Worth the Risk: A Contemporary Romance Bundle, page 4
Dinner was chaos and cacophony. Laila's family was loud, affectionate and boisterous. The kids--five nephews and seven nieces--flung food when they thought they could get away with it and whapped each other with their napkins when they thought they couldn't. Her brothers and sister argued back and forth over childhood memories. Her mother refused to take sides. And over it all, Bubbe and Zayde reigned like royalty.
Hal loved every minute of it. As an only child of only children, he hadn't grown up with family all around. Even though he knew this was just a job, a sham, it was nice to pretend for a few hours that he belonged to this family. Besides, with all that was going on, nobody seemed to notice or care he was just as accident prone as the children.
"Get some sleep," Esther was saying to everyone. "Tomorrow, the real fun starts!"
Ruth carried her son Henry, whose eyes were bleary with sleep. "I hope you like being run ragged, David. My grandmother is notorious for planning fun-packed vacations."
"I'm sure it's going to be great." Hal ruffled Henry's hair. "Good night, Henry."
The little boy smiled sleepily and Ruth laughed. "See you in the morning."
Though he'd sat next to Laila during dinner, they hadn't had much time to talk. Now the lobby slowly quieted as people returned to their rooms or sought out further entertainment at the lodge's nightly show. Laila sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, which now crackled with flames.
In the orange light, her dark hair gleamed with red and gold highlights. She stared pensively into the flames, her chin in her hand. Hal took a seat across from her.
"So," he said, then faltered. He knew he should start the conversation using one of the pre-approved LoveMatch topics, but nothing seemed appropriate when Laila looked so thoughtful. "Your family seems nice."
She glanced around the room, checking to see if they were alone before replying. "They're great. They're just a little too involved with my life."
Hal thought about his own parents, divorced now for ten years, and the way his phone never rang from either one of them. "You make that sound like a bad thing."
Laila sighed. "I just wish they'd understand that my life is mine, that’s all. I'm not any more thrilled that I'm not married with kids than they are--but I am more resigned to it."
"You sound like you don't think you'll ever get married."
She picked at some threads on her sweater. "It's hard meeting the right person."
She must really have loved her boyfriend, Hal thought, and decided to lighten the mood.
"That's why there's LoveMatch," he said with a grin. "We make it easy for you."
She cast him a dubious look. "Sure, if you're willing to pay for him. Don't tell me any of the clients actually end up marrying the escorts."
"Not usually, no," he admitted. "But then, most of the women who come to LoveMatch aren't looking for a husband."
"No, I guess not." She sat back in the chair, and now the firelight made flickering shadows of her eyes. "It's late. We should go to bed."
He knew she meant her words in the most innocent of ways, but they still made his stomach twist. She'd hired him only to pretend he loved her, but he wondered what it would really be like in Laila's arms. She was by far the prettiest client he'd ever had with her sleek dark hair and clear brown eyes. Her mouth, generous in proportion to her other small features, was now pursed in a tiny grimace he thought might be trepidation. She was thinking about sharing the room.
They'd only been in the room for the ten minutes before dinner that it took to change their clothes. Laila had changed in the bathroom, Hal in the main room. He hadn't had time to really check it out thoroughly, but one thing he knew for sure. One room, one bed.
"It is late," Hal said. "And your sister mentioned something at dinner about horseback riding tomorrow morning? Early?"
"Oh, yeah," Laila said distractedly. She stood. "We'd better go."
From the main lodge, they followed the brick path through well-tended grounds and passed the other lodge buildings until they reached theirs. Each room opened to the outside. When Laila slipped the old fashioned key into the door and swung it open, she paused at the threshold. From behind her, Hal couldn't see her expression, but the way she squared her shoulders before entering told him she was still feeling nervous. Laila carefully put the key on the table just inside the door and paused awkwardly before crossing to the Victorian love seat and sitting.
"Well," she said. "Um."
He sat down beside her so she'd have to look at him. Was it his imagination, or did she shrink slightly away? Hal's courses at LoveMatch had played just this scenario, but it had been a seduction scene. Somehow, he doubted that's what Laila had in mind.
