~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 5: Affecting
Her, Affecting Him
~*~*~*~*~*~
She
had just had an extremely busy day, and she wanted so badly to just lay down
and veg out in front of the TV for a while. Putting her arms over her head, she
did a full-body stretch. "Hmm," she moaned, her stiff muscles finally
relaxing after a full day of being tense due to work-related stress.
She
smiled slowly as an idea popped into her head. Why not . . . ? Half an hour
later, she was standing in her best set of casual clothes, her hair carefully
stylized. It was time to put her plan into action. Looking to the left and then
to the right, she noted that the coast was clear. Taking a quick step forward, she smiled in
satisfaction, almost tasting her successful escape.
"Seher
Ahmed Khan, just where do you think you're going?!" a voice called out to
her from the direction of the kitchen. "What is the world coming to? My
daughter comes home and doesn't even stop by to say 'salaam' to her
mother?" Zoya sighed dramatically. "Anyways, we're having dinner in
an hour. You can't go anywhere! I'm cooking!"Zoya revealed chirpily.
Darn!
Double whammy. Mom was cooking, and she was stopping her from going over to the
Ibrahim Mansion and get her flirt on. She growled softly to herself, a scowl appearing
on her face. She needed to spend some time with Aahil Raza Ibrahim. She hadn't
seen him in over a week, having missed out on the trip next door that her
mother had made with Sanam.
Lucky girl,' she thought for the
umpteenth time. Who would've known that the Nawab of Bhopal was moving in next
door to the Khans? Lucky us.
She
hadn't gotten much beyond texting him "Hi" and "How's it going" a few
times. How many times could a girl really text someone without seeming pushy? She
exhaled loudly in frustration. The guy seemed really shy for being a Nawab. You'd
think he would have gotten out and about and have some experience. A hint of a
smile played across her lips, as she realized how much she liked that shyness.
The
sound of a throat clearing brought her back down to earth.
"Do
you have eyes in the back of your head, mom?" Seher asked in a disgruntled
tone, turning around to frown at her mother.
"Yep,
right smack dab in the middle," Zoya tossed back with a smile.
"I'm
going out to get some milk," Seher lied blithely.
"We
have enough milk, missy. And you're going to the store in your favorite jeans
and blouse?" Zoya asked skeptically. "Ha! Try again."
"I
don't know why it matters, mother. Why am I even lying to you?" Seher whined.
"Why
are you?" Zoya asked in interest, crossing her arms across her chest and
leaning against the doorway. "I thought I was your partner in crime?"
"I'm
going next door," Seher admitted in a rush.
Zoya's
eyes brightened at that revelation. "Really?"
Seher
nodded bashfully.
"To
see the boys?"
Seher
nodded again, wincing at him being referred to as a boy. He was all man!
"Which
one?" Zoya shot at her.
"Which
one what?" Seher shot back at her mother. "Mom, you know which one! Stop
teasing me," she suddenly said, moving over to stand next to her mother to tug
at her arm.
"You're
right. I'm just joking. Go! Go!" Zoya urged, making a shooing motion with her free
hand.
Seher
chuckled at the delighted smile on her mother's face and leaned in to plant a
big kiss on her mother's cheek. "Thanks mom!" she called out, racing
out the door, confidence bubbling inside of her.
"What
was that, Zoya?" Dilshad asked in a stern voice from behind her. "You just sent
our girl over to meet some man?"
"Ammi,"
Zoya protested, "They're old enough. You know Seher is fun-loving like me. She's
had crushes before, but never acted on them that seriously. There are very few
things that she actually does take seriously. Her career is one. And it looks
like she may have found the other. Don't you think we should help her find out whether
this boy might be the one?"
Dilshad
smiled and came up to hug Zoya. "I know," she murmured unhappily. "It's
just that I don't want them to grow up."
"I
think they grew up a while ago, Ammi," Zoya replied gently. "They just let us
pretend they were still our baby girls."
