Breathless in Bollywood
Page 6
“It’s a good place to work.” Desiree closed down the design program she’d been tinkering with.
Tinkering being the operative word, considering she hadn’t been able to focus on a thing since getting back to her office after she’d foolishly kissed Jarryd and then he’d blown her off.
She’d frittered away the last three hours and was now as grouchy at her lack of productivity as she was at Jarryd for lumping her in this position in the first place.
Though technically, that wasn’t true. She’d been the dumbass who’d agreed to his deal. This may be a dream job to kick-start her business but was it worth the angst?
Kissing Jarryd hadn’t been part of the deal; at least, not from her point of view. But she should’ve known their working relationship would get muddled and that pretending in certain aspects of their relationship could become all too real.
“Uh-oh. What’s with the look?” Shari pulled a face. “You look like someone stole your last paratha and dropped it on the floor.”
“Just busy,” Desiree mumbled, knowing if she told her friend that Jarryd had kissed her last night and she’d returned the favor today, Shari wouldn’t leave.
“Hmm…” Shari tapped her temple, pretending to think. “Could it be that you’re mooning over your new boss?”
Desiree snorted.
Shari’s eyes gleamed with devilry. “Or could it have something to do with this?” She brandished her smartphone and swiped at the screen. “I can’t believe you and Mr. Hotel Hotness are trending!”
“It’ll blow over,” Desiree said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The dating agency CEO mentioned it. Good for her business apparently.”
“And good for you, honey.” Shari turned the screen to face Desiree. “Have you seen all this?”
“Actually, I haven’t.” The last thing Desiree needed when she got back to her office was to see evidence of her foolishness plastered all over the Internet.
Ironic, that in trying to prove a point to Anya, she’d proved a point to herself: that she still fancied Jarryd Baron. And if this lunacy continued, she was in grave danger of wishing their pretend relationship turned real.
“That’s some kiss, babe.” This time, Shari left Desiree no option but to look at the screen when she thrust her phone in her face. “Scorching hot.”
“It’s pretend. Already told you that.”
Shari smirked. “You sure? Because to me, this looks very, very real.”
“You’ve seen enough Bollywood movies to know anything can be faked in this city.” But against her better judgment, Desiree’s gaze was drawn to the screen in Shari’s hand.
Hell.
Seeing her kissing Jarryd in pixels brought it all back in a rush. A rush that made her body flush from her head to her toes.
They were hot together, fake or otherwise, and if she combusted like that with a mere kiss, she could only imagine how hotter things could get.
“You’re blushing.” Shari wolf-whistled. “I knew you two would end up getting it on.”
“We’re doing nothing of the sort,” Desiree said, her primness undermined when she glanced at the picture again. “This is all for publicity.”
“Keep telling yourself that often enough, you might start to believe it.” Shari puckered up and made smooching sounds. “Face it, honey. You’re crushing on this guy again, big time. And by how sexy he looks? I don’t blame you.”
Tired of fobbing her friend off, Desiree leaned back in her chair and sighed. “He’s frighteningly hot.”
“Hell yeah.” Shari fanned her face. “Not in the same league as my Drew, but hot all the same.”
Desiree chuckled. “Speaking of your fiancé, my life was so much simpler when I was his PA.”
“But then you wouldn’t be doing this.” Shari brandished the phone again. “Can’t believe I actually have a friend who’s trending on social media. How cool is that?”
Desiree could think of many words to describe her stupidity in kissing Jarryd; cool wasn’t one of them.
“As much as I’d love to sit and chat all day, some of us have to work.” Desiree pointed at the color swatches and rolls of sample wallpaper on her desk. “But thanks for dropping by.”
Shari pouted. “So I don’t get to meet this man of yours?”
“He’s not my man,” Desiree muttered, annoyed by the traitorous leap of her heart at the thought.
Shari sniggered and waved her cell around. “That’s not what the paparazzi think.” She blew Desiree a kiss. “Later, babe.”
Desiree waved and waited until Shari had left before doing what she’d resisted all afternoon: checking online.
After what she’d endured courtesy of her mom’s scandal, Desiree avoided social media. She hated the pointless posts people put out there: what they ate for dinner, who they hung out with, where they went. She hated the relentless judgment more, how people who hid behind screens felt compelled to comment or spill their vitriol on virtual strangers.
And now, she was the one who’d be the focus of critical strangers again.
She’d talked herself into thinking it’d be worth it, that she’d always wanted to be an interior designer. But as she scrolled through the many hits on her name, her heart sank.
Page after page of gossip-fueled frenzy. Not all of it good.
She broke out in a cold sweat as some of the nastier posts popped up on screen. Labeling her a tramp like her mother. Whore. And worse.
Vicious commentary she didn’t deserve. So much of it that tears blurred her eyes and a whimper spilled from her lips. Cursing her stupidity for checking online when she knew this would be the result, she closed down the screen.
