Posted:
Chapter 2.
By the time Zoya arrived at AAK Corp's personnel office it was after five o'clock, and she had come to the conclusion that she couldn't possibly spy for Abbas Siddiqui. Just thinking of it on the way had made her heart pound and her palms perspire on the steering wheel. Even though she would like to help Abbas, the intrigue and deception that would be involved petrified her. Still, she hated to admit her cowardice to him.
While she filled out the endless forms and questionnaires required by AAK Corp, it occurred to her that the best way out of her predicament was to honor her promise to Abbas by applying for a job"and then make absolutely certain that she wasn't offered one. Accordingly, she deliberately failed her spelling, typing and shorthand tests and omitted any mention of her college degree. But her crowning achievement was the way she answered the last question on her employment application. The instructions said to list in the order of preference three positions she felt she was qualified to fill at AAK Corp. Zoya had written "president" for her first choice, "personnel manager" for her second, and "secretary" for her third.
The real personnel manager, Mr. Anand, graded her tests, and his face registered horror as he did so. He put them aside and picked up her application, and she watched his gaze glide to the bottom of the last page, where she had listed, among her three choices, Mr. Anand's own job. When he read that his face suffused with angry color and his nostrils flared, and Zoya had to bite her trembling lower lip to hide her laughter. Maybe she was cut out for intrigue and trickery, she thought with an inward smile as he surged to his feet and coldly informed her that she did not meet AAK Corp's hiring standards for any position.
When Zoya emerged from the building, she discovered that the evening had deepened into a prematurely dark and windy night. With a convulsive shiver, she pulled her sweater closer around her.
The traffic was backed up on Santa Cruz, a sea of white headlights and red taillights speeding past her in both directions. While Zoya waited for the light to change, fat raindrops began to spatter on the pavement around her. There was a break in traffic, and Zoya raced across the broad multi-lane boulevard, reaching the opposite curb a split second before the oncoming cars roared past her.
Breathless and damp, she glanced up at the darkened high-rise building under construction in front of her. The parking garage where she had left her rented car was four blocks away, but if she go across the area surrounding the high-rise, she could save herself at least a block. She was in dilemma when a fresh blast of wind blew her dress around her legs and helped her make up her mind. Disregarding the 'No Trespassing sign', she ducked under the ropes surrounding the construction area.
Walking as quickly as the uneven ground would permit, Zoya glanced up at the lights scattered here and there in the otherwise dark building. It was at least eighty stories high, made entirely of mirrored glass that reflected the twinkling lights of the city. Where lights were on inside the building, the mirror surface became ordinary two-way glass, and Zoya could see boxes piled in the offices, as if the tenants were getting ready to occupy the space. Suddenly she realized she was all alone in this dark Building. The thought sent fear racing up her spine.
Heavy footsteps suddenly followed in the dirt behind her, and Zoya's heart gave a leap of terror. She quickened her pace, and the unidentified footsteps moved more quickly too. Panickingly, Zoya started to run. Just as she reached toward the main entrance, one of the huge glass doors swung open, and two men emerged from the shadowy building.
"Help!" she cried. "There's someone"" Her foot struck a pile of conduit that coiled around her ankle, then tightened. Zoya soared through the air, her mouth open in a silent scream, her arms reaching for balance, and landed sprawling, face down in the dirt at the men's feet.
"You damn fool!" one of the men said in angry concern as they both looked down and peered anxiously at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Bracing herself on her forearms, Zoya lifted her chagrined gaze from the man's shoes to his face. "Auditioning for the circus," she told him dryly. "And for another round of applause, I usually fall off a bridge."
A rich chuckle sounded from the other man as he took her firmly by the shoulders and helped her to her feet. "What's your name?" he asked, and when Zoya had told him, he added worriedly, "Can you walk?"
"For miles," Zoya assured him unsteadily. Every muscle in her body was protesting, and her left ankle was throbbing painfully.
"Then I guess you can make it as far as the building so we can have a look at the damage," he said with a smile in his voice. Sliding his arm around her waist, he moved against her so that she could lean on him for support.
"Asad," the other man said sharply, "I think it would be better if I go in and call an ambulance while you stay here with Miss Faaroqui."
"Please don't call an ambulance!" Zoya pleaded. "I'm more embarrassed than hurt," she added desperately, almost sagging with relief when the man called Asad began guiding her toward the dark lobby.
She briefly considered the inadvisability of going into a deserted building with two unknown men, but when they entered the lobby, the other man switched on some small spotlights high in the ceiling, and most of Zoya's doubts were dispelled: he was middle-aged, dignified and wearing a suit and tie. Even in the dim light, he seemed more like a successful business executive than a thug. Zoya glanced at Asad, whose arm was still around her. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt. Judging from his shadowy profile, Zoya guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, and there was nothing about him, either, that struck her as being fearful.
Over his shoulder, Asad spoke to the other man. "Vivek, there should be a first-aid kit in one of the maintenance rooms. Find it and bring it up."
"Right," Vivek said, striding toward a glowing red Stairs sign.
