Loving The Temperamental Adonis
Chapter 270 - 8

Chapter 270: Chapter 8

Leaving Liam to deal with room service, Rayne went into the suite’s luxurious bathroom/dressing room to clean up. Twisting around in front of the full-length mirrors that lined one wall, she brushed at the bits of grass and dirt stuck to the back of her pants, but there was a damp stain on one side that was very noticeable.

Conscious of the passage of time, she walked over to the closet and considered her choices. Mia had helped her pack because the night before Rayne was to leave for Maranta, she’d gotten one of the fierce headaches that had been plaguing her since her father’s death.

Mia had chosen outfits that were suitable for a romantic holiday with Max, and none of them seemed completely appropriate for this particular occasion with Liam.

Rayne decided on a pair of light pink silk lounging pants paired with a delicate pink silk camisole with a straight neckline and narrow spaghetti straps that tied into bows on her shoulders. The outfit seemed a little too softly feminine to suit dining alone in a hotel room with a man who wasn’t her partner, but it covered everything except her arms, and the neckline was perfectly modest, so it seemed like the best selection among the clothes she had with her.

She changed quickly and slipped on a pair of room slippers. At the mirror above the sink, she paused just long enough to run a brush through her hair and put on fresh lipgloss. She was absolutely determined to atone for everything she’d put Liam through by making the rest of his evening as enjoyable as she possibly could, and that meant not keeping him waiting alone any longer than necessary.

Rayne’s phone began ringing in the main room while she was applying lipgloss, and she reached automatically for the door to go pick it up; then she hesitated and let it continue ringing.

Max phoned every night at about this time, and this call was undoubtedly from him. If he was calling to explain that he couldn’t make it to Maranta the next afternoon, then he’d probably be relieved to leave that message on voicemail for her. If he was calling to confirm that he was going to arrive as planned, she could listen to his message later. Right now, she had a rather urgent debt to repay to the man in the next room, and the only way she could repay it was by being the best hostess she could possibly be.

That was one thing Rayne knew how to do rather well, having grown up in a family who owned a chain of restaurants. They were all brought up to know how to be good hosts. That had been one of the reasons she’d wanted to be a journalist rather than follow the family legacy, but it seemed it was true what they say: you can never run from your destiny. If she had been interested in the family business right from the start, Jason wouldn’t have had the chance to do what he did. But rather than dwell on that again, she dismissed the thoughts and put her lip gloss down.

She took a last glance at herself in the mirrored wall behind her; then she turned off the lights and left the room.

She expected to find Liam outside on the terrace enjoying the warm, moonlit night. Instead, she found him standing next to the sleeping dog, hands in his pockets, with an amused smile on his face. She paused in the doorway, curious about what he was thinking. Then she noticed something else: he looked just as neat and well-dressed as when he had arrived at the hotel that evening.

His thick black hair was perfectly cut and styled, without a strand out of place. His white shirt and black trousers were completely unwrinkled, and his black loafers were spotless. He had draped the navy blazer he wore earlier over a chair and rolled up his shirtsleeves to his forearms. Apart from these small changes, he didn’t look like someone who had just helped load and unload a large, unconscious dog from a stretcher.

Earlier that day, in the dim light of the restaurant, she had been too embarrassed about spilling a Michelada on him to notice much beyond the fact that he looked even more handsome than he had years ago.

Tonight, she’d been too busy with Eric to actually study the man who’d gentlemanly responded to her appeal for help, but now she realized Liam Thompson wasn’t merely handsome, he was absolutely gorgeous.

He was about six feet three inches tall, with extremely broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and narrow hips. His face was tanned, his jaw was as sharp as a blade, and his brows were thick and straight above dark-lashed eyes that she already knew were a deep ink black.

Normally, Rayne was unimpressed with exceptionally handsome men, because they were usually either vain and shallow or subtly effeminate, but this man, who she’d made herself hate for the past eleven years for something as silly as being called ugly at seventeen years, was thoughtful and kind, and he was thoroughly male.

Standing still in the living room with his hands in his pockets, he radiated strong masculinity and sex appeal.

