Breathless in Bollywood

by Marsh, Nicola

  “When do you need this photo taken?” Desiree interjected, not willing to stand here and rehash her mother’s sordid past with a woman she didn’t know.

  Anya’s eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. “The sooner the better.”

  So much for grabbing a quick bite before returning to work.

  Desiree managed a terse nod, annoyed as much by the interruption to her first workday as by this woman scuttling her plan to avoid Jarryd as much as possible.

  “No time like the present, I guess,” Desiree said.

  “Brilliant, let’s go.”

  Desiree gritted her teeth as the woman grabbed her arm and all but dragged her toward the hotel’s ballroom. If re-designing the hotel’s old wing wouldn’t guarantee a massive kick-start to her fledgling business, she’d abandon this crazy dating act right now.

  Instead, the moment she entered the ballroom, she spied Jarryd, presiding over a group who appeared to hover on his every word.

  Her stomach clenched with nerves as she noted how damn delectable he looked in his navy suit, white shirt and chartreuse tie. Or more to the point, the way the clothes molded to his body.

  He’d shaved this morning, the stubble peppering his jaw last night gone, and when he zeroed in on her, she felt the jolt from those indigo eyes all the way down.

  “He certainly looks like a man in love,” Anya said, her silky tone alerting Desiree to the fact that she’d have to draw on her limited high school acting skills to convince this smarmy woman that she and Jarryd were actually a couple.

  The last thing Desiree needed was for anyone to discover the truth: that she was posing as his date to further her career. Wouldn’t the press have a coronary over that: Sushma had used Voigt, she was using Jarryd.

  They wouldn’t care that there were extenuating circumstances, that Jarryd was using her too. Oh no, she’d be painted in the worst possible light—again—and her interior design business would be finished before it started.

  Anya’s suspicious attitude already implied she didn’t believe they were a couple, so Desiree had to prove otherwise.

  Starting now.

  “And the feeling’s entirely mutual,” Desiree said, striding toward Jarryd with the quick steps of a woman who couldn’t wait to be reunited with her lover.

  Jarryd watched her approach, his expression bemused. When she reached him, she entwined her arms around his neck and said, “Hey, gorgeous,” before pressing her lips to his.

  Jarryd was a smart guy. He’d understand pretty quick the point she was trying to prove in front of this crowd. But her hopes to make the kiss brief died on a slow, sizzling burn when his hand splayed behind her head, his other on her waist. Drawing her closer, he devoured her, oblivious to the hoots and whistles that faded to nothing, as all Desiree could hear was the pounding of her heart.

  She had no idea how long they kissed. No idea of her own name by the time they drew apart, staring at each other in wide-eyed wonder, like they had no clue as to what had just happened.

  Desiree’s hearing eventually kicked in and the first thing she heard was Anya’s overly enthusiastic applause.

  “Thanks, you two. We just got the perfect shot to launch our convention in the media.”

  “What?” Jarryd glared at the woman, looking as dazed as Desiree felt. “I thought you wanted a posed photo?”

  Anya smirked. “Why, when that lip lock will give us much more publicity?”

  Jarryd’s arm tightened around Desiree’s waist, as he lowered his head to murmur in her ear. “You okay with this?”

  “Do I have a choice?” she whispered, wishing she could rewind to a few weeks ago when the hardest decision she had to make was whether to book a limousine or town car for Drew Lansford.

  “You’re doing great,” he said, his enigmatic stare making her shiver. He looked like a guy capable of turning this charade into something far too real, as he continued to eyeball her with desire.

  “People are staring at us,” she muttered, all too aware her cheeks had to be flushed an ugly red.

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  Thankfully, he finally stopped staring at her as if she were an irresistible dessert and faced the convention crew. “We want a formal photo too, please, so we don’t have to go through this again.”

  In that moment, Jarryd popped her bubble of delusion.

