by Megan Hart
"Me, too," she said.
They rode like that for a few more minutes, and the carriage finally returned to the driveway. "Thanks, folks," said the driver.
Hal helped Laila down, and for just a moment, her body pressed against his as she stepped from the carriage. It was the perfect moment for a kiss. A real kiss this time. And to Hal's surprise, because things with him always had a way of going wrong, Laila met his mouth at the same time he bent to kiss her.
They didn't clash teeth. There was no bloodshed. He didn't even step on her feet. Instead, there was just the sweet pressure of her lips on his, the faint smell of roses in the crisp fall hair, and the feeling of Laila's dark hair tickling his cheek.
For once, Hal had done something right.
"They fixed the radiator." It was the first thing Laila noticed when she walked in the room. Replacing the sweltering temperature of earlier was a chill burst of air nearly equaling that from outside. She couldn't quite see her breath--quite.
"This afternoon." Hal stumbled over something on the floor, holding out his hands for balance. His glasses were steamed up.
Laila grabbed his hand to help him. "Don't fall. We don't want my family thinking that I'm beating you."
He only smiled at the joke she'd hoped might earn a laugh. Apparently he was really bothered everyone seemed to believe he hit her. Truthfully, it bothered Laila, too, but the thought of Hal raising a hand to her in anger was ridiculous.
"It's late," he said. "I guess we'd better get ready for bed."
Laila felt a little light-headed at the thought and she didn't even have the excuse of an overheated room to blame it on. The kiss they'd just shared had been sweet, but with undercurrents of passion she wasn't sure she was ready to explore. Or, for that matter, certain she could ignore.
"Another early morning tomorrow," she replied with forced lightness. She yawned and stretched, also forced.
Neither one of them moved. Hal took a halting step toward her, then snatched off his glasses and swiped them furiously with his shirt tail to clear them. Laila was in a fever of anticipation. He was going to kiss her again. Did she want him to? Could she stand it if he didn't?
The phone rang, startling both of them. Hal, who was closer, went to the jangling box and lifted the receiver. Laila's heart began beating again. She hadn't realized it had stopped.
"No, not really. Tomorrow morning? Okay." He hung up, turning to her. "Front desk wanting to be sure the radiator was fixed."
They stood where they were, but the hesitant mood had been broken. Laila lifted her chin, pretending she wasn't disappointed. It was just as well, really. There was no use in creating awkward entanglements.
By unspoken agreement, she used the bathroom first. As she brushed her teeth, her mouth filled with suds, she thought it was just one more thing in a very long list about Hal she was growing to like. He was considerate.
Laila washed her face carefully, scrubbing away the last remnants of the afternoon's makeover. She ran steaming hot water in the tub and washed herself. She even shaved her legs, telling herself it was only because she couldn't stand the stubble.
Finally, there were no more ablutions, no more preparations she could use to delay going back into the room and slipping beneath the covers on that big, lonely bed.
"It's all yours," she said as she came out. Her voice trailed away when she saw Hal. He'd turned the television so he could see it from his cramped bed on the loveseat. Fully dressed, but without his glasses, he lay curled up, eyes closed. He was asleep.
Laila shivered. The room was now even colder than it had been before the disaster with the radiator. The bed had a wonderfully thick down comforter and deliciously warm flannel sheets. She'd be fine. But Hal? Watching him, his face slack with sleep, Laila knew she couldn't leave him there to freeze all night.
"Wake up," she said gently, kneeling next to him.
Hal muttered and his eyelids fluttered, but he didn't wake. She tried again, running her fingers lightly across his forehead. "Wake up, Hal."
With a quick, soft intake of breath, Hal opened his eyes. She knew without his glasses he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of him, so she moved closer. His green eyes focused on her face and he smiled.
"Laila," he said, and she thought he must still be half asleep. He touched her cheek. "My Laila."
Her stomach turned over at his words. "Hal. Wake up!"
He blinked rapidly, then slid his tongue across his lips. It was a gesture so uncontrived, so natural, but at the same time incredibly sensual. Her stomach twisted again.
"Laila?" He sat up, stretching. "I must've dropped off."
"You were asleep," she said unnecessarily.
Hal scratched his head so the hair stood on end. "What time is it?"
The bedside clock said only ten pm. "It's pretty early."
He yawned jaw crackingly. "Man, I'm bushed." Then he shivered. "It's cold in here."
"You go get ready for bed," Laila said. She was glad of something practical to do, something to take her mind of her sudden confusing feelings. "I'll call the front desk and see if they can send someone to fix the radiator before tomorrow morning."