All of those attributes, combined with his wry sense of humor and sophistication, made Rayne decide that he was, in every respect, the most attractive man she’d ever encountered.

No wonder glamorous, sophisticated women would gladly drop into his arms when he beckoned them, Rayne thought. She, however, was neither glamorous nor very worldly, and for once, she was rather glad of those shortcomings. He wouldn’t be tempted to turn the full force of his charm and good looks on someone like her.

The evening had already been nerve-racking enough without having to fend off advances from such an attractive man. Realizing she’d been staring at him for far too long, Rayne stepped forward and announced her presence by saying the first thing that came to mind. "I’m sorry I took so long."

He turned at the sound of her voice; but instead of replying, he looked her over slowly from head to toe with a smile of frank masculine appreciation that was so flattering and unnerving to Rayne that she had to concentrate on walking without tripping over her own feet. As his gaze traveled back up to her head, she braced for a suggestive compliment.

"Your curls are all tamed down tonight," he observed mildly.

Rayne’s nervous misgivings evaporated in a relieved laugh. "I tortured them into submission with a flat iron and blow dryer," she said, stopping beside him.

"How’s the patient doing?" she asked, bending down to lightly scratch behind Eric’s ears. Her fingertips encountered a light dusting of a powdery substance that hadn’t been on him before, and she noticed more of it on the white carpet around where he lay. Rayne glanced uncertainly over her shoulder and held up her powdery fingertips. "Do you know what this is?"

"Flea powder. I had housekeeping bring some in while you were changing clothes."

"Why do you think he has fleas?"

"Because they were dragging him toward the door while I watched," he said drily, as he grasped her arm, urging her up. "I’d stand back until that stuff does the job or you’ll be awake all night scratching behind your own ears."

Surprised and touched to discover he’d gallantly taken care of yet another problem for her, Rayne straightened and looked searchingly at his handsome, tanned face. She’d been uneasy about him simply because he was outrageously good-looking, and she had an impossible impulse to tell him that, and then to apologize for it.

Instead, she said with soft sincerity, "You’re very sweet."

Liam’s reaction was more sexual than sweet; yet as he gazed into her luminous green eyes, he found himself wondering if there was truth to the saying that the eyes were the windows to the soul. His attention shifted almost immediately to her full lips, but just as he started to act on his impulse to kiss her, the silence was suddenly shattered by musicians down at the beach.

Rayne stepped back immediately, smiled, and tipped her head in the direction of the music coming in through the open terrace doors. "I love this kind of music. Did you arrange for that too, when you got the flea powder?" she joked.

Her recovery was so smooth that Liam would have actually believed she hadn’t realized what was about to happen between them a moment before, except that her fair skin couldn’t hide the telltale pink on her high cheekbones.

Her pretense struck him as entertaining but unnecessary. They were both adults, they were obviously attracted to each other; therefore, they were likely to end up in that inviting king-size bed in the alcove later on. Liam saw no reason for either of them to pretend otherwise.

"If I’d arranged for that music," he assured her wryly, "I’d have told them I prefer a much slower tempo—at first."

Rayne’s eyes widened at the double entendre she perceived in his remark. Earlier, she had accused him of being a ’fast worker,’ but even if he was, surely he couldn’t intend to seamlessly transition from discussing fleas to an aborted kiss to a blatant sexual implication without pausing in between.

Or could he?

Rayne decided her imagination was running wild and reminded herself that her goal tonight was to be a good hostess. "Let me fix you something to drink," she said with a quick smile as she turned toward the suite’s well-stocked bar. "What would you like?"

"Wine if you have ice. Otherwise, whiskey."

"I’m sure we have ice," she assured him, lifting the lid of the ice bucket to confirm. "The staff here takes care of everything. They even provide chilled towels at the beach." From the refrigerator, she retrieved a miniature bottle of wine, some whiskey, and a fresh lime.

"You had a phone call while you were changing clothes," Liam mentioned.

Rayne shot an accusatory glance at her phone on the desk and proceeded to open the bottle of wine. "I know. I’ll call back later."

"When are you expecting him to arrive?"