  It sounded like he’d tolerated her kiss for the sake of publicity. Of course he had. Hadn’t that been her motivation too, to convince these people they were dating for real?

  So why the stab of disappointment that he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as she had?

  Pasting a smile on her face, she posed for the cameras, forcing her shoulders to relax when Jarryd slung an arm across them. If he noticed her tension, he didn’t mention it and thankfully they were dismissed after several shots.

  “Want to join me for lunch?” he asked, after they moved out of earshot.

  “No thanks, I need to get back to work.” She sounded prim and uptight, earning a raised eyebrow.

  “What’s wrong? I should be the outraged one, considering how you ravaged me.” His gaze dipped to her lips and his eyes darkened to indigo in remembrance.

  Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip and the flicker of lust she glimpsed in his hungry stare made her knees wobble.

  “I did it to prove a point.” She jerked her head in Anya’s direction. “That woman wasn’t buying our story, that you’d date me after what my mom did to your dad.”

  He waved away her concern. “Don’t worry about it. You of all people know the media will print and say whatever they want, regardless of the truth.”

  She nodded and sent a pointed glance at her watch. “Better get back to work.”

  Jarryd hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but Anya was bearing down on them again and Desiree cursed that she hadn’t escaped sooner.

  “You two have to see this!” Anya’s voice had risen several decibels as she thrust an electronic tablet in their direction. “We uploaded that picture of you kissing ten minutes ago and social media has gone into a meltdown. Thousands of ‘likes’ and comments, and you’re trending on every site.”

  Her black eyes gleamed with avarice. “You’ve just put my dating company’s convention on the map, so how about we schedule some more publicity—”

  “We’re busy now, but I’ll be in touch later this afternoon,” Jarryd said, cutting her off with such authority that Desiree could’ve kissed him.

  Yeah, like she needed an excuse.

  She allowed Jarryd to sweep her out of the ballroom under his protective arm, but shrugged it off when they reached the foyer.

  “I don’t like that woman,” she said, unable to shake the feeling that Anya could see right through their fake relationship and was looking for an opportunity to expose them.

  “You don’t have to like her, but she has to like my hotel,” he said, looking around with pride. “I’m hoping this convention will be the start of many bookings for the Baron.”

  “Why did you take the reins here? I thought property development was more your forte.”

  She’d wanted to ask him last night, but had been on edge earlier in the evening and distracted later.

  His expression hardened. “Because Dad’s business sense fled along with your mother, and the hotels were continuing to spiral into ruin.”

  Desiree had nothing to feel guilty for—she wasn’t her mother—but she couldn’t help feel bad for Voigt.

  “Dad asked me to come back and take control of this hotel, so I did.”

  He made it sound so simple, but she heard the circumspection in his voice, saw the tension tightening his mouth.

  “And once you complete the redecoration of the old wing, I intend on marketing the hell out of this baby and restoring it to its former glory. No matter how long it takes. “

  “I’m sure you’ll do it,” she said, well aware that anything Jarryd Baron set his mind to, he could achieve.

  She ha
d followed his career over the years, curiosity triumphing her self-flagellation that she should forget him. While Voigt had been a famous producer and Jarryd’s brother Rory a mega movie star, Jarryd had chosen a career far from the glitz of showbiz.

  He’d developed properties throughout Asia, from hotels to theme parks to shopping malls, building an enviable portfolio and fortune in his own right.

  Yet he’d left it all behind indefinitely to revamp this hotel?

  Desiree understood that he’d want to help his father, especially if Voigt had reached out, but it sounded like the hotels had been failing for years, so why now?

  What was really behind Jarryd’s raging conscience?

  “I should get back to work, too,” he said, eyeing her with an expression she had no hope of interpreting. “See you later.”

  Confused, Desiree stared at his retreating back. What had happened in the last few minutes? He’d swung from inviting her to lunch to not being able to get away fast enough.

  He knew she’d warned Voigt off her mom, so why did she get the feeling he still blamed her for the past?

