In search of inspiration and excitement, successful artist, Ziva Clarke, takes a trip to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Her exhibitions in the UK have left her exhausted, she’s had no fun in ages and her creativity is at below zero—the exotic Far East could be just what she needs.
Charmer Sam Tempest is visiting Kuala Lumpur on business with his father, but behind the impeccable suit and the wicked smile, he’s not a happy man. Duty bound to join his family’s international business, Sam longs to follow his true passion—to carve wood sculptures.
The two lonely souls meet by chance on a crowded street, and when it turns out they might not be the strangers they first thought, so begins a night of confessions, shared dreams and hot sex.
Can one steamy night in Kuala Lumpur be the answer to both their dreams?
Squinting, Ziva tried to see who’d spoken in a deep, smooth-as-silk British accent.
A tall man stood before her and greeted her with an alluring, lopsided smile that exuded confidence. Kind eyes crinkled at the corners.
His broad shoulders were clad in a navy, tailored business suit. With his thick hair, a rich, burnt umber colour, slicked back off his forehead, and an angular, clean-shaven jaw, the guy could have stepped off the set of a TV advert for men’s cologne. And his lips… oh boy, his lips. Full, well-defined, and made for sinning.
Her mouth dried. Kuala Lumpur grew more interesting by the second.
Elise filled in for her temporary inability to speak. “No, we haven’t. My sister failed to mention Pavilion or Lot 10. I’m afraid she doesn’t share my love for shopping.”
Surprise flashed across his face before his smile widened then hitched higher in one corner. Yep, male model material. Just my luck if he’s gay.
Elise shifted from one foot to the other and adjusted her hold on her dozen or so shopping bags. “Are the malls far?”
“No, not far. They’re near the Golden Triangle part of the city.”
Ziva stifled another groan. More malls, right near where they were staying.
The guy tipped his head. “I’m Sam, by the way.” Sophisticated charm oozed from every pore. “It’s lovely to meet two beautiful English roses so far from home.” Although he spoke to both of them, he directed an intense gaze at Ziva. Mischievous cobalt eyes sparkled in the bright sunlight then he winked at her. Hmm, not gay then.
“Hi, I’m Elise,” her sister said, sticking out her chest. “Nice to meet you, too.” She shuffled her feet again. “My feet are roasting standing here.”
Ziva glanced at Elise’s unsuitable choice of footwear as she stood on a drain cover. “I’m not surprised your feet are hot. It’s ninety-five degrees and you’re wearing high-heeled boots. I told you to wear your flat sandals.”
Elise rolled her eyes. “Flat sandals do not go with this outfit,” she said resignedly. “Kuala Lumpur is home to some of the best shopping malls in South East Asia—who cares about a little discomfort?”
“So, you were listening when I read out the tourist brochure and the amazing places I’d like to visit.”
“No, not really.” Elise gave an apologetic shrug. “I heard ‘shopping malls’ mostly.”
Sam laughed. His attention never left Ziva. “And your name is…?”
The crowd surged forward to cross the road. Someone jostled past Ziva, accidentally knocking her elbow. Her tatty canvas handbag and her one and only shopping bag dropped to the ground. She gasped as her new lingerie tumbled onto the dusty pavement. “Oh, crap!”
Stooping to her haunches, she then hastily stuffed lacy bras and matching thongs back into the paper bag. Her blonde curls tumbled over her face, helping to hide cheeks that burned hotter than the pavement. A serious contender for Miss Tiny Tits UK, she’d been spoiled for choice when she’d seen that the malls in KL catered for smaller women, so she’d treated herself to a few items of sexy underwear. Not that she had an occasion to wear it, but still, the last thing she needed was to have it displayed for all to see.
Sam kneeled in front of her, picked up a black bra, and swung it on his finger. “Here, I think you missed one.”
Head still down, she reached for the bra, but he hooked his finger around the strap and held it firm. She tugged. “Let go.”
“Not until you tell me your name.” He tugged back, stretching the lace and elastic across the distance between them. “And not until you look at me.”
About the Author
Abbey MacMunn writes contemporary, paranormal and erotic romance. She lives in Hampshire, UK with her husband and their four children. She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association.
When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.