Page 6 of Driven By Desire
K rish didn’t have an option but to follow the older man since he’d all but kidnapped his sister.
Ignoring the stiff figure next to him, he reached the cottage and waited impatiently for her to enter first. Putting his hand out in time to stop the door from slamming shut and clipping him in the face, he tightened his tenuous hold on his temper.
By the time he entered the drawing room, his sister was slurping up dessert and chatting animatedly with Mr. Sheridan while Max stalked off through a door to what he presumed was a bedroom.
Interrupting the intense conversation on the merits of chocolate over butterscotch, Krish said, “Sir, I’m sorry but this is not helping. This deal is obviously not going to happen.”
“Why is that so obvious?”
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Krish muttered, “She’s a child.”
“Hardly.” Amusement permeating his voice, her father said, “She’s 24 and age doesn’t preclude talent.”
“It does preclude experience.”
“I have plenty of experience.” She’d changed into skinny jeans that clung to her like it was cutting off the circulation in her legs and a red, overlarge sweatshirt that slipped off one shoulder.
Shoving the sleeves back in a gesture ripe with temper, she strode in and took the seat across from him.
“I have lived and breathed cars, vintage in particular, since I was ten years old. I don’t claim to know everything but what I don’t know I can find out. ”
“Did you know you have grease on your face?” It was a cheap shot but it helped him feel better about his ridiculous reaction to the sight of that smooth, bare shoulder.
To her credit, she didn’t react beyond a slight flush that crept up her cheeks. “I’m a mechanic. On any given day, I’m more likely to be covered in grease than in perfume.”
“Would either of you like to tell me what the source of all this animosity is?”
When there was only silence, he wiggled his eyebrows at Pooja making her laugh. “Okay then. How did you hear of us, Mr. Mehra?”
Flushing slightly under that steady gaze, Krish replied, “A friend of mine, a vintage car enthusiast, referred me. He’d read about Sheridan’s and their various high profile projects in an automobile magazine. I believe you were the cover story.”
“ We were.” The other man corrected. “You should read the article someday. It will allay all your fears. I’ve spent more than thirty years in this field and I certainly have the experience to go with the gray hair.
In those thirty years, I’ve acquired a certain reputation when it comes to cars.
It’s that reputation that brought you to my doorstep today. ”
After a moment’s silence, he leaned forward and looked directly at Krish.
“I would stake my reputation on the fact that when it comes to restoring your MG, you couldn’t do better than my daughter.
She has talent, skill and the experience to do not just a competent job but a stellar one.
I don’t speak as her father but as her mentor. ”
“That is the last I have to say on the topic. You’re welcome to make your decision, one way or the other. As you so kindly pointed out, it is your money.”
Before Krish could say anything, he stood up. “I’m going to get you both some caramel custard. Play nice while I’m gone.”
In the silence that fell, he wondered how long it would be before he could politely excuse himself.
He knew his reaction might look irrational to them but there was no way he was entrusting his father’s pride and joy to a juvenile, irresponsible tomboy who thought climbing trees was a talent!
The car meant too much to him to even contemplate trusting someone like her with it.
Squashing the memory of her kindness at the hospital, kindness didn’t fix cars, he fixed his gaze on the door leading to the kitchen willing her father to come back quickly.
“I like your hair.” Pooja’s soft comment had his head whipping around. It was rare for his sister to start a conversation nowadays. Usually she communicated via grunts and glares.
“Thank you.” Smiling, Max leaned forward, “Yours is lovely too.”
“It’s horribly short.” Fingering the strands that skimmed her shoulders in a blunt cut that had cost Krish an easy grand at the fancy salon he took her to, she shrugged, “I wanted to grow my hair but he wouldn’t let me.” Cue the glare. He’d been missing it there for a moment.
Before he could respond, Max answered, “I love your style. It’s Parisian chic, didn’t you know?”
The glare disappearing as Pooja turned back to her wide eyed, she continued, “All the top actresses have had that hair cut at one point or the other because it’s so fashionable.
” Ticking the names off one finger, she said, “Preity Zinta, Priyanka Chopra, Bipasha Basu, Deepika Padukone, and even Jennifer Aniston who I think is gorgeous, by the way.”
“Me too.” Pooja chimed in enthusiastically.
Raising his eyebrows, Krish watched the two interact.
He doubted the brat had any clue who Jennifer Aniston was.
Absently accepting the bowl Mr. Sheridan gave him, he let their conversation swirl around him.
As he ate, he watched his sister relax, smile and chatter like she used to.
She was examining Max’s earrings at the moment.
Shaped like a fairy in mid-flight, the earring was handed over for a trial and Pooja bounced over to a tiny mirror on the wall to admire herself.
A tiny smile played over Max’s lips as she spooned up another bite of caramel custard and watched Pooja preen.
She wasn’t beautiful or even sexy but there was something about her that drew the eye.
His eye. He couldn’t stop looking at her.
At the bright vitality of her eyes, the affectionate grin, the casual warmth she showed his sister.
It all made for a very attractive picture.
Attractive? Was he losing his mind? He was sitting in a stranger’s home ogling a girl, eight years his junior who was also quite possibly his younger brother’s latest arm candy. Putting his empty bowl down, he cleared his throat. “We should leave. It’s getting late.”
Feeling like the worst kind of scum when Pooja’s smile dimmed, he stood and held out his hand for her to hold. Sighing when she refused to take it, he let it fall back by his side and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Sheridan.”
“Please call me Brian.”
“Brian.” He acknowledged. “I hope we meet again someday.”
“I have a feeling we will.”
“We could if you hire Max.”
“I’m sorry?” Looking down, he saw Pooja slip her tiny hand into Max’s slender one.
Squaring her shoulders defiantly, she eyed him challengingly.
She would rather hold a stranger’s hand than his.
He knew he hadn’t concealed the flash of hurt when his eyes met Max’s sympathetic ones.
Patting Pooja’s hand, she gently disentangled her own and knelt next to her.
“I’ll come visit sometime. I’m friends with your brother, Aditya.”
“You could come and take a look at the car and give me your opinion on the work that needs to be done. After that we can talk about the time and money.” He watched the delight spill across Pooja’s face and knew he’d done the right thing.
The MG might have been his father’s pride and joy but he’d loved nothing and no one more than his children.
If this helped Pooja find her way back to them, then so be it.
The motivation behind his sudden change of heart didn’t escape her.
Exchanging a subtle glance with her father, Max straightened from her crouch.
Meeting his eyes, she murmured, “I’ll come and see the car and give you my opinion and I’ll also refer a couple of people who can do the same.
You can pick someone you’re comfortable with.
I think that should work well for everyone concerned. ”
Appreciating and accepting the out she offered him, Krish nodded. “Thank you. Does tomorrow at six work for you? I’ll be at the office till about five and with peak hour traffic, it takes me an easy hour to get home.”
“Six is fine. I’ll be there.” Affectionately running a hand over Pooja’s detested hair, she gave her a hug and walked them to the door. Thanking Brian one last time for the unexpected dinner and wishing him goodnight, Krish followed.
Letting Pooja skip out ahead of him, he turned towards Max who was framed in the doorway. Framed by the yellow lamplight spilling from the corridor behind her, he had the most irrational thought that she looked like home or what home should mean.
“Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
Watching Pooja add a little hop and twirl to her progress to the gate, he murmured, “Your father and you have done quite a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With a final nod in her direction, he followed his sister out.