A Date With A Bollywood Star

A Date With A Bollywood Star
Riya Lakhani

The Dos and Don’ts of interviewing a Bollywood legend…Bagging an interview with deliciously sexy superstar Omar Khan, was the assignment of my dreams – he was my teenage pin-up! Read on for the exclusive scoop on what happened when I met my idol…1.I was late. Seriously late, and then fell flat on my face at his feet… ouch.2.The interview I sent to my editor accidentally read like a love letter, and now the whole country knows about my crush – including Omar!3.Now I’ve discovered the real man behind the brooding celebrity, how could I fall for anyone else?

‘So you’re the missing reporter who should have been here forty-five minutes ago, are you?’

Rani gave him an embarrassed, shy smile. She felt weak, vulnerable, and very stupid for smiling like a silly schoolgirl.

‘You’d better get in, then,’ he said, and opened his door. ‘Come on. If you want that interview you’d better hurry—we’re running late!’

Rani lowered her head and slipped cautiously into the back seat.

‘I’m very sorry I’m so late. I got delayed watching one of your movies!’ It was half true, she thought, and it sounded better than admitting to oversleeping on the sofa.

‘Interesting. Which one?’

‘Sacred Heart. It’s my favourite.’

‘Mine too,’ replied Omar, looking straight at her.

Rani could sense his gaze upon her. She’d waited ten years to be this close to him, and if the feelings growing in her body were anything to go by it was worth the wait …

About Riya Lakhani (#ulink_09a7473a-34a3-5b14-8bc5-177222f2a2cb)

RIYA LAKHANI is the pen-name of a husband-and-wife writing team who both work in television—which was the backdrop for their own romance. They work in TV news—one as a presenter, the other as a producer. In the best courtship tradition, on their first date they were accompanied by a chaperone! They live in the heart of the UK with their two children, and draw upon their own background of mixed cultures for their inspiration. They say writing romance is the perfect antidote to the doom and gloom of TV news because there’s always a happy-ever-after.

A Date with a Bollywood Star

Riya Lakhani

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Thank you to everyone who made it possible. You know who you are, and we know where you live!

Table of Contents

Cover (#u19e09a5e-f300-59eb-a25c-b0db807deca1)

Excerpt (#u05c99d66-8add-57fd-96e3-2d8d0e6896f3)

About Riya Lakhani (#u95093756-f9a7-5b3b-af24-25d5d4a22add)

Title Page (#u334fffc1-bd3d-5abe-a50a-cefd2a4297ac)

Acknowledgements (#u4061e3ba-ad22-505e-8a2a-53896c1d6db7)

Chapter One (#u984297e0-6e86-5e07-b96b-fdbcb9e9f325)

Chapter Two (#u2162d198-e817-5fb0-95fd-dd66127d3652)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_036da94a-a110-5bfe-bd3c-14aba524260b)

RANI LET HERSELF into her apartment, switched on the lights and then closed all the blinds in the open-plan living room. Being on the eighth floor gave some privacy but you never knew who might be looking. It was a neat and tidy flat that she was happy to call home. Everything was just where she wanted it: knickers in the knickers drawer, shoes on their racks, suits pressed and bagged hanging in colour order in the wardrobe. It was exactly the way she liked it. Although perhaps it might be nice to find a little disarray with the bedclothes now and again, she thought naughtily to herself. She fitted the flat and it fitted in with her busy life in the centre of London. Yes, she had everything she wanted: the career in journalism, a best friend she could call on at any time of the day or night and a mother who phoned religiously every Sunday morning at eleven on the dot.

The red light on the answer phone was flashing. Rani walked towards it, sat down on the sofa, took off her overly high heels, which made her smile just to hold them, and hit the play button. It was her office.

‘Rani, it’s Tony, we’ve an urgent job for you. Omar Khan is back in town and we didn’t know. He’s making a movie and we’ve got just ten minutes with him tomorrow morning at eight-thirty. He’s staying at Claridge’s. Don’t be late. If I don’t hear from you then I’ll assume you’ll be there. Bye.’