  Annoyed that she’d missed lunch, had been rattled by another kiss and then effectively dismissed for a reason she couldn’t fathom, Desiree stomped toward the stairs.

  The sooner she nailed this job and moved onto the next, the better.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jarryd wasn’t in the mood to meet with the Maharaja of Munnipar, Nikhilish Shah. He would’ve happily cancelled their meeting if his father hadn’t mentioned the maharaja was a personal friend and could do with some business contacts in Mumbai.

  So he would put on his game-face. Be polite. Throw in a bit of PR for the hotel. It couldn’t hurt to have Indian royalty come to stay some time in the future.

  It made him think of what he’d told Desiree last night: all publicity is good publicity. Then why the hell was he feeling so damn angsty after seeing the media storm their kiss had created?

  He should be high-fiving every employee in the hotel. Instead, all he could focus on was the way he’d felt when Desiree had questioned him about why he’d taken over the hotel.

  Like he wasn’t good enough and no matter what he did in turning the place around, that wouldn’t change.

  He couldn’t tell her that. Couldn’t tell her that he felt second best in his father’s eyes. Couldn’t tell her about all the years feeling like a third wheel when Voigt and Rory would trade stories he had no interest in. Couldn’t tell her that even now, after he’d built a successful career, his father rarely acknowledged his achievements.

  He hated feeling inadequate. Helpless. Ineffectual, as he’d felt when he’d watched Sushma skewer his dad’s heart and he could do nothing but watch one of the strongest men he knew crumble and withdraw from life.

  Everything Jarryd did was to ensure he never suffered the same fate. He was circumspect in business, cautious in relationships. Never fully trusting anyone.

  It had served him well.

  Until now.

  How the hell had Desiree gotten under his skin, and under his guard, in less than a week?

  A ping sounded on his PC and an instant message popped up from his PA, announcing the arrival of the maharaja.

  Swiping a hand over his face, he squared his shoulders and strode to the door. Maybe this meeting was timely after all and would stop him from dwelling on the situation with Desiree.

  He’d kissed her last night to shut her up; and to prove that dating him wouldn’t be entirely awful. He hadn’t been prepared for the way she’d reacted. Combusted, more like it. Together, they’d set off enough sparks to light the Mumbai skyline.

  Ensuring he hadn’t slept all night. Fantasizing about what would happen if they transformed their fake relationship into a real physical one.

  Then she had to go and kiss him again. He’d seen the glimmer of defiance in her eyes as she’d marched toward him, had known she’d been trying to prove a point. He’d assumed they’d probably have to manufacture a few PDAs as part of the deal.

  What he hadn’t counted on was that public display of affection slamming into him with the force of a monsoon. He’d lost sense of time and place when they’d kissed, had been oblivious to their audience.

  It had seriously rattled him, his ability to lose control from something as minor as a kiss.

  If Desiree held that kind of power over him without even trying, he could understand how Voigt had fallen for Sushma. And that was the real reason for his funk, to think he could be as vulnerable to a woman.

  A knock sounded at the door and he opened it, glad of the distraction.

  He’d expected the maharaja to be middle-aged, portly and pompous, so he had to quickly hide his surprise when a tall, tanned, thirty-something guy with piercing green eyes stared at him with open speculation.

  “Jarryd Baron.” He held out his hand, not surprised the guy’s grip was firm. “Please come in, Your Highness.”

  “Friends call me Nik.” The guy released Jarryd’s hand and strode into the office like he owned the place, radiating an aura of power that dwarfed the room.

  “Can I get you anything? A drink? Tea?”

  “I’m fine.” Nik smiled and Jarryd wondered why this guy hadn’t been snapped up to star in the next Bollywood extravaganza, royalty or not. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “My father spoke highly of you,” Jarryd said, gesturing to a matching pair of ebony suede sofas, waiting until the maharaja sat before doing the same. “You’ve been friends for a while?”

