “But you were the
one who noticed the store, who wanted them — ” She stopped. Biting her lip, she looked
at him, looked at the man behind the eyes. “No,” she corrected. “That wasn’t you.” Swara
felt a chill replace her hysteria. “Was it?”
He turned. Delicately, he returned the little piece of paper to his briefcase. “Miss
Bose, I can only repeat my heartfelt apology that you got mixed up in this…little
accident of mine. The hypnosis — well, I never actually expected to go under, and then
my cousin Laksh had to get in on the act with his amusing ‘suggestions.'”
“Suggestions.” Swara’s chill grew. She’d seen men, dignified, elderly men, bark like
dogs under the suggestion of a stage hypnotist. She could make the logical deduction. “In
real life you wouldn’t have done any of it, what we did together. You wouldn’t have given
me the time of day to begin with.”
He didn’t say a word. He just looked at her, looked at her with cool, unfamiliar eyes.
Swara whirled. A part of her wanted to laugh. Here it was, the magical explanation
she’d been hoping for. Sanskar hadn’t abandoned her, after all. He’d even bought the donuts.
Yes, he’d bought them, and then vanished into thin air. Her easy-going, sweet and
charming Sanskar Maheshwari didn’t even exist!
“Miss Bose.”
Swara clenched her fingers on her upper arms. Inside she was reeling. This wasn’t the
man she’d met Friday night. Of course, she’d already seen as much in Boston. Her Sanskar
was blue jeans and tee shirts. This man was English wool and silk. Her Sanskar smiled. This
man looked like he hadn’t cracked a grin in the past ten years.
She’d seen it, she just hadn’t wanted to believe it.
“Miss Bose,” he asked. “Are you all right?”
The question was both ludicrous, and valid. She gave a soft laugh. “Sure, sure. I’m all
right.” She was just peachy. It was no big deal to discover the man she’d fallen in love with
didn’t even exist in real life.
Instead he was an illusion, a dream, ‘suggested’ into being by this no-good cousin
Laksh.
Her fingertips dug into her sweat jacket sleeves. She was used to falling in love with
an illusion, the pretty picture of the guy she’d paint in her mind, but this was ridiculous.
She sensed the other man, the real one, take a step in her direction. Grimacing, Swara
turned. Their eyes met. A funny quiver went through Swara’s stomach. He still had those
amazing blue eyes, the elegantly chiseled features, the whole aura of vital, healthy male.
But on a stranger. The man she’d known — even the man she’d loathed — was
nowhere.
She tried a smile. “I guess it’s my turn to owe you an apology.”
His brows knit.
“I didn’t believe you when you said you’d been hypnotized.”
He grunted. “Under the circumstances, understandable.”
Swara sighed. “Yeah, well, it did sound pretty incredible. Add to that, the tendency of
the male to slink off once he’s got what he wanted. That’s why I — ” She stopped and
waved a hand.
His gaze was steady. “That’s why you made sure I married you first.”
Swara looked away. She nodded. Neither of them said anything then. There was a
peculiar tension in the air. They were strangers — but not quite. They’d been physically
intimate. He understood that by logical deduction, but Swara actually remembered. Lord
help her, but she remembered far too well.
While Swara felt the air in the room stretch tight, he cleared his throat. “Well I guess
we should finish our business, if that’s all right with you?”
“Business?” Swara’s voice came out too high. “Oh yes, right, of course.” She nodded
vigorously. “The divorce. You’ve more than convinced me. I’ll sign on whatever dotted
line you say.” She wanted to get out of there. The situation was even more humiliating
than she’d imagined. That whole, dramatic scene in Boston — God.
His chin jerked. “Yes, well, thank you very — But that isn’t the business I mean.”
Swara blinked. “No?”
For the first time, his steady gaze slipped. “I mean,” he said, staring over her left
shoulder, “we need to talk about your move to Boston. Closing your apartment. Quitting
your job.”
“Wha — ? Excuse me, what?”
His gaze drew back to her. “We are married, Miss Bose. Usually that involves
living together.”
Swara stared at him. “What?” she asked again.
Sanskar raised a pair of haughty eyebrows. “I’ve come to take you home with me.”
Swara stood rooted to her spot.
