Loving The Temperamental Adonis
Chapter 266 - 4

Chapter 266: Chapter 4

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped in a white robe that the hotel provided, Rayne finished taming her curly hair into soft waves, then switched off the blow-dryer and walked over to the closet to survey her choice of clothing.

Most of the restaurants in Maranta were casual, but a few were quite elegant, and she had no idea whether her dinner companion would be wearing jeans and a T-shirt, or dressed formally in suits.

Since he’d been wearing a white shirt, slacks, and black leather loafers at lunch, it seemed likely he’d be dressed at least that well for dinner, and possibly more so. Based on that, Rayne chose a pair of silk brown pants and a pale blue top with a wide off-the-shoulder neckline, and a brown satin sash; then she hesitated, hanger in hand.

Rather than try to second-guess him and end up making the wrong choice, she put the clothes back into the closet and walked over to the phone on the desk in the living room. A balmy breeze drifted in from the gardens through the open terrace doors as she pressed the button for the hotel operator and asked to be connected with Liam Thompson’s room.

"I’m sorry," the young man said after a pause, "but Mr. Thompson isn’t staying with us."

"You’re sure he isn’t registered here?" Rayne asked.

"Yes, very sure."

The vague uneasiness Rayne had experienced earlier when he said he had ’another restaurant in mind’ sharpened into alarm as she hung up the telephone.

Staring blankly at the Hotel Services notebook beside the desk phone, she reflected on the situation: She had met a man she hadn’t seen in ages in a hotel—a man known for changing women like a change of clothes—and she had agreed to get into a car and go somewhere with him in a foreign country when she had a boyfriend who could return at any time to find her gone.

Going out with him could damage the little good reputation she had if anyone she knew saw her and reported back to Max. While her relationship with Max was on the rocks, she didn’t want any unnecessary misunderstandings before deciding whether to continue or end it.

It was common knowledge that Liam Thompson had left the country following a scandal that had not been made public, and rumors of him dating multiple women had circulated since she had last seen him. The last thing she needed was to be embroiled in a scandalous affair with a known womanizer.

But now that she had met him and had agreed in the heat of the moment to take him to dinner, she wished she could take back her offer and paid for the ruined shirt instead.

Unnerved by her thoughts, Rayne wandered outside onto the terrace; then she stifled a nervous gasp as a large dog’s head suddenly reared up from the bushes on the edge of the terrace.

"You startled me, Eric!" she exclaimed. The dog recoiled at her accusatory tone, prompting Rayne to quickly switch to a softer, reassuring voice. "You didn’t really scare me. I was already frightened because I might have made a terrible choice."

The dog glanced around as if checking for onlookers, then cautiously placed one paw on the terrace, not two as Rayne observed. "I have no more food for you," she informed him, pointing to the empty table nearby. "Look, there’s nothing here."

He put his second paw onto the terrace, still hesitant, but looking at her intently as if he wanted something from her. Stepping forward, she laid her hand on his head. "I don’t have anything for you," she repeated, but his tail wagged as soon as she touched him.

"Is this what you want?" she asked in surprise, and tentatively stroked her hand from the crown of his head down his neck. In response, he pressed the side of his head against her leg.

On her third stroke, he leaned the full weight of his body against her.

On her fourth stroke, he closed his eyes in quiet pleasure.

"I’m lonely, too, Eric," Rayne whispered. In the aftermath of her father’s death, her emotions were so raw that just the realization that this dog was also lonely brought tears of empathy to her eyes.

She knew the feeling of being alone because after her father’s death and their bankruptcy, many influential people had started to remove her from their circles. She was now a laughing stock in Mirage Mesa and many other cities.

Their fall from grace was so abrupt and unexpected that she hadn’t seen it coming when it happened. The only reason she wasn’t complaining about their trip to this island was the fact that the people here didn’t seem to know who she was or didn’t even care. No one had pointed a finger at her or taunted her for her family’s fall from grace like they did in Mirage Mesa.

