She tugged her freshly washed hair into a high ponytail, slipped her feet into sensible plain flat navy sandals and made her way out of the bedroom.
Instinctively she turned right and headed towards the foyer, and slowed in an attempt to prepare for the impact of Adam. Now her hangover had receded she could take in his appearance with even more appreciation. Dark hair damp from the shower, a dark green version of the T-shirt that so admirably accentuated his chest, and beige knee-length shorts. Delectable.
But Olivia would be strong.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ he replied.
Dark brown eyes swooped over her body and his lips quirked upward into what really could only be classified as a smirk. As if he knew exactly what her appearance denoted and thought it was so much hooey.
‘So what’s the plan for the day?’
‘I’ve got something to show you,’ he said.
A boyish smile tilted his lips and against her will her heart did a hop, skip and a jump.
‘But first I asked the chef to make you this.’ He handed her a plastic container filled to the brim with thick red slush. ‘It’s a smoothie. Full of dragon fruit and watermelon. There should be enough vitamin C in that to zap the last of your hangover away.’
‘Oh...’ For an insane second tears prickled the back of her eyes—before common sense asserted itself. It was kind of Adam. Thoughtful of Adam. But it wasn’t up there with Mother Teresa. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. Now, let’s go.’
Olivia followed him outside, blinking in the brightness as he strode towards the vehicle, his canvas trainers puffing up clouds of dust from the path.
Climbing in behind him, she sipped her smoothie and stared around, marvelling at the scenery, taking in the dark green leaves of the foliage of the palm trees that sprinkled the road. As Adam drove she saw the many scooters that zipped around at seemingly lethal speed and gripped her free hand around her seat belt.
A ten-minute drive and they pulled up outside a secluded villa, set back from the road and nestled within a mini-jungle of lush-leaved plants. Adam jumped down and came round to take her hand—a hand he retained as he led her towards the villa.
Its wooden structure was raised on posts, with an elegantly tapering roof and wide hanging eaves.
‘Here we go,’ Adam said. ‘Our home for the week.’
‘You serious?’
‘Absolutely. Cooking, cleaning, dusting... Whatever you need doing, I’m your man.’
Whatever she needed? Hauling her mind out of the gutter she stared at him, sensing that for Adam this was a bigger deal than he was letting on.
‘Why are you doing this? I have the feeling you want a home like you want a hole in the head.’
‘Yeah, well. How much did you want to get up on stage and play the drums?’
‘That would be hole-in-the-head level.’
‘So fair’s fair. Plus you issued a challenge—and real men don’t refuse a dare.’
‘Then lead on, Masterson, and show me the house.’
She followed him towards the front entrance, inhaling the earthy jungle smell of the lush, verdant foliage. ‘It belongs to Gan’s aunt,’ Adam explained. ‘She only lets it out to people recommended by Gan because she wants the house to retain its karma.’
Olivia could understand that; there was something personal about the villa that made it different from your average holiday let. Each room was clean and bright, with marble floors cool to the touch of her bare feet. Mismatching mahogany and teak furniture and a variety of Thai statues and tapestries were scattered around. There was also an enormous balcony with a view of the sea that stole her breath, complete with...
‘A hammock! Adam, I have always wanted a hammock.’ She turned to face him. ‘Did you choose this place?’ she asked. ‘Or did Gan tell you about it?’
‘I chose it,’ he said. ‘I saw a few others that were way more luxurious, but this one...well, I thought you’d like it.’
‘I do.’ But how on earth had he had time to do all this? She glanced at him and then at her watch. ‘What time did you get up?’
‘Early. Birds and worms and all that.’ His expression was closed as he moved towards the sliding balcony door.
Oh, no. Maybe she’d been snoring. Just to add to the drunken, slovenly image. Little wonder if Adam had leapt out of bed and sprinted from the room to find alternative accommodation.
‘Well, it was worth it. This place is amazing.’ She tipped her palms in the air. ‘Who knows? You may love having a home.’
‘And maybe pigs will fly.’ He smiled, but this time it was that practised smile of charm. ‘Let the holiday begin.’