the urge to
follow her in and introduce her to the delights of making love in a shower.
Just the thought of the water sluicing down over those exquisite curves was
enough to make him bite back a groan of need. And ultimately that’s what
stopped him following her in—the fact that she could bring about this lack of
control so easily.
He’d
just spent an entire night with a woman when he couldn’t remember the last time
that had happened. If ever. He had a fleeting moment
of considering making her an offer to become his mistress, here in India, so
that they could keep seeing each other. But that sense of vulnerability rose up
again, making him feel uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be right to ask Aneesa to be
his mistress; she’d been innocent and she wasn’t like the more experienced
women he usually chose, who knew that he liked to keep things casual.
He
told himself this and resolutely diverted his mind away from exploring the real
reason he wouldn’t be seeing her again.
When
Aneesa emerged from the bathroom with her hair freshly washed and dried, she
felt a little more in control. The bedroom was empty, and in a voluminous
towelling robe she went to look for Sebastian, who she found in the main living
area, pristine and more than a little intimidating in a dark grey suit which
made his blue eyes stand out.
He
was on the phone, speaking to someone in rapid-fire Spanish when she came in,
and he picked up a big glossy-looking bag to hand to her. She took it, assuming
it to be the clothes, and fled back to the bedroom.
In
the bag she found underwear, jeans, flat shoes, a shirt and a baseball cap. She
smiled at his thoughtfulness and even more when she saw a huge pair of dark
glasses. When she was dressed she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and
regarded herself in the mirror. She was a million miles away from the ornately
decorated bride of the night before—she grimaced slightly—except for the
distinctive henna tattoo on her hands.
‘I
got your size right….’
Aneesa
whirled around to see Sebastian leaning against the door, watching her. Heat
crept over her skin to think just how intimately they’d been entwined only
hours before. How intimately he knew her.
‘Yes,
thank you … I’m afraid I’ve no money to pay you for the clothes at the moment,
but I could arrange for some—’
He
cut off her words with a slashing movement of his hand, ‘Don’t worry about it.’
He flicked a glance at the watch on his wrist. ‘I’m afraid I have to leave. I’ve
got a meeting in twenty minutes across town.’
She
tried to ignore the wrenching sensation in the pit of her belly and stammered, ‘Of
course, you’re busy. My parents will be worried about me. I should go to them
and explain.’
He quirked a brow. ‘Jamal?’
Aneesa
hitched up her chin. ‘Jamal will be fine—he’s made surviving in Bollywood into
an art form and I’m sure he’s already making sure he’s being portrayed as the
poor victim.’
Sebastian
stood away from the door. ‘I know a good PR person here, if you need someone to
take care of you.’
Aneesa
shook her head and fought the desire to say yes, as if to hold onto some
tenuous link that he was holding out, but he was only being polite. ‘Thanks but
my agent will have someone lined up I’m sure….’
He
started to walk away. ‘I’ll take you down to a back entrance. I’ve arranged for
a car to be waiting for you outside, so hopefully that’ll ensure you get away
without being noticed.’
Aneesa
nodded and put on the baseball cap. She’d transferred all of her wedding
paraphernalia into the
follow her in and introduce her to the delights of making love in a shower.
Just the thought of the water sluicing down over those exquisite curves was
enough to make him bite back a groan of need. And ultimately that’s what
stopped him following her in—the fact that she could bring about this lack of
control so easily.
He’d
just spent an entire night with a woman when he couldn’t remember the last time
that had happened. If ever. He had a fleeting moment
of considering making her an offer to become his mistress, here in India, so
that they could keep seeing each other. But that sense of vulnerability rose up
again, making him feel uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be right to ask Aneesa to be
his mistress; she’d been innocent and she wasn’t like the more experienced
women he usually chose, who knew that he liked to keep things casual.
He
told himself this and resolutely diverted his mind away from exploring the real
reason he wouldn’t be seeing her again.
When
Aneesa emerged from the bathroom with her hair freshly washed and dried, she
felt a little more in control. The bedroom was empty, and in a voluminous
towelling robe she went to look for Sebastian, who she found in the main living
area, pristine and more than a little intimidating in a dark grey suit which
made his blue eyes stand out.
He
was on the phone, speaking to someone in rapid-fire Spanish when she came in,
and he picked up a big glossy-looking bag to hand to her. She took it, assuming
it to be the clothes, and fled back to the bedroom.
In
the bag she found underwear, jeans, flat shoes, a shirt and a baseball cap. She
smiled at his thoughtfulness and even more when she saw a huge pair of dark
glasses. When she was dressed she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and
regarded herself in the mirror. She was a million miles away from the ornately
decorated bride of the night before—she grimaced slightly—except for the
distinctive henna tattoo on her hands.
‘I
got your size right….’
Aneesa
whirled around to see Sebastian leaning against the door, watching her. Heat
crept over her skin to think just how intimately they’d been entwined only
hours before. How intimately he knew her.
‘Yes,
thank you … I’m afraid I’ve no money to pay you for the clothes at the moment,
but I could arrange for some—’
He
cut off her words with a slashing movement of his hand, ‘Don’t worry about it.’
He flicked a glance at the watch on his wrist. ‘I’m afraid I have to leave. I’ve
got a meeting in twenty minutes across town.’
She
tried to ignore the wrenching sensation in the pit of her belly and stammered, ‘Of
course, you’re busy. My parents will be worried about me. I should go to them
and explain.’
He quirked a brow. ‘Jamal?’
Aneesa
hitched up her chin. ‘Jamal will be fine—he’s made surviving in Bollywood into
an art form and I’m sure he’s already making sure he’s being portrayed as the
poor victim.’
Sebastian
stood away from the door. ‘I know a good PR person here, if you need someone to
take care of you.’
Aneesa
shook her head and fought the desire to say yes, as if to hold onto some
tenuous link that he was holding out, but he was only being polite. ‘Thanks but
my agent will have someone lined up I’m sure….’
He
started to walk away. ‘I’ll take you down to a back entrance. I’ve arranged for
a car to be waiting for you outside, so hopefully that’ll ensure you get away
without being noticed.’
Aneesa
nodded and put on the baseball cap. She’d transferred all of her wedding
paraphernalia into the
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