"I'll sleep here on the couch," he offered.
Her look of relief was almost tangible. "Yes, that would be best."
Disappointment panged him. If Laila had hired Rick, nobody would be sleeping on the couch. Or sleeping much at all, Hal was pretty sure.
"Do you want to use the bathroom first?"
"Thanks." She smiled. "For everything. But it's only going to get harder as the week goes on."
Seeing the curve of her lips, Hal knew she was right about that. But not for the reasons she thought. Dealing with Laila's family was going to be easy. Being this close to her without wanting her was going to be torture.
The bathroom had no shower, only a charming claw foot tub painted with vivid pink roses. The entire room echoed the pink rose theme with Victorian cherub prints on the wall and pale pink rosebud wallpaper. The toilet was the old-fashioned kind with a pull-chain, and the pedestal sink had lovely, old porcelain fixtures.
It was the sort of bathroom Laila would thoroughly enjoy...if she hadn't been so caught up thinking about the man waiting for her just outside the door. Quickly, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, then slipped on the flannel boxers and oversized t-shirt she wore for pajamas. She scolded herself when she caught herself thinking she wished she had something a little more feminine.
"I didn't hire him to be my lover," she muttered as she pulled her hair back in a ponytail. "Just to pretend to be."
She was ready. Her hand hesitated on the doorknob. Hal is a nice man, she told herself. A professional. Ms. Whitehead had assured her that hiring a LoveMatch escort meant complete peace of mind. He would behave appropriately at all times. What seemed appropriate was entirely up to her.
Was that what was bothering her? That she knew Hal wouldn't make a move on her? Or that he would, but only as part of his job, and only if she gave him the right signals?
Laila shoved such thoughts away firmly. Hal was a nice guy, if a bit clumsy, and so what if he had sexy eyes and a great smile? She was paying him to be interested in her and that was all.
"It's all yours." She brushed by him, head held high.
He took a small case and a bundle of clothes from his ridiculously large bag and went into the bathroom. Through the closed door Laila could hear water running and the toilet flushing. Gargling. Her cheeks pinked. There wouldn't be much privacy this week.
She found some extra blankets and pillows in the large carved armoire and laid them on the love seat. She looked down at Hal's new bed critically. He was at least six-two . Most of him would be hanging over the edge. She looked at the large, luxuriously appointed brass bed.
No. She couldn't invite him to join her. She looked again at the love seat, with its scratchy buttons and hard cushions. But could she sleep on that?
She was saved from self-sacrifice when the bathroom door opened and Hal came out. He'd slicked his wheat-colored hair back from his forehead in smooth waves. He wore only a pair of loose cotton drawstring pants, but it wasn't his bare feet that made Laila's breath catch in her throat. It was his bare chest.
Beneath the oxford shirts, Hal had been hiding the chest of a real David. Michaelangelo's David, to be more precise. His skin was smooth and nearly golden in the room's dim lighting. His abs were sculpted, his pecs smooth humps of muscle sprinkled with just a smattering of crinkly golden hair. His arms, too, bulged with well-defined muscle, but none of it was grotesque or overblown. He didn't look like a body-builder, just like a man who took care of himself.
"I left my t-shirt in the suitcase," he said apologetically.
Laila swallowed hard, willing the saliva pooling in her mouth to moisten her dry throat. All she could think was, Whoa. Her mind called up an image of Clark Kent and Superman. What else was Hal hiding behind his glasses and his slightly geeky wardrobe? The phrase Man of Steel rose to her mind and made her blush at the implications.
She stepped aside to let him open his suitcase. The huge bag was too big to rest comfortably on the room's small suitcase stand. Hal wrestled with the bag, finally managing to balance it on the stand. Laila watched in guilty pleasure as his muscles tensed and strained under the weight.
"Just a minute." Hal fiddled with the suitcase's zipper. It didn't budge. Hal pulled harder, really tugging on it with strength.
Laila saw that when he'd zipped the bag earlier, he'd caught a piece of clothing in it. The way he was working at the zipper now, he'd never be able to open it. "Let me help you."
