TUM SE HI (MG) Thread 1 - Page 75

TWENTY THREE

During the day on Saturday, Geet talked to Pari on the telephone to arrange lunch the next day, then a shopping spree. Pari immediately agreed, stating she'd have the shop covered the entire afternoon by one of her part time employees.

"So what's new?" Pari said.

"We'll get caught up at lunch."

"Promise? Cross your heart?"

"Well, sure, Pari. We always talk like chatterbox when we get together."

"I'll be counting the hours Geet."

"You're acting weird, Mrs. Malhotra. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye."

Pari replaced the receiver on the telephone.

"Weird?" she said, to no one. "No-o-o, I am a stressed out cupid."

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The remainder of the day, Geet run errands. She went to the cleaners, ordered business cards, and made the other stops on her list.

She hated doing this, and usually assigned most of them to her secretary, Pinky, but found herself in a good mood during the entire time.

So, okay, she thought, as she finally relaxed in a bubble bath, she had thought more about the evening ahead with Maan as she'd gone here and there, than about what she was actually doing at the time.

But that was understandable, she reasoned. Maan was handsome, charming, fun-to-be-with man. It made perfect sense that she was looking forward to the dinner and dancing with Mr. Khurana. It didn't constitute a 'major emotional change,' for God's sake.

And the lovemaking they'd shared? It was beautiful beyond description. The unnamed emotions that rose each time she was with Maan were coming from a new and different place inside her.

Should she be attempting to define those emotions? She wondered, absently watching the bubble pop in fragment bursts. No, that wasn't necessary. Those emotions were entwined with the lovemaking itself, were a part of the intimate act. It should all be wrapped up like a precious gift, a treasure to be cherished, then tucked away in her heart when Maan was gone.

When Maan was gone.

Geet frowned as the words echoed in her mind. She stepped from the tub and began to dry herself with a fluffy towel.

When Maan was gone.

Now, Geet, she told herself, shape up. She knew the facts as they stood, knew the level of self-discipline she had to maintain to achieve her career goals. Nothing was allowed to draw her away from her purpose when she was working. Nothing, and no more.

So, when her vacation was over, Maan Singh Khurana would be gone.

Besides, she mentally rambled on, as she began to dress, she wanted no part of a serious relationship. Never again would she hand over her heart to another person, render herself totally vulnerable, she'd never again be defenceless and helpless as that heart was smashed. She'd learned the lesson the hard and hurtful way, and would not make the same mistake again.

Fine, she thought, lifting her chin. At the end of her two-week hiatus, Maan would be gone. So be it. The bright side of the picture was that she was making marvellous progress with her Project. That was great. Right? Right.

During the evening, Geet felt like Cinderella at the ball. The leisurely dinner was delicious, then they moved to the dance floor where the band played dreamy music. Maan was an excellent dancer, and when he took her into his arms, Geet welcomed the wondrous sensations that consumed her.

She felt safe, protected, fragile and feminine. There was no reason to think; she needed only to feel, allow the desire within her to build.

Unlike Cinderella, she would not have to dash away at midnight. The entire night was hers, to share with Maan.

Although Geet would have thought it impossible, their lovemaking that night was even more magical, more intense than before. She was unable at times to decipher their bodies as two separate entities. They were meshed, completely one, as they soared to their glorious place.

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A few minutes afternoon on Sunday, Geet slid onto the chair opposite Pari in a busy restaurant.

"Good, I'm only a couple of minutes late," Geet said, smiling.

"It's so good to see you, Geet," Pari, said, matching her smile. "Let's order. I am hungry."

Geet glanced at the menu, decided she would have a chef's salad, then observed Pari while the other one was busy in the list of selections.

Pari was pretty, Geet thought. She was thirty one, but appeared younger due to her delicate featured, and she wore very little make-up. There was a fresh, wholesome aura about her.

No one would know that the perky, smile-always-at-the-ready woman had been tragically widowed eight years before when her husband had been killed flying an air force jet in a training exercise.

After a year of intense grieving during which Pari had barely functioned, she'd taker herself in hand, sought counselling, then used her husband's insurance money to create her store.

Geet had met her five years ago when Pinky had arranged a book-signing session at the store. Their friendship had grown steadily, and little by little, Pari had revealed the sad circumstances of her past.

Strange, Geet thought, taking a sip of water. She had never told Pari the details of her own marriage and subsequent divorce. She'd simply said, as she had to Maan, that marriage had been terrible mistake and was old news that wasn't worth discussing. Had it hurt Pari's feelings over the years to realize that Geet wasn't sharing her innermost secret?

A waitress appeared, bringing welcome relief from Geet's suddenly troubled thoughts.

They ordered, then Pari propped her elbows on the table and folded her hands beneath her chin. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

Geet laughed. "Okay, Mrs. Malhotra, tell all. You're about to twist right out of that chair."

"I took the plunge."

"You're getting married?" Geet asked all innocence.

Pari wrinkled her nose. "Hey bhagwan, no, I am not getting married, Ms. Handa, and you know it."

Geet shrugged. "Just thought I'd ask. Tell me about your plunge."

"Well, you know how intrigued I am by rare books. I've collected more than two dozen over the years. It's not a lot, but enough to plunge."

"So, even as we speak, a craftsman is making me a special cupboard to hang on the wall behind the counter at the store. It will have wire-threaded glass, and will be kept locked. I am going to start an advertising campaign to let it be known that the store now buys and sells rare editions. I am very excited."

"As well you should be. Oh, Pari, that's marvellous. I know that dealing in rare books has been a dream of yours. Okay, this lunch is from me to celebrate the expanded service of your store."

"Speaking of the store, your novels have been selling like hotcakes ever since the book-signing session. You've been so supportive over the years with your willingness to do an autograph party for each of your books as they come out."

"That, plus all the author friends you begged and-or threatened to get to do autographing, enabled me to launch my rare-book dream much sooner than I'd hoped."

"It was my pleasure," Geet said. "All my writer friends were very impressed with your store, by the way. They'd all be happy to come again."

"Thank you so much Geet."

The waitress arrived at the moment with their meals, and they ate in silence for several minutes.

"I've talked enough about me," Pari finally said. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh," Geet said, breezily, "a little of this, a little of that."

"Would you stop it?" Pari said. "You're perfectly aware that I want to know if you made Maan Singh Khurana The Project. You said you'd think over it, then went to the door to get a pizza."

"Well, the pizza turned out to be Maan."

"What?"

Geet explained how she's made the dinner with Maan, but had been so exhausted she'd forgotten she'd done it. And, yes, yes, yes, nosy Pari, Maan was The Project. The man needed an attitude adjustment, and she was making great progress on the subject of his working far too much.

"That brings you up to date," Geet said.

"Not quite. What about you? You're the other half of the dates between you and Maan. Do you like him?"

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