Twelve Hours of Temptation

by Shoma Narayanan

  No wonder she’d felt he didn’t value her enough, and finally that he didn’t deserve her.

  Picking up his cell phone, he dialled her number yet again, not thinking for a minute that she’d answer.

  He almost dropped his phone in surprise when her soft voice said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Melissa, it’s Samir,’ he said stupidly.

  ‘Yes, I know, your name comes up on the screen.’ Her voice was cool and controlled, but her knees were shaking so badly that she had to sit down.

  ‘You doing OK?’ he asked.

  His voice managed to be low and gentle and sexy all at the same time, and Melissa blinked back sudden tears. She’d not realised quite how much she missed him until she heard him speak.

  ‘All good,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls earlier—I’ve been a bit...um...confused, I guess.’

  ‘I need to meet you,’ he said. ‘Please, Melissa.’ She hesitated, and he said urgently, ‘Just for a short while. We can’t leave things like this, sweetheart—we need to talk, and not over the phone.’

  He was right—they did need to talk. Only she wasn’t sure if she could face him without breaking down and telling him exactly how unhappy she’d been since she’d walked out on him almost a month back.

  ‘We can meet,’ she said slowly. ‘But I don’t want to come to your place. After work some day would be best.’

  ‘Today? I’ll pick you up around six.’

  Melissa had a deadline for a shampoo ad, and another for an ad for super-crunchy peanut butter. In the state of mind she was right now she’d probably write about crunchy hair and extra-lather peanut butter...

  Sighing in defeat, she said, ‘OK, then. Do you know where it is?’

  ‘I’ll find out,’ he said. Before he rang off he added, ‘Mel? I’ve really missed you.’

  Me too, she thought as she put the phone down. Me too.

  She was staring vacantly into her screen when Maya walked by.

  ‘Searching for inspiration?’ she asked drily.

  Melissa sat up in alarm. Maya was a wonderful person to work with most of the time, but the one thing you absolutely could not do was slack off at work. In the short time Melissa had worked with her she’d seen grown men turn into weak-kneed jellyfish when Maya raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at them.

  ‘No, I was just...’ she started to say, but Maya wasn’t listening.

  Leaning over, she slid the briefing document for the shampoo ad out from where it was currently serving as a coaster under Melissa’s bottle-green coffee mug.

  ‘Concentrate,’ she said. ‘If you’re PMSing, pop some medication, and if it’s a boyfriend he’s probably not worth it.’

  At six-twenty, after having dashed off two lyrical pages on strawberry-scented shampoo and one more on the health benefits of peanut butter, she stood on the pavement outside her office. Maya was wrong, she thought. Samir was totally worth it. But she could have done with some of Maya’s inner strength, she thought as she hungrily watched Samir cross the road to come to her—she was in imminent danger of turning into a helpless little puddle of need.

  When he was finally standing in front of her she had to take a deep breath so that she didn’t show him quite how affected she was by his proximity. He looked good enough to eat, she thought, drinking in the sight of him in an open-necked denim shirt and perfectly cut beige chinos. He was thinner, his sculpted cheekbones a little more prominent than they had been, and there was a haggard look in his eyes that she wanted to kiss away.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly, touching her cheek. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  A whiff of his woody cologne teased at her nostrils, and the temptation to lean closer was immense. Once again she felt deeply thankful that she’d suggested meeting in a public place.

  ‘It’s good to see you too,’ she said as graciously as she could, doing her damnedest to channel Maya Kumar. Strong, smiling, with a core of steel. She gave a yelp of alarm and jumped backwards as he bent his head to brush his lips lightly against her cheek. Okay, now she was channelling Chihuahua, not Maya, and passersby were giving her funny looks.

  ‘Should we find some place we can sit down?’ he asked, his lips curving up in his trademark half devilish, half little-boy way.

  ‘There’s a small restaurant a little way down the road,’ she said, a little breathless. ‘Not swanky, but we can talk there.’