  Nik nodded. “I’m a massive movie fan, so when your father first settled in Saravan, I had to meet him. We’ve been regularly catching up ever since.”

  Jarryd tried to hide his surprise. And jealousy. This man had spent more time with Voigt than Jarryd had in years and he resented it. Whenever he’d called and implied he’d like to stop by for a visit, his father had sounded less than enthused. And Jarryd hadn’t pushed, almost relieved to be fobbed off.

  Having Nik articulate that he’d regularly spent time with his father jarred.

  “So what can I do for you?” Jarryd’s response sounded abrupt so he tempered it with a tight smile.

  “I’m keen to put Munnipar on the map for tourism and boost our coffers in the process.” He steepled his fingers and rested them in his lap. “I’ve only recently assumed control of our municipality’s finances and believe so much more can be done.”

  “Sounds like a good goal,” Jarryd said, still clueless as to why Nik would approach him.

  Nik’s eyes narrowed, as if he could sense Jarryd’s cynicism. “Your father sang your praises as a property developer and that’s what gave me the idea.” Nik pointed at him. “I want you to restore the palace and expand it, creating several new wings to be used as a hotel.”

  Jarryd’s interest sparked. It was what he did best in countries around the world. Turn old buildings into the latest hot spots.

  “So preserve the history of the palace while modernizing it at the same time?”

  Nik nodded. “My people will be against change. They always are. And I’m aware you’re currently revamping your hotel here. So shall we say we meet in three months, at my home in Munnipar, to discuss proceedings?”

  “Sounds doable,” Jarryd said, pleased he’d have the time to see the Baron restoration through to completion before moving straight onto his next job. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to check out the palace some time over the next few months, to get a feel for the project?”

  “Absolutely.” Nik stood and offered his hand. “Looking forward to doing business with you.”

  “Likewise.” Jarryd shook Nik’s hand. “If there’s anything you need in the meantime, call or email me.”

  “Shall do.” Nik paused at the door, appearing uncomfortable for the first time since he’d swanned into the office. “Your father is an incredible man. I’ve tried to convince him to assist in the new palace venture but he’s reticent. Perhaps you can persuade him?”

  Jar
ryd bristled. Who the hell was this guy, who presumed to be closer to Voigt than he was? Then again, Nik had probably spent more time with Voigt than Jarryd had over the years and the thought made him alternate between sadness, anger and self-flagellation.

  “My father retired from the hotelier business six years ago. But I’ll mention it to him.”

  “Thank you.” Nik appeared like he wanted to say more before clamping his lips together. “I’m a busy man, Jarryd, but I’m hopeful that when you visit my beautiful municipality, we can become friends.”

  Jarryd didn’t have many friends. Acquaintances, absolutely, but no real true friends. He’d spent his life travelling too much to foster real friendships, the kind of lasting relationships that most people took for granted.

  Usually, it didn’t bother him. But as Nik continued to stare at him with hope, Jarryd thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to be friends with a maharaja, particularly one who could prove to be a lucrative business partner.

  “Sounds good.” Jarryd smiled. “Thanks for coming by.”

  Nik nodded, his expression relieved, like he’d half expected to confront an ogre. “See you in Munnipar.”

  After Nik left, Jarryd strode to his desk, determined to focus on work and forget his prevaricating over Desiree before the maharaja had arrived.

  However, his plan took a hit when he saw his inbox flooded with emails from her: some requiring approval for purchase orders, some requesting his feedback on color schemes, some with photographic attachments highlighting the excellent job she was doing.

  So much for forgetting last night. As he scrolled through her emails, the consequences of that kiss earlier came crashing over him.

  He wouldn’t allow himself to be vulnerable to her.

  He couldn’t.

  But what if it were already too late?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Well, look at you, Miss Interior Designer.” Shari breezed into Desiree’s office, perched on the edge of the desk and glanced around. “You’re looking very at home here.”