‘I want to order.’
‘Do so, then.’
‘What do you want to drink?’ she asked.
‘They know my order,’ he said
‘A drink for Mikael and one Irish coffee for me.’
He just looked at the barman who, to his credit, only blinked once.
‘Can I have some money to pay him, Mikael?’ she asked.
‘I have an account here.’
‘I want to pay, though,’ she said. ‘I want to buy you a drink.’
With his money!
‘Mikael!’ A couple of silks came over. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Bad luck—really thought you’d got him off.’
‘So did I for a while,’ Mikael said.
They chatted about work for a few moments, but all eyes were on Layla.
‘Where the hell did you find her?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘She’s stunning.’
‘She’s exhausting,’ he said, and looked over to where Layla sat perched on a bar stool. She was wearing a cream moustache and chatting to the now besotted barman, who’d been foolish enough to say that he’d noticed her shoes as she came in.
‘And now…’ Layla smiled to the barman ‘…I take them dancing. Come on, Mikael!’
She could dance!
‘It’s so easy!’ She beamed. ‘So sexy!’ She laughed. ‘No wonder it is forbidden.’
As she danced and swayed Layla had possibly never been happier in her life, and her exuberance and sheer joy were infectious. So much so that the mood at the rather staid club lifted and a night that might have been spent commiserating over Mikael’s loss seemed to have turned into a party—everyone was up and dancing.
‘You are sexy, Mikael,’ Layla said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He was so lithe and so full of surprises—for she’d thought he would sit at the bar, but instead they’d moved together and danced into the small hours.
‘Will you kiss me again?’
‘Not here,’ he said, and as the music slowed she leant against him.
‘When we get back to the hotel can we do what they did on the television?’
Mikael frowned. It seemed a very, very long time ago since he’d been told that the verdict was in, and only when Layla spoke on did he remember she’d been watching a TV show.
‘Can we act as if we’re having sex but keep our panties on?’ Layla asked.
‘No,’ Mikael said. ‘And I don’t wear panties.’
‘Please?’
‘No,’ he said again.
‘I’m tired of dancing now.’ Layla sulked.
‘Good.’
The driver took them back to the hotel.
‘Thank you for taking me dancing.’ She looked at him. ‘Will you stay here with me tonight?’
Mikael had been thinking about the same thing all the car ride back to the hotel. ‘Well, I’ve just had a chat with my self-control and, yes, I will stay here with you tonight.’
‘Where are you going?’ Layla said as they stepped into her suite and Mikael headed straight for the bathroom.
‘To shave,’ he said. Because she bruised like a peach and the kiss he wanted to give her would have her face in shreds.
Layla sat on the edge of the bath as Mikael rolled up his shirtsleeves, went through the hotel tray and then rubbed shaving cream in his jaw.
‘I think I sweated,’ she said.
Mikael shook his head a little at her way with words.
‘I would like another bath.’
‘Run it yourself, then.’
She met his eyes in the mirror and held his gaze, and the look between them seemed to go on for ever.
‘Did you enjoy dancing?’ he asked.
‘Very much,’ she said, ‘but not as much as our kiss.’
Without another word she stood and turned. She put in the bath plug and added oils as if she was making a very complicated recipe, and Mikael tried to concentrate on shaving as she started to undress.
Off came the red dress.
Then she slipped off her shoes.
The razor hovered at a safe distance as Layla took off her bra and he saw her pert breasts and dark swollen nipples.
Her panties were next, and Mikael rinsed his face for a very long time. But even with his eyes closed all he could see was the silky straight triangle of hair.
He checked in again with his self-control as Layla spoke.
‘Can you wash me again?’
‘I think you can do that yourself.’
‘I am sure that I can,’ she said, ‘but I like it when you do it.’
She did.
She wanted to be kissed by him again and she wanted the feel of his arms and the touch of his naked skin. Mikael turned around and she looked at him, wanted to see more of him.
‘Can you remove your shirt?’
He did, and he was more beautiful than he had been asleep on the sofa because now he was awake, and she saw the stretch of muscles as he removed it. Her eyes did not guiltily jerk upwards from the snake of ebony hair this time; instead they moved down, and it was very clear that what she was feeling was matched by Mikael.
‘You could take the rest of your clothes off,’ she invited.
‘I don’t think so,’ Mikael said, because someone had to stay in control here and he guessed it would have to be him.
‘I ache from dancing.’
‘Ache no more,’ he said, kneeling down.
Mikael washed her far more slowly than Jamila did. First he washed her neck and shoulders, and Layla closed her eyes in bliss at the feel of his fingers soaping her and the sound of him breathing.
Then