Zoya glanced curiously around at the immense lobby. Everything was white travertine marble: the walls, the floors, and even the graceful pillars that soared two stories to the ceiling high above. Dozens of huge potted trees and lush green plants were lined up against one wall, apparently waiting for someone to move them to their proper positions on the vast lobby floor.
When they came near elevators, Asad reached around her and pressed the elevator button. The gleaming brass doors slid open and Zoya stepped into the brightly lit elevator. "I'm taking you up to a furnished office where you can sit down and rest until you feel steady enough to walk unaided," Asad explained.
Zoya flicked a smiling, grateful glance at him" and froze with shock. Standing beside her, his features clearly illuminated now by the improved light, was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Simultaneously, the elevator doors closed and Zoya jerked her gaze from his face. "Thanks," she said in an odd, croaking whisper, self-consciously pulling free of his supporting arm, "but I can stand alone."
He pressed the button for the eightieth floor, and Zoya quelled the feminine impulse to reach up and pat her hair into place"it would be too obvious, too vain. She wondered if she had a trace of lipstick left, or if her face was dirty, then she caught herself up short. For a sensible young woman, she was reacting very foolishly to what was, after all, nothing more than an attractive male face.
Had he really been that handsome, she wondered. She decided to look at him again, but secretly this time. Very casually, she raised her eyes to the light above the doors, which flashed the number of the passing floors. Cautiously, she let her gaze slide sideways... Asad was watching the flashing numbers, his head tipped slightly back, his face in profile.
Besides being even more handsome than she had thought, he was at least six feet two inches tall, broad shouldered and athletically muscular. His hair were beautifully cut and styled. Masculine strength was carved into every feature of his proud profile, from the straight dark brows to the arrogant jut of his chin and jaw. His mouth was firm, but sensually molded.
Zoya was still studying the mobile line of his lips when they quirked suddenly, as if amusement was lurking there. Her gaze shot up, and to her utter horror she discovered that his gray eyes had shifted to her.
Caught in the act of staring at him and practically drooling over him, Zoya said the first thing that came to mind. "I"I'm afraid of elevators," she improvised madly. "I try to concentrate on something else to, er, keep my mind off the height."
"That's very clever," he remarked, but his teasing tone made it obvious he was applauding not her sensible solution to her alleged fear of elevators, but rather her ingenuity in inventing such a plausible lie.
Zoya was torn between laughing at his dry observation and blushing because she hadn't fooled him in the least. She did neither, and instead carefully kept her eyes on the elevator doors until they opened on the eightieth floor.
"Wait here while I turn on the lights," Asad said. A few seconds later panels of ceiling lights flickered on, illuminating the entire floor, the left half of which appeared to be an immense reception area and four very large walnut-paneled offices. Asad put his hand beneath her elbow, and Zoya's feet sank into the emerald green carpeting as he guided her around the elevator wall to the opposite side.
This half of the floor contained another even larger reception area, with a circular receptionist's desk in the center. Zoya glimpsed a beautiful office opening off the right of the reception area. It was already equipped with built-in filing cabinets and a gleaming wood-and-chrome secretarial desk. Mentally she compared it to her own steel desk at her old part-time job. That one had been in the middle of a cluttered three-person office. It was hard to believe that so much spacious luxury was here for the benefit of a mere secretary.
When she voiced that thought aloud, Asad gave her a cocky look. "Skilled professional secretaries take great pride in being just that, and the salaries they're getting are soaring every year."
"I happen to be a secretary," Zoya told him as they walked across the reception area toward a pair of eight-foot-high rosewood doors. "I was across the street applying for a job at AAK Corp just before I, ah, met you." Asad threw open both doors, then stood back for Zoya to precede him while he studied her limping walk.
Zoya was so acutely aware of his penetrating gaze on her legs that her knees wobbled, and she was halfway across the room before she actually looked at her surroundings. What she saw stopped her short. "Ya Allah!" she breathed. "What is this, anyway?"
"This," Asad said with a smile at her awestruck expression, "is the president's office. It's one of the few offices that's completely finished."
Speechless, Zoya let her admiring gaze wander over the gigantic office. The long wall in front of her was glass from floor to ceiling, providing an uninterrupted view of nighttime Mumbai in all its fantastic, glittering splendor as it fanned out for endless miles in the distance below. "It's absolutely breathtaking," she said softly.
"I'll fix something for us to drink while Vivek is getting the first-aid kit," Asad said.
Zoya turned, watching dreamily as he walked over to a wall and pressed it with his fingertips. A huge panel glided silently aside, revealing a gorgeous mirrored bar lit by tiny concealed spotlights above it. Glass shelves held rows of Waterford crystal glasses and decanters.
When Zoya didn't reply to his offer of a drink, he glanced over his shoulder at her. She lifted her blue eyes from the recessed bar to his face and saw the expression he was trying to hide. Obviously, he was vastly amused by her thunderstruck reaction to this lavishness, and the knowledge made her suddenly realize something she had previously overlooked; while she was acutely aware of his male attraction, he seemed completely oblivious to her as a female.
