Twelve Hours of Temptation (7 page)

For a few seconds she didn’t seem to have heard him, and then she gave a shaky little laugh and drew away from him. ‘You’re right,’ she agreed. ‘Before the morality police catch up with us.’

She didn’t say anything about having got him out of her system, he noted with satisfaction as he started the car.

‘You’re the first man I’ve been with after Josh,’ Melissa said abruptly after a few minutes.

Samir glanced across at her. He’d thought as much after the previous night—she wasn’t inexperienced, exactly, but it was evident that she didn’t sleep around. Why she would want to give the impression that she did was something else altogether.

‘So the one-night stand thing...?’

‘Was just me trying to prove to myself that I could do casual sex if I wanted to.’ She made a funny little grimace. ‘Didn’t work.’

Samir couldn’t help laughing at her expression. ‘You know what? I’m glad it didn’t,’ he said. ‘At the risk of sounding impossibly old-fashioned, I must admit that I don’t really approve of casual sex. And I’d like us to be more than a one-night stand.’

Melissa wrinkled her nose. ‘What? Like a proper relationship?’

‘Something like that.’ They had stopped at a traffic light, and he leaned across and kissed her bare shoulder, making her shiver in reaction. ‘Don’t think about it right now, though.’

The light changed, and they were moving again, so Melissa didn’t ask why not. Instead, she asked, ‘Were you in a relationship before this?’

The way she said ‘relationship’ was incredibly cute—rather like a precocious child trying out a new word—and Samir smiled involuntarily. It was one of the most attractive things about Melissa: the little flashes of naiveté that showed between the chinks of her self-assured, woman-in-charge-of-her-own-sexuality persona.

‘Not a serious one,’ he said. ‘But I was dating someone for almost year.’

Her eyebrows flew up. ‘You spent a
year
with someone you weren’t serious about?’

He shrugged. ‘We thought it would work out initially. And it was convenient to have someone to bring along to social dos.’

‘It sounds awful,’ Melissa said frankly. ‘And before that?’

‘Before that I had a very intense fling with a journalist. That time we were both clear it wasn’t going to last.’

‘You’re an even bigger disaster than I am,’ Melissa said. ‘The L word didn’t happen ever? Even when you were in college?’

He was silent for a few seconds, and then he said, ‘It did happen. Not when I was in college, but very soon after I graduated. Turns out I picked the wrong person.’

‘She met someone else?’

He shook his head. ‘No, just changed her mind about me. But it was a long while ago. Tell me about the guy you were with—why was your father so against him?’

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he hadn’t asked. Her face clouded over again, and she bit her lip.

‘Josh was Australian—that was one thing. And he was definitely not serious about me; it was just a holiday romance as far as he was concerned.’

Samir hesitated a little. He’d shifted the conversation away from his own botched-up love life because he hated talking about the one period in his life when he’d let another person control him emotionally. He hadn’t, however, wanted to make Melissa relive what had probably been a more traumatic experience—in his case at least his family had been kept out of it. Now he could hardly change the topic again without seeming callous, so he searched around for a question that would show he was listening without being overly intrusive.

‘How did you meet Josh?’ he asked finally.

‘He came into the restaurant when I was doing the lunch shift. He was a travel writer, and he was in Goa to do some background research for his new book. I was used to foreigners—our restaurant had got good reviews on quite a few travel websites and we got dozens of tourists coming in every day. Josh was different. He’d been in the country only for a few weeks, but he seemed totally at home—like he was born here. We got talking, and...well, before I knew it I’d agreed to help him out with his research. I speak Konkani, and even a little Portuguese, and he needed someone to translate when he interviewed the locals.’

Samir felt a totally alien emotion sweep over him—it took him a few seconds to realise that it was jealousy. Melissa’s voice had taken on a wistful tone that he’d never heard before, and he had a mad urge to hunt Josh down and smash his face in for him. Because he’d quite obviously hurt Melissa—not to mention messing up her relationship with her family.

It took some effort keeping his voice neutral as he asked, ‘Your father didn’t stop you from dating him?’