He had no such mobility problem, turning and strolling toward the coffee table. “I’m
afraid you will have to move to Boston.” His voice was impossibly matter-of-fact. “There
is no practical way I could relocate to Las Vegas.”
Still staring in his direction, Swara blinked. “You mean — you think we’re married?”
He sat on the floral chair and looked up at her. “Aren’t we?”
“No.” She waved a finger between the two of them. “Didn’t you just get through
explaining that to me?”
“What I explained was that I do not remember the event. I am convinced, however,
that it did indeed happen.”
Swara made herself breathe. “Well, yeah, it happened but — you weren’t you.”
“Oh? Who was I then?”
“You were hypnotized!”
His jaw tightened. “The hypnosis could not force me to do anything against my will.”
“Please. Don’t tell me those old men wanted to bark like dogs.”
“Pardon?”
Swara waved her hands. “You didn’t want to marry me. You were under the influence
of something — Laksh’s suggestions. You didn’t intend to do it.”
On the floral chair, he went still. “A part of me did,” he said softly.
Swara paused, digesting that. “A part of you?”
The tops of his cheeks went pink. “A part of my mind. I knew what I was doing. I
knew I was making a promise, and now I intend to fulfill it.”
He seemed utterly serious. But — he couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be. This whole thing was
like the dog-barking. A joke.
He heaved a deep sigh. “I’m the man who married you. I am.”
Swara inhaled. “But — ”
“No ‘but’s. I am the man you met five days ago in Las Vegas, the one who
did…everything I did. I simply don’t remember it.”
Swara frowned hard. “No.”
His gaze was crystal blue. “Yes.”
“No, no, no.” She took a step back. “I know the man I met. He was — ” She stopped
and flapped a hand. “He wasn’t you.”
The Sanskar in front of her raised a pair of dubious brows.
Swara huffed a breath. “He was…fun, mellow. Personable. And he wouldn’t be…doing
what you’re trying to do.”
Those supercilious brows dove downward. “He wouldn’t be trying to honor his
marriage vows?”
“No! I mean — ” Swara stopped, frustrated. In fact, she had suspected just such
craven behavior of ‘her’ Sanskar.
The present Sanskar looked satisfied. “Consider that you knew me for less than fortyeight hours.”
“But — ”
“You were bound to discover I wasn’t exactly the man you had imagined.”
“Well yes, but this is something else — ”
“The intensity of emotion that prompted us to the altar could not possibly have
lasted.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Were you
planning to give up on the marriage at that point?”
Swara found she had to look away from his questioning gaze. “This isn’t the same
thing at all.”
“Why not?”
Swara felt her heart pick up speed even though she knew there was a difference. “You.
Were. Hypnotized. You don’t even remember me. It’s like — an accident. You said so
yourself!”
He paused, then spoke with careful enunciation. “I don’t walk away from accidents.”
Swara’s heart beat faster. This was a crazy argument. Of course they weren’t married,
except in the most technical sense. And yet he sounded grimly earnest.
“Divorce wouldn’t be walking away. It would be…taking care of the accident.”
He gave a sharp shake of the head. “Divorce is a coward’s way out. I’ve always
thought so. Once a vow is made, it should be kept.”
Swara’s heart beat now at the rhythm of panic. These were words she might have
spoken herself, a bare week ago. “This is different,” she insisted, her voice hoarse.
“A promise is a promise,” he stated calmly.
“You weren’t yourself.” To put it mildly.
His lips thinned. “I wish I had the luxury of discussing this further but other matters
press. I need to resolve this tonight.”
“Tonight!”
He uncrossed his arms. “My flight home is at eight. You can be on it. My wife, with
all the rights and privileges thereto.”
Swara’s mouth opened and closed. She started to laugh. “Tonight.”
“Don’t worry about the time crunch.” He shifted his attention to his briefcase, closing
the lid. “You’ll only need to pack for your immediate needs. With the exception of giving
notice to your employer, my people can handle all the details at this end; closing your
apartment, storing your things, et cetera, et cetera.”
She laughed harder. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
His gaze centered back on her. “Marriage. Fulfilling promises. That’s my offer, Miss
Bose. Take it or leave it.”
