Jasmine laughed uncomfortably. She had given the address of Krish’s store as her home, but they’d wanted to know about her family, who she’d claimed were all on an extended visit to the Punjab. The researcher had found this odd, judging by her raised eyebrows, but she hadn’t voiced any query.
“Ready then?” asked Krishnan, lounging at the foot of the stairs.
“Umm…” Jas checked the clock on the wall. Ten to eight. What do I tell Krish? She needed a minute or two alone to think. “I just want to use the bathroom,” she managed. “Bye, Anjali. See you in two weeks.”
Looking back from the door to the corridor, she caught Anjali smirking at Krishnan and luring him into a conversation.
Humph. While the cat’s away, eh?
But then she berated herself for her ungenerous thought. Wasn’t she contemplating sneaking off with Ajay Amir anyway? If Krishnan wanted to flirt with another woman, then that was no crime. Oh, it was all too difficult!
She pushed through the door of the women’s restroom and braced herself over a sink, looking at her face in the mirror, trying to decide what the reflection there really was. Just a pretty girl on the verge of an adventure? Or a liar, a schemer, a disloyal bitch? What should she tell Krishnan? Not the truth!
She couldn’t face him. She’d just…go. She’d call him in a little while, before he got too worried, make up some excuse for disappearing.
Breathing fast, Jas rummaged in her handbag, bringing out a lipstick and refreshing the metallic-tinted colour of her mouth. Pressing her lips together, she tried to picture herself as Ajay would see her. She aimed for mysterious sophistication, but it was a difficult look to pull off, so she opted for more mascara instead.
“Don’t sleep with him, Jas,” she commanded herself sternly. “He won’t respect you.” But a chance like this might never come again. “What am I doing?” she moaned, then she danced around the empty restroom, singing, “It’s Ajay, Ajay, Ajay Amir,” just as the fangirls liked to chant outside the Bollywood studio lots.
She shrugged at her mirror image, palms upward.
“I’m only human,” she told herself.
And she left, searching for the back exit door.
She smelt that patchouli spice before she saw him. She hurried forward, turning a corner to a small set of steps that led down to a barred fire exit door. But where was he?
She squealed as a pair of strong arms caught her from behind, circling her waist, the hands clasped around a bouquet of flowers.
“You came.”
The famous voice swirled into her brain, killing her capacity for sensible thought and filling her with tremulous rapture.
“Ajay…” Her protest was weak and he must know it.
“You were dynamite today.”
Realising she was going nowhere with those powerful arms holding her, she decided to relax into the flow and rested her head against his shoulder. It felt good, really good, just the way it had felt in her dreams but more real.
“Ajay, is this wise? Is it allowed?”
“What, to take a beautiful woman out for the evening? I think it’s in order, don’t you?”
“I mean, the rules of the contest…”
“Hey, I didn’t get where I am today by following rules. Don’t worry, baby. As long as we’re discreet and we don’t do anything to put us on the front page of the newspapers, we can do whatever we want.”
Whatever we want. Right now that covers quite a lot of activities…
“You think rules are meant to be broken?”
“Yeah.”
He pressed his nose against her cheek, his hot breath travelling down the curve of her neck.
So you won’t mind if I don’t have any Asian heritage then…
But she didn’t dare voice the thought. Not yet. Instead, she turned her face up to his, his lips so close, his eyes devouring her.