.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Seher
moved up to the doorway, reaching up a finger to ring the bell. It was then
that she noticed that the door was already open. Sticking her head in, she
called out a soft hello.
There
was no answer.
Walking
in, not as confident now as she had been minutes ago, she called out a
hesitant, "Hello! Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?"
She
heard a step behind her. Whirling around, her widening eyes caught the figure coming
to stand in front of her.
"Oh."
It was a soft exhalation of sound.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Ammi!"
Sanam said indignantly, coming in from the garden. Her face was covered with a
thundercloud of dissatisfaction. She rubbed furiously at her cheeks, where dirt
had landed while she had been gardening outside. Abu liked to tease her that gardening
was just an excuse for her to play in the dirt, just the way she used to when
she was a child. She was in no mood to be teased today, she thought, rubbing
furiously at the dirt.
"What
is it, beta?" Zoya asked, wiping her
hands on the apron tied around her waist.
"Is
Seher over at the Ibrahim Mansion?" she fairly growled the question. "Raggu
said he saw her headed that way. When did she even get home, that she's now sneaking
over there?"
"Ye-es,"
Zoya answered, surprised by the anger on her daughter's face. Sanam was never
this emotional about anything. 'Interesting,' she thought to herself.
"Why?"
Sanam fairly screamed at her mother, almost stomping her foot like a two-year-old.
"Sanam
what does it matter?" Zoya asked, wondering what was going on with her normally
quiet and rational daughter. "Your sister wanted to go over and see the Nawab.
What's wrong with that?"
"What's
wrong with that?" Sanam yelped incredulously. "That's a bachelor's
house!" Sanam lectured her mother furiously.
"Since
when did you become so old-fashioned?" Zoya asked in exasperation. "Don't
be such a prude, Sanam!"
"She
has my face, Ammi," Sanam finally muttered after a moment's silence. She
gulped, her throat dry at the thoughts running through her head. "What if
. . ."
"What
if the great Rehan thinks that she's you and flirting with the Nawab instead of
him?" Zoya murmured, finally understanding her daughter's reasoning.
Sanam
hung her head in shame, but nodded nonetheless.
"How
could he not know the difference between you two?" Zoya asked, letting romance
beat out any rational thought.
"He
walked away, mom, when we were over there," Sanam got out past the knot in
her throat, her hands curling into fists. "Remember, when the Nawab was
talking to me? It was just about when he
touched my hand. Rehan didn't know what was going on! He didn't know that his
friend thought I was Seher! Although, how the man missed you calling me by
name, I don't know," Sanam muttered
balefully, a pout appearing on her lips.
"But
honey, if you're meant to be, of course Rehan will know who you are. And of course
Aahil will know who his sanam
is," she finished with a quip.
"Ammi!"
"I'm
just joking!" Zoya said quickly. "Honey, you know your name means
beloved. Don't take everything so seriously," she admonished her daughter.
"They will know their beloveds, no matter how alike you look. If a man
doesn't know you . . . can't tell the difference between the two of you, that
means you don't affect him. You don't affect his mind, his heart or his body."
She blushed softly as she said those words. "If you don't affect him in
any way . . . is he really meant for you?"
"Ammi,
this is not a romance novel! We can't expect total strangers to know the
difference between the two of us from the very first meeting. In the time it
takes for someone normal to tell us apart, what if . . .," her voice
trailed off, as she was unable to give voice to her fears. "I'm going over
there," Sanam said abruptly. "Someone has to stop Seher from
embarrassing herself!"
Zoya's
eyes widened. "Sanam, wait!"
Ignoring
her mother's calls, Sanam left the house with determined steps. What had her
mom been thinking? How could she just let Seher go over there and make a fool out
of the both of them?
She
stopped outside the doors of Ibrahim mansion, those hateful thoughts still running
through her head. Crossing her arms across her chest, she scrunched in on
herself. Why was she thinking this way about her own sister . . . her twin sister,
who was a part of her very soul? Her chest heaved frantically, as she dealt
with her fears.
