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."
