Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 56

"Let's go." Stopping to grab a T-s.h.i.+rt, Marc pushed her ahead of him out of the villa.

"There's no rush. I'm sure there's plenty for everyone," she a.s.sured him as he hustled her through the gate.

"I love hotel breakfasts. Especially the buffet kind. So many choices. It's great."

He set a clipping pace, his long stride eating up the cobblestones as she gave directions to the pool.

"Oh, yes," he said reverentially as they surveyed the buffet. Cold cereals, hot cereals, fruit, cheeses, deli items, a selection of traditional Indonesian foods including nasi goreng and a huge range of breads, m.u.f.fins and pastries was arrayed before them.

"And you can order your cooked breakfast from the menu on your table," the helpful waiter supplied in perfect English.

Anna stifled a smile as Marc rubbed his hands together. "Okay, where to begin?"

He went back a total of four times, as well as putting away an enormous cooked breakfast of hash browns, bacon and poached eggs on toast. Anna watched with amazement. It was just like the old joke where an impossible number of clowns pile out of a Mini at the circus.

Finally he sat back and patted his belly. "No more room," he announced with pride.

"No kidding," she said, eyeing his midsection with trepidation.

"I love hotel breakfasts," he said again, flas.h.i.+ng her a winning smile.

"No kidding," she said, but she found himself grinning back at him. This was a side to him she hadn't seen before. Indulgent. Fun. Endearing. Who would have thought that a multimillionaire like Marc Lewis would be obsessed with hotel breakfast buffets?

When crunch time came, he found it hard to leave the buffet, however. Highly amused, she pointed out that he could launch an a.s.sault on it again tomorrow morning and at last he conceded that they could go laze by the pool.

Surrounded by sandstone, it was crystal-clear and perfect, with a number of frangipani trees arching their branches over the aquamarine water. Padded lounges were scattered around the edges, and three open-sided shade paG.o.das, larger versions of the one in their villa, marched down one side of the pool.

"Ohhh, the water is perfect," Anna said as she stepped into the shallow end.

Marc was busy eyeing up the shade paG.o.das. "I think we want to get ourselves one of those," he said, appreciation in his tone.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Nothing but the best," she teased.

He glanced down at her, amused. "I am an arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d, aren't I?"

She couldn't help herself. She leaned close and snaked a hand affectionately around his waist, then nuzzled his neck. "In a very nice way," she agreed.

His laugh rumbled through his chest, and she watched him saunter across to check out the paG.o.da, admiring the animal grace of his walk. It didn't escape her notice that the other women around the pool also followed him with their eyes. He was that kind of man.

She had sunk into the water up to her chin by the time he came back looking very pleased with himself.

"Done," he said smugly, and she splashed him playfully. She watched as the pool boy he indicated crossed to place two large towels in the paG.o.da, pulling the curtains shut to indicate it was taken.

"Wow. Today Bali, tomorrow the world," she mocked lightly.

He grinned, then splashed her mightily as he dove in beside her. They swam lazily for twenty minutes, then made their way, dripping, to the paG.o.da to grab their towels. Anna finished drying herself off first and crawled onto the paG.o.da's cus.h.i.+oned base, spreading her towel out. Marc followed suit, fussily arranging his so that there were no wrinkles to annoy him. She hid a smile, amazed at all the little idiosyncratic things a person could find out about someone while on holiday. As Marc prepared to roll over onto his back, she noticed he'd collected a dried leaf on his foot.

Wanting to be helpful, she leaned across to brush it off, then paused, frowning.

"Oh," she said, frowning.

He froze. "What?"

"Well, I thought you had a leaf stuck to your foot. But it's a frog," she explained, fascinated by the dried flat, leaflike frog carca.s.s stuck to his instep.

"What?" he asked, face paling.

"Yep, it's a frog. A dead, dried-up old frog," she confirmed.

He moved like lightning, rolling to the edge of the paG.o.da, dangling his leg off it and shaking it furiously. "Has it gone? Has it gone?" he demanded, hamming it up shamelessly.

Very much amused, she moved forward to check. "Nope."

He swiveled on his back, waving his foot in her face now. "Get it off!" he insisted, his eyes wide with mock panic.

Laughing now, Anna flicked the dried frog with her fingernail and it fluttered to the ground. Marc collapsed back onto the mattress, one hand pressed to his forehead dramatically.

He was so funny. Whimsical even. And she would never have known any of this if they hadn't come to Bali together. And right at that moment, right then, as he was pretending to be scared of a tiny, dried-up frog, his handsome face pulled into an expression of boyish fear, she fell down the last stretch of the slippery slope from l.u.s.t to liking to love. For good or ill, she loved Marc Lewis.

11.

SOMETHING HAD CHANGED. He wasn't sure when it happened. But it had definitely happened. After that first panicky night, he'd been determined to be cautious, careful. He'd even gone so far as to inquire about an earlier flight back, using the Internet connection in the villa's study. But he hadn't gone.

