One Night in Bangkok (Passport to Passion #1) by Rhian Cahill Page A

shoulder.
    Beth knew it wasn’t an easy skill to learn; she’d dropped many a tray in her first years as a waitress. She smiled at memories of a life that until six months ago had been all she’d ever wanted.
    Her lips pulled down in a frown. It had all been a lie. How did one man’s deceit shatter everything she thought about herself? Just thinking about what she’d allowed Alexander to turn her into and the doubts about herself his words had provoked had her grinding her teeth.
    No more. He would never again have the opportunity to hurt her. The waitress stepped up beside her. About to order a drink, Beth watched in shock as the server placed a drink coaster and a tall glass filled with an orange liquid and ice on the table in front of her. As the woman straightened, Beth snapped out of her stupor enough to speak.
    “I didn’t order that.”
    “No ma’am. It’s compliments of the gentleman over there.” The waitress turned and pointed to a man sitting on the other side of the room.
    “Oh.” Lost for words, she turned back to look at her own table. When was the last time a man had bought her a drink? A man she didn’t know. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been in a bar. Beth reached for the glass, the cold surface slick and wet against her fingers. She plucked the little umbrella stabbed into a piece of pineapple from the top, brought the beverage to her nose and tried to distinguish the contents by smell.
    “It’s the house specialty, a tropical fruit cocktail, ma’am. There’s no alcohol, just fresh fruit from the local region.”
    Beth hadn’t heard the woman return and she jumped at the sound of her voice. As she jostled the glass, ice clinked and some of the cocktail sloshed over the side and onto her fingers. She swapped hands and quickly brought her fingers to her lips to lick up the runaway drink. The juice’s fresh sweetness burst across her tongue. As Beth slid her finger out of her mouth she looked over at the man who’d sent her the drink. Intending to send him a smile, her lips froze in a half curl when their gazes connected.
    He watched her with such rapt attention over the top of his drink her breath caught in her throat. Holding her gaze, he raised his glass in a silent toast. She could see the predatory gleam in his eyes and knew it was more than a simple toast, so when she raised her glass in response, she knew she’d just extended a silent invitation for him to join her.
    The stranger kept his eyes on hers. With little effort he stood from his chair and walked toward her. No. Not walked. Stalked. He took each step like an animal hunting its prey. Measured, precise, driven. In no time he stood next to her, all lean, sexy, and breath-stealing. Even with his suit a little rumpled from the heat, on the surface he appeared smooth, cultured businessman. Waves of testosterone poured off him.
    “May I join you?”
    A shiver skittered down her spine. His voice was a little rough, a little taut, like he strained to hold himself back. She offered him a small nod and he sat in the chair next to hers. He placed his drink on the table, leaned closer and extended his hand. Reflex, training and manners had her putting her hand in his. Cool and hard, his skin glided over hers. Pins and needles sped across her palm and up her arm. Startled, she breathed deep. Her nostrils filled with the smell of him, a tickle of cologne, soap and warm man. Her blood raced.
    Eyes wide, she met his gaze, aware her nipples had gone rock hard beneath her blouse and moisture filled her panties. Their hands held for longer than was polite and she’d be a fool to ignore the extra squeeze he delivered before he let go. The quirk of a smile and the twinkle in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She’d never responded to a man so quickly. Could her body be waking up from the deep freeze it had been in for the last six months?
    Beth sat staring at him and wondered what it was about