Singapore Fling

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Singapore Fling Page 6

by Alexia Adams


  “And the answer is?” Lalita was half afraid of the reply.

  “That my memory hadn’t remembered half of the heat. Kissing you is the single most mind-blowing experience of my life and as addictive as the most potent drug known to man. I’m going to kiss you again, Lalita, just to make sure.”

  “Jeremy…” She meant to protest, but her rebuke turned into a moan as his lips retraced their way along her cheek and claimed her mouth once again.

  A million points of light shattered behind her closed eyelids and it took a full ten seconds before she could make sense of the knocking she heard.

  Jeremy swore. He retreated from her, moving over to the corner cabinet, pretending to study some information on his laptop. She straightened her clothes and ran a shaking hand down her hair before calling out, “Come in.”

  “Ms. Evans, I would appreciate a few minutes of your time before you go,” the country manager said after putting his head around the door.

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Sunieman. I’ll come through to your office in a moment.”

  Lalita shoved her laptop and phone in her bag before facing Jeremy. He had turned around and stood watching her with curiosity.

  “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow, then. Shall we say noon in the hotel lobby?” She scurried from the room, not glancing back.

  That had been close. And not close enough.

  ***

  An intermittent buzz broke through Jeremy’s consciousness. He leaned across and found more empty bed. Groaning, he realized he’d been dreaming and Lalita slept down the hall in her own room. Annoyed and frustrated, he grabbed the phone and barked into it.

  “What?”

  “Jeremy?” His mother’s voice evaporated the last remnants of fog in his brain.

  “Mum, what’s happened?” He sat bolt upright in the bed and raked his free hand through his already dishevelled hair.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What happened, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s Natasha’s husband.” Jeremy could already sense the likely cause of his mother’s distress. Whenever she referred to his brother-in-law as Natasha’s husband, he knew it was bad news. His mother had never been happy with his sister’s choice of spouse but had done her best to support the two of them through their tempestuous marriage.

  “What’s Doug done now?”

  “He and Natasha had a fight and he went off to the pub. Then he drove home.”

  “He got arrested for drunk driving? How much is the bail?” Jeremy tempered his annoyance. His brother-in-law’s antics had interrupted a steamy dream featuring the delectable Lalita Evans. He’d wring Doug’s neck personally next time he saw him.

  “It’s worse than that. He killed some poor woman and he’s seriously hurt.”

  “Oh God.” Jeremy groaned.

  “He’s probably going to be charged with vehicular manslaughter, providing he survives. Meanwhile Natasha is left with raising two kids, a huge mortgage on that monstrosity of a house, and no job. Insurance won’t pay out because he was drunk. And she blames herself because they fought. She’s distraught, won’t leave the hospital. Oh, Jeremy, what are we going to do?”

  “Don’t panic, we’ll work it out. When I get back I’ll help Natasha, Brian, and Susan get jobs. We’ll pull together again, like we did when Dad died. It’ll all work out. Now, don’t worry. Look after Natasha’s little ones while she sits at that useless man’s bedside. I’ll be home in a few days. And, Mum…”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ll get through this together. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Jeremy.”

  “I’ll let you know when my flight home is confirmed. Good night, Mum.”

  Jeremy replaced the phone and got out of bed. There was no hope now that he’d be able to return to his blissful dream state. He strode over to the window and thrust aside the curtains, gazing down on the Indonesian city—exotic, like Lalita.

  Kissing her this afternoon had reminded him of everything he had to gain. His mother’s phone call of everything he had to lose. If it was just his future, he’d march down the hall right this moment, bang on Lalita’s hotel room door, then make passionate love with her until neither of them could remember their own names.

  But could he live with himself if he jeopardized his mother’s retirement and his nieces’ and nephews’ future? John Evans had issued a direct warning. Jeremy had no doubt he’d live up to his threat.

  ***

  Jeremy sat at the far end of the bar, cradling a gin and tonic. This was their penultimate office visit, one more day in Manila, then off to Mumbai. Within the week, he’d be back in London. For the first time ever, he wasn’t eagerly anticipating the end of a long business trip. He was no closer to getting Lalita out of his system than when they’d left London. In fact, she had wormed her way even further under his skin. She’d captivated him more than he thought possible.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Jeremy glanced over to find a blonde woman in a black dress half perched on the bar stool next to him. Flipping a lock of her hair over her shoulder, she raked him with her blue-eyed gaze. She leaned in just close enough to draw Jeremy’s eye to her cleavage and for the flowery scent of her perfume to envelope him.

  “My name is Cindy. I’m here in Manila on business. You?”

  “Jeremy, I’m here on business as well. In fact, I’m waiting for a colleague to join me.”

  “I’ll wait with you,” Cindy declared and motioned for the bartender.

  Jeremy had come across her type of businesswoman in almost every city he visited. Bored and lonely, they met other business travellers in the hotel bar. Depending on his mood, Jeremy would share dinner, sometimes breakfast, with them before they moved on in their respective directions.

  Cindy flipped her hair again, but whatever she was about to say died on her lips. The general buzz in conversations throughout the bar hushed. Jeremy looked toward the door to see what had captured everyone’s attention.

