He smiled. "I love the color."

He picked up my hands, studied them. "Your hands are henna-ed."

"You like?"

"Yeah." He raised my hands to his lips, brushing his lips across my knuckles, kissing each and every one until I almost keeled over. "Let me get this straight. We've been apart less than a week and you can't wait 'til I get home to see me. You're dressed like a bride. Something you're trying to tell me?"

I flung myself into his arms and he hugged me with a fierceness I reciprocated. "These last few months have been amazing. I'm not being impulsive; I've had time to figure this out, and my feelings haven't changed." I took a steadying breath and went for broke. "Scratch that. They have changed. I love you and I want to marry you if you'll have me and-"

"Whoa. Back track a second." He eased away, searching for confirmation I wasn't going crazy on him again. "You love me?"

"Like you didn't know." I patted his chest, my heart skipping a beat at the indescribable elation lighting his eyes. "I thought you were smarter than that, Bollywood Boy."

"I am, Miss Jones." His tender smile almost made me swoon. "I knew we were destined to be together from the moment we met. Took you a while to catch on."

He captured my face, stared into my eyes shimmering with tears. "I love every stubborn, outrageous, independent inch of you, and when you're ready we'll have the biggest wedding both continents have ever seen. What've you got to say about that?"

"Can Sassoon's cater?"

He laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me up and swirling me around until I couldn't breathe.

"Put me down, you crazy man." I playfully pummeled his back and he obliged, sliding me down with measured consideration, our bodies in tantalizing full-frontal contact.

"Crazy about you," he said, a second before his lips claimed mine and I surrendered to the addictive pleasure of his kiss. When Drew locked the door and unwound my sari with gradual deliberation, his fingertips grazing my neck, my waist, my hips, lingering, teasing, I gave in to the unparalleled sizzle of starring in a scene not fit for Bollywood consumption.

Cue the music.

Roll the closing credits.

The kicker?

For us, THE END was just the beginning.

acknowledgements.

Heartfelt thanks to the following people for helping turn this book into a reality: Liz Pelletier, Heather Howland, and the dedicated team at Entangled Publishing. Your professionalism, tirelessness, and transparency are a breath of fresh air. Kudos.

My fabulous editor Libby Murphy, for her insight, enthusiasm, and general championing. You rock, Libby!

Lewis Pollak, my publicist, for his dedicated efforts in promoting my book.

My writing allies Natalie Anderson, Fiona Lowe, and Joan Kilby, your support means so much. Whether writing, revising, brainstorming, or cyber chatting, you're always there for me. Huge hugs.

Iris Leach (dear I.I.) for the laughs, cheers, and belief in my books. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

Serena Tatti, who read this book in its original form many moons ago. Thanks for your keen editorial eye, honest suggestions, and the best choc-mint ice cream cake ever!

Sindhu Venkadesh, for setting me right with names. And for reigniting my taste for rasam!

Ajit & Sulabha Nimbkar, for assisting with Arnala & Hindu wedding research.

My parents, Olly and Millie, for instilling their love of India in me (& for consistently whipping up incredible Indian feasts!).

My husband, Martin, who makes me laugh daily and believes I can achieve anything.

Last but not least, my littlest heroes, Heath and Jude. Thanks for your patience while mummy pounds away on the computer in the midst of Lego & Play-Doh. Your smiles, snuggles, and squishiest hugs are the best. Love you to the moon and back, my gorgeous boys. xx.

end.