He could put some of his decision down to the fact that Bali was beautiful, a true tropical paradise. Its people were welcoming and warm, and even if the streets were filled with opportunistic hawkers, it was all part of the experience. The hotel was perfect, and their villa an oasis.

But most of his reasons for staying were down to Anna. He'd nailed it that first night as he watched her brush her teeth. She was adorable. And he was beginning to suspect that he wanted to adore her.

It should have sent him into a freaked-out, get-me-the-h.e.l.l-out-of-here spin. But it didn't. It kept him exactly where he was-by her side, enjoying his first holiday in years.

Their first day they spent by the pool, lounging and swimming and reading trashy novels they borrowed from the hotel's "library"-a collection of books other guests had left behind. They had lunch there, sitting cross-legged in their paG.o.da, then they dozed, the curtains drawn around them for privacy. He'd wanted her then, but even drugged with l.u.s.t he'd been able to see that making love within five meters of the hotel swimming pool was probably pus.h.i.+ng it. They'd gone back to the villa and lazed the afternoon away pleasuring each other.

On Monday, they ventured out into the busy streets and encountered their first hawkers. He was sure he would remember the look of consternation on Anna's face forever as she tried to find a polite way of easing away from the persistent street vendors. She'd been anguished, torn between giving them short shrift and understanding that this was the way they made their living.

It was impossible not to feel incredibly privileged as they moved along the popular Rasa Legian shopping district. Australian dollars bought an enormous amount in Bali, and Anna was constantly shaking her head over the disparity.

By the time they returned to their hotel, they'd been footsore, dusty and starving. Anna was the one who spotted the vouchers that had been delivered while they were out. As honored guests, they were being gifted with two complimentary Balinese ma.s.sages. She looked up from the vouchers with the light of antic.i.p.ation in her eyes.

"Let's go this afternoon," she said.

They navigated their way to the hotel's spa complex, and sipped curiously at cups of incredibly sweet ginger tea while they waited for their ma.s.seurs. A very demure young Balinese girl led them to a changing room, and handed them two plastic packs and a dressing gown each before leaving them in privacy.

"What are these?" Anna asked, examining the plastic pack. Her expression cleared as she opened it to reveal a pair of shapeless, s.e.xless disposable underpants.

"No! They do not expect us to wear these!" she asked, a wide, incredulous grin on her face.

"I think they do," he said, indicating a sign on the wall explaining that they were for reasons of hygiene and safety.

Giggling uncontrollably, Anna pulled hers on. "Oh yes, these are going to be all the rage on Bondi beach next year," she said, striking a mock s.e.xy pose.

She was in absolute fits by the time he'd pulled his on, and in the end he had to tie the robe of her gown for her and push her ahead of him out of the changing room.

"It's just that you're so...and they're so..." she tried to explain as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I get it," he a.s.sured her, very much amused.

They were led into a large, attractive room with twin ma.s.sage beds, and welcomed by their ma.s.seurs-in Balinese tradition, he had a male ma.s.seur, Anna a female. He drowsed his way through the first half hour of the treatment, enjoying the slick, practiced movements of his ma.s.seur's hands. Halfway through, he reluctantly roused himself enough to roll onto his back. Any and all relaxation evaporated, however, as he saw that Anna was doing the same thing-and her ma.s.seuse was not covering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with a modesty towel. He frowned, not liking the idea that his ma.s.seur was able to look at Anna any time he liked. Okay, the guy probably saw hundreds of tourists a year. But this was Anna. He didn't want another man looking at her, even if it was incidentally.

She was very quiet afterward as they thanked their ma.s.seurs and began making their way back to the villa, their skin fragrant and still slippery with scented oils.

"Good ma.s.sage?" he asked, wondering at her silence.

"I think so. Yes, I guess," she said thoughtfully.

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Well...maybe you didn't notice, since your eyes were mostly closed," she said. "But when she got me to roll onto my back, she didn't cover me up."

"Oh, I noticed," he growled. She shot him an amused look.

"At first I was a bit self-conscious, but it's like being at the doctor's, right?"

"No, but carry on," he said. She punched him playfully on the arm.

"Stop it. Anyway, the long and the short of it is that she felt me up," she finished in a rush.

"What?" he asked, stopping in his tracks.

Anna nodded. "Yeah. That's what I thought. She was ma.s.saging my stomach, and her hands were kind of moving up, and I was thinking, no, surely not. But then she just did it-she ma.s.saged my b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

Her eyes were sparkling with amus.e.m.e.nt at herself. "Goodbye relaxation, let me tell you!" she joked. "I swear I almost ran from the room!"

They pushed through the gate and into the villa, Marc trying to get the image of Anna having her b.r.e.a.s.t.s ma.s.saged out of his head. He couldn't work out if he found it erotic or disturbing.