‘He didn’t know for a long while,’ Melissa said. ‘Josh used to flirt with me a little, but I didn’t take it seriously at first. Then we started spending more time together—he showed me the work he’d already done on the book, and it was amazing. He wrote really well. You could visualise each sentence. I think I fell for his writing first. My dad found out I was having an affair with Josh just a week before he was due to leave India. I didn’t want to miss those last few days with him and I refused to listen to my dad. Just packed up a bag and moved into Josh’s place. He’d paid the rent for a full quarter, so after he left I had a place to stay for a while. My dad refused to let me into the house.’

‘How did you end up in Mumbai, then?’

‘I called Aunty Liz. She’s Brian’s wife, and she’s a kind of cousin several times removed. I’ve always been close to her, and I thought she could help me get a job outside Goa. I majored in English literature—it’s a pretty useless qualification, but I write pretty well. Brian offered me a copywriting job, and it seemed like the perfect solution.’

‘Are you still in touch with him?’

‘With Brian?’ Melissa asked, looking puzzled.

For an instant, Samir felt like shaking her.

‘Oh, you mean Josh. Well, yes—he e-mails me sometimes, but we’re just friends now. I’m over him, if that’s what you’re asking.’

It was exactly what he was asking, and the casual way in which she said she was over Josh was more believable than if she’d protested vehemently.

‘I don’t know if I was really in love with him either,’ she said after a while. ‘It was all so mixed up. I didn’t mind working in the restaurant, but a part of me had always wanted to escape. Then there was something glamorous about dating a foreigner—especially a writer. Maybe I just got a little carried away, trying to prove that I was an independent woman with a life of my own.’ There was another little pause, and then she said, ‘Or at least that’s what I tell myself now. At the time I was pretty besotted with him. I even hoped he’d take me with him when he left India.’

‘You were pretty young,’ Samir said easily. ‘Most people get carried away the first time they fall in love.’

‘I guess,’ Melissa said, adding silently to herself that ‘most people’, however, didn’t run away from their families—or ignore the opposite sex for two years after the relationship ended and then suddenly decide that they wanted to have a casual relationship with the first man they found attractive.

Twisting her hands together in her lap, Melissa felt suddenly very close to tears. She’d thought she’d moved on—become a different person from the confused, heart-sore and rebellious girl who’d left Goa two years ago. Meeting Michael and Cheryl had brought it all back, and she didn’t feel anywhere near as confident about her choices as she had earlier.

Especially after Michael had put a hand over hers and said, in his quiet way, ‘Dadda and me didn’t behave right with you, Melly. You’d never have left us if Mamma was still there.’

He was right, and that made it all so much worse. She’d whisked her hand out from under his and announced tightly that she needed to leave. Then she’d called Samir, wanting—no,
needing
his quiet strength by her side. And he’d been wonderful, encouraging her to talk without prying unnecessarily or turning judgemental. Not in the least like Josh, who’d hated any kind of emotional outburst—especially when it had to do with her family.

They were at the hotel now, and Samir pulled into the parking lot. Immediately the atmosphere between them changed, and Melissa felt a shiver of anticipation run through her. Samir came around to open her door and she automatically went into his arms as soon as she got out of the car. It felt like coming home as she inhaled the now familiar smell of his aftershave and pressed even closer to his hard, muscular body.

He was perfect, she thought as a wave of lust swept over her. Strong and gentle and wildly exciting all at the same time—she’d been crazy to think that a single night with him would be enough.

The kiss was slow this time, and unexpectedly sensuous, and when his lips finally left hers Melissa found herself clinging on to him for support.

A little breathlessly, she asked, ‘Your room or mine?’

FIVE

‘Move in with
you?’ Melissa looked a little taken aback. ‘Isn’t that a bit drastic? We only met a couple of weeks ago.’

‘It’s the practical thing to do,’ Samir said. ‘I’m at serious risk of dying of frustration.’

