Bollywood Comes to The Chatsfield. Tara Pammi

her cheek, Tanya looked at him steadily. ‘I assure you, Mr Patel, you’re in no danger from me. I have more sense than to throw myself at a man who’s a fictionalised, fantasy sex symbol rather than anything real.’

      The moment she heard those words, Tanya knew she had ended up breaking the rule anyway.

      His mouth twitched, a curious light shining in his eyes.

      Darn it, she didn’t want to get her brothers into trouble. They had poured blood and sweat to build their business into what it was today.

      His gaze settled on her as if he’d just realized that she wasn’t just going to simper and smile.

      ‘So I take it fictionalised, fantasy sex symbols don’t puncture through that starched, repressed exterior?’

      And again, she took the bait without blinking, astounded anew by the man’s arrogance. ‘I’m repressing nothing. Not every woman is overrun by hormones at the sight of you,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘nor are you God’s gift to women, however much most of my sex has made you believe you are.’

      This time, he laughed, throwing his head back. And under the glorious sound of it, she felt as if she had crawled out from a damp, dark hole into dazzling sunshine.

      Fantasy or not, the man was breathtakingly gorgeous. And the way he laughed, with grooves in his cheeks, his brown eyes lighting up, there was nothing but humor and charm in it.

      Shaking his head, he moved closer. The subtle scent of his cologne mingled with his own, infused the air she breathed. The heat from his body was like a silky stroke against her skin, a teasing hello. It tugged at her so tangibly that Tanya curled her toes in her leather shoes to keep balance.