Everything happened all at once. Laila moved next to Hal and slipped her fingers into the small opening, freeing the caught cloth. Hal's tugging released the zipper forcefully. The suitcase lid, bulging with all the stuff Hal'd packed, flew open. Hal fell backward, knocking Laila over with him. She landed on his chest with an, "Oof!" The suitcase, set precariously on the stand fell over on top of both of them.
Laila had just a few seconds to appreciate the warmth of Hal's bare skin against her cheek and the way he smelled before the square silver packets rained down on them both. There were dozens of them, some larger, some smaller, but all contained the same thing.
"Condoms?" Laila cried, holding one in her hand. Extra-ribbed for her pleasure.
She threw herself off of Hal, stepping on him in the process. Hal let out a low, pained groan and curled into a fetal position. Laila barely noticed the damage she'd caused. She flung the prophylactic down with the rest of them, and it hit Hal squarely in the head.
"Condoms?" She looked around at the mess from Hal's suitcase, noticing the sheer extravagant number of them. "I don't know what you were thinking, mister, but--"
"...prepared," Hal wheezed.
Laila noticed he was cupping his privates. Oops. "What did you say?"
Hal managed to sit up, but his face had gone pale. "We have to be prepared for anything. That's the LoveMatch rule."
"So, along with your three changes of clothing per day, you thought you'd better pack condoms." Laila stepped over the suitcase and flopped down on the bed. "Some Eagle Scout!"
"I'm sorry," Hal said. He began shoving things back in his bag. "I wasn't sure if--"
"If what?" Laila demanded. "If I'd be so horny or lonely that I'd beg you to service me?"
He didn't answer right away, and she thought she'd embarrassed him.
"I just didn't know. And I didn't want to be in a situation where I might regret not taking precautions. That's all."
She'd known many men who expected an evening to end up in sex but didn't bother with thinking about protection. Maybe she'd overreacted. But she didn't know how to say she was sorry to the man who now, silently, had taken his place on the love seat.
"Goodnight," she said finally, and turned off the light. In the light coming in through the window, dozens of little silver packets gleamed on the carpet.
So many of them. How many had he expected to need? Again, she thought, Man of Steel, and a hot blush stole across her face. What kind of man was Hal in bed anyway?
Hal's knees were on fire and his rear end felt like it had been slammed with a crowbar. The slow, plodding animal between his legs was no rodeo champion, no thoroughbred racer. Just a slow, placid horse who liked to follow the others on the trail in front of him. Without stopping. For hours.
The ride had begun at sunrise. The whole family, all but the youngest kids, gathered at the stable to get their mounts and head out into the rolling hills and woods of the resort's property. Hal's last ride had been on a pony. He'd been six.
"How're you doing? All right?" Laila urged her horse, a black-and-white mare named Daisy, next to Hal's mount, Stanley.
"Oh, sure," Hal said through gritted teeth. "Just fine."
Laila walked her horse beside him for a few minutes. The others on the ride kept their faster pace, but Hal could see another patch of rough meadow opening up in front of them and was grateful Laila had slowed them to a walk.
"You're doing great for a beginner," she said encouragingly.
Stanley paused to put his head down and pull at some of the weeds growing by the trail side. Hal pulled on the reins. Stanley ignored him.
"Don't let him eat," Laila said.
"I'm not letting him do anything," Hal muttered. He yanked the reins again, hard, and Stanley started moving again.
"The ride's almost over." Laila smiled at him.
Suddenly, he no longer felt the pain in his legs and butt.
"Then we can hit the tennis courts."
Was she trying to kill him? All Hal wanted to do after this ride was soak for a while in the hot tub. A long while. But he wasn't on vacation; he was working. And his job was to do whatever Laila wanted him to do.
Still, his face must have shown his true feelings, because Laila laughed. "I'm kidding. I'm thinking that a big breakfast, followed by a nice long soak in the hot tub is in order."
Hal sent a prayer up to the powers-that-be. "I'm at your service."
