“Please?” She cut him off, embarrassment staining her cheeks.
“I’ll have a grilled chicken with the sauce on the side too,” he replied, his eyes gentling as he watched her squirm in her seat.
“Fries or steamed vegetables on the side, Sir?”
“Neither,” he said, a small smile tilting his lips up and making her stomach do a weird, little flip.
The server nodded before topping up Vedika’s water and disappearing. The music changed, a faster, sexier beat throbbing through the air.
“Do you dance?” he asked, still looking at her with that half smile.
“Me?” Flustered, Vedika tucked a lock of unruly hair behind her ear. “No. I don’t dance.”
He was still watching her, that strange look in his eyes, that ridiculous travesty of a smile on his lips. Her stomach squirmed again and she pressed a hand to it. Not today, please, she prayed.
She thought he was going to push her into dancing but when Daksh pushed up from the chair, it was to approach one of the blonde women sitting at the other table. Vedika watched as the woman tossed her hair and took his hand, not hesitating for a second. But then why would she? The man was impossibly good looking.
He swung the other woman into a slow dance that looked unbearably romantic before spinning her into a sexy two step. Vedika’s heart did a slow thrum in her chest as she watched them. She wished, oh how she wished, that for one night, she could be as wild and unfettered as the two of them. But she couldn’t. She knew all too well what happened when you lost control of your life, of your emotions.
The dance was getting sexier and sexier and Vedika discreetly fanned her flushed cheeks as the other guests in the shack started to applaud. They had an innate grace and sexiness in their body that she knew she’d never possess. Daksh finally drew away from the other woman, his head thrown back with laughter, his hair tousled with the wind and dancing, his soft t-shirt flapping in the breeze…he really was unfairly attractive.
And then he turned to where she was sitting, a polite smile on his face, and held his hand out and Vedika’s heart did a terrified lurch in her chest.
“N-N-No,” she stuttered, shrinking back in her chair as everyone in the shack turned to look at her. “I don’t dance.”
Daksh frowned, his gaze taking in her panic and he immediately withdrew his hand. “Alright,” he said calmly, no sign of temper or irritation at being rejected. “It’s time for dinner anyway.”
He fell back into the chair across from her, his entire body and face flushed and glowing with health and vitality. The server appeared with their chicken, leaving little pots of sauce by their hands. He brought Daksh another beer, opening it and setting it beside him.
Daksh thanked him, saying something in konkani that made the other man in laugh. She watched him as he slathered his chicken with the sauce, her stomach cramping at the sight of the sauce oozing over the meat.
She picked up a teaspoon and smoothed a little sauce over her chicken, just enough to manage the dryness of the grilled meat. Before she’d managed two carefully chewed bites, Daksh had swallowed his entire chicken and was scraping the last of the sauce off the bottom of his plate.
Laughter bubbled up in her chest as he gazed mournfully at his empty plate.
“You should order something else,” she murmured, hiding a smile.
He glanced up, that sexy smirk on his lips again. “I was thinking dessert.”
Her stomach revolted at the word and her lips tightened as she struggled to keep it from showing. His smile disappeared as he studied her expression.
“Right,” he said briskly. “No dessert.”
“No please. Don’t stop on my account.” She reached out, impulsively placing her hand on his arm. The muscles flexed under her touch, his skin warm and burning through her palm. His glance dropped to her fingers resting on the dusting of hair that grew over his forearm, looking almost transfixed by the sight.
Vedika snatched her hand back, swallowing hard, before taking another small bite of the chicken.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” he said, his voice holding a strange note in it. “I’m done.”
She watched him carefully withdraw his hands from the table and place it in his lap. To keep them out of reach of her, she thought with mortification. Why did she do that? She didn’t look up as she shovelled the last of the chicken in. She took a sip of water to wash it down and stood, the chair toppling over with her sudden movement.
“I have to get back to my room,” she said, not looking at him.
“Give me a moment,” he muttered, calling for the slip to sign the meal on to his room bill.
“Umm, no,” she blurted out. “I can find my way back. Goodnight.”
She left in a hurry, her sandals kicking up sand in little flurries. A second later, he caught up with her, his long legs making mincemeat of the distance between them.
