“Of course, it’s safe!” She frowned. “And it’s not like I hate Henry the Horrible. It’s just that he gets on my nerves sometimes.”
“Why? Because he doesn’t believe the world revolves around you?” He teased her.
Taking a huge leap of faith, he braved the new frontier and took a gingerly step in. Then a few more. His one leather hold-all; he dumped on the couch.
She was stowing her elegant wheel suitcase, Coach, if he wasn’t mistaken, in a closet off the living room and dropped it when she heard him. It wasn’t that big an apartment so she just turned her head and found him watching her with an amused smile.
~~~~~
Why did he look like he had travelled first class in a bed on a plane while I look like Grumpy, the dwarf on a bad hair day?
It sucked that even his travel clothes were not unduly ruffled. He’d worn his uniform cords and black tee shirt and a jacket over it.
If it weren’t for the shadowed stubble on his elegantly handsome face, Akira would have found it difficult to believe this man had traveled across an ocean and several time zones in the last day.
And she hadn’t missed the appreciative glances the stewardesses on their Air France flight had given him.
What had surprised her was the spurt of unnecessary anger she’d felt towards the women and him. Akira was not a jealous sort of woman.
She found her tongue now. Five seconds too late and just said, “Bathroom’s at the end of the corridor. Freshen up and we can be out again in an hour.”
He smiled now. A full-blown smile and it jerked her pulse up which made her even madder. He considered her to be vain, stubborn, and stupid enough to warrant rescuing all the time.
And here she was, fantasizing over his stupid bearded smile.
She continued, “You should think about shaving off that beard, Brand. Might make people think you are dangerous.” Then she opened the door to her bedroom and slammed it shut.
~~~~~
Brand walked slowly to the bathroom, one hand on his beard and looked thoughtfully at her closed bedroom door. One good kick on it and she’d find out just how dangerous he was.
He sighed.
Don’t let her get to you, Brand, old boy.
He walked straight on to the bathroom to freshen up. He laughed aloud as he saw the tiny shower stall and array of bath products that ringed it. The woman loved her baths, it seemed. No wonder she smelled so damn nice all the time.
Then, looking like he belonged here as much as he did anywhere, he stripped off to his skivvies and went about making himself presentable. He had survived under worse conditions and rested under better.
But he was pretty sure, none of his conditions before had involved him thinking about a shower less and doing the shower owner in a very tiny bathroom that barely fit him.
~~~~~
Akira got over her unreasonable fury at Brand in a hurry once she got out of her ragged clothes and into ones more suitable for hard traveling.
All her San Magellan papers were packed up in a canvas backpack and ready to go. She just had to transfer some more clothes, underwear, toiletries and she’d be good to go too. Problem was, toiletries were in the bathroom.
The bathroom that was occupied by Brand.
A very naked Brand.
She sat down on the edge of her huge Queen Anne bed that almost swallowed the room.
Oh boy, wrong thought.
But now that that delicious, tempting thought had wriggled its way in, it wouldn’t let alone. She imagined that very hard, defined, upper body, and the long, muscular legs and the shoulders and his black hair all slicked from the shower and…
“Dammit, woman!” she muttered, jumping up, dragged her travel bag open and dumped clothes out.
Blindly, working on instinct, she pulled out clothes – shorts, cargo pants and freshly laundered formal suits. Tossing in a sweatshirt and a denim jacket and she was all packed. Change of lingerie bag - one didn’t have to wear plain cotton even if one wore camouflage over it - and the travel bag was ready. She zipped the bag closed with a vicious tug.
She opened the bedroom door and heard the water running.
Get. Done. Already.
Determined, she headed to her tiny kitchen which was in an alcove off the living room and opened her freezer.
Ice cream. Her savior.
Akira dug into it with an unwashed spoon and had just taken a single bite when the doorbell rang. She shook her head and continued eating. The bell continued ringing.
She scooped a really large mouthful, and then ran to the door pulling it open while still eating her ice cream.
The ice-cream settled like lead when she saw her mother’s disapproving countenance at the door.
“Hello, Akira. Still behaving like a heathen, I see,” her mother remarked.
Nineteen
With one contemptuous glance, Elahe Naik took in the yellow Shit Happens T shirt that Akira had stuck into her matchstick jeans. The black ballet flats which were good for travel and the messy hair she’d piled on her head didn’t escape her mother’s notice either. Nor did the ice cream container dripping condensation on the dusty floor.
“Hello, Amma. Still not pulling your punches, I see,” Akira retorted evenly.
“I didn’t see you at the Mehtas’ kitty yesterday. I specifically asked you to come, didn’t I? I requested because I am the only mother whose daughter refuses to attend any events with me,” Elahe continued her icy argument while she glided into the living room.
