The Sweetest Fling Ch. 01

Meg lifted her chestnut hair off the back of her neck and leaned against the balcony railing. As her gaze swept over the lush gardens below, her thoughts drifted to a cool shower and a change of clothes, maybe dinner and a couple of glasses of wine at one of the nearby restaurants. For now, though, it felt so good to be back in her room.

She'd expected the crowds and heat in Bali, but the humidity had come as a shock. A few days into her first solo holiday, she still hadn't adjusted.

It hadn't stopped her from enjoying herself, though. She'd shopped for souvenirs to take home to family and friends, spent long hours reading on the beach, and tried out several dishes of the local cuisine--Nasi Goreng being her go-to whenever she couldn't make up her mind.

Meg loved it here and had already decided she'd be coming back.

A faint whistle pulled her from her thoughts, growing louder the longer it went on.

She let go of her hair and scanned the grounds, searching for the source of the sound.

The hotel had been a hive of activity during her time here, and she'd always found something to entertain her. Laughter, drunken singing, an argument from one of the rooms on the floor below her, but so far she hadn't come across a whistler.

Meg caught glimpses of a man strolling beneath the canopy of trees, but she didn't have a clear view of him from her vantage point. She probably wouldn't have given him a second thought if she'd been back home, but with nothing better to do, she watched and waited, her tiredness forgotten.

When he finally emerged from the dappled shade into full sunlight, she sucked in a breath.

Ho-ly crap.

Rumpled dark hair, strong jaw, sexy scruff, and so bleeping gorgeous he bordered on ridiculous.

His white shirt lay open over a bare chest, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his navy shorts. She couldn't tell the color of his eyes from two floors up, but she'd bet anything they were just as dazzling as the rest of him.

When her attention lowered to the flat plane of his stomach and all the tanned skin on display there, a sound came from her that fell somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

And didn't that just say everything?

Meg rolled her eyes. The last time she'd been in a relationship was... long enough ago that remembering took some effort. She'd clearly reached the desperate stage now, which meant she had no business being near a man who only needed to cock an eyebrow in her direction to have her throwing herself at him.

Just as she'd decided to go back inside to create some distance from temptation, he lifted his head and looked directly at her.

Meg froze on the spot, torn between running and staying there to bask in his attention. His gaze lingered on her face, and when his cheerful tune slipped into one long, low whistle of appreciation, the shift in mood sent a jolt of sensation between her thighs.

Her fingers tightened around the railing and her heart thudded. Meg willed herself to calm down, but her body didn't want to play along--it wanted to play with him. The urge came over her to race down the stairs and fling herself in his path just to see what he'd do next.

The slight smile he gave her suggested he knew where her thoughts had headed, probably because he dealt with this kind of situation all the time. He must have been fully aware of his impact on women because she was up here trying to steady her breathing while he appeared completely relaxed.

When his low laugh floated up to greet her, the sound caused a warm, pleasurable squeeze in her belly.

Then he disappeared beneath the balcony, and the moment ended.

Just like that.

Meg blew out a breath and pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. He hadn't touched her--hadn't even uttered a single word--but her stomach was fluttering like mad. He'd turned her world to chaos in a few short seconds.

Those seconds weren't enough.

She wanted to yank open the door to check if he was staying on the same floor as her. Chase him down and beg him to look at her like that again and again--but she'd come here for relaxation, not romance. Despite her best friend, Allie, urging her to seek out a little casual fun while she was here, it wasn't her style, and she couldn't see her opinion changing any time soon.

She only wished that realization didn't leave her feeling so dejected.

Meg inhaled and let the breath out slowly, doing her best to force him from her mind.

Better to indulge in some wine instead.

Much safer.

~ * ~

Lusting after strangers apparently worked up an appetite. Meg's stomach rumbled as she left the hotel an hour later in search of the restaurant recommended to her by the receptionist.

She'd changed into black shorts and a matching halter top, leaving her hair flowing freely down her back. Her sandals slapped against her heels as she walked the crowded street, her pace keeping time with the beat pulsing from a nearby nightclub.