  She turned and started walking towards it, hoping she didn’t trip and fall flat on her face in her agitation. The worst part was not knowing why he was here—perhaps all he wanted to do was have a civilised conversation before they called it quits on their relationship. Then again, maybe not. The way he’d looked at her suggested that he wanted to do a lot more than just talk—his dark eyes had smouldered into hers in true romantic hero style. Though this time she’d been too rattled to tease him about it. Instead, she’d lowered her head and done her best to memorise the cracks in the pavement.

  Samir fell into an easy stride by her side. ‘Congratulations on the story,’ he said. ‘I just finished reading it. I don’t know what to say, Melissa—it was brilliant. I had no idea you could write so well.’

  It was ridiculous to feel so pleased. She knew that. Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, she said, ‘Thanks. All credit to Maya, though—she put me in touch with the magazine. Left to myself, I’d have decided the story wasn’t good enough to send anywhere.’

  ‘I’m glad you met Maya, then,’ he said. ‘Though I still haven’t forgiven her for stealing you away from Maximus.’

  ‘From Mendonca’s,’ she corrected. ‘We’re here—the red door is the place we need to go. It serves the best Indian-Chinese food in the city.’

  They stepped into the unassuming little restaurant and found an empty table in a corner.

  Samir waited while the server plonked two menus in front of them and wandered off, and then asked bluntly, ‘Why did you leave? Was it because I invited someone else to that party?’

  Melissa bit her lip. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That wasn’t it. I just thought it wasn’t working any more.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, leaning forward. ‘We might have had a few issues, but we could have worked those out. What was so bad that you had to leave?’

  ‘Sir—order?’

  Samir looked up in exasperation, but the little waiter refused to budge. The restaurant managed to keep its prices low by keeping the turnover high—one thing it absolutely didn’t encourage was people dawdling around, occupying tables and staring into each other’s eyes without ordering anything.

  ‘Ask for either the chilli chicken or the Idli Manchurian,’ Melissa prompted. ‘And a diet soda for me.’

  ‘Idli Manchurian?’ he said in disbelief. ‘What is that?’ As was usual with Melissa, the conversation was slipping off into a direction he hadn’t planned.

  Melissa gave him a lopsided grin. ‘Idlis rice cake, sliced up, dipped in cornflour, fried and tossed in Manchurian gravy.’

  ‘I wasn’t really asking for the recipe.’

  ‘Oh, it tastes great,’ she said. ‘Though there’s enough garlic in it to ward off an invading army of vampires.’

  Samir shuddered. ‘We’ll have the chilli chicken,’ he told the waiter. ‘And two cans of soda.’

  He gave Melissa a wry look once the boy had zipped off into the kitchen. ‘This isn’t exactly the right place for an uninterrupted conversation, is it?’

  No, that’s why I chose it, Melissa thought. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said out loud, more Aunty Liz than Maya Kumar this time. ‘But there are no fancy places around here. We’ll have to make do with this.’

  Samir was about to reply when the boy waiter returned with a large bottle of soda and two glasses which, going by the state of his sleeves, he had just rinsed in the sink.
>
  ‘Soda,’ he announced proudly, and Samir sighed.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, pushing the bottle across to Melissa.

  ‘So I was asking.’

  ‘Chilli chicken dry or with gravy?’ his nemesis asked, popping out of the kitchen.

  ‘Dry,’ Melissa called out, suppressing an involuntary giggle as Samir sank his head into his hands in exasperation.

  ‘Spicy or medium spicy?’ the boy asked.

  Samir gave him a look, and he promptly vanished back into the kitchen, saying as he went, ‘Medium spicy better for you, I think.’

  ‘You know what? Let’s cut to the chase,’ Samir said. ‘I’ve been a self-centred pig and I’ve probably ruined my chances with you, but I just need you to answer one question.’