After six years of enduring men's gaping admiration, their leers and stares, she had finally met a man whom she desperately wanted to impress, and nothing was happening. Absolutely nothing. A little puzzled and definitely disappointed, Zoya tried to shrug the matter aside. Beauty was said to be in the eyes of the beholder, and apparently Asad's eyes beheld nothing of interest when he looked at her. That wouldn't have been so awful if only he didn't find her so damned funny!
"If you'd like to clean up, there's a bathroom right there." Asad inclined his head toward the wall beside the bar.
"Where?" Zoya asked blankly, following the direction of his nod. "Walk straight ahead, and when you get to the wall, just press it."
His lips were twitching again, and Zoya gave him an exasperated look while she did as he'd said. When her fingertips touched the smooth rosewood, a panel clicked open to reveal a spacious bathroom, and she stepped inside.
"Here's the first-aid kit," the man called Vivek announced as he entered the suite just then. Zoya started to close the bathroom door but paused when she heard him add in a lowered voice, "Asad, as the corporation's attorney, I'm advising you that the girl ought to be seen by a physician tonight to prove that she isn't seriously injured. If you don't insist on it, some lawyer could claim she's been crippled by her fall and could sue the company for millions."
"Stop making such a big issue out of it," she heard Asad reply. "She's just a nice, innocent kid who got the hell scared out of her in a nasty fall. An ambulance ride would terrify her."
"All right," Vivek sighed. "I'm late for a meeting in Delhi, and I've got to leave. But for God's sake, don't offer her anything alcoholic to drink. Her parents could sue you for trying to seduce a minor, and""
Feeling both puzzled and insulted at being called an innocent frightened kid, Zoya quietly closed the door. Frowning, she turned to the mirror above the sink, then stifled a shriek of horrified laughter. Her face was covered with mud; her neat hair were half undone, wisps of hair were sticking out like scraggly spikes all over her head; and her dress was all messed up.
She looked, she thought with a hysterical giggle, exactly like a caricature of herself"like a funny, hopelessly dirty urchin in disheveled clothing.
And for some reason, it suddenly became important that she look vastly different when she walked out of this bathroom. Hastily she began cleaning off her soiled dress, gleefully anticipating the shock that was in store for Asad when she was cleaned up and presentable.
If her pulse quickened with excitement while she scrubbed her face and hands, she told herself it was only because she was looking forward to having the last laugh on him, and not because she longed for him to think she was attractive. But she had to hurry; if she spent too much time in here her transformation wouldn't be nearly so effective.
Once she was reasonably clean, she pulled the pins out of her hair and began vigorously brushing it, tugging the brush through the tangled strands with ruthless haste. When she was finished, it fell in a soft, shining mass that curled artlessly at her shoulders and back. Swiftly she applied peach lipstick, a touch of blusher, then stuffed everything into her purse and stepped from the mirror to survey her appearance. Her color was high and her eyes were sparkling with lively anticipation. Satisfied, she turned away from the mirror, picked up her purse and stepped out of the bathroom, closing the rosewood panel with a soft click.
Asad was standing at the mirrored bar, his back to her. Without turning he said, "I had to make a phone call, but I'll have these drinks ready in a moment. Did you find everything you needed in there?"
"Yes, I did, thank you," Zoya said, putting down her purse. Quietly she stood beside the long sofa, watching his swift, economical movements as he took two crystal glasses down from the shelf and pulled a tray of ice cubes from the compact refrigerator-freezer recessed into the bar. With each movement of his arms, the thin fabric of his white shirt tautened, emphasizing his broad, muscular shoulders and tapered back. Zoya let her gaze drift down the clean line of his narrow hips and long legs, outlined by the comfortably snug jeans he wore. When he spoke, Zoya started guiltily, her gaze flying to the back of his dark head.
"I'm afraid this bar isn't stocked with soft drinks or lemonade, Zoya, so I've fixed you a glass of water with ice."
Zoya suppressed a chuckle at the mention of water and demurely clasped her hands behind her back. Suspense and anticipation built inside her as he replaced the stopper in a crystal whiskey decanter, picked up a glass in each hand and turned.
He took two steps toward her and stopped cold.
His brows drew together as his narrowed gray eyes slid over the long hair that framed her face and fell in glorious abandon over her shoulders and back. His stunned gaze shifted to her face, noting her vivid turquoise eyes sparkling with humor beneath thick, curly lashes, her pert nose, finely sculpted cheeks and soft lips. Then it drifted downward over her full breasts, trim waist and long shapely legs.
Zoya had hoped to make him notice her as a woman, and he was certainly noticing her. Now she rather hoped he would say something nice. But he didn't.
Without a word he turned on his heel, strode over to the bar and dumped the contents of one of the glasses into the stainless steel bar sink. "What are you doing?" Zoya asked.
His voice was filled with amused irony. "Pouring some wine."
Zoya burst out laughing, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Just out of curiosity, how old are you?"
"Twenty-three."
"And you were applying for a secretarial position at AAK Corp"before you threw yourself at our feet tonight?" he prompted, adding a modest amount of wine in her glass.
"Yes."
He carried her glass to her and nodded toward the sofa. "Sit down"you shouldn't be standing on that ankle."