Her laughter died as she met his unwavering gaze. He was absolutely serious. He
actually meant to fly her home with him. He didn’t know her, he couldn’t possibly like her,
yet he was that committed to keeping his word.
Swara swallowed. She’d only met one man in her life as committed. Her father, the
minister, who’d taught her from the cradle the importance of integrity.
Sanskar snicked closed the latches of his briefcase. “A call to me here at the hotel by
seven will get you a ride to the airport in time.”
Swara licked her lips. She wouldn’t do it. She wasn’t married, not really.
“Think it over, Miss Bose. I’ll be in room 814.”
“No,” she said, but her voice cracked.
“You need to think it through.” He stood.
“No.” What was there to think through? “You don’t love me. You don’t even know
me. We’re in Nevada, we should get a divorce.”
“Room 814,” he said. “Just in case.”
###
Five hours later, Laksh’s lazy voice crackled over Sanskar’s cell phone. “So, has she called
you?”Seated at the mini-office he’d created on the table in his posh Las Vegas hotel room,
Sanskar turned another page in the quarterly report he was reviewing. “No, she hasn’t called.
Apparently neither my money nor my social position were sufficient incentives.” He
paused. “Lucky for you.”
“Lucky for me?” Laksh guffawed. “This was all your idea, Sanskar. I didn’t tell you to go
marry a showgirl. All I said was — ”
“Yes,” Sanskar interrupted. “I know what you said.”
Laksh barreled on anyway, gloating. “What I said was for you to do what you wanted
for forty-eight hours, instead of what you should.”
Sanskar closed his eyes. His stomach twisted, the way it did every time he recalled
Laksh’s misbegotten hypnotic suggestion. Do what you want instead of what you should.
Ridiculous. How could he have wanted to fly off to Las Vegas? How could he have
wanted to strike up with some — some show dancer? And marry her!
Still, it had happened. It was fact. And Sanskar had had to deal with the consequences of
his actions; soberly, responsibly, and completely. He’d had to offer her his name and his
home.
“So you’re coming back a single man, after all.” Laksh sighed. “I suppose that’ll make
Felicia happy.”
“Felicia?” Sanskar frowned, unable to fathom what this young woman, a distant relative
on his mother’s side, had to do with anything.
“Never mind,” said Laksh, with a chuckle.
Sanskar decided to heed Laksh’s advice. He had enough problems without worrying
about Ragini Galodia , whatever might be wrong with her. She was blessedly not his
responsibility.
So Sanskar turned his attention to the one person who might, at a stretch, be deemed his
responsibility. “How’s Sahil?” he asked Laksh.
“Better,” Laksh returned promptly. “Or at least your little half-brother will be better,
now that I can tell him you aren’t on the hook any more.”
Sanskar’s fingers worried the sheet of paper he’d been turning. “So he’s still there.”
“Where else would he be?”
Sanskar stifled a sigh. Sahil, nine years old, really shouldn’t be one of his
responsibilities. Sanskar hadn’t married a European rock star less than half his age and gotten
her pregnant, despite the obvious inability of the woman to deal with real life, let alone a
child. It was almost a mercy Sahil’s mother had killed herself by skiing drunk in the Alps
a few months after his birth.
Now Sanskar frowned. “I thought Sahil’s father might have put in an appearance by
now.”
Laksh made a scornful sound.
“I sent a telegram,” Sanskar protested.
“To a yacht in the Mediterranean? Besides, even if he got it, your father isn’t about to
interrupt his pleasure for your convenience.”
Sanskar rubbed his forehead. This was most certainly true. Kirk had never interrupted
anything, ever, for Sanskar’s convenience. “I’ll send a personal messenger,” he told Laksh. “It’s
the third time Sahil’s been suspended from school this year, and it’s almost summer
vacation. Kirk is going to deal with this.”
“Kirk is, huh?” said Laksh.
Sanskar ignored the disbelief in his cousin’s tone. “Keep an eye on the brat. I’ll be home
first thing in the morning.”
“Not a problem.” Laksh sounded aggrieved. “Little pest dogs my every step.”
Sanskar spent a pleasant moment imagining his half-brother dogging Laksh’s every
footstep. It was precisely what his trust-fund cousin deserved. “My condolences,” he said
dryly, and rang off. Then he drew in a deep breath and, no longer diverted, let his gaze
wander to the clock radio on his hotel nightstand.