Incense drifted from open doorways as she passed by, and an elderly man was crouched in an alcove with a dog at his side and a monkey on his knee. Meg smiled at the sight, enjoying the feeling of solitude among strangers.

She made a right turn and spotted the restaurant she'd been looking for on the opposite side of the road. On her first day here, she'd discovered crossing streets wasn't a tourist-friendly activity, and her near-miss with a scooter made the idea of weaving through traffic again intimidating.

She clutched her handbag and darted out into the street. Exhaust fumes hovered in the thick heat, overwhelming her senses as she squeezed between a taxi and a hoard of motor scooters. Meg held her breath, fought against a yelp of panic, and focused on the curb, her heart thundering with relief when she managed to reach the other side alive.

Once the adrenaline rush and the urge to punch the air in victory passed, she opened the door and stepped inside the restaurant.

As she moved away from the entrance, Meg took in the dining area to her left and the rustic bar backlit with pink lighting on her right. She'd come here for dinner, but the warmth of the bar tempted her to have that wine she'd been looking forward to first.

A middle-aged couple occupied the two stools closest to her and a man sat alone at the farthest end of the bar.

Although it was quiet now, she had a feeling if she didn't stamp her claim on a stool soon, the opportunity might not be around later. Her gaze swept over the interior again, and without knowing why, her attention came back to the man sitting alone.

Meg looked him over more carefully this time around. His dark hair was the same shade as the shirt molded across his back, and his muscled thighs stretched the fabric of his khaki shorts. She took in the biceps revealed by the short sleeves of his shirt and a vague fluttering sensation moved through her.

They hadn't met. She hadn't talked to any fellow tourists yet, but Meg couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him.

When he downed the contents of his glass and signaled the bartender for another, it hit her in a rush. Warm breeze, heated eye contact. Whistled tune playing over and over in her mind.

Him.

He glanced over his shoulder as if sensing her presence, just like he had at the hotel. Meg's heart gave a hard thump, and she wanted to pretend she hadn't seen him, ignore the pull of attraction and remain in her safe little bubble--but he raised his brows in such a playful way that she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

When a waitress caught her eye, she knew the time had come to make up her mind. Take a left and have dinner alone like she'd intended or turn right and see what would come from talking to a stranger? With a bracing breath, she sent the waitress a wave and headed for the man at the bar, hoping it wouldn't turn out to be one of those decisions she'd regret making.

He shifted sideways on his stool as she approached, but he didn't look her over or let his gaze linger on any parts of her body that might make her uncomfortable. His eyes merely locked with hers and a smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

As soon as she stopped beside him, Meg felt the impulse to turn and run away.

He'd been impressive enough while she was looking down at him from the safety of her balcony, but up close, the man radiated too much masculine energy for her to even contemplate flirting with him sober.

He had broad shoulders and lean muscles, and his rumpled hair gave the impression he'd just climbed out of bed after a day filled with debauchery. She'd bet that wasn't too far from the truth either.

His blue eyes gleamed with humor as he waited for her to look her fill, but she couldn't seem to stop staring. Every fantasy she'd ever had involving men had just come to life and plonked itself right in front of her.

"I'm Jack," he said, pulling out the next seat along in invitation. He must have been used to women being struck dumb in his presence because he didn't appear fazed by her lack of response.

Meg swallowed her nerves. "Hi." She hung her bag over the back of her seat and smiled as she slid onto the vacant stool. "I'm Meg."

"Are you following me?" he asked with a smile. His accent was identical to hers. Not surprising since Bali had become a home away from home for so many Australians.

"No." She managed a laugh, already feeling a little more at ease. "Does that happen often?"

"Not that I'm aware of." He smiled as his eyes swept over her again. "Can I get you a drink?"

Meg let out a breath, forging ahead despite the butterflies in her stomach. "If you'll let me buy the next round." She hoped her reply wouldn't come across as presumptuous. He could be waiting for someone or be the type of guy who saw more than one drink as a long-term commitment.

"What can I get you?" he asked, craftily avoiding answering her.

She went with a white wine, and when her chardonnay arrived, Meg thanked him and took a couple of sips for courage.