But she couldn’t erase the hateful words imprinted on her brain and the tears flowed faster. Ducking down behind her desk, she scrambled for tissues in her bag. When she straightened, Jarryd stood in the doorway, his expression morphing from neutral to horrified in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” He strode into the office and closed the door. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
His chivalry only made her cry more as Desiree wondered if this could day could get any worse.
CHAPTER TEN
Jarryd felt bad about how he’d left things with Desiree after the photo shoot, so he’d come here to make it up to her by taking her out to dinner.
He’d expected to find her hard at work.
He hadn’t expected the tear-fest.
He’d heard the sniffles coming from behind her desk when he’d entered and when she popped up and he saw the tears…it did something terrible to his insides. A swift, stabbing pain in the chest, as if he’d been knifed.
She’d been collected and confident since she’d breezed back into his life, almost defiant. Right now, with tears turning her eyes to smoky hickory, she looked broken.
He perched on the edge of her desk, resisting the urge to haul her into his arms. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m happy to wait it out right here.”
A flicker of fire sparked in her eyes. Good. It was way better than those damn tears.
“I’m just being silly.” She waved away his concern and the tissue fell from her fingertips, landing in the middle of her desk. She stared at it and blushed, before sweeping it up and lobbing it into the trash. “Can I help you with something?”
“Nice brush off, but I’m not buying it.” He shuffled a little closer, within touching distance. “Why were you crying?”
She glared at him and clamped her lips shut. Yeah, like her rebelliousness would work.
He folded his arms and smirked. “However long it takes.”
When she still didn’t speak, he started whistling an addictive bhangra number from the latest movie release, glancing around her office as if he had all the time in the world.
In less than ten seconds, she harrumphed. “I hate whistling.”
“Then you better start talking.”
He heard her mutter, “I hate you too,” before she sighed.
She shook her head. “After Shari left, I couldn’t resist. There’s lots of good stuff there, which is fabulous promotion for your hotel. But then the trolls started popping up.”
“How bad is it?”
“Really bad.” Sadness downturned her mouth and before he second-guessed his decision, he slid from the desk, knelt beside her chair and hugged her close.
Her chest heaved with a stifled sob and he held her tighter, well aware this could’ve been an issue when he’d agreed to be front and center with the dating convention, but not realizing how badly it would affect her.
“I’m okay,” she said, eventually easing out of his arms. “All that nasty stuff brought back bad memories.”
She glanced away, as if unable to look him in the eye. “I don’t know how much you saw or read back then, but when Mom ditched Voigt, the media went on a feeding frenzy, and I got caught in the crossfire.”
Jarryd felt heat flush his cheeks. The media hadn’t been the only ones guilty of thinking badly of Desiree. He’d done it himself, wondering if she’d been using him too, trying to get close so the D’Souza women could score a wealthy double: father and son.
And after a while, his hatred of Sushma and what she’d done to his father had morphed into anger and resentment against Desiree too. When in fact, she’d done nothing to deserve it.
“You were a victim too,” he murmured, belatedly realizing he’d spoken out loud when her eyes widened.
“What do you mean?”
Inwardly cursing his slip of the tongue, he said, “I always thought my dad was Sushma’s only victim. But you were too. I just didn’t realize how badly it affected you ‘til now.”
Tenderness darkened her eyes to ebony and he swallowed. She’d never looked at him like that, ever. It made him feel unworthy.
“I hated what she did to Voigt.” Her gaze flickered toward the computer before refocusing on him. “And seeing them label me the same way they did Mom, when I don’t deserve it, really hurt.”
“You mean you aren’t trying to sink your gold-digging claws into me?” He deadpanned and to his relief, the corners of her mouth quirked upward.
“It’s too soon to joke.”
“Yet you’re smiling anyway.” He reached out and traced the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth.
He didn’t know why he did it but he couldn’t stop. Savoring the softness of her skin. The sharp intake of her breath. The slight tilt of her head toward his hand as he cupped her cheek.
“You’re an intelligent, beautiful woman who knows whatever people say or print can be invented crap. Even when the facts stare them in the face, they’ll make it up. So don’t let it bother you.” He jerked his head at her computer. “And stay offline.”
“Is that an order?” She mock saluted, brushing his hand aside as she did so.
But she didn’t move away and she was still so close he could broach the distance between them if he wanted to.
“Since when have you ever taken orders from me?”
“You’re the boss.” She shrugged, her smile coy. “Maybe it’s time I started.”
When she was lighthearted and flirty, Jarryd found her irresistible.
“I don’t think you’ll like my first order,” he said, his gaze riveted to her mouth, already anticipating how she’d taste…
“Try me,” she murmured, the tip of her tongue flicking out to moisten the full bottom lip he couldn’t stop staring at.
“I intend to.”
He closed the gap between them and kissed her. A slow, sensual melding of his mouth against hers and nothing compared to their previous two kisses, when both of them had been hell bent on proving a point.
