Girl Plus One , livre ebook

Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd. - Rhea Saran

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121 pages

English

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Q: My girlfriend and I have both been working late these days, and are just not in the mood for love by the time we get home at night. What can we do?A: Welcome to the world of morning sex. All you need to get started is to set your alarm half an hour earlier, and keep breath mints and condoms by your bedside. They don't call it 'morning glory' for nothing... Single and sexy Laila is back in Mumbai and seems to have landed the perfect job as features editor and sex columnist of the popular men's mag Guyzone. Her friends Karthika and Maya cannot stop teasing her as Laila definitely knows a thing or two about men. And there seem to be plenty in her life. There is Neil, Laila's boyish yet charming photographer flatmate or Rahul, her ex-boyfriend, who still has the hots for her. These and other men are complications Laila can deal with but when Sameer, the suave CEO of Luxur enters her life, she knows she has found her match. What happens when the tables are turned and Laila loses her heart in this unpredictable game of love? Funny, smart, and utterly entertaining, Girl Plus One captures the life of a spunky city girl and her quest for that perfect plus one.

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Publié par	Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd.
Date de parution	02 décembre 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9788184002478
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0420€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Published by Random House India in 2011
Copyright Rhea Saran 2010
Text illustration by Priyanka Sarkar
Random House Publishers India Private Limited
Windsor IT Park, 7th Floor, Tower-B,
A-1, Sector-125, Noida-201301, U.P.
Random House Group Limited
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road
London SW1V 2SA
United Kingdom
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author s and publisher s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 9788184002478
To my mother,
for everything
Acknowledgements
T his book wouldn t have happened without:
The whole team at Random House who put their faith in me, particularly my editor, Milee, who knew I could do it even when I didn t, and who patiently met every plea for more time with firm but kind words.
My colleagues at Conde Nast India, who have been nothing but encouraging, particularly my coconspirators, Tariq, Diah, Iain, and Cait-I couldn t ask for better cheerleaders.
My urban family, Brendan, Francesca, and Edoardo, for their constant understanding and support, and for keeping me sane through the tough times.
My girls: Anahita, Romita, Radha, Roxanne, Priyanka, and Naina-for years of shared history, laughter, wine, and tears; my stories would be nothing without you.
My wonderful family, both close and extended-even if I could have picked, I d have chosen you guys.
My father, who isn t here to see this but whose influence on my life I still see instances of every day.
And, finally and importantly, my mother, who I can thank for both genes and her unwavering belief that if I reach just that little bit more, I can indeed touch the stars.
Chapter One
B rrrrrrrrt. Brrrrrrrrrt. Brrrrrrrrt.
Without lifting my head off the pillow, I slide a hand out from under the covers and feel along the top of the bedside table for my vibrating phone. I gingerly open one eye and squint at the screen: 1 new message.
You ready? Leaving now, Maya on her way too. See you in a few xo KK
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I glance at the time. 1:15 pm. Dammit. Why didn t I hear my alarm? Wait did I set one? I think back to what I can remember of last night.
Oh shit.
Phone still in hand, I slowly turn over. And there he is. Messy blonde hair falling over his forehead. Mouth slightly open. Sheet barely covering oh shit !
I sit up, holding the sheet up to my chest, and then stand, gently sliding the rest of it off the bed and wrapping it around me. As I head into the bathroom, I try not to sneak another peek at the reason I forgot to set an alarm.
I let the shower run for a few seconds, taking in my smudged eye make-up and unruly brown curls in the mirror above the sink. My face wash sits in one corner of the counter, untouched last night. Sigh. I hope this doesn t mean a zit. As I step into the bathtub and under the cold stream of water gushing out of the shower, all remnants of sleep ebb away. Which is a good thing, because I have about five minutes to get cleaned up and dressed if I don t want to endure an entire brunch full of knowing looks and snarky asides. That s the thing about best friends-they feel fully entitled to give you a hard time.
Plus, there s the little problem of getting him out the door. Let s hope he s one of the easier ones.
Wrapped in a towel, I tiptoe back into the bedroom. A set of blue eyes appraises me from under blonde locks.
Good morning. A smile infuses his drawling voice.
Good morning. I head to my closet and pull out a sundress.
Hey, what s the hurry? It s Sunday.
Exactly. I turn and look at him. It s Sunday, and I have brunch plans. Sorry. I pick up his pants from the floor by the closet and toss them at him.
He catches them in a smooth move. That s a pity. I was hoping we could do breakfast in bed
Maybe next time. I slip off the towel, my back to him, and finish getting dressed.
He laughs. It s deep and rich and sexy, and almost makes me want to abandon my efforts to get out the door. Almost. You can take the girl out of New York, but you can t take New York out of the girl.
I smile at his reflection in the mirror as he buttons his shirt. I guess not. Look, I m sorry. But last night was completely unexpected. Fun. But unexpected.
It was definitely fun. His voice is full of suggestion as he comes up behind me and kisses the back of my neck.
Well, maybe we can do it again sometime. I slip into my shoes and lead him to the front door.
I look forward to it.
Great, I mutter hurriedly, closing the door. Bye, Mark. His voice comes through, slightly muffled. It s Matt. Shit.