"It doesn't hurt, honestly," she protested, but she obediently sat down.
Asad remained standing in front of her, regarding her curiously. "Did AAK Corp offer you a position?" He was so tall that Zoya had to tip her head back in order to meet his gaze. "No."
"I'd like to have a look at your ankle," he said. Putting his drink on the glass coffee table, he crouched down and began unbuckling the thin strap of her sandal. The mere brush of his fingers against her ankle sent amazing jolts of electricity shooting up her leg, and she stiffened with the unexpected shock.
Fortunately, he seemed not to notice as his strong fingers carefully explored her calf, moving slowly down toward her ankle. "Are you a good secretary?"
"My former employer thought I was."
With his head still bent, he said, "Good secretaries are always in demand. AAK Corp's personnel office will probably call you eventually and offer you a job."
"I doubt it," Zoya said with an irrepressible smile. "I'm afraid Mr. Anand, the personnel manager, doesn't think I'm very bright," she explained.
Asad's head jerked up, his gaze moving with frank, masculine appreciation over her vivid features. "Zoya, I think you're as bright as a shiny new coin. Anand must be blind."
"Of course he is!" she teased, "Or else he'd never wear a yellow pant and red shirt to the office." Asad grinned. "Does he really?"
Zoya nodded, and for her the companionable moment became strangely charged with an unexplainable, deepening awareness. Now, as she smiled at him, she saw more than just an extremely handsome male. She saw a mild cynicism in his eyes that was tempered with warmth and humor; the hardbitten experience that was stamped on his strongly chiseled face. To Zoya it made him even more attractive. There was no denying the power of his sexual magnetism, either. It emanated from every rugged, self-assured inch of his body, pulling her to him.
"It doesn't feel swollen," he commented, bending his head toward her ankle again. "Does it hurt at all?"
"Very little. Not nearly as much as my dignity."
"In that case, by tomorrow your ankle and your dignity will probably be fine."
Still crouching, he cupped her heel in his left hand and reached over to pick up her sandal with his right.
Just as he was about to slip the sandal onto her foot, he glanced up at her and his lazy smile sent Zoya's pulse racing as he asked, "Isn't there some fairy tale about a man who searches for the woman whose foot fits into a glass slipper?"
She nodded, her eyes bright. "Cinderella."
"What happens to me if this slipper fits?"
"I turn you into a handsome frog," she quipped.
He laughed, a rich, wonderful sound as their gazes held, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes"a brief flame of sexual attraction that he abruptly doused. The companionable bantering was over. He buckled her sandal, then stood up. Picking up his drink, he drank it quickly and set the glass down on the coffee table. It was, Zoya sensed, an unwelcome signal that their time together was at an end. She watched him lean over, pick up the telephone on the far side of the coffee table and punch a four-digit number. "Sam," he said into the phone, "This is Asad. The young lady you were chasing as a trespasser has recovered from her fall. Would you bring the security car around to the front of the building and drive her to wherever she left her car? Right, I'll meet you down in front in five minutes."
Zoya's heart sank. Five minutes. And Asad wasn't even going to be the one who drove her to her car! She had an awful feeling that he wasn't going to ask how he could get in touch with her, either. That thought was so depressing that it totally eclipsed her embarrassment at having discovered that she had been fleeing from a security guard tonight. "Do you work for the company that built this high-rise?" she asked, trying to postpone their parting and discover something about him.
Asad glanced almost impatiently at his watch. "Yes, I do."
"Do you like construction work?"
"I enjoy building things," he answered briefly. "I'm an engineer."
Will you be sent somewhere else once this building is finished?"
"I'll spend most of my time here for the next few years," he said.
Zoya stood up and picked up her purse, her thoughts confused. Perhaps with sophisticated computers running everything from heating systems to elevators in the new high-rises, it was necessary to keep an engineer of some sort on staff. Not that it really mattered one way or another, she thought with an awful sense of foreboding. She probably wasn't going to see him again. "Well, thank you for everything. I hope the president doesn't discover that you raided his liquor cabinet."
Asad shot her a wry glance. "It's already been raided by all the janitors. It will have to be locked to stop that."
On the way down in the elevator, he seemed preoccupied and in a hurry. He probably already had a date tonight, Zoya thought glumly. With some beautiful woman"a model, at least, if she were to match his own striking good looks. Of course, he might be married"but he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and he didn't seem like a married man.
A white car with the words Global Industries Security Division had pulled up on the packed dirt in front of the building and was waiting, a uniformed security guard at the steering wheel. Asad walked her out to the car and held the door open while she slid into the passenger seat beside the guard. Using his body to block the chilly air from her, he leaned his forearm on the roof of the car and bent his head to speak to her through the narrow opening. "I know people at AAK Corp; I'll give someone a call and see if they can convince Mr. Anand to change his mind."
Zoya's spirits soared at this indication that he liked her enough to try to negotiate for her, but when she recalled the way she had deliberately failed her tests, she shook her head in genuine dismay. "Don't bother. He won't change his mind"I made a terrible impression on him. But thank you for offering."
