Free Spice and Secrets by Suleikha Snyder Page A

invested in your item girl, na ? But so shy! He won’t say so. Give him a ring, haan , okay? And then…” She giggled suggestively. “Then, you can give me a ring also.”
     
     
    The bass thumped like a heartbeat. A woman’s voice crooned in a bedroom whisper, “ Aag lag gayi meri dil main , my heart’s on fire, my heart’s on fire.”
    Only her arms and her throat were bare, but it was as though Priya stood there naked. The delicate deep orange chiffon of her sari draping across her belly hid nothing, teased everything, and he remembered the precise taste of her skin there. The soft reverence of sandalwood and a sweet tang of cinnamon.
    The “generous” invitation from Milan Prakash to come watch the item shoot for Na-Insaafi had actually been a cruel gag. Probably a form of torture thought up by Nina. That was what Rahul concluded as he tucked himself behind the velvet curtain that hugged the cabaret-style stage, helpless to do anything but watch her. Hot lights pinned her from every angle; barely visible beads of sweat dotted her face. The makeup girls would powder them away in the next break. For now, it was a roll…and she was breathtaking.
    No one would say there were fifty eyes upon her, crew and extras and a few principals; nahin , Priya was alone with the music. The sheer sari clung to her every curve, and she moved like an apsara . Beguiling. Maddening. Her eyes and hands beckoned. Her body swayed in an erotic mimicry. It wasn’t a dance that had been choreographed for her, it was a seduction.
    He swallowed, torn between turning away, storming across the stage and ruining the shot, and simply continuing to watch.
     
    “Don’t look as though you’re waiting for the music to stop,” Farzana Hassan, the lead choreographer, had advised her—apparently too used to actresses who practically counted the beats aloud on film. “Take yourself away. Someplace lovely.” It was not a bad suggestion, and as the lights pounded down upon her like midday sun and the cameraman with the hand-held crouched just out of her sight line, Priya vanished.
    She took herself to Cox’s Bazar, one of the most beautiful places on earth, where she’d danced with Shona on the beach. They’d whirled like tops and fallen into the sand in a pile of limbs and laughter. It was easy to recall the blue waters, the warmth and the joy. With Shona, dancing wasn’t for show or for money, it was just khushi . Just happiness. Unbidden, a new element encroached on the memory. As if he’d bulled his way into it. Rahul, barefoot in the surf, watching them with possessive pride. His gaze was hotter than the lights. Searing through her sari. Promising her a night of countless wonders long after their daughter was asleep.
    Priya barely suppressed the shiver that didn’t belong anywhere in the dance sequence. She forced herself back to the stage; the crew’s eyes were safer, more trustworthy, than such bewakoofi , na ? But then the back of her neck prickled. As she cut her glance seductively toward the curtain she realized that she was not gazing off at a fictional lover. Someone was there.
    Nahin , not only someone. Rahul . She felt him. Part of her would always know he was near…for she’d carried part of him inside her for nine months and loved her, desperately, for these past five and a half years. It was totally paagal , but his soul had such weight she knew her senses weren’t wrong. He hadn’t just invaded her fantasy, he’d presented himself in her reality as well.
    The last minute of the song stretched into eternity. Priya struggled against turning it into the very torture trap Farzana had warned her about. Aage dekho . Look forward. Keep going, she told herself. When Milan’s AD finally called “Cut!” it was like he’d chopped a puppet’s strings. Her arms fell limply to her sides and her knees began to tremble. Her knees. Her thighs. The pit of her stomach. All of her was on fire, not just her heart. And when Rahul