it is that you do and I’m going to check on some inventory.” He leaned over and gave his wife a slow, sweet kiss and whispered something against her lips that Layla couldn’t make out, but whatever it was it had Desiree’s face flushed with heat.
Desiree’s gaze followed Lincoln until he was out of sight. She sighed deeply. A light smile softened her lips.
“You two are still as hot for each other as boiling oil.”
“Is it that obvious?” Desiree teased. She reached for her glass of white wine.
“Uh, yeah.”
The friends laughed.
“So when did you want me to start? Did you let your guests know about the new massage therapy services yet?”
“I’ve been working on a small flyer to hand out, but I wanted your input first to make sure I had all the details right and I wanted you to have a couple of days to unwind and relax.”
“Girl, around here, I could get too relaxed and you wouldn’t get any work out of me!”
“I know the feeling. But that’s the kind of atmosphere Lincoln and I want at The Port. A real getaway, you know what I mean. If you look around, you don’t see anyone hunched over laptops and checking BlackBerries and iPhones every five minutes. They’re actually here to enjoy themselves. At least that’s what I see when they come out of their rooms,” she added as a caveat.
Layla nodded in agreement. “In that case,” she raised her hand to get the attention of the bartender, “another mojito please.”
* * *
Layla couldn’t stay in bed a minute longer. And as much as she wanted to simply loll around on the sandy shores like a careless beach bum, the urge to be busy grabbed hold of her. She was actually anxious to get her massage room ready and her fingers moving. All night she’d dreamed of how she was going to set up her space and the atmosphere she would create. This would actually be the first time that a work space would truly be all hers and not the vision of whomever she was working for. A twinge of memory tried to pull her back to those times with Brent, with him teaching her the techniques that made her successful, that they practiced on each other late at night. She shook off the vision. That was the past she reminded herself once again.
It was barely seven a.m. and she was bathed and dressed. She tucked her iPad into her tote bag and headed out.
The morning was simply exquisite. The sun was at a perfect pitch. The sky was clear enough to see for miles and the gentle warmth that blew in from the ocean was invigorating. She spotted several guests jogging along the shoreline and there were already a few out for an early morning swim in the pale blue ocean.
Layla drew in a long breath and smiled. Whatever reservations she may have had about packing up and leaving the city were fading fast.
Desiree had given Layla the key to the massage suite the previous evening after their cursory tour. It was during the night that her wheels started spinning and she woke up knowing exactly what she wanted.
She let herself in and stood in the center of the room and looked around. She took out her iPad and opened it to the Notepad icon and began jotting down a list of the things that she would need, from thick towels, to oils, literature on massage therapy, robes, slippers, lighting and music. She would also need cases of water and a place to keep them cold.
Lincoln and Desiree didn’t cut corners on design layout or expense. Connected to the therapy room were shower stalls and a sauna room.
Layla guessed that what Desiree said was true; that if she didn’t take this spot someone else would. And she would be right. It was perfect and she couldn’t wait to get started.
She could already envision the space as a full-time operation with a staff. She grinned, knowing that she was getting way ahead of herself. The first thing she needed to do was make a list and then go shopping for supplies before she started reviewing resumes.
Layla switched off the lights and locked up, her mind on the task ahead as she came around the short corner and came face-to-face with Maurice Lawson.
She came up short, and started to apologize for nearly causing a collision, but the words hung somewhere in the back of her throat, stuck there with all the air that refused to move of out of her lungs and fuel her brain.
Her center ignited and she could feel the fine hairs on her arms and along the back of her neck begin to rise. Good Lord, the man was…was…
It was her. The woman that he’d spotted yesterday. She was real. “Sorry,” he said.
The two-syllable word sounded like a love song in her ears.
“No, you’re fine…it’s fine. Really.” Did she just say that? “I’m always in a hurry,” she babbled. She couldn’t think straight, not with those haunting dark eyes staring at her and that chiseled upper body encased in a sleeveless white T-shirt that outlined every muscle that begged to be touched.
Maurice shifted his walking cane from his right hand to his left and shook hers. “Maurice.”
Her hand was enveloped in the warmth of his. “Nice…to meet you I mean. You’re a guest?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes and no. I’m a working guest. I’m the new massage therapist. Layla Brooks.”
“Hmmm.” He nodded his head.
They stood there momentarily frozen in that “what now” moment that was mercifully broken by another guest needing to squeeze by in the narrow corridor.
“Nice meeting you,” Maurice said.
“You, too.”
He moved past her and tried to ignore the pain in his leg and limped away with as much dignity as he could summon. He wanted to vanish and not have her watch him as he tried to pretend that he was as whole as any other man.
Layla didn’t realize that she’d stopped breathing until a burst of air rushed from her chest. Her heart was beating triple time and although she was much too young for hot flashes, her entire body was flushed with heat.
“Humph, humph, humph. That is one specimen of a man, cane and all,” she whispered. She definitely wanted him to sign up to be on her client list so that she could see for herself just how hard those muscles really were. She gave a short shake of her head to clear it.
It was still a little too early to drive into town. She took a slow stroll around the property, reacquainting herself with the layout and then around to the back of the main building to the outdoor lounge, drawn by the aroma of breakfast. Her stomach responded.
A few of the white circular tables were occupied and the waitresses were busy filling juice glasses and coffee cups. She found a table that was near the buffet, put down her bag and walked over to check out the breakfast offerings. She started down the length of the table and filled her plate with fresh fruit, eggs and wheat toast. She walked back to her table and was thinking about her close encounter with tall, dark and handsome Maurice when the plate in her hand rattled. He was on the other side of the buffet table.
Maurice was settling down in his seat. Alone. He
