the feeling that it was something she’d done or didn’t do or that she wasn’t appealing enough. Something. The feeling of inadequacy was not as bad as it had been, but it hovered and sat on her shoulder waiting patiently to whisper in her ear.
“I remember the Layla Brooks that would walk into a minefield with high heels and a smile on her face, who could step into a room and every head would turn, who could have a conversation with the Secretary of State as easily as the woman who owns the dry cleaner on the corner. That’s the Layla that I know.”
Layla lowered her head for a moment. Had she really changed that much? She looked at Desiree. “So I should just walk up to him and what?”
“Hand him one of your flyers for starters,” she said pressing the print button on the computer. Moments later a color-printed flyer announcing the new massage therapy services slid out of the printer. Desiree lifted it from the tray and handed it to Layla with a “now what’s your excuse,” look on her face.
Layla tilted her head slightly to the left and eyed the flyer. “Not bad. I’ll see what I can do with it,” she said with a lift of her chin before turning away and waving goodbye on her way out.
Chapter 5
Layla made it a point to be on the lookout for Maurice, but it had been three days since she’d seen him last. Desiree assured her that he hadn’t checked out. Maybe they simply kept missing each other, she’d suggested. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, Layla concluded.
Whatever the case may be, her massage services were officially open for business and from the moment she turned on the lights, she was busy and she didn’t have much time to dwell on the illusive Maurice Lawson.
* * *
The nightmares had begun again. He awoke that morning with his entire body aching, damp from sweat and his head pounding. The dark, twisted images began to recede as the sun rose over the horizon, but the feeling of helplessness lingered. He’d been caught in the clutches of his deepest fears for hours, listening to the explosions and the screams and the heat from the flames that seemed to go on into infinity. He couldn’t get away because he couldn’t wake up until a soft glow could be seen in the valley of the dark mountains where his Black Hawk had gone down. It beckoned him, getting brighter when he seemed to lose his way. He could feel the bands of darkness that held him down begin to loosen as the light grew brighter. It felt as if he was being lifted from a deep pit. And then he woke up.
For a while he simply lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and watched the blades of the fan turn in slow, hypnotic circles.
Would it ever end? Would he ever feel whole again? Some days it almost seemed possible and then there were others, like today that had him believing that this endless dark road was his future. But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t live like this day after day. He would go out of his mind.
He sat up in bed. His T-shirt clung to his upper body. Gingerly he eased his legs over the side and closed his eyes for a moment as the pain dimmed enough for him to think about getting up. With some effort he pushed himself to a standing position, took a deep breath and limped into the bathroom.
Even after a long hot shower, the pulsing aches in his body persisted, beating like his heart. He took his time getting dressed and finally stepped outside onto the front porch of the cottage.
Another magnificent day. The sky was clear for miles. The air hinted at the summer just beyond the horizon. The sun was at that perfect angle. Faint sounds of laughter and life could be heard in the distance. He should be enjoying it. He should be diving into the ocean or jogging along the sandy beach, lounging with friends in the late afternoon, sipping drinks with island names and sleeping with his arms wrapped around a beautiful woman at night.
He drew in a long breath as he leaned against the pillar that supported the overhang. The caw of seagulls wafted in the breeze. He turned his attention to the path leading to the main building and wondered if the woman he’d met—Layla—had opened her massage spa yet. The idea of her hands on his body stroking away the tightness, releasing the tension that coiled in his limbs and down his spine, caused an inadvertent moan to escape. He imagined the pressure of her fingers playing across his neck, massaging his biceps. Her scent filled his nostrils and the sudden tug in his groin heated his blood.
He shook his head to clear the cobwebs of lust that had ensnared him. It was as if she’d cast some kind of spell over him. From the moment he’d caught sight of her walking along the pathway, he’d been unable to shake her from his thoughts.
It was her image, her light that finally led him out of the grip of his nightmare. Although he could not see her in his dream, he understood that it was her. How, he was not certain. But he felt it in the depths of his being.
Layla had been open for business since nine a.m. It was nearing one o’clock and she’d been going non-stop. Although she loved what she did, she knew she couldn’t keep up the pace and still maintain her high standards of quality. As soon as she shut down for the day, she was going to have to take some time and plan a schedule that was going to work for her and not shortchange the guests.
She’d put the “Out to Lunch” sign on the door and was in the middle of resetting the massage room when there was a knock on the front door.
“Go away,” she muttered under her breath as she rolled a fresh towel and put it on the shelf. She picked up the basket of used towels and walked to the front. “Whoever it is obviously cannot—”
Her throat went dry. She went to the glass door and turned the lock.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Uh, sorry to disturb your lunch…but I wanted to make an appointment.”
She couldn’t stop watching the movement of his mouth and the way his lips reminded her of summer fruit—sweet and juicy. Too bad she didn’t read lips because she had no idea what he’d just said.
“I probably should come back,” he said when he got no response. He started to turn away.
She reached out and touched his arm. Big mistake. It was like being hit with a jolt of electricity. Her breath hitched for an instant. “No…you have to excuse my rudeness. Please come in. I guess I’m a little tired and not thinking clearly.” She held the door open wider and smiled up at him. “Come in.”
Maurice looked at her for a moment then stepped past her and inside.
She allowed herself an instant of mental happy dancing before she closed the door and followed him to the middle of the waiting lounge.
“Please, have a seat.” She extended her hand toward one of the mauve-print club chairs.
“It’s easier if I stand.”
“Hmm, okay. So…what can I do for you?” She rested her hip against the side of the reception desk.
“I was interested in what you offer…your services.”
Her throat went bone-dry. He had the longest lashes. Were those flecks of cinnamon in his eyes? Every time that he said something the rich timbre of his voice vibrated inside her like a tuning fork.
She ran her tongue across her lips. “Umm, I could show you around, give you the ten cent tour. I’m sorry that I haven’t had brochures made up yet, but the list of services are posted on the wall.”