Akira thought about shoveling more ice-cream in, but then decided that she could handle only one of her mother’s arguments right now.
“I was in Paris, Mother. In fact, I just got back.” She kicked the door closed and followed her in.
Elizabeth looked incongruous in the messy, comfortable space of her living room. And Akira was once again struck by the absolute disparity she shared with her mother. In looks, in personality and, staring at the dripping carton in her hand, in manners as well.
Elahe was born and bred a powerful man’s daughter and it showed in her bearing. She was tall, statuesque, her graying red hair pulled back in an elegant chignon always. She always wore crisp silk saris, no matter what the weather and her grandmother’s ancestral gold centerpiece chain.
And she had been devastated that her eldest daughter Aloka died, when it was her younger daughter who took insane risks.
“Paris? You were in Paris and didn’t think of informing me of your change in plans, just like two months ago when you were vacationing in Jamaica? One simple phone call or even that impersonal email you are so fond of would have been enough. The whole kitty was short of one member and it was your fault, Akira.”
Elahe sat down stiffly on the roomy leather couch, which creaked when chafed against. She cringed.
“I am sorry, Amma. I was…occupied. It was work-related.” Akira wanted to sit down too. But there was no place but the couch or the floor. And neither of those options was workable right now.
“I’ll just stash this ice-cream and be back. Would you like anything? Tea? Something to eat?”
Three-day old pasta. And cheap fruity wine that even I won't touch.
Akira was already heading to the alcove since she knew her mother’s answer.
“Bottled water. If you have it.”
Akira rolled her eyes and came out carrying natural spring water and a clean glass, and then froze because the bathroom door opened. She knew her mother had bat ears and would have heard it too.
“Crap.”
“So, Amma, how is Dada? He was telling me something about buying stocks in some blockchain startup I should be investing in. I was wondering if you know anything about it.” Akira poured the water and handed it to her mother.
Elahe’s eyes were cocked in the direction of her bathroom.
“Do you have a guest staying with you, Akira?”
“Amma.” Akira thought fast.
“Did you bring back a man from Paris?”
Elahe toyed with the glass while giving her daughter the third degree. “Is he your lover?”
She could never understand the absolute dedication the girl had to a job that was only going to get her killed. Any more than she could not understand why a nice stockbroker, or a rising politician, even one who worked in Mantralaya, the city council, would not do as a son-in-law.
Maybe then she would give up this foolish notion of saving the world.
“Amma, stop!” Akira was genuinely shocked now. She devoutly hoped Brand did not hear that.
“Then, who is he? I assume it’s a he?” Elizabeth was enjoying her daughter’s discomfiture.
“He’s a…” Akira cast about for a word to describe Brand. Friend? Bodyguard? Source? Would-be lover? Almost lover?
“Brandon Rice, at your service, madam,” Brand said smoothly, stepping into the living room. Looking groomed and laundered and three kinds of handsome.
Akira almost swallowed her tongue when she saw how he cleaned up in his well-worn black jeans and grey shirt, the stubble all shaved off, his feet bare. His hair was appealingly parted and slicked back, dripping a little onto his collar.
She wished she could taste that water. Just one drop. And then this ridiculous wanting would stop.
“Brandon Rice? Is your family in the wine-making business in Adelaide?” Elahe stood up and offered him her hand.
He kissed it, rather gallantly, and Akira choked. The man was a smooth operator if he could make her mother simmer down a notch when she got going. Not even Dada Aswhin could do that. And he had been married to Elizabeth for twenty years.
“No, ma’am, my family’s not in wine. And, may I say, that I can see where Akira gets her stunning good looks from,” he said, with a small smile at the daughter now.
Elizabeth’s lips pursed. So, that’s how this wind was blowing.
“Thank you. At least one of you has good social graces, even if you do lie charmingly,” she said, extracting her hand.
“I do not lie, ma’am. Ask Akira. It’s my only vice.” He winked at Akira and she smiled back. Mechanically.
“Call me Elahe, Mr. Rice. And tell me all about yourself. How long are you in Mumbai for?” She invited, sitting down regally, and raised one hand to gesture Brand to do the same.
Akira couldn’t stop staring at the two of them.
“It’s Brandon, Elahe. And I wish I could. But, as it is, your daughter and I have some pressing business to attend to, so how about I take a rain check on the offer?” He smiled, seriously upping his charm quotient.
“Business?” Elahe frowned. “Do not tell me you are one of her fellow roving reporters.”
Brand shook his head. “No, of course not. I am not so brave as to venture into battlefields like your daughter here. I am a…consultant. And right now, I am consulting for Akira.”
“Oh.”