It was a week since they’d returned from Goa, and they’d managed to spend only one afternoon together. Melissa’s hostel had a curfew, and Samir was working crazy hours as he tried to get Mendonca’s finances into shape before he handed it over to a new business head and moved back to Maximus. Sure, they saw each other in the office, but that wasn’t enough—after spending their last few days in Goa almost exclusively in bed, it was torture having to pretend that they were just colleagues.

The thought of actually going back to the same house and sleeping—or staying awake—in the same bed was so incredibly tempting that the practicalities didn’t strike Melissa for several minutes.

‘What if it doesn’t work out?’ she asked. ‘We might get tired of each other, or you might find out that I’m such a slob you can’t bear having me around in your house.’ Another thought occurred to her, and she went on without giving him a chance to interrupt. ‘I’d have to give up my room in the hostel. There’s no way I’ll get it back later.’

‘You won’t need it later,’ Samir said. ‘Look, let’s give it a shot. If it works—great. If not, we’ll part ways, and I swear I’ll help you find a place to live that’s even better than your too-good-to-be-true hostel. I want us to be together.’

He was leaning forward a little as he spoke, and although his words were ordinary enough Melissa felt an automatic little thrill run through her in response to the simmering desire in his eyes.

‘What about people at the agency finding out?’

Samir shrugged. ‘Half of them have already guessed,’ he said. ‘And the rest don’t need to know anything other than that you’re my girlfriend.’

He was right, and the only reason Melissa still hesitated was because she knew that she was getting into murky waters here. A quick, no-holds-barred fling was what she’d wanted. But, like the lady in her favourite washing powder ad, she’d got a lot more than she’d expected. A heartbreakingly good-looking boyfriend. A complicated decision to make.

Sneaking a quick look at Samir, she wondered why it felt so tough. Sure, Brian and Liz would probably be horrified if she moved in with Samir, but her other friends wouldn’t care much. It was more that she herself wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

Perhaps if she’d met him a few years later she’d have been panting to move in with him. But right now her plans included rising up the agency ranks to make creative director, writing the perfect novel and travelling around India in her spare time. By train, because she was still flight-phobic. Men figured in her plans, but in the relative scheme of things they were at the same level of importance as the ad breaks on a movie channel.

Samir, however, showed signs of wanting to be the main feature film—worse, if she didn’t get a grip on her life that was exactly what he’d end up being. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She did—a lot. But falling for him would clearly be a bad idea. He moved in completely different circles from her—his friends were socialites and high-flying executives, and Melissa knew she’d feel deeply uncomfortable with them.

Also, his lifestyle was as different from hers as a Bollywood star’s was from the man who ran the corner
vada-pav
stall. He’d never commuted by bus or local train, and he’d looked surprised and a little disbelieving when she’d told him that she actually preferred public transport to whizzing around in an air-conditioned car. And he hated eating out at the little roadside joints she favoured. Small things, but they all added up to make the practical side of her brain think that their living together might not be idyllic. In spite of the red-hot sex.

Then again, the practical side of her brain hadn’t had much of a say in the decisions she’d made since she’d met Samir.

It was difficult thinking things through while Samir was still watching her, his expression inscrutable. Probably he thought she was a right ninny, dithering around instead of saying anything. Wishing she was the organised type—the kind of person who could draw up a mental list of pros and cons and decide in a minute—she frowned as she tried to concentrate.

What other people thought didn’t really matter. Nor did it really matter whether she liked his friends or he liked hers. What mattered was whether she wanted to move in with him or not. And the more time she spent with Samir, the more she felt she wanted to.

It wasn’t just that he was spectacular in bed—the more she got to know him, the more she liked him as a human being. His aloof, sometimes overly serious work persona concealed a genuinely warm, fun side that she’d got to know over the past couple of weeks. And, unlike Josh, he seemed to be as keen on her as she was about him. She couldn’t help the warning bells that went off in her head every time she found herself getting a bit more involved with Samir, but she could decide to ignore them.

‘Don’t over-think it,’ he was saying softly now, his hand moving persuasively up her thigh. ‘Just go with the flow.’