  Lalita strode through the entrance, her crimson dress in striking contrast to the general attire of black and dark grey. Without hesitating or pausing to search for Jeremy, she glided over to the centre of the bar and took up residence on one of the chrome and black leather stools.

  Before he could move, two men sat either side of her. Her eyes locked on his across the length of the bar and she raised one eyebrow, her lips curved in amusement. She tilted her head toward Jeremy’s companion before speaking to the bartender.

  “Wow, who’s she?” Cindy breathed.

  “My colleague. It was nice to meet you, Cindy. If you’ll excuse me…” Jeremy slipped off the barstool and walked over to Lalita.

  He pushed a shoulder between Lalita and the Lothario on the right who was making a feeble attempt to chat her up. He glared at the man on the other side who quickly retreated.

  The bartender placed a drink in front of her and Lalita picked it up, excusing herself from the guy who’d been trying to charm her. Jeremy led her across the room to a sofa set against the picture window with views out over the city lights.

  “Nice dress,” Jeremy said after he cleared his throat.

  “My mother sent it to me, care of the Manila office, with instructions to wear it. I don’t quite know what to read into that.” Lalita laughed.

  The red dress clung in all the right places. The neckline plunged, revealing a cleavage that would turn most women green with envy and most men red with apoplexy. Stopping mid-thigh, it revealed Lalita’s long, gorgeous legs to full advantage. Jeremy took another sip of his drink.

  “I like the way your mother thinks. And the shoes?”

  Lalita flexed her foot and examined her footwear. Four-inch stilettos in a leopard print pattern, they were the antithesis of the low-heeled, sensible shoes that she normally wore with her austere business suits.

  “I saw them when I went for my early morning jog. I sent the concierge around to pick them up when the s
hop opened. Talk about an impulse purchase. You’re probably the one man with whom I can wear them. Otherwise I’ll be looking down at the top of everyone’s head.”

  Jeremy let his eyes run the length of her, from her outrageous shoes, along the length of her golden legs, past her curvaceous hips. His eyes lingered for a long moment on her luscious breasts, concealed just enough to whet the appetite, up to her delicate collarbone that begged for his kisses, to her mouth. She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. Jeremy swallowed. He needed a glass of ice water.

  “I’ll just have to stick around. Then you can wear all your ridiculously high heels.” The huskiness in his voice surprised him. His cool had gone up in a puff of steam.

  “This is only my third pair. I eat out so often on business trips that I don’t dine out a lot at home.”

  “What about when you go on dates?”

  “Don’t do that too much, either. Plus, as I’m already five foot nine in bare feet, add three inch heels and I’ve hit six foot. How tall are you, anyway?”

  “Six foot four, so feel free to teeter around on your highest shoes.”

  “I think four-inch heels are my max. Any higher and I’d need a parachute in case I fell.” She glanced around the room. “Where do you want to eat tonight?”

  Room service, Jeremy’s mind and body screamed.

  “The restaurant next door seems decent. Have you tried it?”

  “No. But we don’t have a reservation. Do you think we can get in?”

  “I’m sure they’ll find a table, somewhere.” No maître d’ in his right mind would turn away Lalita looking as she did. Every unattached man in the restaurant would be ordering hundred-dollar glasses of scotch so they could stay and stare at her. Probably a few of the married ones as well.

  As Jeremy had predicted, they were seated at a small table in the centre of the room. Lalita’s legs brushed against his, the scent of her sultry perfume surrounded him. All the other tables and diners faded away. There was only her, sitting close enough that he could hear her breathe.

  “No business tonight,” he said. “Books, movies, art, favourite places, family pets, anything but business.”

  Lalita gazed into his eyes and nodded.

  They discussed their favourite authors, films—mostly seen on airplanes—and places they’d visited. They argued for half an hour on the best film adaptation of Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice. Jeremy preferred the Keira Knightley version, while Lalita claimed the one with Colin Firth to be vastly superior.

  “It’s too long. Who has five hours to sit through it?” Jeremy declared.

  Lalita plucked a strawberry off his dessert plate. Her eyes held his as she put the berry to her lips, circling the juicy fruit with her tongue before taking a bite.

  “I would have thought a man such as yourself would appreciate the slow build-up, the advance and retreat, the subtle nuances of courtship. I hadn’t taken you for a wham, bam, thank you ma’am type.” Her voice was silky, seductive.

  “I’m not. I enjoy the mating rituals as much, or more, than any man. However, there comes a time when you have to move the action from the dance floor to the bedroom.”

  Lalita grabbed for her wine, almost knocking over her glass.

  “Are you finished?” Jeremy nodded at her plate.

  “Yes, I can’t eat another bite.” She drained her wine glass then sat back in her chair.

  “Shall we retire to the bar or go for a walk around the gardens?” he asked.

  Jeremy signed for the bill and stood. He put his arm around Lalita’s waist when she teetered on her heels.

  “A walk, I think. It looks like I’ve had too much wine already,” she answered.

  He led her out the door, holding her close. Subtle lighting shone on the footpath. A changing pattern of gold and green illuminated the waterfall. The gurgle of the water as it hurtled off the rocks drowned out the sound of traffic from the front of the hotel.