This is not Sex and the City , Kay, I protest. Plus, I was only fifteen minutes late. I think that earns me a break from filling you in on all the dirty details.
Nothing doing, Karthika shakes her head, her long, poker-straight mane of hair swinging from side to side like a shampoo commercial. You can deny this is an SATC moment all you want, but we still want to know. Right, Maya?
Maya, her dark hair thrown into her trademark bun, nods. KK s right, Laila. As your best friends, we re entitled to know what kept Miss Always On Time from making it to her 1:30 pm reservation on the dot. God knows we ve had to provide explanations before!
I sigh, beginning to accept defeat. Okay, but I need some champagne first. I wave at one of the hovering waiters.
We re sitting in the sandy courtyard of Olive, by the Mumbai Racecourse. A live jazz band is playing off to one side against the backdrop of whitewashed walls. A mild odour wafts in from the nearby stables, but is offset by the delicious smell of freshly baked wood-oven pizzas. The restaurant is buzzing and comfortably full: young couples whose late-night excesses are hidden behind trendy designer shades; families hurrying to finish before the children, in need of afternoon naps, turn cranky; and the obligatory smattering of expats. I spot a messy blonde head and catch my breath. The head turns. It s not Mark. Matt? Oh, for god s sake! Maybe I deserve the third degree.
My drink arrives, and I take a big sip before KK pounces again. So? she demands.
So what? I stall.
KK rolls her eyes. So, what s his name then?
Mar- uh , -att.
Marat? KK raises an eyebrow at me. As in, Safin?
Maya snorts as I give KK the finger and reach for a roll of bread. Snarky comment number one.
So did you meet him last night? KK has never been one to give up easily.
Well, kind of. I was out with Niks and his friends and-
You hooked up with someone when you were out with your older brother ?
I make a face at her. First off Kay, don t be such a prude. Like Niks cares. And also I waited till he left.
That s what I thought, she mutters. So who was this guy?
Remember the banker from New York I told you I ve bumped into a couple times at the Bombay Gym? Well, he was there last night, too. And he knew one of Niks friends. And one thing led to another
Doesn t it always? Maya chuckles. I just hope Nikhil doesn t get a whiff of it!
Are you kidding? I say. Even without Niks there, those guys would have pounded him into the ground if he so much as looked at me funny while they were around. Seriously, sometimes I m convinced they all think I m still sixteen.
But then, how did it happen? demands KK.
We stepped out for a smoke -I ignore KK s look of disappointment. I m supposed to be quitting, but hey, they re only allowed the third degree on one vice at a time- and got chatting. He s cute. I d had a couple of vodka-sodas. He lied about living in Colaba, and gallantly offered to drop me home so that the boys didn t have to worry about Niks kid sister
Okay, stop there. Maya puts her hands up in the air.
What? No! KK looks at her, aghast. We re just getting to the good part. I want real details. So, was he any good?
KK! Maya exclaims.
I laugh. It s okay, Maya. Actually, he was. In fact, worth the sneaking around and forgetting my alarm and being fifteen minutes late, and having to fill you guys in on all the dirty details. They both smile. And now, if you ll excuse me, I m going to get something to eat. I m starved.
I ll bet you are, says Maya as I walk away.
Snarky comment number two.
Still, I can t help but smile as I help myself to some tuna carpaccio. I know these girls. Now that they ve both got their comments in, by the time I get back to the table, Mark/Matt will be ancient history-just another chapter in Laila s little black book of one-night stands. For all their ribbing, KK and Maya are probably the least judgmental people I know-even though we couldn t be more different. Apples, oranges, and bananas? Something like that, anyway. But somehow, growing up together in Bangalore, the differences never mattered; we just got closer with each passing year, even when we headed off in different directions after high school. I left for New York, KK moved to Mumbai with her family, and then London for grad school, and Maya made Delhi her home.
And here we are, after all these years, talking and laughing and kidding around like we never left in the first place.
Well, except that I wasn t sneaking out of bed with a stranger nine years ago.
I slip back into my seat as KK says, I don t know, I guess he s fine. I mean, we haven t talked in about three days.
Who? Vikram? I ask, spearing a piece of tuna.
She nods, looking unhappy.
Why, what s wrong?
I m not quite sure, she says quietly, playing with her napkin. But we re just having the same fight over and over these days. It s been six months since I ve been back in Mumbai. He s been bored with his job for a while now. Why can t he just leave and move here?
I put m