God, she’d always hated that expression, but when Samir said it, it sounded positively enticing. Not to mention the way his hand was making her feel.
Impulsive
and
wanton
were the words that came to mind as she said, ‘When should I start moving my stuff?’

* * *

‘Maya Kumar’s offered me a job,’ Melissa announced two weeks later.

Samir looked up from his computer and frowned. ‘The one that guy was speaking to you about? Ashish, or whatever his name was.’

‘Akash,’ Melissa said. ‘Yes, that one. She’s giving me a sixty percent pay-hike and she’s also given me the option of working from home. What d’you think?’

‘It’s your decision,’ Samir said slowly. ‘Sixty percent is good, but we’d be able to match that here. And I’ll be out of Mendonca and on to my next project in a few months—do you still want to leave?’

Melissa plonked herself into the chair opposite Samir. ‘We’ve talked about this,’ she said. ‘It’ll look really weird, you giving me a pay-hike when everyone knows I’m your girlfriend.’

She’d moved into Samir’s plush flat a week ago, giving the agency staff enough food for gossip for the next year at least. Other than Dubeyji, the elderly Hindi copywriter, no one had openly expressed disapproval, though Devdeep had taken to addressing her in a terribly stiff and formal way.

Samir shrugged. ‘I don’t particularly care what they think,’ he said.

‘Neither do I,’ Melissa said honestly. ‘But I’d feel much better getting a raise by changing jobs than...’

‘Than sleeping with the boss,’ Samir said in resigned tones. ‘I know. You’ve mentioned it a few dozen times already. Go ahead, then.’

Melissa hesitated a little. In the office they tried to keep their conversations as formal as possible, and she wasn’t sure if her next question was strictly professional. ‘Are you upset with me?’ she ventured finally.

Samir looked genuinely surprised. ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘You’re excellent at your work, and you’ve got a better offer at a better firm—it’s natural you’d want to move.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have a meeting in Bandra—need to rush. Should I leave the car for you?’

‘No, I’ll take the bus,’ Melissa said absently. ‘Or, actually, if you’re going to be home late I’ll go visit Brian and Liz.’

‘Keep the car and driver with you, then,’ Samir said as he got to his feet. ‘I’ll ask Kash to book me a cab.’

Melissa knew better than to argue—Samir genuinely didn’t get that she preferred walking or public transport to being driven around in his car. It was one of the many things they didn’t agree on, and she hadn’t got around to talking to him about it. Which would be because she’d spent every spare moment these past two weeks in bed, having wild, delicious sex with Samir—talking hadn’t really figured very high on the agenda.

Her mouth automatically curved up at the corners at the thought, and Samir gave her an inquiring look.

‘Planning something devilish?’ he asked. ‘I don’t trust you an inch when you get that look in your eyes.’

‘I’ll tell you when you get home,’ she said saucily. ‘Off you go to your meeting now.’

She was terribly tempted to lean across and kiss him—he was near enough for her to smell the woody scent of his aftershave, and it could make her go dizzy with longing if she let it.

That was one of her reasons for quitting, she told herself. It was difficult staying focussed on work when he was around. Only once he was out of the room and she’d gone back to her desk she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t the only reason. Nor even the main one. Maya Kumar was very different from Brian, but she had one big thing in common with him—she valued Melissa’s work.

Melissa tried to imagine Brian’s reaction if she’d quit when he was in charge. He’d have used every trick in the book to hold her back, and he’d have succeeded because she’d have known he wanted her to stay. But Brian had retired, and Samir didn’t really care about the agency.

Sighing, Melissa opened up her laptop and began typing out her resignation.

* * *

Liz had insisted that she stay for dinner, and it was almost ten when Melissa got back to Samir’s apartment complex. It was a tall building in central Mumbai, and he had a massive three-bedroom flat that took up all of one floor—even the bathrooms were larger than the hostel room that Melissa had been living in for the past year. In spite of the scale, the flat had an impersonal look about it, as if it had been designed by an interior decorator as a showcase bachelor pad rather than an actual home.

Samir was still in his office clothes, and he was poring over a sheaf of papers heaped up on the dining table.