"Are you here alone or meeting someone?" he asked.

She twirled the stem of her glass, considering how much information to share with a man who was essentially still a stranger to her. "I'm here on my own," she told him.

"How long are you in Bali for?"

"Six more days. It's the first time I've been on holiday by myself. I sort of ran away."

He took a drink from his glass as he looked her over. "You don't seem like the type--to run away, I mean."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're travelling alone. Out at night by yourself instead of playing it safe at the hotel bar. Now you're talking to a handsome stranger when you could be sitting on your own giving off keep-away vibes."

She bit her lip to hold back a smile. Okay, so the man might have worked out a few things about her. And he'd just described his appearance in a way that should have come across as conceited but merely sounded like a basic observation. "I see your point."

Jack's eyes glimmered with pleasure. He sipped from his drink--whiskey going by the faint whiff she caught. "So, whatever you ran away from couldn't be too serious," he said. "No mob connections or drug deals gone bad. My guess is you needed to ditch a guy who got too close too soon."

Meg almost laughed out loud, and when the subtle compliment registered, a surge of warmth hit her. She smiled and shook her head, trying not to get too drawn in by his charm. "The real story's not even close to that interesting. I'm self-employed back in Melbourne, and I was in danger of becoming a workaholic. The best way around it seemed to be removing myself from the situation for a while."

"What kind of work do you do? Wait--" he narrowed his eyes as he appeared to think it over. "Dancer. The modern kind, not ballet."

"What? No!" Meg laughed. "What made you say that?"

"Your body, the way you move."

Oh, he was good. Too good. The direct eye contact combined with the slight tilt of his mouth made her skin tingle. His voice was so deep and smooth, it should have been illegal for him to talk to lonely women when their defenses were down. "Nice."

He flashed a grin that made her stomach quiver. "Singer?"

"Oh, are we still playing?"

"Yep." He downed another mouthful of his drink.

Meg took a sip from her own glass, already feeling the welcome buzz. "Wrong again. Sticking with the same theme though, I see."

"Hmm. You've got a creative thing going on. I'm about ninety-eight percent sure you work with your hands or body in some way."

"Ninety-eight percent? Maybe I'm a stripper."

He smiled and shook his head, then his gaze moved over her like a physical caress. "I have a feeling that when you get naked, you only do it for one man."

His words were husky, making her think he very much wanted to be that guy. Maybe only for the night, but still. To have the undivided attention of someone like him... Meg hadn't experienced anything like it before.

She'd spent the past few days taking in the sights and sounds and generally minding her own business. Regardless of what he'd said about her being fearless, she'd played it safe during her time here.

Nothing about him seemed safe, and yet... it did.

Meg cleared her throat and looked away, pleased and embarrassed and more than a little turned on. "I'm a florist."

"Excuse me?"

She heard the smile in his voice before she faced him again. "I work with flowers--and my hands. Not what you were thinking, but creative at least. You're good," she added.

Although his eyes lit with humor, he didn't gloat about his ability to read her. Instead, he bumped his knee against hers and raised his brows. "So, what do I win?"

Meg slanted him a glance. "The pleasure of my company for another five minutes?"

He laughed and gave her an appreciative look, as if he enjoyed the verbal sparring just as much as she did. "Only five minutes? Are you going somewhere?"

Even before they'd started this guessing game, she had no intention of walking away. "No," she said, her voice sounding breathy even to her own ears.

Jack's leg touched hers again, only this time around he maintained the contact. The steady heat of his bare skin pressed to hers caused a quiver in her stomach, and she suddenly felt like a teenager again. Neither of them brought it up, but the way his mouth quirked told her he liked it, too.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I do for a living?" he asked.

"I just assumed because of all this," she indicated his entire being with a sweep of her hand, "you were a model or gigolo or maybe an athlete."

His eyes widened and he sputtered out a laugh. "I'm a financial advisor--in Melbourne, too--and what the hell do you mean by all this?"

