TWENTY EIGHT
Later that night, Maan lay in bed in his hotel room in Chennai, his hands beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling.
He's called Geet earlier and they'd had a nice chat. She'd sounded happy, had told him that the day had flown by as she'd filled the hours with one activity after another. She'd missed him, of course, and hoped his trip would be a huge success. She'd see him Wednesday evening, and had said, "Good night, Maan."
He had fully expected to drop off to sleep immediately after speaking with Geet, but three hours had gone by and sleep was far away from his mind.
Geet, Geet, Geet, he thought. He thought of the sad tale of her marriage, hearing her trembling voice, seeing sorrow and pain in her expressive eyes.
He'd been consumed with anger towards the man who had no emotions, and had the urge to track him down and wring his neck.
It meant a lot to him, it really did, that Geet had trusted him enough to tell him about her marriage. That was a gift he intended to cherish.
So where did he stand in his assignment? Well, if by telling him about her past Geet was able to put her past to rest, then he was doing great.
She would be free to take a fresh look at her life and rethink about her 'No way' regarding, marriage and children.
Geet married? To a man? Having that man's child? Making love with that man to conceive a baby?
"Damn," he said.
He didn't like that idea at all. The thought of another man touching her, reaching for her''No!
"Calm down, Maan," he said to the ceiling.
Okay, he was calm. Fine. The reason the image of some jerk being with Geet was upsetting him was because he, Maan Singh Khurana, was presently the one in Geet's life. His initial reaction didn't mean he'd gone off and fallen in love with her.
To fall in love with Geet would be very, very foolish, as there was no guarantee that his assignment would be a success. She could very well choose to continue her life exactly the way it was.
As for him? Well, he was registering a surge of hope that he might just be able to have the wife and children he yearned for. Geet's take on the subject was beginning to make sense. Compromise. Maybe, just maybe, his deepest wish could yet come true.
Maan yawned, and minutes later he drifted off to sleep.
***********
Geet looked into the oven, then closed the door with a loud bang.
"Babaji," she said, flinging out her arms. "Why aren't you cooking, chicken? You're just sitting there like a lump." She swept her gaze over the many dials on the top of stove. "Aaa!" she yelled, smacking her hands onto the top of her head. "I didn't turn it on."
She flipped the appropriate dial with more force than necessary, and then burst into laughter.
When it came to cooking, she was a dud. She and Maan are going to dine fashionably late. No, actually they were going to dine so late they would be creating a whole new fashion of their own.
Why couldn't she get the hang of this cooking non-sense? It simply called for organization, planning, a sense of order where one thing led to the next. Those were all abilities she possessed whenever she was writing a book, so why didn't that knowledge follow her out of the office and into the kitchen?
"Beats me," she said, with a shrug. "Go for it, chicken," she added, giving the top of stove a friendly pat.
As she walked toward the kitchen door, she suddenly stopped, a frown replacing her smile. With a sense of dread, she turned slowly to stare at the calendar that hung on the wall next to the telephone.
Time was passing so quickly, she thought, wrapping her hands around her elbows. There was less than a week left of her vacation, less than a week to be with Maan.
She edged closer to the calendar, her eyes stuck on the numbered squares. A chill swept through her, causing her to tighten her hold on her arms.
In her mental vision, she saw herself in her large office, pouring over the multitude of reference books, making notes, carefully plotting her next novel. It was a familiar picture, as that room was where she spent the vast majority of her life.
And it suddenly appeared very empty, and very, very lonely.
"No," she whispered, feeling the ache of threatening tears in her throat, "no, it isn't lonely. It's my world. It's where I belong, where I'm content. Safe." She took a deep breath.
On trembling lega she went to the table, sinking onto one of the chairs.
In her mind, she saw Maan'smiling, talking, then looking at her with an intent message of desire radiating from his beautiful brown eyes. Heat swirled within her as she relived the lovemaking they'd shared; her bre**** grew heavy, aching for the touch of Maan's hands, the sensuality of his mouth savouring her soft flesh.
She saw him in her bed, naked; so powerful yet gentle. She saw him in the shower, in the kitchen making coffee, eating pizza in front of the fireplace. She saw him at the concert, and at the helm of the cabin cruiser.
Then she saw him walking away, out of her life, not looking back as he left.
"Oh, Maan, please, no," she said, tears misting her eyes.
In the next instant, she got to her feet, lifted her chin, and stomped out of the kitchen.
She was being ridiculous; she fumed, heading for her bedroom. She knew Maan was in her life temporarily. He was The Project. The Project was always over at the end of her two week vacation.
There was less than one week left to be with Maan.
She knew that.
"So, get a grip Geet," she told herself. "You're behaving like an idiot."
Yes, she cared for Maan, she truly did, and she would miss him after he was gone. But she wasn't in love with him, for crying out loud. She wouldn't do something as stupid as falling in love with the man. No, absolutely not.
In her room she changed clothes. After brushing her hair, she checked her make-up, sprayed on cologne, then sank onto the side of the bed.
Shadows from the past suddenly crept over her, reminding of her memories, each with a name.
Pain. Betrayal. Disillusionment. Vulnerability. Abandonment. Loneliness.
They were all there, taunting her with cruel voices that grew louder. They were present because of love, by love, by loving, by having placed her heart in the hands of another.
No! She wouldn't do it, not ever again! There was no way on earth that she would allow herself to fall in love with Maan. He would not be given that kind of power and control.
Her work, her writing, was her focus and essence of who she was. It required her complete attention and dedication. There was no room for anything else. No space for distractions or temptations that would lure her away and destroy the career to which she'd dedicated herself.
The doorbell rang, and Geet jerked in surprise at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts. She went to the mirror, checking herself for any kind of turmoil that would cause Maan to question her.
She appeared perfectly normal, she decided, then hurried from the room.
The bell rang again before Geet reached, and she quickened her step even more. When she opened the door, all rational thought fled.
"Maan," she whispered.
"Geet."
**************
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
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