Secrets & Saris. Shoma Narayanan

      

      A secret that could cause scandal!

      Jilted at the altar, Shefali Khanna should be humiliated. Instead she takes the opportunity to start again. Top of the priority list: do not tumble headfirst into another relationship!

      But even moving from the city to the country can’t keep Shefali out of trouble—especially when she catches the eye of local celeb Neil Mitra! There is no way she can risk a scandal already! He might be gorgeous, but he’s totally off-limits…right?

      And as an extra bonus, included is The Wedding Dress Diaries by Aimee Carson, the prequel to our fabulous new Modern Tempted quartet, The Wedding Season, starting next month!

      Secrets & Saris

      “I just told you—a serious relationship’s not something I can deal with right now,” Shefali said.

      “But I do want to live life a little,” she continued. “I’ve never dated, never had a boyfriend, never stayed up the whole night dancing, never really had much fun. That’s all I want out of this. And if you don’t mind my saying, I think it’d do you some good, as well.”

      Neil scanned her face, searching for a clue to how she really felt. Something about what she was saying didn’t ring true. He was incredibly tempted, though—the years since his daughter was born and his marriage ended had been completely devoid of anything remotely resembling fun with the opposite sex. Nothing that made him feel young and alive the way Shefali did.

      “I’m not typical boyfriend material,” he warned finally. “And I don’t think this is the kind of place you can stay up the whole night dancing.”

      “I’m sure we can think of something else to do all night long,” she said huskily, and Neil’s senses immediately sprang to high alert.

      Secrets & Saris

      Shoma Narayanan

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      About Shoma Narayanan

      Shoma started reading Harlequin romances at the age of eleven, borrowing them from neighbors and hiding them inside textbooks so that her parents didn’t find out. At that time the thought of writing one herself never entered her head—she was convinced she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. When she was a little older she decided to become an engineer instead, and took a degree in electronics and telecommunications. Then she thought a career in management was probably a better bet, and went off to do an MBA. That was a decision she never regretted, because she met the man of her dreams in the first year of business school—fifteen years later they’re married with two adorable kids, whom they’re raising with the same careful attention to detail that they gave their second-year project on organizational behavior.

      A couple of years ago Shoma took up writing as a hobby—after successively trying her hand at baking, sewing, knitting, crochet and patchwork—and was amazed at how much she enjoyed it. Now she works grimly at her banking job through the week, and tries to balance writing with household chores during weekends. Her family has been unfailingly supportive of her latest hobby, and are also secretly very, very relieved that they don’t have to eat, wear or display the results!

      This and other titles by Shoma Narayanan are available in ebook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk.

      To Vishpala and Paramita for being my sounding boards

      for every book I write, and to Malini for

      being my sounding board for pretty much everything else!

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

      ONE

      ‘In the event of a water evacuation...’

      The stewardess’s voice droned on and Shefali leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. Water evacuation, indeed! Unless they crash-landed in a river it was very unlikely they would need life jackets during this flight between one completely land-locked city and another. She winced. If there was only some way to block out all sound. Her head was pounding like crazy, and she had to stop herself from opening her bag and digging out yet another painkiller.

      ‘Cabin crew to stations for take-off,’ the Captain’s voice said over the plane’s PA system, and Shefali’s eyes flew open.

      She looked out of the window involuntarily. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Delhi from a plane window—there had been trips to Mumbai, to Thailand, even to Paris—but this time she was leaving for good, and she couldn’t help but feel a lump in her throat.

      The comfortable-looking matronly woman in the seat next to Shefali gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Flying for the first time?’ she asked.

      Shefali shook her head. She didn’t want to spend the two-hour flight making polite conversation, and this lady looked the chatty kind. Before Shefali could shut her eyes again, she had started.

      ‘Are you from Delhi or Jabalpur?’

      ‘Neither,’ Shefali replied.

      But the lady wasn’t about to give up. ‘Going for a wedding?’ she asked, pointing at the henna tattoos that covered Shefali’s hands.

      Shefali pulled the long sleeves of her shirt down a little further to hide the elaborate designs that extended all the way up her forearms. The traditional mehandi ceremony had been held three days before her wedding-that-never-happened, and she’d had to wait for hours afterwards for the henna paste to dry. The rich black had now faded to orange, but to Shefali’s paranoid eyes her hands and arms still screamed out jilted bride.

      ‘Excuse me a second,’ she muttered, and pressed the button to call the flight attendant. ‘Can I shift to a seat in the emergency exit row?’ she asked when the attendant came up to her. ‘I have a...a knee problem. I need more leg-room.’

      She picked up her handbag and moved gratefully to the seat pointed out to her. It was an aisle seat two rows ahead, and the window seat next to it was occupied by a man around her age who was peering intently into his laptop screen.

      Shefali was fastening her seatbelt when the man spoke without looking up from the screen.

      ‘So where are you from, then? If you’re not from Delhi or from Jabalpur.’

      She gave him a startled look. ‘I’m sorry?’

      The man turned, and Shefali saw his face for the first time. He was quite