Oh no, this kiss defied logic. Addled senses. Made him lose sense of time and place as her mouth opened and their tongues touched. Teased. Dueled.
The kind of kiss to make a man lose his mind.
When she moaned deep in the back of her throat, Jarryd knew he was under serious threat of taking this way beyond a kiss.
He tore away and dragged in lungfuls of air, wondering for the second time today what it was about this woman that made him crazy.
“Have dinner with me,” he blurted out, unaware he’d been holding his breath until she nodded.
“Okay.”
“Great.” He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he could push his luck. “My place?”
She gnawed her bottom lip and damned if he didn’t want to devour her all over again. “Look, what just happened…don’t get the wrong idea. Because I know there’s an attraction here, but I don’t want…I mean, it would only complicate this…ah hell.”
“It’s just dinner,” he said, hating how hollow the lie sounded.
Because after that kiss? The moment she set foot in his place he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her and he damn well knew she’d be tastier than any tandoori chicken or Goan fish curry.
“What are we doing?” she asked, so softly he barely heard. “We’re attracted, I get it. But I…I’m not…”
Misery clouded her eyes and he inwardly cursed.
“You’re not your mother,” he finished for her, well aware that seeing the BS online hadn’t been eradicated by that kiss, no matter how stupendous. “Don’t you think I know that?”
She searched his eyes, looking for answers. “Do you really? Because when you look at me at times, it’s like I can see you weighing me up and finding me lacking somehow.”
He swore and released her, hating how perceptive she was. “Guilty as charged, when you first rocked up here for the interview. But I know better now.”
“What’s changed?” She patted her chest and damned if he didn’t want to do the same. “I’m still the same person.”
Jarryd didn’t want to get into this now. Hell, if ever. But he had to give her some snippet of truth if their relationship stood a chance. Their fake relationship that was in serious danger of becoming way too real.
“You’ve made me realize that it’s easier to push people away based on preconceptions than open myself up to…”
Crap, open himself to what? A real relationship with the daughter of the woman who destroyed his father?
Voigt had given him the go-ahead, but could Jarryd really let go of all his reservations to make this thing between them real?
“Look, this thing we’re doing is crazy, I get it. I blackmailed you into a fake relationship, you accepted for your business.” He waved a hand between them. “But we’ve got some major sparks between us and I’d like to get to know you better.”
He captured her hand. “I’ll see you tonight?”
When she continued to stare at him with speculation, Jarryd thought she’d refuse. He braced for it.
So when Desiree slowly nodded, he found himself battling the urge to haul her into his arms in gratitude and never let go.
Hell.
He wasn’t just in too deep.
He was drowning, without a life buoy in sight.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Desiree knew having dinner with Jarryd in his suite could categorically be the stupidest thing she’d ever do, yet here she stood, alternating between staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows on a glittering Marine Drive below or pacing the marble floor, waiting for him to finish a business call.
If she had half a brain, she’d make a run for it while she still could. Instead, all she could think about was the way he’d opened himself to her earlier.
She’d deliberately challenged him, voicing her concerns about what he really thought of her. She’d had to, considering the tenderness of his kiss had shaken her soul. She’d needed something, anything, to wake her up out of the sensual stupor he’d induced and she’d known h
earing him articulate a lie would’ve done it.
Instead, he’d admitted he’d harbored preconceptions about her and had pushed her away because of it. She’d been blown away. Had felt obliged to accept his dinner invitation. Because if he’d faced up to some home truths, it was time she did too.
The main one being she was in serious danger of falling for Jarryd Baron.
If she hadn’t already.
So tonight was about seeing if they had anything real between them. A night for talking. For revealing parts of themselves. For sharing secrets. For becoming intimate on a level that didn’t involve getting physical.
At least, that was the plan. But if Jarryd kissed her like he had in her office, her best intentions would evaporate and she’d probably end up where she’d vowed she wouldn’t be until she knew what they had was real.
In his bed.
Her pacing increased and when her cell vibrated, she almost welcomed the intrusion. However, one glance at the screen made her wish she hadn’t.
Her mother had an uncanny knack of calling at the worst possible times. Desiree often ignored the calls, until she figured it was worse in the long run, because Sushma never failed to launch into a guilty tirade when they eventually did speak.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, intent on diverting the call to message bank, before she sighed and hit answer.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“Can’t a mother ring her daughter without there being a problem?”
For most mothers, this would hold true. Not Sushma. The only times she rang were to wax lyrical about her latest conquest or ask for help, usually of the monetary kind.
“I’m busy, Mom—”
“I’m so proud of you, baby. So, so proud, you have no idea.” Sushma squealed with excitement and Desiree held the phone away from her ear for a moment. “Hooking up with Jarryd Baron? Making a play for the Baron fortune? That’s my clever girl.”
A chill swept over Desiree. After all these years, her mother still didn’t know her.
“It’s not what you think, Mom—”