The gaily lit restaurant rose out of the dusk and they followed a waiter onto the covered decking to a secluded teak table. Amber and orange paper lanterns slanted light onto the array of floating candles that ornamented the gleaming wood.
‘Good evening, Olivia. Your champagne is on ice, as requested.’
Olivia nodded. ‘Thank you, Kamon.’ She turned to Adam and smiled. ‘Thought it would be safer than beer! I promise not to disgrace myself. And I hope it’s OK with you but I ordered our meal, as well. May as well put all my research to good use.’ She pressed her lips together in a small smile. ‘Sorry. I’m talking too much.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I like to hear you talk.’
Dark eyebrows rose as she slid along the wooden bench. ‘You do? I kind of thought my chatter would have driven you nuts by now.’
‘Well, you thought wrong.’ The sound of her voice, her sheer enthusiasm and interest in myriad subjects, captivated him. The only thing that might well send him loop-the-loop would be frustrated desire. If he were reading her body language all wrong and the evening should culminate in another night alone. But it was Olivia’s choice; that was the deal they had made and he’d honour it. Even at the cost of his sanity, she had to come to him without regret.
Olivia reached out to the garland of flowers that had been draped round the edge of the table and smiled.
‘I found out some facts about frangipani,’ Olivia said. ‘Did you know that in different countries they represent different things? Here in Thailand they were once taboo, because they were thought to bring sorrow. But now they are seen as special and worthy of offering to Buddha. In Vietnam ghosts were thought to live in frangipani trees, and in India the flower means loyalty.’ She rubbed her finger against the petals; the innocent sensuality of the movement constricted his lungs. ‘This must have been Kamon’s idea,’ she said. ‘I told him I wanted the dinner to be special.’
Hope and a whole lot more reared its head. ‘Any particular reason?’ he asked.
Before she could answer, Kamon arrived with a bottle of champagne, two long-stemmed champagne flutes, and an aromatic platter of shrimp tempura. He was followed by another waiter with a further selection of dishes.
The time it took to open the bottle, pour out the fizzing liquid and exchange pleasantries was excruciatingly long. Adam clenched his hands into fists—the only way to stop himself from grabbing the bottle and plate from the obviously besotted Kamon and booting him on his way.
Eventually, after assuring Olivia that everything had been freshly prepared, Kamon wended his way back into the restaurant’s interior. Where Adam devoutly hoped he’d stay.
‘You didn’t hear a word of that, did you?’ Olivia asked, a lilt of laughter in her voice.
‘Nope.’
‘Well, in that case, as penance you’ll have to listen to me tell you all about each dish. In detail.’
There was that smile again; pure seduction, it seemed to have a direct line to his pants.
‘That’s not a problem,’ he said. Not if she was going to keep talking with that husk in her voice.
‘OK. We have crabmeat and prawn spring rolls with the house special tamarind sauce. Herb-marinated stuffed chicken wings with fragrant lemongrass. Grilled aromatic beef wrapped in betelnut leaves. And lastly honey-marinated duck breast fried in pandan leaf.’
She leant forward in a deliberate movement and Adam nearly bit his tongue.
‘Delicious,’ he murmured, his eyes fixed without shame on the tops of her firm breasts.
‘Then tuck in,’ she said.
‘I hope to,’ he returned, and grinned at the shiver that goosebumped her skin as she hurriedly started to serve herself.
Adam followed suit. It felt good to eat in silence for a while and let the endless possibilities of the night ahead roam free in his brain.
It was only when Olivia gave the characteristic little huff that signified that she was ready to break from eating that he lifted his glass. ‘To the rest of our holiday,’ he toasted.
Without hesitation she clinked her champagne flute against his, her face glowing in the dappled moonlight just as the overhead lanterns went out.
‘Ooh! That means it’s time for the fire-dancing,’ she said.
For a second Adam wished the dancers would disappear to the Outer Hebrides—before guilt zapped him. Olivia should have a chance to see the truly spectacular performance; this was their last night here.
He sipped his drink, the ice cold bubbles focusing him. This night was exactly as it should be. One magical night. And if he had his way the magic would continue straight into the bedroom. He glanced at Olivia, saw the small telltale crease on her forehead, and his gut wrenched at the thought that she might not have made her final decision.