Rani replayed the message. She had definitely heard correctly. Omar Khan—she had to interview the Omar Khan. He didn’t normally give interviews. She thought about the rumpled bedclothes again. Omar Khan had been her idol when she was growing up. He had been the leading man in Indian films for years. She remembered the first movie of his she’d seen, Sacred Heart. It was still her favourite of all time and now she was actually going to meet him. She dived off the sofa towards the DVD shelf. She realised her hands were shaking as she traced along the titles looking for the film. Got it! She turned on the plasma, put the DVD in and hit the play button. As the soundtrack started she walked to the bathroom and began taking off her make-up and washing her face.

What an evening she’d had! Press passes to the hottest club in London where she’d danced herself silly and now she was going to meet the heart-throb from her teens. The haunting music wafted around her head and she closed her eyes imagining the images playing on the screen. The leaves falling, two horses being ridden through the wood; on one was Keshina Chandrapour, the leading female Bollywood star at that time. On the other, Omar Khan. She could see his chestnut horse in her mind, the slow-motion shots of hooves hitting the ground, throwing up leaves, and the bright sunlight dancing through the trees. The overflowing sink brought her back to the bathroom.

‘Oh, stupid!’ she said to herself and threw a towel onto the floor to mop up the water. Rani put her dressing gown on and walked back into the living room with a blanket from her bed and curled up on the sofa. Research, she told herself as she settled down to watch the rest of the movie.

The phone rang and Rani ignored it. She rolled over and back into the dream she had been enjoying. Riding through the wood on the back of a horse, her arms clasped around the waist of the man in front of her. As the horse thundered along she was holding him tight for fear of falling off, and just because she could! She tried to regain the sensation she’d had of her head against his hot muscular back but the phone kept ringing and breaking the concentration of her sleepy mind.

‘Oh, what now?’ She sighed as she finally opened her eyes. Rani suddenly realised that she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Her thoughts flashed from one thing to another: the fun of her night out, the late-night answer-phone message, the aches in her body from sleeping crunched up, the very vivid dream, the message on the answer phone! In an instant she was sitting bolt upright and cursing.

‘Oh, no, the interview!’ she exclaimed as she lunged for the phone. But it stopped ringing before she could reach it. Her eyes immediately searched out the clock in the middle of the bookcase. It was eight-thirty a.m. and she was late.

‘No, no, no, this can’t be happening,’ she moaned, clutching her head. A one-to-one interview with the man whose face she had plastered all around her bedroom wall as a girl and she was late. Not just late but massively, inexcusably late. The phone clicked into answer-phone mode and began recording.

‘Rani, I do hope you’re not listening to this on loud speaker.’ It was her boss, Tony, and she knew why he was calling. ‘You should be at the interview NOW!’ Tony knew her too well. ‘Khan’s PA has phoned and says they have a car waiting to take them to the set and it’s leaving in twenty minutes. Don’t blow the interview. Oh, and one last thing—make sure you ask him about his dad. We’ve just heard the old goat is publishing a kiss-and-tell book. That should put the cat among the pigeons!’ And the message ended.

She was wide awake now and could feel the tension and stress building inside her body. Breakfast was out of the question, so was having a shower, and, worse still so was changing her clothes. Rani looked down and realised that beneath her dressing gown she was still wearing the red dress from the night before. There really was no time to change. But she could at least brush her teeth and put on fresh knickers!

Three minutes later and slamming the door closed on her flat, Rani ran to the lift and waited. She drummed her fingernails against the doors with impatience. ‘Come on, come on,’ she said out loud to the lift. There was one stroke of good luck—as she ran out of the apartment block and into the street there were plenty of black cabs and she quickly hailed one.

‘Claridge’s and please hurry,’ she urged the driver.