‘Still working?’ Melissa asked, and he leaned back in his chair, running a tanned hand through his already rumpled hair. His jaw was covered with stubble, and he managed to look unkempt and incredibly hot at the same time.

‘There’s a new deal coming up,’ he said. ‘A small media company that we might pick up a stake in.’

She crossed the room to him and put her hands on his shoulders. His body was warm and strong under her hands, the muscles flexing as he stretched. Unbidden, her hands started straying over his body—until he pulled away and said, ‘I’ll finish this in half an hour and be with you, okay?’

Somehow even the dismissal sounded like an invitation, because his dark eyes were dancing wickedly up at her.

‘Did you have dinner?’ she asked primly, and he shook his head.

‘Kamala’s son isn’t well, apparently—she left a message with the security guard. I’ll grab some fruit and cereal in a bit.’

‘When?’ Melissa asked in disbelief. ‘It’s ten o’clock. And no one eats fruit and cereal for dinner. Unless they’re ill or on a totally weird diet.’

Kamala was the cook, and usually as punctual as clockwork—Samir was clearly incapable of managing without her.

He was still absorbed in work, and all he said was, ‘I’m used to eating late. Don’t worry about it.’

Melissa wrinkled her nose as she left the room. It was unlikely Samir would eat at all—and going by the last two times he’d brought work home it would be midnight before he came to bed. She gave her reflection in the mirror a rueful look. She’d spent a frantic few minutes in the car fluffing up her hair and redoing her make-up. Pretty much a wasted effort, as Samir hadn’t even looked at her properly.

For a mad moment she considered changing into something skimpy and trying to vamp him into bed. Mentally, she reviewed her night wardrobe—teddy bear pyjamas, two striped nighties and a pair of exercise shorts that she normally paired with a tattered T-shirt. Hmm...not much scope for seduction there. Besides, she wasn’t sure she had the required
oomph
for a grand seduction scene, even if she’d possessed a suitably titillating wardrobe. She’d lucked out with Samir that first time in Goa, but after that he’d handled all the seducing that needed to be done.

Regretfully giving up the plan, Melissa wandered into the kitchen. Perhaps cooking the poor man dinner was a better idea, she thought, opening the fridge and peering inside. There was very little food in it—from what Melissa could figure Samir’s cook bought just enough for two or three meals at a time. Whipping up a cordon bleu meal with two tomatoes, a handful of droopy beans and a capsicum would be next to impossible. Oh, well, Samir would have to manage with a simple pasta dish instead.

Luckily the freezer yielded a pack of frozen chicken, and there was a jar of olives at the back of the store cupboard. Suspiciously turning it around to check the expiry date, Melissa was relieved to find that it was a year away.

She found herself humming under her breath as she put a pot of water on to boil and started chopping the vegetables. One of the things she’d missed most in the hostel was access to a proper kitchen—after so many years of working in her father’s restaurant she was a more than competent cook. Samir’s kitchen might be poorly stocked, but the equipment was state-of-the-art. The interior designer had evidently pictured Samir in celebrity chef mode—actually, the more Melissa thought about it, Samir in a chef’s hat and an apron would look pretty hot.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Samir asked, appearing quite suddenly at the door.

Melissa gave a little yelp of alarm, almost dropping the pot of boiling pasta on the ground. ‘You startled me!’ she said once she’d safely drained the pasta and put the pot in the sink. ‘Didn’t anyone teach you not to creep up on people like that?’

‘I wasn’t expecting you to be here,’ Samir said, frowning. ‘What’s that stuff?’

‘Boiled worms and slug juice,’ Melissa said crossly. She’d gone out of her way to cook him a decent meal, and he was acting as if he’d found her going through his wallet.

‘I don’t expect you to cook for me,’ he said. ‘I told you I’d have managed just fine with cereal.’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ she muttered. Evidently the genius who’d said that the route to man’s heart was through his stomach hadn’t met Samir Razdan. He sounded positively put out—as if she’d transgressed some unwritten rule by cooking him a meal.