Seven-thirty, the red numbers announced.
Seven thirty. Half an hour past the deadline. She hadn’t called. She wasn’t coming.
Sanskar felt a sinking in his gut. Guiltily, he realized the sensation was relief.
She hadn’t called, she wasn’t coming. He didn’t have to be married to her. He didn’t
have to live with her. He didn’t have to — to —
Sanskar leaned his head back on the chair and huffed a sigh. He didn’t have to live with
her tempting tail in front of him. He didn’t have to resist her dangerous allure. He didn’t
have to be reminded, over and over, that he was more his father’s son than he’d ever
wanted to admit.
His eyes closed tight. It was a hard lesson to learn at thirty-eight years of age, that he
was completely vulnerable to his hormones. The whole time he’d been alone with her in
the conference room, he’d had to struggle to keep his mind on the matter at hand. He’d
had to work like mad to keep her from guessing his true thoughts.
Was she as soft under that sweat suit as he imagined? Would her skin be as silky, her
flesh as giving?
Sanskar opened his eyes and released a rough laugh. Oh, he liked s*x as much as the
next man, but on his terms, and under appropriate conditions. These were not his terms,
nor were conditions the least bit appropriate. It was all too much like one of his father’s
tawdry misalliances. He and this Swara had absolutely nothing in common. There was
nothing on which to build a true and mutually respectful relationship. He didn’t even know
her, for God’s sake. But that didn’t matter. In the conference room with her he’d still
wanted —
Sanskar jerked himself forward in the chair. All right, enough. He knew perfectly well
what he’d wanted. He didn’t have to dwell on the unexpectedly crude side of his nature.
She hadn’t called, she wasn’t coming. He didn’t like the idea of divorce. It was a sin Sanskar
had promised himself he would never commit, but in this case it was for the best.
Quick and clean. Before things got too embarrassing.
Sanskar gathered the papers on the table. He’d waited until the last minute to leave for
the airport, afraid his eagerness to escape his fate might interfere with his duty. Now he’d
have to rush if he wanted to make his flight.
He stuffed his papers in his briefcase, jerked into his jacket, and hoisted his carry-on
over his shoulder. Before he could reach the door, however, there was a knock.
Sanskar froze. No. It was just…room service, yes room service, with that coffee they’d
never delivered. Breathing again, he put his hand on the knob and swung the door wide.
It was not room service. His wife stood in the hall, her nose in the air and an array of
mismatched suitcases laid around her feet.
Sanskar’s heart did a staggered double-beat.
“Two months,” she said crisply. “We’ll give it a two month trial period. I keep my
apartment and take a leave of absence from my job. I can manage that — barely.”
Sanskar could hardly hear her for the blood rushing through his ears. Black pants
hugged her hips like a second skin. A stretchy top did the same for her ripe, perky br*asts.
“Two months,” he croaked.
“You were right,” she said. “A promise is a promise.” She rolled her shoulders. “At
least, it’s a promise if you’re the man I made it to.”
The words brought Sanskar’s gaze up from her body. “Who else would I be?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “That fellow loved me.”
The blood, so hot, went cold in Sanskar’s veins. “Pardon me?”
“You don’t.” Her eyes averted. “So I’ll give it two months, two months to figure out
who you are, to see if there could be love.”
Sanskar felt a growl, low in his throat. “I never said I loved you.”
She looked over at him, surprised. “Sure you did.”
“When?” Sanskar challenged.
She looked down her lashes. “Well, for one time, right there in our wedding vows.”
He stared at her.
“So what do you say?” She hitched her purse higher over her shoulder. “Two months,
that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
Sanskar was still staring. She was right. He had uttered the words. He must have, but —
he couldn’t have meant them.
“So?” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you taking or leaving?”
Just looking at her, even now, Sanskar could feel the lust pull, low down in his gut.
Lust, not love. It was never going to be love, not in a million years.
The fierceness of her expression began to wilt. “You could say something.”
He looked at her. Yes, he could say something. I lied to you. I would have said
anything to get you into bed. To get what I wanted.
“I’ll call a bellhop.” Sanskar turned. “We’ll need help if we hope to make that flight.”