TUM SE HI (MG) Thread 1 - Page 52

SEVENTEEN

Three hours later, they were surrounded by water as Maan steered the twenty-five-foot cabin cruiser with expertise. Geet sat on the stool next to where he stood, the closed bridge sheltering her from the wind.

(you can choose whichever cabin cruise u like😳)

The ocean was variable and appeared more blue than any other colour. The sky had been bright and clear earlier was now a blue grey, and dotted with darkening clouds.

"We'd better tune in to the Coast Guard weather channel," Maan said. "We don't want to get caught out here in a storm."

Geet tended to the radio, adjusting it by following instructions on a card taped to it.

"Even though it's a little uneven," Maan said, "there's still peacefulness about being on the water. There's no one else within our view, either."

"And no telephone, no computer," Geet added, counting them on her fingers. "No work, no deadlines, no--"

"Got it," he said, laughing. "You're on vacation today."

She nodded decisively. "Bilkul."

"I respect that. If you put your mind to it, I bet you could have a healthy balance or work and playing your life. Bahut se aise log hain jo nahi kar paate. Their focus is on their careers, and their isn't room fro anything else. You have at least got an idea of how it should be."

That was debatable, Geet thought. According to Pari, Pinky, some of her other friends, and even her agent, she was workaholic during the months she was writing her book. Except for the occasional outings, she only surfaced during the adventurous two-week break that occurred two or three times a year.

Kya mujhe ye baat Maan ko batani chahiye? Nahi, iski zaroorat hi kya hai. For all she knew, he would be long gone before her two weeks were up, not completing his period of being The Project. She might not even have enough time to shape up his attitudes towards balancing work and play.

Geet stared quickly at Maan, then stared at the sea ahead.

A strange sense of emptiness had swept over her, she realized, as she'd thought about the prospect of Maan walking out of her life.

Babaji, Geet, stop being ridiculous. It didn't matter which one of them faded into the sunset first, because at the end of the vacation, their time together would be over. Finished. Kaput. That funny feeling in her stomach had been'''.hunger. Yes, of course, that was it. She was hungry.

"Maan, there is a cove a few miles up ahead. It might not be quiet so windy there, the water calmer, and we could eat lunch without having to chase all the food across the table."

"Sounds good. Let's check it out."

The cove was surrounded with trees that acted as a windbreak and the water was smoother. Maan stopped the engine, dropped anchor, and they went below. The cabin was small, but every inch had been put to use.

The table where Geet placed the containers of food she took from the hamper was bolted to the floor. The small stove and refrigerator had always reminded her of dollhouse furniture, she told Maan, and she adored the double bed, which was surrounded by built-in-drawers.

"It's like sleeping in a secret cave," she said sitting down at the table.

Maan chuckled as he sat opposite her. "That's your writer's imagination at work. Someone else would probably say the bed was a hole-in-the-wall where the carpenter got tired of making drawers."

"Architecture, Maan," she said laughing. "Stick to architecture."

All traces of his smile faded. "I really like your laughter. It's a delightful sound, like wind chimes."

"I''''.Thank you. That was a lovely thing to say."

They continued to look at each other, losing track of time, feeling the desire on them begin to rise once again, threatening to burst out.

"Hungry," Geet said finally, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

"Bilkul," Maan said, nodding.

She shook her head slightly. "For lunch. I'm hungry for lunch." She tore her gaze from Maan and reached for a plate. "We certainly bought a lot of different things. Ek shandar dawat ke liye taiyaar ho jayiye."

Maan began t fill a plate while telling himself to cool off, think about food, and not about Geet.

They ate without speaking for several minutes, while the boat rocked gently in the isolated cove.

"You know," Maan said, breaking the silence, "I've read two of your books so far. You've said that while some authors might reveal portions of themselves in their work, you don't. However, I did pick up a common theme in both novels."

Geet glanced up at him. "Oh?"

"Trust. You put a lot of emphasis on trust. Not only did the heroines trust the heroes to protect them from physical harm, but emotions were involved as well. They came to trust each other with their love. They rendered themselves vulnerable, laying it all on the line, and trusting each other to treat that love as the precious gift that it is. In both books there were conversations concerning the importance of trust."

"Well, goodness," Geet said, forcing lightness into her voice, "I'd better be alert; not to repeat it in my next one. That is a definite no-no. Although in this particular case'." Her voice trailed off.

"In this case?" he prompted.

"The importance of trust in a loving relationship could be justified in every one of my books. Bina vishvaas ke, do logon ke beech me kya ho sakta hai? Kuch nahi, nothing. It's the foundation that love is centered on, a solid base from which it can grow, if nurtured."

She leaned forward, her voice with conviction when she continued speaking.

"Agar trust nahi hai, then the couple is fooling themselves, mistaking lust for love. If it is present, then later destroyed, the relationship is over, beyond repair."

"That's a pretty hard stand on the issue."

Geet moved back again, folding her arms over her chest. "It's the way I feel, what I believe."

"Interesting, especially when you consider the fact that you claim that nothing of you, is in any of your novels."

"Woh." She felt a warm flush on her cheeks. "woh, main'" She frowned.

"Don't stress, Geet," he said, smiling. "I just want to know you better, or I wouldn't be here today. Isme burai hi kya hai agar main tumhare baare me jaanna chahta hoon tumhari books ke through?" He shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"Bilkul bhi nahi. How will you know what might be my opinions and views, and what are imaginary likes and dislikes I gave the characters to make them more believably human?"

"Well'.."

"For example--" she took a breadstick and waggled it at Maan "'in the book that is in production at my publisher's now, the heroine has a good luck charm. It's a little seashell that she always has with her. It might be in her pocket, or attached to a chain around her neck. She is never without it. When she give it to the hero as he's about to go dashing off to face the villain, the hero realizes how deeply she loves him."

"Your point?"

"My point is," she continues, her volume rising as she waved the breadstick in the air, "I have never owned a good luck charm in my life. You could, in the present state of your tiny mind, assume I personally have a thing for good luck charms. You would be drawing a conclusion about me that would be totally wrong."

Maan snagged her wrist as it went whizzing by, and took a bite of the breadstick. As he chewed, he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. After taking a sip of soda, he looked at Geet again, seeing the very-pleased-with-herself expression on her face.

"Nope," he said, "I wouldn't be wrong at all. Why? I'll be happy to explain."

"Whoopee," she said dryly. "I can hardly wait."

"You're getting grumpy, Shehzadi Geet. Are you going to eat the rest of that breadstick?"

She smacked it into his hand.

"Thank you. To continue'I wouldn't focus on the good luck charm itself. I would look beyind the charm."

"To what?"

"It's to whom. You. What message did you convey when the heroine gave the hero her special seashell? Trust. It's there again, Geet, loud and clear."

 Easy, Maan, he told himself. Don't push too hard. But, damn, he'd bet his last rupee that Geet's marriage had been shattered, and that she had been deeply hurt by a betrayal of trust by the man she'd chosen as her life partner.

What he wanted was for her to trust him enough to tell him about what had happened. But she wasn't ready for that yet, not even close. Why was her trusting him to that degree so important? Hell, he had no idea.

"End of study," he said lightly. "I'm going to have some of that chocolate ice-cream. It's calling my name. How about you?"

"What? Oh, no, I don't think so. Maybe I'll have some later."

Damn it, she thought. She felt terribly exposed, as though Maan had physically pulled away her protective wall to look into her heart, her mind, her very soul.

How had he managed to do that? She didn't know, but she didn't like it. Not one little bit.

And it was not going to happen again.

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