An Unlikely Deal(5)

It's tempting. My feet are killing me after a day spent in pumps, and the prices are ridiculously low. Only about ten bucks for an hour of massage.

"Maybe after dinner," I say with a smile as I pass by.

Carts selling fresh fruit smoothies are already out. Each clear plastic cup contains overripe mangoes, watermelon chunks, bananas and other tropical fruit I don't recognize. The ladies call out prices, again incredibly inexpensive for something so fresh and scrumptious. Maybe I'll get one of those after dinner, too … if I can still eat. The scent of grilled seafood and meat and curry permeates the air, and my stomach growls.

"Madam, hamburger?" a man says in front of a western-style bar and grill.

"No thanks." This is my last night in Chiang Mai, and I want to try something more interesting and authentic. I can get a burger in Osaka anytime.

Around a corner is a modest-sized restaurant specializing in curry. It doesn't look Indian, though, so I stop to check out the menu.

"Would you like to go in, madam?"

I lift my head at the lilting suggestion. A soft-faced man is watching me with a smile.

"Is this place Indian?"

"No, madam. Moroccan."

Moroccan. That sounds both delicious and exotically intriguing. I smile, about to say yes then stop as my gaze drifts away from the man to something else beyond the smoothie carts I just passed by.

It's a western man. Not unusual; Chiang Mai is one of the major cities in Thailand and there are lots of foreigners. But …

The bold dark slant of eyebrows, the unusually sharp eyes. The masterfully carved bones on his arresting face … and his expensive semi-formal clothing that establishes his station in life and subtly warns people to stay away …

All the air leaves my lungs; the world seems to spin and grow dim at the same time. I can't sense anything over the deafening roaring in my head.

Lucas.

His hair is longer now, and styled differently, with bangs covering most of the left side of his face, but it has to be him. No other man can make me so aware … like an electric current has gone through me. 

"Madam?"

I jerk my head back at the man and merely blink at him. Who is this man? Why is he talking to me?

"You like a table?"

Right. Dinner. "No …  No, thank you. I'm sorry. I have to go."

I turn and start walking, intent on returning to the hotel. I glance back over a shoulder, and Lucas is still there, standing next to a local merchant. He's alone. But for all I know Faye Belbin is here too, maybe haggling with a vendor over an elephant carving.

Mocking laughter echoes in my head. Haggling! Ha. That's so funny, Ava. The women Lucas dates do not haggle. Ever. The kind of women he dates are otherworldly beautiful, sophisticated, wealthy …

Not like me.

It takes no time at all to reach the big intersection. The light's red, and I grip my hands together in front of me. I want to cross now, but too many tuk-tuks and cars are speeding past. Unless I don't mind being plastered all over a windshield, I'm stuck until the light turns.

Someone tugs at my shirt, and I almost cry out in alarm. My heart thumping at a hundred miles an hour, I spin around, ready to face him.

"Flower?"

I look down at the young voice. A girl who can't be more than six or seven shows me a long string of small white flowers. Her hand is tiny, her wrist bony and delicate. The dingy pink dress she wears is overly big, and her skinny legs are bumpy with bug bites. Her dark eyes beseech me to buy something. It's obvious if she can't sell, she and her family may not be able to eat. Why else would a young girl like her be out and about at this hour in an area full of tourists?

The light turns green, and the girl's eyes flicker to the people starting to cross. The corners of her lips droop, and I reach into my wallet and pull out a hundred-baht bill.

"Here." I hand it to her and take the flowers without thinking. I have to go. Now. "Keep the change."

I trot fast to make the light. The girl yells out something behind me, but I don't stop. She's most definitely not telling me I paid her too little. I've seen skewered meat carts selling their goods for no more than twenty baht apiece. There's no way her little flowers can cost more than a meal.

When someone catches me by my shirt, I turn my head over a shoulder. "You can keep the cha … "

My words trail off as I take in Lucas's face, so close to mine that our noses almost touch. I can smell his favorite soap, mint and warm skin, a combination that leaves me breathless. Unblinking, I take in his masculine magnificence. The eyebrow that isn't hidden by his hair is tilted in that familiar arrogant line that says he's too smart and too used to getting his way and that's exactly how he wants his life. The bridge of his nose is strong and straight, the kind that creates a bold profile in men. His jaw has the same hard, square look, like it's been carved from granite. The only soft part of him is his mouth, which is currently set in a flat line.