  They strolled through the tranquil oasis, arm in arm. When they reached a dark alcove, he stopped and pulled Lalita against him. The heady scent of romance wafted over them from a myriad of tropical blooms. Warm, humid air wrapped them in a soft blanket.

  Jeremy moved his hand from her waist to her chin, pulling her closer with his other arm. She rested both hands on his chest when he tilted her face up to receive his kiss. As he lowered his head, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

  “Either your heart has begun to fibrillate, or you have a call,” Lalita whispered against his lips.

  “I’m off duty. I’ll answer it later. I have better things to do.”

  “It could be your mother with news of your brother-in-law,” she reminded him. She took a step back, out of his arms.

  Reluctantly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the caller display. If it wasn’t his mother, he’d cancel the call and carry on with Lalita.

  “It’s your father,” Jeremy said in shock. He glanced around. Were they being followed in Manila too?

  Lalita searched their surroundings in the dim light as well.

  “I’ll say goodnight, then,” she whispered.

  As she walked away Jeremy answered the call. The sound of John Evans’ booming voice broke through the trance induced by the sight of Lalita’s swaying hips.

  “Don’t forget my warning about seducing my daughter,” John reminded him.

  Easier said than done.

  Chapter 6

  “Mumbai, our last city,” Lalita whispered, staring out the window of the airplane as it approached the terminal. Emotions warred within her. In two days, Jeremy would return to London, out of her life, except for the occasional conference call or board meeting. Of course, they’d both be at Jessica’s wedding; but under the spotlight of her family they would hardly have a moment alone.

  She’d grown accustomed to his continual presence over the last few weeks and worried that a tsunami of loneliness would sweep her away when he left. He had a way of making her laugh, even at herself, that she’d miss the most. The drum of sexual tension still pounded in her veins whenever he glanced at her or she thought they were about to touch.

  She’d worn the red dress her mother had sent to Manila in the hope of pushing Jeremy over the edge. A love coward, she thought she could live with conscience easier if she succumbed to seduction rather than admit her own desire. Then she’d chickened out when her father had called. Might as well drop the “woman” bit from “businesswoman” when it came to describing her.

  But Mumbai would also bring the answer to an often-asked question—who was she? The private investigator she’d hired had been able to track down a woman he was sure was her birth mother. She was to meet him tonight, hand over payment and receive the details. So near now to an answer she both longed for and dreaded was wreaking havoc with her concentration.

  “You sound almost nostalgic. Don’t tell me you’re going to miss me?” Jeremy’s eyes searched hers. Lalita turned away in case he saw too much.

  “It’s been fun,” she prevaricated. “I usually spend business trips eating room service, watching bad movies, or learning a new language. I’ve enjoyed showing you some of the sights, introducing you to new foods…”

  “I think you’ve taken particular delight in making me eat the most, let’s say interesting, things on the menu. I know the first thing I’m going have when I get back to the UK—good old, plain, roast potatoes.”

  But despite his hearty reply, there was an equal amount of distress in his blue eyes, as though he regretted a missed opportunity.

  Before they’d embarked on this business trip she’d have been relieved to know she’d made it to the end without succumbing to her desire for him. Now, she wasn’t. And where was the logic in that?

  ***

  Jeremy hoisted his carry-on bag over his shoulder and followed Lalita through the formalities of customs and immigration—another stamp in his passport, one city closer to home—and away from Lalita. He thrust the thought
aside.

  “And what adventures do you think Mumbai holds for us?” he asked.

  “Mumbai was the first office my father opened after London. In fact, he lived here for almost a year while he was setting it up and hiring staff. It’s always been one of my favourites. I think you’ll find the ambiance here is quite different from the other Asian operations.”

  The door to the airport opened and wall of heat and humidity, a myriad of aromas and a cacophony of noises assaulted Jeremy’s senses. He stopped for a minute.

  “Amazing, isn’t it? Each country has its own smell and sound. I think that if I was ever kidnapped and taken to another land I would be able to tell where I was just by the smell.”

  Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Even I think I’d know if I was taken to Mumbai.”

  “Come on, it’s not that bad. Let’s grab a cab.” Lalita took his hand and led him toward the taxi rank. Her hand in his made the strangeness of the moment disappear. He was about to comment on the touch, the first that Lalita had initiated, but didn’t want her to pull her hand away.

  When they arrived at their hotel Jeremy assumed she would head straight for the reception desk as she had at all the previous accommodations. She’d often been greeted by name by the doorman, as a regular visitor at the places. This time, however, she entered the lobby and stopped, her eyes darting around, wary. Jeremy watched as she played with the latch on her laptop case.

  “Are you going to check in?”

  “What? Oh, um, yes, in a minute. You go ahead. I want to see if there is someone I know here.” Lalita’s voice was high-pitched and the words tumbled out one after the other.

  “I’ll wait with you. I’m in no hurry,” Jeremy offered.

  “No! I mean, don’t worry. You go ahead. It’s already late. And if he’s here, he doesn’t speak English, so we’ll be speaking in Marathi anyway.” Lalita curved her lips upward but her eyes didn’t meet his.

 

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