Leaning
against the front doors of his home, she centered herself, trying to find the
emotional calm she was so used to. She had never been one of those teenagers
that had had emotional ups and downs . . . she had only had one focus. To
become an attorney. To become a protector of the weak.
So
what was the reason for this inner turmoil? What was the reason that her heart
wouldn't be soothed? She rubbed at the spot above her heart. She wasn't ashamed
of Seher! Seher was flighty sometimes and had a naughty streak, but she was all
good with no hints of malice. Then, why was she . . . ?
A
flash of chocolaty brown eyes staring into hers. A musky, addictive scent
enfolding her in its sensual grip. A pair of warm, strong arms enclosing her
body, his warmth stealing into her entire being.
It
was him.
His
breath wafting across her lips. His cheek brushing against hers. Her lips pressing
against that golden, brown throat. She had felt the movement of him swallowing
under her lips, that moment of intimacy still with her to this day.
He
was the reason.
His
presence . . . his entire being had taken over her senses so completely that
she had spent the past week obsessing over him. He had been with her every
second of her week off. She couldn't believe that she'd given the man who had
impacted her life to such a degree almost no thoughts . . . at least nothing
compared to how many times she had thought about this stranger.
She
put her hands up to her forehead, trying to massage the turmoil away. Sanam
didn't know how to deal with these feelings regarding a man . . . any man. She
had ruthlessly cut any such thoughts from her conscious mind growing up. She
had never even had a crush as a young girl. Ammi said that she was just like
Abu in these matters. Emotionally stunted. She couldn't de--
Sanam
squawked loudly when the door at her back suddenly burst open, and she landed
in a pair of strong arms. 'Not again,'
she moaned to herself. Had she turned into a total klutz since that man had
entered her life?!
"Haye Allah! What is this?" Lateef
fairly shouted in her ear.
She
winced at the high volume and quickly pushed herself away. "I'm sorry!"
she yelped, staring at the other woman.
"And just what were you doing leaning against our door?" Lateef asked
suspiciously. "Wait a minute, you . . ."
Sanam's
heart began to pound. She wondered frantically if Lateef had realized her
feelings for Rehan. Were they that apparent?
"What
are you doing outside? Didn't I just see you talking to . . .?" Lateef's
brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Oh,
that wasn't me," Sanam said immediately. "That was my twin sister,
Seher."
"Hmph.
Whatever. You two both look really alike. Well, what can I do for you?"
Lateef asked impatiently.
Sanam
cleared her throat and forced herself to ask the right question. "Where is
Mr. Ibrahim? I need to see him." While she really wanted to ask where Rehan
Imran Qureshi was, it was Mr. Ibrahim who Seher had come to see. It would be
with him that she would find her erstwhile twin.
"Oh,
Laad Saab?" Lateef said, with a
blushing smile. "He's swimming right now." She paused for a moment to
sigh dreamily. "Oh, that reminds me. I have to get him some juice. He'll
be parched after his swim. Come in if you want to." She left, saying those
dismissive words.
Sanam
walked hesitantly into the home, her eyes caught by the pictures that now
graced the interior walls. Pictures of family. Of two little girls . . . seemingly
twins like her and Seher. She remembered that Ammi had said something about the
Nawab having sisters. Her eyes moved along, seeing pictures of Rehan at his
graduation with the Nawab standing tall next to him. The two had their arms
around each other's shoulders and were smiling happily. One picture of the
Nawab as a younger child, although that picture looked a bit ratty. And multiple
pictures of Rehan . . . always standing with a sullen expression on his face
between those two little, twin girls. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. Exactly
how long had the Nawab and Rehan known each other?
Shaking
her head, she walked deeper into the home, making her way into the living room.
Flowers were placed in multiple vases around the room, giving the room some
badly needed color. Colorful throws graced
the backs of the sofas and chairs.
She
heard the soft sound of a splash. Turning her head, she followed the sound to
the pool area. But she couldn't see anyone else near the pool. Where was Seher?