By the time Zoya arrived at AAK Corp's personnel office it was after five o'clock, and she had come to the conclusion that she couldn't possibly spy for Abbas Siddiqui. Just thinking of it on the way had made her heart pound and her palms perspire on the steering wheel. Even though she would like to help Abbas, the intrigue and deception that would be involved petrified her. Still, she hated to admit her cowardice to him.
While she filled out the endless forms and questionnaires required by AAK Corp, it occurred to her that the best way out of her predicament was to honor her promise to Abbas by applying for a job"and then make absolutely certain that she wasn't offered one. Accordingly, she deliberately failed her spelling, typing and shorthand tests and omitted any mention of her college degree. But her crowning achievement was the way she answered the last question on her employment application. The instructions said to list in the order of preference three positions she felt she was qualified to fill at AAK Corp. Zoya had written "president" for her first choice, "personnel manager" for her second, and "secretary" for her third.
The real personnel manager, Mr. Anand, graded her tests, and his face registered horror as he did so. He put them aside and picked up her application, and she watched his gaze glide to the bottom of the last page, where she had listed, among her three choices, Mr. Anand's own job. When he read that his face suffused with angry color and his nostrils flared, and Zoya had to bite her trembling lower lip to hide her laughter. Maybe she was cut out for intrigue and trickery, she thought with an inward smile as he surged to his feet and coldly informed her that she did not meet AAK Corp's hiring standards for any position.
When Zoya emerged from the building, she discovered that the evening had deepened into a prematurely dark and windy night. With a convulsive shiver, she pulled her sweater closer around her.
The traffic was backed up on Santa Cruz, a sea of white headlights and red taillights speeding past her in both directions. While Zoya waited for the light to change, fat raindrops began to spatter on the pavement around her. There was a break in traffic, and Zoya raced across the broad multi-lane boulevard, reaching the opposite curb a split second before the oncoming cars roared past her.
Breathless and damp, she glanced up at the darkened high-rise building under construction in front of her. The parking garage where she had left her rented car was four blocks away, but if she go across the area surrounding the high-rise, she could save herself at least a block. She was in dilemma when a fresh blast of wind blew her dress around her legs and helped her make up her mind. Disregarding the 'No Trespassing sign', she ducked under the ropes surrounding the construction area.
Walking as quickly as the uneven ground would permit, Zoya glanced up at the lights scattered here and there in the otherwise dark building. It was at least eighty stories high, made entirely of mirrored glass that reflected the twinkling lights of the city. Where lights were on inside the building, the mirror surface became ordinary two-way glass, and Zoya could see boxes piled in the offices, as if the tenants were getting ready to occupy the space. Suddenly she realized she was all alone in this dark Building. The thought sent fear racing up her spine.
Heavy footsteps suddenly followed in the dirt behind her, and Zoya's heart gave a leap of terror. She quickened her pace, and the unidentified footsteps moved more quickly too. Panickingly, Zoya started to run. Just as she reached toward the main entrance, one of the huge glass doors swung open, and two men emerged from the shadowy building.
"Help!" she cried. "There's someone"" Her foot struck a pile of conduit that coiled around her ankle, then tightened. Zoya soared through the air, her mouth open in a silent scream, her arms reaching for balance, and landed sprawling, face down in the dirt at the men's feet.
"You damn fool!" one of the men said in angry concern as they both looked down and peered anxiously at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Bracing herself on her forearms, Zoya lifted her chagrined gaze from the man's shoes to his face. "Auditioning for the circus," she told him dryly. "And for another round of applause, I usually fall off a bridge."
A rich chuckle sounded from the other man as he took her firmly by the shoulders and helped her to her feet. "What's your name?" he asked, and when Zoya had told him, he added worriedly, "Can you walk?"
"For miles," Zoya assured him unsteadily. Every muscle in her body was protesting, and her left ankle was throbbing painfully.
"Then I guess you can make it as far as the building so we can have a look at the damage," he said with a smile in his voice. Sliding his arm around her waist, he moved against her so that she could lean on him for support.
"Asad," the other man said sharply, "I think it would be better if I go in and call an ambulance while you stay here with Miss Faaroqui."
"Please don't call an ambulance!" Zoya pleaded. "I'm more embarrassed than hurt," she added desperately, almost sagging with relief when the man called Asad began guiding her toward the dark lobby.
She briefly considered the inadvisability of going into a deserted building with two unknown men, but when they entered the lobby, the other man switched on some small spotlights high in the ceiling, and most of Zoya's doubts were dispelled: he was middle-aged, dignified and wearing a suit and tie. Even in the dim light, he seemed more like a successful business executive than a thug. Zoya glanced at Asad, whose arm was still around her. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt. Judging from his shadowy profile, Zoya guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, and there was nothing about him, either, that struck her as being fearful.
Over his shoulder, Asad spoke to the other man. "Vivek, there should be a first-aid kit in one of the maintenance rooms. Find it and bring it up."
"Right," Vivek said, striding toward a glowing red Stairs sign.