  Melissa looked at him, her eyes wide.

  ‘Is there any way you would consider marrying me?’

  Her answering gasp was loud enough to make diners at the other end of the restaurant turn around to stare at them.

  ‘Of all the...’ She was sputtering in anger now, but Samir was leaning back, his dark eyes dancing with amusement.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said. ‘If it was an unequivocal no you’d have been much nicer to me. Come on—let’s go.’

  He was on his feet already, and before she knew what was happening she was standing next to him, still clutching her bottle of soda.

  ‘We won’t be needing that chilli chicken after all,’ Samir informed the diminutive waiter as he put a five-hundred-rupee note into his hand. ‘Madam has some really important work to do.’

  The boy flushed with pleasure as he pocketed the money, and Samir swept her out of the restaurant.

  ‘But...where are we going?’ Melissa asked, thoroughly confused now.

  ‘Some place where I can propose to you properly,’ Samir said. They were already in his car, and he turned to look at her, his eyes warm with suppressed desire. ‘And some place where I can kiss you the way I want to.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Melissa said.

  Samir turning all masterful on her was an incredible turn-on, but she needed to know what was happening.

  ‘A month back you weren’t sure you wanted to be with me. Then I walked out, and you suddenly want to marry me?’

  ‘I always wanted to marry you,’ he said, starting the car and turning onto the road. ‘I just wasn’t sure it was the sensible thing to do.’

  ‘What’s changed then?’ she asked.

  Samir shrugged. ‘Nothing major,’ he said. ‘Except that I’ve figured out I can’t live without you.’

  The words were said in such a matter-of-fact way that for a second she thought he was being flippant. Then she saw that his hands had tightened on the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white. It must have taken considerable effort for him to say that, she realised, especially since he was normally so restrained. And he hadn’t said the words, but the implication that he was in love with her was pretty loud and clear—people didn’t say they couldn’t live without you if they were only mildly fond of you.

  And, come to think of it, she was finding it pretty hard to live without him as well.

  ‘Let’s go to your flat,’ she said, her voice sure and steady for the first time that evening.

  She was having a bit of an epiphany, she realised. She’d got it wrong all along—fooled by Samir’s apparent coolness into thinking that he didn’t care for her. But now that she thought back she realised that right from the beginning he’d been the one trying to make the relationship work, while she’d fought her feelings at every step. They’d been at cross purposes all along.

  They were both silent till they were inside the door—then Samir pushed it shut behind them and took her into his arms, the raw hunger on his lips matched by the passion on hers.

  It was a while before he released her, saying raggedly as he pushed a hand through his hair, ‘God, I love you so much. I was crazy to think this was just about the sex—I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Mel.’

  ‘So do I,’ Melissa said, putting up a hand to caress his face and stealing a quick kiss before she went on. ‘Spend the rest of my life with you, I mean, not myself.’

  The rest of what she’d meant to say was lost as he crushed her lips under his in a kiss that managed to be hot and hungry and wildly passionate all at the same time. A little moan escaped Melissa’s lips as she finally abandoned herself to the tide of sensation that was sweeping over them both.

  Much later, he said softly, ‘I was all kinds of fool to say what I did about replacements. I should have known better—I was just so worked up about you refusing to come with me that I let my mouth run away with me.’

  Melissa gave the offending mouth a consoling kiss. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight either,’ she said. ‘I’d overheard you talking to your mum a few days before that, and I thought you felt I wasn’t good enough for you. You even said you weren’t in love with me.’

  Samir frowned. ‘When did I say that?’

  ‘The day your mother called on the home phone and I spoke to her. You called her back from the car park—I’d gone for a jog, and I couldn’t help hearing you. You said you needed to sort things out with me...’

  His brow cleared. ‘That was a long while back,’ he said. ‘I already knew I didn’t want to let you go, but I hadn’t got around to figuring out that I was in love with you. We hadn’t discussed marriage. And my mother tends to get a little ahead of the situation at times. When things didn’t work out with Shalini she was perhaps even more upset than I was.’