~~~~~~
There was a wealth of speculation in that oh, but Brand calmly sat and waited out her fox-sharp gaze.
Akira had her mother’s eyes, he thought, almost as an aside. Except hers were warm, like melted chocolate.
“Well. If it is business you have, then I shouldn’t keep you two from it. I hope it’s nothing dangerous.” Elahe stood up, almost regretfully, while she pinned the two of them with her look.
“Please do not worry, madam. Your daughter won't come to any harm. You have my word on it.” He told her, shaking her hand with one hand and drew Akira closer to him with the other.
Akira was startled into looking up at him at the implied intimacy if the gesture.
Elahe finally smiled at her daughter. She was confused. It was a good sign.
“I can see that you finally had the good sense of picking a sensible man, even if it took you this long. Call me, tonight. Ashwin worries too. And bring Brandon home soon, okay? Your Dada will be delighted to meet him.”
“Alright, Amma.” Akira said, while she dutifully went ahead and kissed her mother on the cheek.
Elizabeth looked at her for a second. “Your hair’s a mess, Akira. Do brush it before leaving this pigsty. Goodbye, Brandon. It was very nice meeting you.”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Naik,” he said opening the door and watched Elizabeth walk out. She was already calling for the SUV driver to come pick her up at the apartment entrance.
He closed the door, and turned to find a mutinous Akira. Arms crossed and ready to fight.
“So, you charm the pants off snakes, don’t you, Brandon Rice?” she snarled.
~~~~~
Brandon felt his jaw tighten from not gritting his teeth. “Excuse me? What do you mean?”
“My mother. I mean my mother. My ex, who met her told me that he would rather have dinner with a barracuda.” Akira announced going back to the kitchen and digging out the ice-cream again.
“Barracudas bite. What was the man thinking?” Brand followed her to the tiny kitchen and raised a brow at the way she was shoveling the ice cream in. “Hungry much?”
“Shut up and don’t judge me. I have her for that.” She pointed at the living room.
“She’s not so bad.” Brand shrugged, wanting to smile at the pout forming on her lips.
The woman was pretty cute when she was mad.
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? ‘Call me Elahe, Mr. Rice’.” Akira mimicked her mother’s upper crust accent perfectly. “You can be her date for the next stupid kitty party.”
Brand couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Are you jealous, Akira?”
Her eyes rounded over the rim of her spoonful of heavenly chocolate. And started shooting sparks at him. She swallowed and said, “You did not just say that.”
“You have no need to, you know. Your mother’s all dignity and pride. I like my women a little…more passionate.” Brand was thoughtful.
“She’s my mother. My mother, you moron.” She squeaked, while she considered flinging the carton on his extremely eatable face.
Brandon squelched his grin. “Then she must have been a teenager when she had you.”
He knew exactly, to the second, how old Elizabeth had been when she’d had Akira. And it was not the age she generally told people.
~~~~~
“I never figured you for the cougar type, but who knows?” Akira shrugged and turned back to the sink to wash her spoon. The ice cream settled heavily in her stomach.
“Hey.”
He turned her around, and she was startled again at his ability to just sneak up on her. In her ballet shoes, she had to crane her neck up to see him. And it was uneasily arousing.
“Your mother is a vain, predictable woman who is afraid that the day her looks fade she’ll be nobody’s queen. And she is right. She doesn’t have what you have.” He took the spoon and placed it on the drying rack. He was also taking up all her space.
When had that happened?
What had he just said?
“And what do I have that she doesn’t? An ability to not reach the high shelves at the organic foods store?” She tried to quip but her pulse was all over the place.
And she really, really wanted to grab all that springy hair. He was so tantalizing, it wasn’t fair.
“No.” Brand shook his head, and one water drop landed on her nose.
His eyes were blacker than black, while he fingered one lock of messy hair slipping down her neck. It glowed bright in the light from the living room.
“Fire,” he murmured. Almost to himself.
Oh, crap.
“Brandon,” she began in a strangled voice.
“Hmm?” He was still toying with her hair.
“Stop talking.”
Akira went on her toes and kissed Brandon.
~~~~~~
For a second, for just one second, Brand considered resisting her. But then he saw that inviting kissable mouth and the explicit yes in her eyes and he gave up fighting.
He scooped her up by the shoulders and kissed her. Really kissed her, like he’d been wanting to, since he’d seen her in that excuse of
a black dress in Paris.
For all the days he’d written silly emails to her.
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, while he kissed his way down her neck and bit her.
She groaned and tugged his springy, sexy hair and kissed him all over. His eyes, his freshly shaved cheeks, his ears, that unbroken nose. And then his lips. He kissed so well. Like he knew his way around a kiss.
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