Meg smiled at his incredulous expression, feeling happy that she'd thrown him off balance for a few seconds; she'd been fighting to keep her head above water from the moment they met. "You're one of those men who keeps popping up in women's fantasies. Too good to be true, but you're actually sitting here in front of me."

Jack looked at her steadily, his expression filled with appreciation. His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before his mouth curved into a barely-there smile.

Before he could recover and say something that might make her feel unsteady this time around, Meg decided on a subject change. "So... you're alone here, too?" she asked.

He emptied his glass and swallowed. "Now? Yeah. My brother and his wife got married here ten years ago. They came back last week to renew their vows, and a few of us tagged along. The rest of them headed home yesterday. I'm here for another week."

She'd probably be running into him here and there around the hotel grounds. Maybe other places, too. Depending on how tonight went, it could turn out to be a blessing or a disaster. "Was it romantic? The ceremony, I mean?"

He gave her a quick smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you're into that kind of thing."

Meg didn't know him well enough to question it, so she went the safest route and pretended she hadn't noticed. "I am. Hopeless romantic right here."

It didn't take long for his playful side to emerge again. "How do you feel about holiday romances?"

She could have joked along with him if she wanted to keep the fun vibe going, but Meg didn't want to give him the wrong impression. "Not for me, unfortunately. I'm more of a relationship kind of girl."

"Shame." His eyes were warm despite the regret in his tone. "We could have had some fun."

She didn't doubt that for a second. Everything about him screamed holiday fling, and she knew he'd make her time here more memorable, but the idea of getting intimate with a man she'd just met went way outside her comfort zone.

Meg smiled to cover her disappointment. "You can have fun just being friends with a woman you know."

Jack gave her a long look, as if debating whether to be honest with her or tell her what she wanted to hear. "I'm sure some men can," he finally said, "but if I'm spending time with a woman I'm attracted to and enjoy being around, I don't want to be her friend."

She had to admire his candor, even if she didn't love the message. He'd just shared something with her that could have resulted in her walking away, but it was more important for him to be clear about his intentions than deceive her.

And at least now she knew. He had no interest in anything platonic, and from what she'd picked up on so far, he wasn't looking for a relationship either. If she lost her mind and tried to pursue something with him, it would be all about the moment with no thought for tomorrow.

Meg wanted him; that part she'd known from the beginning. Watching him emerge from the cover of trees back at the hotel had her itching to touch him. Now he was close enough to do just that, the temptation had only grown stronger.

The door to the restaurant swung open behind them and a raucous crowd entered. While she waited for the noise to die down, Jack took the opportunity to order fresh drinks.

Meg watched him interact with the bartender, and a languid heat seeped through her that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

She couldn't go there. Definitely... probably not. She barely knew anything about him. He could have a girlfriend back home or indulge in so many one-night stands it classified as a hobby.

"Are you in a relationship?" she asked. "Engaged, girlfriend, friends-with-benefits..."

Jack turned in his seat to face her, his gaze never wavering from hers. She loved that he took her seriously instead of giving her one of those teasing looks that threw her off guard. "No to all of the above. You?"

A relieved sigh left her. "Nope."

As a comfortable silence fell between them, Meg took in the stubble lining his jaw, the warm glow of his skin. He looked so healthy and full of life, she wanted to lean in and nuzzle the spot where the pulse beat in his throat, discover his smell, his taste.

She really needed to stop drinking.

She tipped her glass and swallowed half the contents in one gulp.

"Did you ask because you're about to proposition me?"

Meg almost choked on her wine and had to press the back of her hand to her mouth to make sure none came out. "No," she said when she'd recovered.

His rumbling laughter helped lighten the mood. "You're so wound up," he said. "You should kiss me to help ease some of the tension."

She shook her head and tamped down her humor, her skin warming to the invitation in his tone. The crowd in the bar had grown considerably since her arrival, but she'd barely noticed the increased noise level until now.

People were behind her, beside her, conversations and laughter filled the air. No one would notice if she called his bluff right here in the middle of the bar.

Meg downed another sip of wine and imagined her mouth exploring his, their bodies pressed together while the world went on around them. "If I did, would you try to take over and rush me into bed?"