And now she’d lost all of her friends except Mia and Neil; only those two had stuck with her. Neil had even offered to help her buy back a few of the restaurants Jason had sold, but she declined because she didn’t want to be indebted to him or Mia forever. She’d work herself to bring her family’s name out of shame rather than depend on others. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away her tears of loneliness.

Trying to concentrate on something else, she thought about the possible ramifications of her reckless decision to have dinner with Liam this night, and stroked Eric’s head.

When she finally glanced at her watch, it was fifteen minutes to eight. "I have to go now," she said, giving the canine’s head a quick pat before moving away from him.

"Tell you what," she added, trying to sound cheerful for his sake, "if I get back, we’ll have breakfast together in the morning, and I’ll order you an entire, all-meat breakfast of your very own. How does that sound?"

Large brown eyes looked at her imploringly, and he wagged his tail. He wanted more petting, and that was as clear as if he’d spoken the words.

Rayne backed into the suite and put her hand on the sliding glass door to pull it closed. In an idiotic attempt to bribe the forlorn dog to feel better—and make herself feel less guilty—she made him promises as she slowly pulled the door closed.

"I’ll order you bacon and sausage. Better yet, I’ll order you a steak with a bone that you can take with you and bury! You really have to go now," she urged, closing the door the last inch. On the other side of the glass, the dog stared at her intently; Rayne reluctantly turned away.

Fifteen minutes later, wearing the outfit she’d originally chosen, Rayne bent down to slip on a pair of light blue sandals with narrow straps, then picked up the little blue clutch-style purse that matched the shoes.

It was time to find out if she’d made the most idiotic and possibly worst mistake of her life by agreeing to have dinner outside the hotel, in a foreign country, with someone like Liam. A stupid and sensible thought suddenly crossed her mind as she made her way to the door: If she didn’t return tonight and ended up dead like Linda Tudor had when she went out with Liam Thompson the last time, no one would ever know who murdered her or where she went.

Partway to the door, another sudden, sensible idea crossed her mind, and she turned back. Safety first before anything else—she’d been taught that much in her childhood; one could not just go out without letting someone know. She dug out a pen from her bag and tore a sheet of paper from her notebook. On it, she wrote in large letters:

"I’ve gone out to dinner with Liam Thompson. I met him this afternoon in the Stonbar when I spilled a Michelada on his shirt. The waiter can confirm that if I don’t return."

Satisfied, she propped the note on the living room telephone, where it would be easily spotted by Max if he were to come when she wasn’t back by tomorrow. Once he read her note, he’d surely check with the waiters at the Stonbar, and one or more of them would be able to confirm the fact that she’d agreed to take Liam to dinner.

At the door to her suite, Rayne paused again and glanced over her shoulder at the terrace door. Eric had moved off the terrace into the grass, and was poised to run.

Evidently, he was too wily to hang around on her terrace if she left, and Rayne was glad of that. She assumed he’d head for the safety of the trees and the company of his canine friends, as he usually did, but when she was only a few steps away from the white stucco villa that housed her suite, the brown dog bounded around the building and trotted straight to her side.

Rayne stopped worriedly and he sat. "You’re getting way too daring," she warned him sternly. "The groundskeepers are on the lookout for you, and I can’t protect you if I’m not here." Pointing to the woods, she ordered, "Go!"

He glanced in the direction she pointed, then back at her.

"I know you understand me," Rayne told him firmly, "because people are always chasing you and telling you to go away, and then you do it. Now, I mean it." She patted his head because she couldn’t help herself; then she pointed to the line of trees and ordered sharply,"Go away!"

He stood up slowly.

"Go on—go away!" Rayne said sharply, and clapped her hands for emphasis; then she turned her back on him and walked purposefully down the path to the hotel’s main entrance.

From the corner of her eye she watched him running toward the trees, but angling in the same direction she was headed. He was so large and so agile that he covered an amazing amount of ground in an effortless, loping canter, she noted admiringly, but if he intended to try to meet her outside the front of the hotel, he’d get into trouble for being there.

She thought of the way he’d leaned his body against her and closed his eyes a little while ago when she petted him, and she felt like a cruel witch for running him off just a few minutes later.