Zoya glanced curiously around at the immense lobby. Everything was white travertine marble: the walls, the floors, and even the graceful pillars that soared two stories to the ceiling high above. Dozens of huge potted trees and lush green plants were lined up against one wall, apparently waiting for someone to move them to their proper positions on the vast lobby floor.
When they came near elevators, Asad reached around her and pressed the elevator button. The gleaming brass doors slid open and Zoya stepped into the brightly lit elevator. "I'm taking you up to a furnished office where you can sit down and rest until you feel steady enough to walk unaided," Asad explained.
Zoya flicked a smiling, grateful glance at him" and froze with shock. Standing beside her, his features clearly illuminated now by the improved light, was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Simultaneously, the elevator doors closed and Zoya jerked her gaze from his face. "Thanks," she said in an odd, croaking whisper, self-consciously pulling free of his supporting arm, "but I can stand alone."
He pressed the button for the eightieth floor, and Zoya quelled the feminine impulse to reach up and pat her hair into place"it would be too obvious, too vain. She wondered if she had a trace of lipstick left, or if her face was dirty, then she caught herself up short. For a sensible young woman, she was reacting very foolishly to what was, after all, nothing more than an attractive male face.
Had he really been that handsome, she wondered. She decided to look at him again, but secretly this time. Very casually, she raised her eyes to the light above the doors, which flashed the number of the passing floors. Cautiously, she let her gaze slide sideways... Asad was watching the flashing numbers, his head tipped slightly back, his face in profile.
Besides being even more handsome than she had thought, he was at least six feet two inches tall, broad shouldered and athletically muscular. His hair were beautifully cut and styled. Masculine strength was carved into every feature of his proud profile, from the straight dark brows to the arrogant jut of his chin and jaw. His mouth was firm, but sensually molded.
Zoya was still studying the mobile line of his lips when they quirked suddenly, as if amusement was lurking there. Her gaze shot up, and to her utter horror she discovered that his gray eyes had shifted to her.
Caught in the act of staring at him and practically drooling over him, Zoya said the first thing that came to mind. "I"I'm afraid of elevators," she improvised madly. "I try to concentrate on something else to, er, keep my mind off the height."
"That's very clever," he remarked, but his teasing tone made it obvious he was applauding not her sensible solution to her alleged fear of elevators, but rather her ingenuity in inventing such a plausible lie.
Zoya was torn between laughing at his dry observation and blushing because she hadn't fooled him in the least. She did neither, and instead carefully kept her eyes on the elevator doors until they opened on the eightieth floor.
"Wait here while I turn on the lights," Asad said. A few seconds later panels of ceiling lights flickered on, illuminating the entire floor, the left half of which appeared to be an immense reception area and four very large walnut-paneled offices. Asad put his hand beneath her elbow, and Zoya's feet sank into the emerald green carpeting as he guided her around the elevator wall to the opposite side.
This half of the floor contained another even larger reception area, with a circular receptionist's desk in the center. Zoya glimpsed a beautiful office opening off the right of the reception area. It was already equipped with built-in filing cabinets and a gleaming wood-and-chrome secretarial desk. Mentally she compared it to her own steel desk at her old part-time job. That one had been in the middle of a cluttered three-person office. It was hard to believe that so much spacious luxury was here for the benefit of a mere secretary.
When she voiced that thought aloud, Asad gave her a cocky look. "Skilled professional secretaries take great pride in being just that, and the salaries they're getting are soaring every year."
"I happen to be a secretary," Zoya told him as they walked across the reception area toward a pair of eight-foot-high rosewood doors. "I was across the street applying for a job at AAK Corp just before I, ah, met you." Asad threw open both doors, then stood back for Zoya to precede him while he studied her limping walk.
Zoya was so acutely aware of his penetrating gaze on her legs that her knees wobbled, and she was halfway across the room before she actually looked at her surroundings. What she saw stopped her short. "Ya Allah!" she breathed. "What is this, anyway?"
"This," Asad said with a smile at her awestruck expression, "is the president's office. It's one of the few offices that's completely finished."
Speechless, Zoya let her admiring gaze wander over the gigantic office. The long wall in front of her was glass from floor to ceiling, providing an uninterrupted view of nighttime Mumbai in all its fantastic, glittering splendor as it fanned out for endless miles in the distance below. "It's absolutely breathtaking," she said softly.
"I'll fix something for us to drink while Vivek is getting the first-aid kit," Asad said.
Zoya turned, watching dreamily as he walked over to a wall and pressed it with his fingertips. A huge panel glided silently aside, revealing a gorgeous mirrored bar lit by tiny concealed spotlights above it. Glass shelves held rows of Waterford crystal glasses and decanters.
When Zoya didn't reply to his offer of a drink, he glanced over his shoulder at her. She lifted her blue eyes from the recessed bar to his face and saw the expression he was trying to hide. Obviously, he was vastly amused by her thunderstruck reaction to this lavishness, and the knowledge made her suddenly realize something she had previously overlooked; while she was acutely aware of his male attraction, he seemed completely oblivious to her as a female.
