shoulder for most of the way. It was a relief to have everything taken care of for her. Nikhil had even paid her hotel bill, refusing to look at her scribbled notes asking him how much she needed to pay him back.
‘We’ve reached my flat,’ Nikhil said gently as the cab pulled up in front of his apartment building.
Shweta woke up and groggily got out of the car. She was trying to help the driver get her suitcases out when Nikhil firmly steered her towards the lobby of the building. A teenage boy was waiting for them with Nikhil’s keys.
‘I’ve cleaned the flat and stocked the fridge with food,’ the boy said. ‘Take a look, and if you need anything else give me a call.’
‘Thanks, Krishna,’ Nikhil said. ‘Shweta, take the keys and go upstairs—the flat’s on the sixth floor, to the left of the lift. I’ll pay the driver and be up in a minute with your suitcases.’
It was only when she was in the lift without Nikhil’s supporting arm under her elbow that Shweta realised quite how ill she was feeling. Her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton-wool, and her knees had a distinct wobble in them. She only just about managed to get into the flat and collapse onto the sofa. When Nikhil came in a few minutes later, she was already fast asleep.
Nikhil stood looking at her for a few minutes. She looked very young and defenceless as she slept, with her long lashes fluttering slightly with every breath and her hair spread around her in absolute disarray. He wondered what he was doing, bringing her into his home. He’d had more than his fair share of female company in the years since he’d left home and struck out on his own. Except for one short, relatively serious relationship, all his women had made it clear that they wanted a good time and not much else. He’d told himself he liked it better that way—love was for wimps. Now, however, the feeling that was overcoming him was a perilous mixture of attraction, affection, and good old-fashioned lust—it was difficult to sort the three out in his head.
Shweta shifted in her sleep, almost rolling off the sofa, and Nikhil was by her side in an instant. Deciding that she’d be a lot more comfortable in bed, he picked her up, being very careful not to wake her, and took her into the bedroom. She nestled closer to him as he tried to put her down on the bed, her hands curling into the material of his shirt. Finally he lay down next to her, gently removing her hands only once she’d settled down into a deeper sleep. Then he tenderly kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
SIX
‘I feel perfectly healthy now,’ Shweta announced. ‘And you’re pampering me silly. I won’t know what to do the next time I fall ill.’
‘Call me,’ he said, and his lips curved into an absolutely heart-stopping smile. ‘No reason for you to look after yourself if I’m around.’
They were sitting across from each other at the breakfast table in his Delhi flat. It was five days since he’d come back from Greece and rescued her from the hotel, and he’d pulled out all the stops to make sure she’d got everything she needed to recuperate. She felt disloyal even thinking it, but Nikhil had been a lot more caring than her father or her aunt had ever been when she fell ill growing up. That was one of the disadvantages of being a doctor’s daughter—illnesses were treated in the most matter-of-fact and unsympathetic way possible, even if her father was eaten up with worry inside.
Shweta gave him a saucy wink. ‘If you promise to come over and look after me I don’t mind falling ill every weekend.’ Then, more seriously, she added, ‘I haven’t thanked you properly, have I? Other than Priya, I can’t imagine any of my other friends doing so much for me.’
‘They haven’t known you since you were four,’ Nikhil said. ‘And they haven’t spent their entire childhood being beaten up by you either.’
‘Spent their entire childhood...’ Shweta spluttered
‘We’ve reached my flat,’ Nikhil said gently as the cab pulled up in front of his apartment building.
Shweta woke up and groggily got out of the car. She was trying to help the driver get her suitcases out when Nikhil firmly steered her towards the lobby of the building. A teenage boy was waiting for them with Nikhil’s keys.
‘I’ve cleaned the flat and stocked the fridge with food,’ the boy said. ‘Take a look, and if you need anything else give me a call.’
‘Thanks, Krishna,’ Nikhil said. ‘Shweta, take the keys and go upstairs—the flat’s on the sixth floor, to the left of the lift. I’ll pay the driver and be up in a minute with your suitcases.’
It was only when she was in the lift without Nikhil’s supporting arm under her elbow that Shweta realised quite how ill she was feeling. Her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton-wool, and her knees had a distinct wobble in them. She only just about managed to get into the flat and collapse onto the sofa. When Nikhil came in a few minutes later, she was already fast asleep.
Nikhil stood looking at her for a few minutes. She looked very young and defenceless as she slept, with her long lashes fluttering slightly with every breath and her hair spread around her in absolute disarray. He wondered what he was doing, bringing her into his home. He’d had more than his fair share of female company in the years since he’d left home and struck out on his own. Except for one short, relatively serious relationship, all his women had made it clear that they wanted a good time and not much else. He’d told himself he liked it better that way—love was for wimps. Now, however, the feeling that was overcoming him was a perilous mixture of attraction, affection, and good old-fashioned lust—it was difficult to sort the three out in his head.
Shweta shifted in her sleep, almost rolling off the sofa, and Nikhil was by her side in an instant. Deciding that she’d be a lot more comfortable in bed, he picked her up, being very careful not to wake her, and took her into the bedroom. She nestled closer to him as he tried to put her down on the bed, her hands curling into the material of his shirt. Finally he lay down next to her, gently removing her hands only once she’d settled down into a deeper sleep. Then he tenderly kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
SIX
‘I feel perfectly healthy now,’ Shweta announced. ‘And you’re pampering me silly. I won’t know what to do the next time I fall ill.’
‘Call me,’ he said, and his lips curved into an absolutely heart-stopping smile. ‘No reason for you to look after yourself if I’m around.’
They were sitting across from each other at the breakfast table in his Delhi flat. It was five days since he’d come back from Greece and rescued her from the hotel, and he’d pulled out all the stops to make sure she’d got everything she needed to recuperate. She felt disloyal even thinking it, but Nikhil had been a lot more caring than her father or her aunt had ever been when she fell ill growing up. That was one of the disadvantages of being a doctor’s daughter—illnesses were treated in the most matter-of-fact and unsympathetic way possible, even if her father was eaten up with worry inside.
Shweta gave him a saucy wink. ‘If you promise to come over and look after me I don’t mind falling ill every weekend.’ Then, more seriously, she added, ‘I haven’t thanked you properly, have I? Other than Priya, I can’t imagine any of my other friends doing so much for me.’
‘They haven’t known you since you were four,’ Nikhil said. ‘And they haven’t spent their entire childhood being beaten up by you either.’
‘Spent their entire childhood...’ Shweta spluttered
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