Moving
closer, she looked at the gliding figure under the water. Broad shoulders . . .
strong arms . . . golden, brown skin. Her eyes widening in surprise, she
realized that it was not the Nawab she was looking at, but the man she had
spent the past week thinking about.
Without
a second thought, she ducked behind the pillar, her heart beating double-time.
What the hell? What was she doing? Why was she hiding behind a pillar rather
than talking to him? Wouldn't that make it worse if he found her here?
Carefully
peeking around the pillar, she saw him pull himself out of the pool, reaching
his arms above his head for a stretch. Stray droplets fell from his body,
spraying the area around him. She bit her lip, her eyes moving over that
breathtaking expanse. Turning, he grabbed a towel to dry himself off. Her eyes traced
the play of muscles in that back, at the water dripping down . . . over that
glistening skin . . . to the wet shorts, closely molded to his . . .
Her
fingers curled into fists, as she fought the urge to touch. She gulped, biting
her lip at the dirty thoughts running through her mind. Oh, how she wanted to trace
those drops of water, touching that skin. She wanted to trace them with her
lips . . . to taste him, taking his taste deep inside of herself so that she
could keep him there forever.
She
closed her eyes in embarrassment, a blush covering her cheeks. "Ya Allah, what is wrong with me? He's a
near stranger! How can I be thinking such thoughts about him? But why does it
feel like I have some sort of connection to him? Why? Why do I have this strong
urge to touch . . . taste? Am I making up for lost time? This can't be normal,"
she whispered to herself.
His
hands briskly moved the towel over his body, wiping those tempting drops away,
leaving him dry . . . but still oh so tempting. He began to rub oil over his
body, his hands smoothing the oil over his chest . . . his six-pack . . . and
down under the waistband of his swimming shorts.
"Oh
my God," Sanam moaned helplessly, her eyes glued to those hands.
"Haye Allah!" a voice breathed out
by her side.
Sanam
turned her head, jumping slightly to see Lateef standing there.
Lateef
looked at her and then muttered a quick "hmph."
"Lateef!"
Rehan suddenly roared, making the two of them jump. "Where's my juice? Late--."
His voice broke off upon seeing Lateef standing there with the tray. "What
are you doing there? Is something wrong?"
Sanam
silently shook her head at Lateef, silently begging the servant to keep quiet
about her presence.
Lateef
shook her head at Sanam and raced forward. "It's nothing, Aa. . .Baba.
Here's your juice. I just freshly made it."
"Thank
you," he muttered, taking a quick swallow.
Sanam
swiftly sidled away, thanking God that her presence had not been noted by anyone.
And by anyone, she really meant him. Exhaling loudly, she quickly moved back
towards the door, unable to deal with anyone else right now. Seher would have
to make sure she didn't embarrass the two of them. She'd done enough today to
endanger their reputations.
As
she was heading down the hallway, she heard the sounds of voices from another
room. That was Seher's voice! Following her sister's voice to the dining area,
she saw Seher and the Nawab at the dining room table, having tea. While they might
have been talking a moment ago, they were now silently gazing at each other.
Seher was actually blushing.
The
dying sun's rays came into the room from the sole window behind them, enclosing
them in a glow of soft light. The curtain of that sole window fluttered
slightly in the wind. The room itself was big . . . the table big enough to
seat twelve. And in that room, the two sat close together at the head of the
table, immersed in each other.
Sanam
sighed regretfully. Her sister would never have embarrassed her. How could she
have thought such a thing? Sanam cleared her throat delicately, breaking their
enchantment with each other. "I'm sorry to intrude," Sanam said,
coming over to the couple. "I was looking for Seher."
"Oh,
you didn't intrude," the Nawab protested, quickly getting up. Pulling out
a chair, he gestured for Sanam to take seat across the table from Seher. Going
back to the head of the table, he offered to pour Sanam some tea. Sanam nodded her
thanks, gratefully excepting the cup to calm her nerves.