  Seeing that Melissa looked puzzled, he went on.

  ‘She lost a lot of her family in a militant strike around the time we left Kashmir. So it’s her dream to have a large family again—both her sons married, lots of grandchildren, the works. If she’d known things were even remotely serious she’d have had us kidnapped and taken to the nearest registry office before we could change our minds. But I promise you—the second I get a ring on your finger, she’ll be the first person I’ll tell.’ He bent his head and planted a little row of kisses on her shoulder. ‘And you’ll need to speak to your dad as well.’

  ‘He’ll want us to have a church wedding,’ she said. ‘And bring up our kids as good Catholics.’

  ‘If the priest doesn’t mind performing the ceremony I don’t mind,’ Samir said. ‘As for the kids—they can grow up and decide what they want to be.’

  ‘Very permissive,’ Melissa said teasingly, but a great load was off her shoulders.

  Samir wasn’t done yet, though.

  ‘There was another thing I wanted to tell you,’ he said. ‘I mayn’t have come across as being very supportive of your career or your writing. Maybe I was a little jealous of the time you were spending away from me. But I’ll back you every step of the way from now on. You’ve got real talent, and you deserve every possible bit of support I can give you.’

  Melissa nestled a little closer to him. ‘Even if I bunk off your incredibly boring office dos to write?’ she asked.

  ‘Even if you do that,’ he said. ‘I’ll probably bunk off them as well and stay home to watch you.’ His expression turned serious, and he cupped her face in his hands, tipping it up so that he could look directly into her eyes.

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Corny as it may sound, I’ll love you till the day I die.’

  ‘In some situations corny is good,’ she said, and she met his gaze squarely. ‘I love you too, Samir. And I’d love to marry you, and grow old and cranky with you, and have several kids.’

  The last bit came out all muffled against his lips, and Melissa gave up the attempt to outline the path she wanted the rest of their lives to take. She loved him, and he loved her back, and right now that was all that mattered.

  EPILOGUE

 
The wedding was in Goa, in a little church near Melissa’s childhood home. They’d had a big Hindu wedding first in Delhi, followed by a register office ceremony, but to Melissa exchanging their vows in the church she’d gone to for all her growing up years was the most important of the series of ceremonies.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Cheryl said, carefully adjusting Melissa’s veil. ‘I’m so glad you decided to wear your mamma’s wedding sari.’

  The sari was made of lovely white brocade, and Melissa had insisted on wearing it instead of an elaborate wedding gown of the kind popular in the current generation. A single perfect strand of pearls gleamed at her throat—they were one of Bina Razdan’s many gifts to her brand-new daughter-in-law. With her silky hair piled up in a chignon, Melissa looked like a graceful young queen.

  ‘I wish Mamma could have been here,’ Melissa said softly as her sister-in-law gave the veil a final tweak and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

  Cheryl bent down and gave her a hug. ‘I’m sure she can see you,’ she said. ‘And that she thoroughly approves of that gorgeous man you’re marrying.’

  Melissa’s father was waiting for her at the door of the church, and as they slowly walked down the aisle Melissa’s eyes sought out Samir’s. He looked incredibly handsome in his dark formal suit, and his eyes lit up as she reached him. Cheryl was right, Melissa thought with a sudden rush of pride. He was gorgeous—and, better still, he was all hers.

  ‘Have I told you yet how much I love you?’ he whispered as they took their places in front of the parish priest.

  ‘Many times,’ Melissa whispered back. ‘But I have short-term memory issues—you’ll need to keep telling me every so often.’

  ‘Shh...’ Melissa’s father said, smiling at them fondly.

  He’d taken an abrupt liking to Samir, and that had helped heal things further between him and Melissa. It was as if the whole episode with Josh and the two years after that had never happened at all.