Tiger's Voyage (25 page)

Ren was dancing with a pretty Indian girl in a yellow sari. Her long dark hair reached almost to her waist. His hand was splayed out on the bare skin of her back. Laughing, he ducked his head to listen to something she was saying. When he raised his head and spun the woman toward me, I gasped. The beautiful woman was
Nilima
.

I tore my eyes from the couple and stared straight ahead. Wes was talking about something, but his words couldn’t penetrate the mental fog in my brain. Eventually, he stopped talking and just held my hand as we walked back to the ship. He dropped me at my door, kissed my cheek in sympathy, and then I was alone.

I tore off my dress and fell on my bed staring wide-eyed at the dark ceiling. I heard the unmistakable sounds of fireworks and the cheering of the crowd out on the beach. Something burst inside me, a wall or a shield, maybe. It cracked and broke and silent tears slipped down my cheeks. Once they started, they wouldn’t stop. It was the first time I’d cried since Ren broke up with me, and as I wiped away the tears I vowed it would be the last.

I had nightmares, but someone came into my room, a man. He touched my forehead while I slept. I was aware of it, but I was too exhausted to open my eyes. He whispered comforting words in his native language. The inner turmoil calmed, and I dropped into a restful sleep. Perhaps it was real; perhaps it was a dream. Either way, I knew I was loved.

The next morning, I rose, washed my face, dressed, and headed up to the gym. I found Kishan there getting ready to do his morning workout.

“Hey, Kells. Want to work out with me?”

“Maybe later. I came here to ask you a question.”

He set down a towel and turned to me. “Okay. Go ahead.”

I wrung my hands and looked at the floor as I mumbled, “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Don’t I eat dinner with you every night?” Kishan laughed.

“I’m … I’m trying to ask you out on a
date
,” I mumbled quietly.

Kishan stood silently staring at me until I began to fidget.

How do guys do this? It’s so nerve-racking.
“Well?” I asked impatiently. “Would you like to go out with me or not?”

Kishan took a step closer and touched my cheek. “Yes, I would like to have dinner with you tonight. Would you like to go into town?”

I considered the idea. “Yes. That would probably be the easiest thing to do.”

“And we’ll be alone.”

I nodded. Kishan grinned and told me the name of the restaurant we would meet at. I gave him a shaky smile back and fled the gym. I felt a strong need to escape, to get off the boat, and to be on my own for a while.
Maybe a little retail therapy would help
, I hoped.

Mr. Kadam agreed to let me borrow the Jeep and head into town on my own as long as I checked in with him every two hours. He gave me some credit cards that read K. H. Khan, the same name as my passport, and reminded me to sign the slips properly. I parked in town, checked my cell phone for a good signal, and started walking.

I went into a clothing store and found a mauve blouse with crystal beads and matching silver sequins. The long sleeves were tight at the top and flowed at the wrist. I bought some silver sandals and hoop earrings to match and found a pair of dark jeans to go with them at the next store. It would be nice to have something new for my date later that night.

I had an enjoyable, mindless afternoon strolling through the markets and shops. Most of the vendors spoke at least a little English. I checked in with Mr. Kadam often so he didn’t send the cavalry out after me and bought myself an iced fruit drink to sip as I walked.

I passed a store that sold beads, a bookstore, a shop with candles and incense, and then strolled a vegetable market and browsed in what looked like a pharmacy. I passed a hair salon and heard the feminine chatter of several women talking and laughing. On a whim, I turned around and headed in the door. A pretty middle-aged woman approached me.

“Hello, miss. Would you like a cut, then?”

“A cut?”

“Or a wash and a style maybe?”

I involuntarily tugged on the tail of my braid where it hung over my shoulder.

“A cut? Yes. Why not?”

She smiled at me and guided me to a chair. I hadn’t cut my hair since high school graduation. Honestly, I didn’t usually give my hair much thought, but suddenly it seemed to be the right thing to do. It was time for a change. The hairdresser brought over a book of hairstyles to look at, but I waved the book away and asked for her opinion instead. She turned my head to several angles and studied the shape of my face very seriously.