After six years of enduring men's gaping admiration, their leers and stares, she had finally met a man whom she desperately wanted to impress, and nothing was happening. Absolutely nothing. A little puzzled and definitely disappointed, Zoya tried to shrug the matter aside. Beauty was said to be in the eyes of the beholder, and apparently Asad's eyes beheld nothing of interest when he looked at her. That wouldn't have been so awful if only he didn't find her so damned funny!
"If you'd like to clean up, there's a bathroom right there." Asad inclined his head toward the wall beside the bar.
"Where?" Zoya asked blankly, following the direction of his nod. "Walk straight ahead, and when you get to the wall, just press it."
His lips were twitching again, and Zoya gave him an exasperated look while she did as he'd said. When her fingertips touched the smooth rosewood, a panel clicked open to reveal a spacious bathroom, and she stepped inside.
"Here's the first-aid kit," the man called Vivek announced as he entered the suite just then. Zoya started to close the bathroom door but paused when she heard him add in a lowered voice, "Asad, as the corporation's attorney, I'm advising you that the girl ought to be seen by a physician tonight to prove that she isn't seriously injured. If you don't insist on it, some lawyer could claim she's been crippled by her fall and could sue the company for millions."
"Stop making such a big issue out of it," she heard Asad reply. "She's just a nice, innocent kid who got the hell scared out of her in a nasty fall. An ambulance ride would terrify her."
"All right," Vivek sighed. "I'm late for a meeting in Delhi, and I've got to leave. But for God's sake, don't offer her anything alcoholic to drink. Her parents could sue you for trying to seduce a minor, and""
Feeling both puzzled and insulted at being called an innocent frightened kid, Zoya quietly closed the door. Frowning, she turned to the mirror above the sink, then stifled a shriek of horrified laughter. Her face was covered with mud; her neat hair were half undone, wisps of hair were sticking out like scraggly spikes all over her head; and her dress was all messed up.
She looked, she thought with a hysterical giggle, exactly like a caricature of herself"like a funny, hopelessly dirty urchin in disheveled clothing.
And for some reason, it suddenly became important that she look vastly different when she walked out of this bathroom. Hastily she began cleaning off her soiled dress, gleefully anticipating the shock that was in store for Asad when she was cleaned up and presentable.
If her pulse quickened with excitement while she scrubbed her face and hands, she told herself it was only because she was looking forward to having the last laugh on him, and not because she longed for him to think she was attractive. But she had to hurry; if she spent too much time in here her transformation wouldn't be nearly so effective.
Once she was reasonably clean, she pulled the pins out of her hair and began vigorously brushing it, tugging the brush through the tangled strands with ruthless haste. When she was finished, it fell in a soft, shining mass that curled artlessly at her shoulders and back. Swiftly she applied peach lipstick, a touch of blusher, then stuffed everything into her purse and stepped from the mirror to survey her appearance. Her color was high and her eyes were sparkling with lively anticipation. Satisfied, she turned away from the mirror, picked up her purse and stepped out of the bathroom, closing the rosewood panel with a soft click.
Asad was standing at the mirrored bar, his back to her. Without turning he said, "I had to make a phone call, but I'll have these drinks ready in a moment. Did you find everything you needed in there?"
"Yes, I did, thank you," Zoya said, putting down her purse. Quietly she stood beside the long sofa, watching his swift, economical movements as he took two crystal glasses down from the shelf and pulled a tray of ice cubes from the compact refrigerator-freezer recessed into the bar. With each movement of his arms, the thin fabric of his white shirt tautened, emphasizing his broad, muscular shoulders and tapered back. Zoya let her gaze drift down the clean line of his narrow hips and long legs, outlined by the comfortably snug jeans he wore. When he spoke, Zoya started guiltily, her gaze flying to the back of his dark head.
"I'm afraid this bar isn't stocked with soft drinks or lemonade, Zoya, so I've fixed you a glass of water with ice."
Zoya suppressed a chuckle at the mention of water and demurely clasped her hands behind her back. Suspense and anticipation built inside her as he replaced the stopper in a crystal whiskey decanter, picked up a glass in each hand and turned.
He took two steps toward her and stopped cold.
His brows drew together as his narrowed gray eyes slid over the long hair that framed her face and fell in glorious abandon over her shoulders and back. His stunned gaze shifted to her face, noting her vivid turquoise eyes sparkling with humor beneath thick, curly lashes, her pert nose, finely sculpted cheeks and soft lips. Then it drifted downward over her full breasts, trim waist and long shapely legs.
Zoya had hoped to make him notice her as a woman, and he was certainly noticing her. Now she rather hoped he would say something nice. But he didn't.
Without a word he turned on his heel, strode over to the bar and dumped the contents of one of the glasses into the stainless steel bar sink. "What are you doing?" Zoya asked.
His voice was filled with amused irony. "Pouring some wine."
Zoya burst out laughing, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Just out of curiosity, how old are you?"
"Twenty-three."
"And you were applying for a secretarial position at AAK Corp"before you threw yourself at our feet tonight?" he prompted, adding a modest amount of wine in her glass.
"Yes."
He carried her glass to her and nodded toward the sofa. "Sit down"you shouldn't be standing on that ankle."
"It doesn't hurt, honestly," she protested, but she obediently sat down.