Seher
was staring at Sanam, seeming to signal something with her eyes.
Sanam
shook her head, unable to understand.
Reaching
up a hand, Seher touched her cheek.
Sanam
shook her head at her weird twin and turned towards Aahil.
Aahil
cleared his throat. "I apologize for mistaking you for your sister on the
last visit," he proffered.
"We
didn't even get a chance to really clear the confusion. Ammi hustled us out of
there when Lateef dropped even more food on her while trying to clean up the
juice," Sanam protested. "Why would you worry about it?"
"Your
sister was reading me the riot act about it," Aahil explained wryly. "In
fact, she has been doing so for the past half hour," he continued
ruefully.
"Well!
How do I not scold you?" Seher protested. "You were cold to me all
this week because my sister was clearly uncomfortable around you during that
visit. I thought I had made enough of an impression on you that you would have
known. But you thought I was Sanam! Please."
"I
did know . . . or I thought I did," Aahil admitted, gazing into Seher's
eyes entreatingly. "That night . . .," he shook his head. "The
more I thought about it, the more I saw you hadn't wanted to talk to me. You seemed
more interested in . . . forget it. I didn't want to presume."
Seher
smiled at him, shaking her head at how cute he was. "Aahil, if a woman
text messages you multiple times, then take the hint."
"You
both are completely different,"
the Nawab continued, gazing at the two of them. " Your dear sister has
pointed out to me that I better not make that mistake again." He smiled at
Seher, almost caressing her with his eyes.
Seher
smiled cheekily in response, but then looked down to play with her cup of tea.
Sanam
shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling like an intruder. What had she been
thinking? Her sister might be serious about a man for the first time in her
life, and Sanam had only been focused on herself and how Seher's behavior would
affect her. How selfish could she have been?
"Mom
said your family had the summer house next door to our uncle when we were
kids," Seher suddenly mentioned, naming the town near which the summer
houses had been located.
Sanam's
eyes widened. She tried to kick at Seher's foot under the table, but the darn
table was too big!
"What?"
Aahil asked in confusion.
"Yeah,
you know. It was that big converted farm house about 50 miles in that
direction," Seher reminded him, pointing in the entirely wrong direction.
"Our uncle, Imran Qureshi, made his home there about 22 years ago after
some . . . events. He lived there with my cousin, Haya, so we would visit quite
often. You must have met her. She was here last time with mom and Sanam."
Aahil's
eyes had widened at those words, his face paling. He swallowed and said,
"I'm not sure . . ."
"You
remember that house, Aahil," a husky, male voice called out from the
dining room entrance. "You told me many stories about it."
Sanam
looked at the man standing across the room, her eyes hopelessly entranced by
him. He was fully dressed now. Darn it. In jeans and a white shirt with black
buttons. The collar and the first few buttons were open, allowing her eyes to
feast on all of that bare skin. His hair was still wet though, a reminder of
the delectable view she had just enjoyed minutes ago.
She
found it hard to look away, but a small part of her mind found enough
rationality to wonder at the stories the Nawab would have told his friend about
that house.
"Oh!
Oh yes, we were rarely there," the Nawab murmured. "That's why I was
finding it hard to remember."
Sanam
blinked at that statement. Hadn't Ammi mentioned the Ibrahims would come down
there multiple times a year? Then, why . . . She exhaled softly when she
realized. Why would he want to mention that place to complete strangers?
Especially when he had been so badly abused there. She gazed at the Nawab with
compassion. It did her heart good to realize that he had escaped that abuse
with nary a mark on his psyche. That smile on his face held nothing of what she
usually saw in the faces of domestic violence survivors.
And
then all thoughts fled, as that man came towards the table. Her heart began to
beat rapidly. Where would he sit? Who would he choose? Her mouth fell open
slightly, when he came around the table and sat next to her, his movements
causing his leg to brush against hers. As he reached for the teapot, his arm
brushed hers. Moments ago that arm . . . all of him really, had been glistening
wet.