“I think I know just the thing. Trust me, and I will make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

After she washed my hair, she handed me a pop-culture magazine. It had only snippets of English, but I liked looking at the pictures of all the Bollywood actors and actresses. Another girl approached with a cart of nail polishes and asked if I’d like my nails done.

“Sure, why not. I have a date tonight so I’ll splurge.”

They asked many questions about the man I would see, and I was able to describe Kishan in great detail. They chattered excitedly and wondered if he had a brother. I snorted and said nothing. Apparently, they were single and still looking for a good match, but so far they’d been unsuccessful. They moaned and said all the good men in the city were already taken. They even remarked that the women outnumbered the men at least two to one and told me I was lucky to find such a nice man for myself.

I nodded and bit my lip.
Huh. That explains the flock around Ren,
I suppose. Not that it would really matter. He’d have a flock of women no
matter where he went. For all I knew, he was already engaged or, at the very
least, proposed to by a dozen women.

We chatted most of the afternoon. I selected a mauve-colored nail polish to match my blouse and watched as the manicurist carefully painted my toenails.

I gasped when I first saw several inches of wet hair fall to the floor, but I quickly recovered, reminding myself that it was time for a new me. The stylist blew out my hair and spent forty-five minutes curling and pinning it up. When she turned me to the mirror, I was shocked. She explained that my hair was now just past shoulder level and layered. A mass of curls framed my face and brushed the back of my neck, tickling it as I moved. My hair felt light and bouncy. They let me change into my new clothes behind a curtain and even offered to refresh my makeup. I took them up on it and emerged from the salon with a new style, a new hairdo, and a new outlook on life. After generously tipping the women, I made my way over to The Seven Seas seafood restaurant that Kishan had picked.

I arrived before Kishan. The waiter sat me at a table and brought me an ice-cold lemon water. I watched the passersby and heard the motorcycle before I saw it.

Kishan pulled up, took off his helmet, and searched the street for me. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans, faded along the thighs, and a long-sleeved gray shirt with embroidery details across the chest and the back. His hair was wet and longer than Ren’s.

He was a very handsome man, but better than that, he was a good man, and someone I considered a friend. Surely it wouldn’t take me long to love him. He walked into the restaurant and perused the room. His eyes flitted past me and then shot back and widened as he took in my appearance. He smiled and approached the table.

He dipped his head over my hand and kissed it warmly. “You look beautiful. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He pulled out a chair, then stopped and winced. “That’s not exactly what I meant. I meant to say that you look even more beautiful than you usually do. I like that color,” he said indicating my blouse. “It makes your skin look like cream.”

“Thank you.”

He studied my appearance carefully. “You cut your hair.”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“That depends. How long is it?”

I pulled a curl down and showed him it ended just past my shoulder.

He grunted. “That’s still long enough, so I like it.”

“Long enough for what?”

“Long enough for a man to run his hands through.”

I blushed as he smiled warmly, his golden eyes twinkling mischievously.

Kishan picked up a menu and glanced at me over the top. “Can I ask you something? Why did you ask me to dinner?”

The waiter arrived just before I had to answer, buying me time to organize my thoughts. Kishan ordered an appetizer to share and a soda for himself and then turned his attention back to me, waiting patiently for my reply.

I picked up my napkin and twisted it in my hands. “I asked you on a date because … it was the right time.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because of Ren?”

I winced. “Honestly? That’s part of it. I was very angry last night. I don’t like that feeling. I’d rather make an effort to be happy, and dwelling on him isn’t making me happy.”

He leaned across the table and captured one of my hands. “Being with me is not something you have to do, Kells. Just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean you are obligated to act on them. I’ll be here for you when you need me, no matter what.”

“I know that. I don’t feel obligated. I’m not saying it will be easy for me to forget him, especially when he’s on the ship with us, but I’d like to try.”

Kishan’s golden eyes probed mine thoughtfully. Then he nodded and changed the subject as our appetizer was brought the table. We chatted through dinner, and he shared some funny stories about growing up a prince and about hunting in the jungle.