Asad remained standing in front of her, regarding her curiously. "Did AAK Corp offer you a position?" He was so tall that Zoya had to tip her head back in order to meet his gaze. "No."
"I'd like to have a look at your ankle," he said. Putting his drink on the glass coffee table, he crouched down and began unbuckling the thin strap of her sandal. The mere brush of his fingers against her ankle sent amazing jolts of electricity shooting up her leg, and she stiffened with the unexpected shock.
Fortunately, he seemed not to notice as his strong fingers carefully explored her calf, moving slowly down toward her ankle. "Are you a good secretary?"
"My former employer thought I was."
With his head still bent, he said, "Good secretaries are always in demand. AAK Corp's personnel office will probably call you eventually and offer you a job."
"I doubt it," Zoya said with an irrepressible smile. "I'm afraid Mr. Anand, the personnel manager, doesn't think I'm very bright," she explained.
Asad's head jerked up, his gaze moving with frank, masculine appreciation over her vivid features. "Zoya, I think you're as bright as a shiny new coin. Anand must be blind."
"Of course he is!" she teased, "Or else he'd never wear a yellow pant and red shirt to the office." Asad grinned. "Does he really?"
Zoya nodded, and for her the companionable moment became strangely charged with an unexplainable, deepening awareness. Now, as she smiled at him, she saw more than just an extremely handsome male. She saw a mild cynicism in his eyes that was tempered with warmth and humor; the hardbitten experience that was stamped on his strongly chiseled face. To Zoya it made him even more attractive. There was no denying the power of his sexual magnetism, either. It emanated from every rugged, self-assured inch of his body, pulling her to him.
"It doesn't feel swollen," he commented, bending his head toward her ankle again. "Does it hurt at all?"
"Very little. Not nearly as much as my dignity."
"In that case, by tomorrow your ankle and your dignity will probably be fine."
Still crouching, he cupped her heel in his left hand and reached over to pick up her sandal with his right.
Just as he was about to slip the sandal onto her foot, he glanced up at her and his lazy smile sent Zoya's pulse racing as he asked, "Isn't there some fairy tale about a man who searches for the woman whose foot fits into a glass slipper?"
She nodded, her eyes bright. "Cinderella."
"What happens to me if this slipper fits?"
"I turn you into a handsome frog," she quipped.
He laughed, a rich, wonderful sound as their gazes held, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes"a brief flame of sexual attraction that he abruptly doused. The companionable bantering was over. He buckled her sandal, then stood up. Picking up his drink, he drank it quickly and set the glass down on the coffee table. It was, Zoya sensed, an unwelcome signal that their time together was at an end. She watched him lean over, pick up the telephone on the far side of the coffee table and punch a four-digit number. "Sam," he said into the phone, "This is Asad. The young lady you were chasing as a trespasser has recovered from her fall. Would you bring the security car around to the front of the building and drive her to wherever she left her car? Right, I'll meet you down in front in five minutes."
Zoya's heart sank. Five minutes. And Asad wasn't even going to be the one who drove her to her car! She had an awful feeling that he wasn't going to ask how he could get in touch with her, either. That thought was so depressing that it totally eclipsed her embarrassment at having discovered that she had been fleeing from a security guard tonight. "Do you work for the company that built this high-rise?" she asked, trying to postpone their parting and discover something about him.
Asad glanced almost impatiently at his watch. "Yes, I do."
"Do you like construction work?"
"I enjoy building things," he answered briefly. "I'm an engineer."
Will you be sent somewhere else once this building is finished?"
"I'll spend most of my time here for the next few years," he said.
Zoya stood up and picked up her purse, her thoughts confused. Perhaps with sophisticated computers running everything from heating systems to elevators in the new high-rises, it was necessary to keep an engineer of some sort on staff. Not that it really mattered one way or another, she thought with an awful sense of foreboding. She probably wasn't going to see him again. "Well, thank you for everything. I hope the president doesn't discover that you raided his liquor cabinet."
Asad shot her a wry glance. "It's already been raided by all the janitors. It will have to be locked to stop that."
On the way down in the elevator, he seemed preoccupied and in a hurry. He probably already had a date tonight, Zoya thought glumly. With some beautiful woman"a model, at least, if she were to match his own striking good looks. Of course, he might be married"but he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and he didn't seem like a married man.
A white car with the words Global Industries Security Division had pulled up on the packed dirt in front of the building and was waiting, a uniformed security guard at the steering wheel. Asad walked her out to the car and held the door open while she slid into the passenger seat beside the guard. Using his body to block the chilly air from her, he leaned his forearm on the roof of the car and bent his head to speak to her through the narrow opening. "I know people at AAK Corp; I'll give someone a call and see if they can convince Mr. Anand to change his mind."
Zoya's spirits soared at this indication that he liked her enough to try to negotiate for her, but when she recalled the way she had deliberately failed her tests, she shook her head in genuine dismay. "Don't bother. He won't change his mind"I made a terrible impression on him. But thank you for offering."
Members Lounge
Mannat Har Khushi Paane Ki
Health and Fitness
47