She
closed her eyes, her mind now focusing only on the fact that he had sat next to
her. He must somehow know that she was Sanam! All rational thought had fled her
mind, her world view taking on the haze of rainbows and romance. Her heart was
bursting with joy, translating into the smile that grew on her face.
"So,
twins, huh?" he said casually, turning to gaze at Sanam with an unexpected
smile.
Sanam
nodded, smiling back helplessly.
"Your
sister gave me quite a surprise when she came in this afternoon," he
revealed.
Her
smile fell away, all of the joy draining away. Her fingers curled into fists,
and she quickly put them in her lap. Of course. Seher had been here for an hour.
What had made her think that this man hadn't already seen her sister . . .
hadn't already talked to her? Seher would have told him immediately who she
was, just like Sanam had tried to do with the Nawab on that last visit. There
was nothing meaningful about him sitting next to her. He hadn't known that
Sanam was Sanam. He'd only known that she wasn't Seher. She bit her bottom lip,
unhappiness growing inside of her.
Aahil
gazed at the unhappy look on Sanam's face, wondering at the reason for that cloudy
expression. He stared intently when his attention finally caught something else
on that beautiful face. "I'm sorry. I can't ignore it," he said
suddenly, pulling out a handkerchief and pouring some water onto it from a nearby
glass. "I don't think you'd want me to, either, when my silence would mean
you'd walk around like that for who knows how much longer."
Sanam
blinked at his behavior, wondering what he was doing.
Reaching
out, he touched her cheek, gently brushing at it with the handkerchief.
"You had some dirt on your cheeks," he murmured in explanation,
turning her face with a finger to clean the other cheek.
Sanam
gasped in embarrassment, quickly closing her eyes. Snagging the handkerchief
from his hand, she scrubbed at her cheeks. She turned to glare at Seher,
shooting daggers at her twin. 'Why didn't
you tell me?' she yelled at her silently.
'I was trying to signal. You didn't
understand!' Seher
wiggled her eyebrows at her, the message clear.
'You couldn't open your mouth?' Sanam protested
with her eyes.
'I was about to, but he showed up!' Seher said with a frustrated grimace.
God,
here she was in her oldest shalwar kameez,
clothes clearly used for household chores, sweaty from gardening and now with
dirt on her face! What a picture she must make. In the three times they had
seen each other, she had looked utterly normal, even slovenly today, for two of
those times.
"I
hear you're a lawyer," he noted after she was done cleaning her face, her
eyes resolutely downcast. "We didn't get a chance to talk at the gala.
Your sister said that you are actually an attorney for the non-profit that was
in charge of the festivities."
Sanam
nodded, pushing away slightly from the table to put some distance between the
two of them. "I just passed the exam a few months ago. It was my first
assignment helping to prepare for that gala."
Her
mind wasn't 100% on that conversation. Ammi had said. . . If a man doesn't know you . . . can't tell the difference between the
two of you, that means you don't affect him. You don't affect his mind, his heart
or his body. If you don't affect him
in any way . . . is he really meant for you?
Seher
had told him. Seher had had to tell him. Because, like the Nawab, he hadn't
known the difference. Her shoulders slumped. Why was she making such a big deal
out of this? 'But . . . he's supposed to
know me. He's supposed to know who I am,' she thought to herself,
irrationally disappointed. 'I would have
known.'
"I
specialized in business law so that I could work with Aahil and help him with
the Nawab's properties and corporate interests. And what do you do at
LSB?" he moved slightly, his thigh lightly touching hers before moving
away.
She
flinched at the contact. Her mind strived to deal with her irrational feelings.
Why was she expecting so much. They'd seen each other three times . . . but
then . . . why did it feel like it had been more than that? Despite how hard
she tried to convince herself . . . her heart cried out one thing . . . he was
supposed to know me.
"I
work with domestic violence survivors, helping them to get the help they need
to escape their lives of abuse," she said softly. She was too immersed in
her own thoughts to notice him stiffening beside her.