When we were finished eating, he asked me to go riding with him. The motorcycle was as thrilling the second time as it had been the first. We stopped at the top of a hill to watch the sun go down. He balanced the bike with his long legs and pulled me in front of him, drawing me back into his arms so I could rest against his chest.

He said nothing, and I relaxed, enjoying the security I felt being near him. Kishan was a quiet man, a peaceful man. A life with him would be pleasant. This time, when we rode back on the dark streets, I felt comfortable with my arms wrapped around his waist and moved a little closer. It wasn’t until we were back on the ship that I realized the Jeep was still in town. He helped me off the bike and assured me a crewmember would get it in the morning.

We strolled the deck for a while holding hands. Later, when Kishan walked me to my room, he stopped me at my door, and raised my hand to his lips. “We can do this as slowly as you need to. I don’t want to pressure you.”

I nodded and to prove something to the both of us, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and we held each other tightly as I kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Kishan.”

He smiled and wrapped a curl around his finger. “Goodnight,
bilauta
.”

Wes was leaving the ship the next day, and I was really sorry to see him go. Our diving lessons were over. We had all passed with flying colors.

Kishan knocked on our adjoining door and asked if I was ready. When I emerged, Kishan studied my hair again. I’d taken out all the pins the night before, so it fell loosely to my shoulders. He brushed his hand through the curls, smiled, and kissed my forehead.

When Wes finally showed up in the dry garage, he whistled at my haircut and shot me a dimpled grin. I apologized for ruining his party, to which he gallantly said I was the best part of it. Kishan shook hands with Wes, and then I took a step forward and hugged him.

Wes whispered in my ear. “Good luck with everything, Kelsey. I sure will be thinkin’ on ya from time to time.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Wes backed up, pulled the imaginary brim of a cowboy hat in salute, picked up his bag, and secured the strap over his shoulder. He winked at me and said, “Don’t forget now, if you start feelin’ tired of them mules and decide it’s time to find yerself a nice prize stallion, look me up.”

“I will.” I laughed.

As we watched Wes walk down the ramp, we heard someone else fast approaching with the clickety-clack of stiletto heels.

Kishan tugged my arm impatiently.

“Let’s go, Kells.”

“What’s the rush?” I teased.

He stiffened, and I heard a simpering female voice say, “Why, aren’t you the sweetest thing? Inviting me to spend a few days here with you!”

I peeked over Kishan’s large bicep and locked eyes for a split second with Ren, who had suddenly appeared arm in arm with a woman. His eyes widened briefly when he saw me and then tightened as he glared. I glared right back, but he quickly looked away and smiled at the curvy piece of insubstantial cotton candy that had attached herself like a leech to Ren’s arm. She pushed past Kishan and me and boldly made her way up the ramp.

“Oh! Isn’t the garage so huge! Is that a motorcycle under that cover? I just
love
motorcycles. Especially when they belong to
big, strong
men,” the voice purred.

“The garage is not very exciting,” Ren said. “Come on, Randi. Let’s check out the pool instead.”

The Barbie-shaped blonde turned to look at us. Her gaze flitted up and down my frame and, after quickly dismissing me, she turned her attention to Kishan. Her collagen-injected lips widened to something resembling a smile. “Wait a minute, gorgeous. You haven’t introduced me yet.”

Ren edged forward stiffly and said, “This is my brother, Kishan, and this is Kelsey.”

“Why, I’m charmed to meet you.” She brazenly sauntered over and put her hand on Kishan’s bicep. “My, my, they sure grow them big in India, don’t they?”

“This is Randi,” Ren finished.

Randi turned her attention to me when I asked if she was from America.

She blinked prettily. “America? Oh, yes. I’m from Beverly Hills. And where are you from?”

“Oregon.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I could never live in Oregon. I need to have the sun. Oregon’s much too cold. If I lived there, I’d never be able to lay out on the beach. But I can see laying out isn’t something you like to do, so Oregon’s probably the ideal place for you, then, isn’t it? I think everyone should know their place in the world and stay in it. We’d all be so much more comfortable then, wouldn’t we? It’s been so nice to meet you.”