deposited itself on the bar stool beside the German. Her arm slung over his shoulder in introduction, she threw back her blonde mane and laughed loudly. How did she do it? So casual, so natural and unashamed. It made me feel even more sweaty and awkward. Unable to tear my eyes from her flirty gestures and overt confidence, I could see she was completely absorbed in the German. He was huge and ugly, I thought. Evidently Mags didn’t care. Her skinny arm, jingling with bracelets, tightened around him, and she drew him into a wet, heady kiss.
Shameless, that’s what she was.
As I watched, I wondered — why can’t I be shameless like that? I gulped my drink, inhaling the heavy air woefully, resigning myself to returning to the hostel without her. I reached down to gather my bag, which sat between my sandal-clad feet, and I heard the scrape of a chair close by. My heart leapt and I looked up.
There he was looking down upon me — the handsome guy.
Up close he wasn’t merely cute, he was magnificent. All chiselled masculine grace. His slanted eyes were dark, exotic and mesmerising. Yum.
‘Hey,’ he said, his voice smooth and gentle despite the crass music that perforated the atmosphere.
‘Hi,’ I squeaked in return, willing my skin not to change colour or otherwise show off what kind of freak I was.
‘You Australian?’ he asked.
I felt the uncontrollable tingle on my skin that heralded change of colour. Without answering him, I found myself staring down at my hand. It was changing to match the pattern of the chequered tablecloth. Hoping he hadn’t noticed my abnormality, I tucked it underneath the table.
His gaze turned quizzical, rich chocolate brown eyes studying me.
‘You’re Australian, yes?’ he repeated in flawless English slightly flavoured with an accent.
Where was this bar-boy from?
‘Yes,’ I whispered, feeling a blush that I hoped was a normal colour rear up my cheeks again.
‘You have beautiful eyes,’ he purred, and swept down onto the chair beside me with the grace of cat. His hand, warm and dry, landed firmly on my exposed thigh.
If I were a romance writer I’d say ‘at that moment my loins melted’, but as I’m not, I’ll just say that it flat-out turned me on. No one had come on to me so overtly — ever — and suddenly in that steamy bar in the depths of Vientiane, one dirty little fantasy was about to be realised. Or so I hoped.
I struggled with an insane urge to throw myself onto the table and scream at him to ‘take me now’, but I found myself mumbling, ‘Thanks’. My hand reached down and touched his, and sparks of heat and electricity jolted up the pathway of my bones.
‘What is your name?’ he asked, and his warm hand captured mine, hauling me hook, line and sinker to stand.
‘Sabra,’ I whispered. Why was he so mesmerising? I couldn’t take my eyes from his, sexy, sparkling with intent.
‘Beautiful name for a girl with beautiful eyes,’ he purred, as he gestured to my handbag and I picked it up blindly, unwilling to remove my gaze from him, not for one second. ‘I am Tao.’ His hand tightened on mine and he turned to lead me from the bar.
Had I been careful, had I listened to my teachers all those years ago, I’d have recognised the magic in the air, the electricity in his touch as sorcery, but I didn’t. And maybe even if I had I wouldn’t have cared.
‘Sab!’ Maggie called as I followed the gorgeous guy from the bar. ‘Where are you going?’
I turned to face my friend, belatedly realising that I didn’t actually know.
‘Where are we going, Tao?’ I asked the man whose hand gripped mine so tightly. My head swam and I felt giddy; my head lolled onto his shoulder as he turned to speak to Maggie.
‘Just out, don’t worry.’ He smiled beatifically at Mags and, apparently placated, she shrugged and returned to her German man without a further word.
Tao laughed, and he said something in a flurry of his native language to the barman, who