There
was a moment of silence, as two of the people at that table dealt with that
disclosure. Sanam was too immersed in her own internal drama to notice the
brittle silence that had fallen over the group. 'Doesn't he feel anything special around me? Don't his heartbeats tell
him who I am? I can feel his heat from here, but he feels nothing. My hands
won't stop trembling, the need to touch him is so strong, but I don't affect
him at all.'
"Oh,
Sanam," Seher broke in.
Sanam
looked up questioningly, raising her chin in silent question.
"I
didn't even have to tell Rehan that I wasn't you," she revealed, slanting
a speaking glance at the Nawab at her elbow. "He just knew."
"Hey!"
the Nawab protested to Seher. "I didn't know you two were twins. Cut me
some slack!"
"Excuses.
Excuses," Seher said archly. "But Rehan knew immediately."
.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
She heard a step behind her. Whirling
around, her widening eyes caught the figure coming to stand in front of her.
"Oh." It was a soft exhalation of sound.
"Rehan!" Seher said, frantically looking around for her prey . . . um, the Nawab."You're here."
She blinked innocently up at him.
She looked at him, confused, when he
abruptly stepped back, his face stiffening almost imperceptibly. "Hmm. What
are you doing here?"he asked abruptly, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Well, I just came to pick up the
dishes we dropped off last week," Seher murmured distractedly, grabbing
onto that excuse for her presence here. Why had she been so confident when she
traipsed over? Why couldn't her addled brain think of any reason besides the
dishes that the others had brought over? Oh my God, what if he thought she was
Sanam?! She didn't want to do that to her sister. Especially not with this man.
Opening her mouth, she was ready to confess all and throw herself at his mercy.
Although, her heart did cringe about having to admit her actual reason for
coming over.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.
"I thought . . ." His arms fell to his sides.
She looked up, distracted from her own
internal argument.
"I don't think we've been
introduced. You are . . .?"
A big smile grew across her face, revealing
her intense relief. "I'm Seher Ahmed Khan. Sanam's twin sister."
"So, twins, huh?" A smile grew
across his face.
.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sanam
turned to gaze at the man next to her, her eyes meeting his with a look of
chagrin.
He
wondered at that. Why was she . . .?
She
turned away, a blush appearing in her cheeks once more. Her hands continued to tremble,
so much so that she dropped his handkerchief on the floor. "Shoot,"
she softly murmured, reaching down to grab it.
Her
hand was caught in his, as he leaned down, as well.
Her
eyes rose to meet his, startled at that contact. He was so warm, his heat invading her entire
being from that point of contact. A feeling of lethargy was spreading through
her limbs; it was as if she was unable to move . . . to pull away from him.
He
stared into her eyes, his lips inches away from hers. Their breaths mingled . .
. their faces so close . . . close enough to kiss. Her lips fell open in
response to his proximity, the breath leaving her body with a quiet gasp.
His
gaze was smoldering, a small smile playing on those sexy lips.
She
wanted to touch. The handkerchief fell out of her hand, but his grasp did not
loosen. His fingers gripped hers tightly; it felt for a moment as if he was
threading his fingers through hers, but he suddenly let go.
Sanam
slowly straightened, the handkerchief lying forgotten on the floor. Staring at
his profile, she wondered at his behavior.
He
was deliberately looking away, his attention focused completely on Seher and his
friend now.
His
eyes had burned with the fire inside, speaking of his own need.
She
wondered what her own eyes had revealed to him? She blew out a breath, trying
to cool down her cheeks. And then a smile began to grow on her face once more.
She
did affect him. Mind, heart and body.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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Chapter 06 - Knowing Her, Knowing Him : Part I and Part II
A/N: Chapter 5 for your reading pleasure. Thank you everyone for leaving such wonderful comments the last time around. As always, comments are very encouraging, and the more I see, the faster I'll update. 😛 So, do let me know what you thought of this chapter.
Edited by darkice7_12 - 8 years ago
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