Wrong choice of words. He remembered her comment of the night before about if he'd expected to service her, and he wished he'd thought of that before speaking. Laila frowned a little and lifted her chin, focusing her eyes back on the trail ahead instead of on him.
"All work and no play," she said quietly. "You know how it goes. I know this is a job for you, Hal, but it's okay if you want to enjoy yourself."
Why on earth would she think he wouldn't enjoy food and a soak in the hot tub? No matter how many of the LoveMatch training courses he took, Hal knew he'd never understand women. He sat back a little in the saddle, trying to ease the pressure on his knees.
"I'm enjoying myself." The lie flew out of him like a sneeze.
Laila looked at him skeptically. "Sure you are."
"I haven't ridden very much, that's all." There was no way he was going to mention to her that he felt like the entire lower half of his body was going to split right in two.
"My family's been coming here to Bramblewood since before I was born. My grandparents had their honeymoon here." Laila ducked to escape a low-hanging clump of branches. They were entering another patch of trees. "This is the first time I've been here in about four or five years, though."
Hal rocked in the saddle again to ease the pressure. "What kept you away?"
"Oh, you know." Laila kept her eyes on the trail ahead. "I was busy with my job, didn't get vacation time right away, moved into a new apartment. Stuff like that."
He could tell by the tense set of her jaw that there was more to her story and suspected it might have something to do with the boyfriend who'd died. He also knew better than to push her. Creating casual conversation wasn't one of his better skills, and diving into a topic that so obviously upset her would only be asking for trouble.
"I do love my family," she said almost defensively. As though he'd insinuated that she didn't. "But they just--they just won't leave me alone."
"They just want to see you happy." Hal knew that without a doubt. Love for each other shone in every Alster face, unlike in his family where holiday dinners had often disintegrated into shouting matches or cold, stony silences.
Laila snorted. "Yeah, I know. And I hate to keep disappointing them."
Despite the sun rising in the sky, the air here was chill with the promise of winter. Under the trees, the shadows were even cooler. Hal was glad he'd packed his thick fleece pullover and pants. The horses plodded along the trail, one sometimes moving slightly ahead of the other, but generally the path was wide enough for them to keep pace.
"You think they're disappointed in you?" He asked. "Because--you're not happy?"
Slashes of sunlight cut through the shadows, and when Laila passed beneath them, they lit her face in bars of black and gold. She'd pulled her thick, dark hair back beneath a baseball cap today. Her deep purple field coat had collar and cuffs of green corduroy, which matched her pants. Instead of cowboy boots, she wore low-heeled brown boots that laced, and she tucked her feet into the stirrups with a practiced ease Hal envied. His own feet, laced into hiking boots, weren't nearly as comfortable.
"Why would you say that?" she asked sharply. Her eyes flashed when she turned to look at him. "I'm happy!"
Hal backed off a little. "Sure. Okay."
She looked back at the trail ahead and kicked her horse to speed it up. "We're almost at the end. They'll be waiting for us."
Stanley, following Daisy, also picked up the pace. Hal groaned as each trotting step forced even more agony into his chafed skin and strained muscles. Laila urged Daisy even faster along the now smooth trail. Hal could see the barn just beyond the curve ahead. Apparently, Stanley could, too, because the massive gelding suddenly broke into a full trot.
All Hal could do was hang on for the ride. The horses seemed to thunder down the dirt path, heading for the corral. Hal could see the others had already begun to dismount or let their horses drink from the huge vats of water placed around the stable yard.
Hal gritted his teeth, gripping as best he could with thighs from which he could no longer feel anything but constant agony. His fingers slipped through the leather reins as Stanley tossed his head, eager to get back to his box and feed. Daisy and Laila were up ahead, already slowing as Laila guided the horse toward one of the mounting blocks.
"Whoa," Hal muttered through grunts of pain. "Whoa!"
Either Stanley didn't hear, or he didn't understand. The horse kept going. Now Hal began to lose sensation in his legs all together as Stanley picked up speed for the last final dash into the corral. The reins slipped again, flopping against the horse's neck in a way that seemed to urge him on even faster.