"I need a shower," she announced as she slicked a hand up her arm. "I'm as slippery as a greased pig."

"But a lot s.e.xier," he murmured, all rational thought dissolving as he eyed her glistening b.r.e.a.s.t.s and torso as she stripped off her clothes. Moving close, he slid a hand across her skin.

"Mmm," she said, eyes closing seductively. Within minutes they were naked, sliding erotically against one another, their skins smooth and oiled, their movements languorous. She smelled of cloves and vanilla and frangipani, and they made love slowly, infinitely attentive to one another's needs, mouths and hands and fingers probing, teasing, touching. They came together, his face pressed into her neck, inhaling the smell that was uniquely Anna.

Now it was Wednesday. They were halfway through their holiday, and he couldn't think of a time when he'd enjoyed himself more. He'd booked a table at a popular local restaurant for dinner. Gado Gado was just two minutes walk up the beach, and it came highly recommended. As he ran gel through his hair carelessly, he realized he was looking forward to spoiling Anna some more. She was so open to everything, so ready to engage. He found her...captivating.

She entered the bathroom behind him, and his eyes darkened as he saw what she was wearing. It was a Bali purchase, a thin halter-neck dress in white broderie anglaise, its bodice fitted, with a flared skirt that ended midcalf. Her skin was an inviting latte color after three days of careful exposure, the contrast very s.e.xy with her blond hair and toffee brown eyes. She looked beautiful. And very desirable.

"Maybe we should stay in for dinner," he said as he turned to face her.

She smiled, stepping close to put her arms around his waist.

"What did you have in mind? Room service?" she asked.

"And you for dessert." Her pupils dilated, and he heard the breath hitch in her throat. She was so d.a.m.ned responsive. No wonder he couldn't get enough of her.

No wonder he was thinking about her all the time.

But it didn't explain why he was pus.h.i.+ng her away now, patting her on the backside when she turned inquiring eyes to him. He wanted to take her out, show her a nice time. Pamper her. Show her he cared.

Which, he was beginning to realize, he did. More and more so every day.

It scared the h.e.l.l out of him. But not enough to make him run. He'd never been a stupid man, and he knew a good thing when he was on to it. Perhaps he'd always known with Anna, from that first moment when their eyes locked in the rearview mirror of her car. She was special.

He just had to decide what he was going to do about it, and how far he was prepared to go to keep her in his life. At the moment he had nothing to offer her. Yes, he was getting a divorce, but he had no illusions about himself-Tara had screwed with his head. He needed to sort himself out before he could tell Anna any of the things that were on his mind.

Patience, he told himself. She's not going anywhere. Get it right this time.

MARC'S HAND WAS WARM and firm in hers as he led her across the sand to a fairy-light-adorned restaurant that was next to the hotel. They were both wearing flip-flops, and they stopped to shake off the sand before entering the high-ceiling, thatch-roofed restaurant. Like so many Balinese buildings, one side was completely open to the elements, extending the floor plan of the restaurant out onto a deck that fronted directly onto the beach.

It was all so beautiful, so perfect. And Marc was so funny, so handsome, so s.e.xy. And so very, very lovable, as it turned out. She'd learned so much about him over the past few days. As he relaxed, winding down from his demanding lifestyle, she saw more of his humor, his gentleness, his wittiness. She felt her heart squeeze in her chest as he held her seat out for her, his dark eyes gentle on her. He'd secured them a table at the very front of the deck, offering them an un.o.bstructed view of the inky dark rolling surf. Around them, people talked and laughed quietly, but tonight it felt as though the two of them were in a private bubble, a world of their own.

She'd been fighting her growing feelings for days now, trying so hard to convince herself that she was simply infatuated with Marc, obsessed with his body, even. But she was in love, and tonight she was sick of fighting it. Just have tonight, she told herself. Tomorrow you can regret it.

The menu was very European. Marc had salmon; she had chicken. The heat made tackling desserts impossible, but they lingered anyway, finis.h.i.+ng their bottle of wine.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" Marc asked after a comfortable pause in the conversation.

She smiled. "Yes. But feel free to say it again."

"You look very s.e.xy with a tan, Anna." His glance ran over her, and she marveled at the fact that he could turn her on with just a look.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Mr. Lewis," she said, studying him appreciatively. His olive skin had darkened to a decadent mahogany, making him look exotic and dangerous and infinitely attractive.

"Thanks for inviting me to share your holiday. I've had a great time," Marc said, raising his gla.s.s and holding her eye.

"Ditto. I'm not quite sure what I would have done on my own," she said.

"I think there are a few guys by the pool who would have helped you out," he said drily.

She c.o.c.ked her head. "Jealous?" she teased.

"You know I am."

There was a very serious, very intent look in his eye. She should look away, she knew. But she'd given herself permission to have tonight, hadn't she?

But he surprised her with his next comment.