Hal went into the bathroom, and the front desk told her there wouldn't be anyone available until the morning. There was probably an extra blanket in the armoire, the apologetic desk clerk told her. Laila didn't want to say they were already using it for the love seat.
It didn't seem there'd be much choice. She wasn't going to let Hal freeze out here all night long, not when the bed was more than large enough for the two of them. Sharing the bed makes sense, Laila told herself. For warmth.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Laila pointed to the bed. "I moved your stuff here."
He didn't get it at first, she could tell by the look of confusion. "But..."
She made it easier for both of them. "It's freezing in here, Hal. We can share the bed until they fix the radiator tomorrow. It'll be warmer."
It certainly would, she thought, watching Hal's chest. Despite the chilly room, he'd forgotten his shirt again. She'd never thought much about male nipples before, but now, seeing them tight with cold, Lily kept imagining how they'd taste.
He'd said something to her and she'd missed it. "Sorry?"
"I said, how do you want to do it?"
Was he asking her--what on earth was he asking her? "What?"
Hal pointed. "Do you want to sleep on the side next to the window or the bathroom?"
"Oh." She was too embarrassed to admit her mind had been in the gutter. "Bathroom side, I guess."
They got into bed gingerly. Laila turned out the lights, settled back against her pillow, and tugged the heavy layers of blankets up around her chin. Hal's weight beside her was an unusual sensation, but not uncomfortable. Despite her heightened awareness, the stress of the past few days weighed her eyelids down. She felt herself drifting off to sleep.
Someone dumped a bucket of ice onto her bare calves. Laila yelped and sat up. "What the hell?"
Hal rolled away from her. "My feet. Sorry."
"They're like ice!" Laila grumbled, all vestiges of sleep chased away. "Don't you wear socks to bed?"
"Can't," Hal said matter-of-factly. "It gives me athlete's foot."
Ew. Okay, if the icy feet hadn't banished romantic dreams from her mind, that little revelation sure had. Laila sighed, sinking back into her pillow.
"Just keep them on your own side," she said.
Hal rustled around, shifting the covers and rolling in the bed. Laila waited for him to finish before adjusting her own pillow and share of the blankets. By the time they were done, she was just beginning to feel her eyes slipping shut again.
"Hal!" She shrieked. "Your feet!"
"Sorry," Hal said. "But you're so warm."
"Your own side," Laila warned.
Hal stayed still for a moment before she heard the sound of snapping fingers. "I've got it."
He got out of bed and fumbled around the fo
ot of the bed. She heard him stub his toe, mutter a curse, then finally trip over his suitcase. She heard the zipper, then shuffling. Her heart began pounding again. What was he doing?
Then he was back in bed. She heard the sound of foil crinkling. Laila's heart was going to beat right out of her chest!
"This should help," Hal said.
More foil crinkling.
Laila braced herself. Was he going to kiss her? Or just roll over on top of her and--
"Here," Hal said, slipping something into her hand.
It was hot, whatever it was, and Laila reflexively jerked away. "What is it?"
"It's a hand warmer," Hal said in the darkness. "Why? What did you think it would be?"
A hand warmer. Who on earth packed hand warmers in their suitcase? Hal, that's who. Mr. Eagle Scout. Mr. Prepared.
"Nothing," Laila said and tucked the warm plastic packet down to the foot of the bed. "Good night, Hal."
Chapter 7
Lying next to Laila all night should have kept Hal awake, but there had been too many early mornings and uneasy nights lately. He slept like the dead. When he finally awoke, the morning sun shone through the lace curtains and cast a golden glow over the entire room.
His nose felt like an ice cube, but since that was the only thing sticking out from the mountain of covers, everything else was toasty warm. He yawned, stretching, and realized he actually felt--good. His hand didn't encounter a lump under the covers with him. Laila must already be up.
"Good morning," he said to the room. Hal found his glasses on the nightstand and slipped them on, bringing everything into focus.
Laila, wearing a thick, bulky sweater, heavy pants and a scowl, sat on the loveseat. She had her hands wrapped around a mug of some dark beverage, and it steamed in the room's frosty air. She didn't look happy.
"Good morning?" The greeting had become a question. Despite his current career, Hal didn't know much about women, in general, but he did know how to recognize one in a state of irritation.
Laila humphed and sipped at the drink. She winced, touching her lip. "Hot!"
"Have you been up long?"
It was the wrong question. "I don't know," Laila said with false sweetness. "Do you consider all night to be long?"
"You didn't sleep well," Hal said, not asked.
"You could say that," Laila replied.
He knew it had to be his fault. "What'd I do?" he asked resignedly.
"You snored," she said. "You muttered. You rolled around a lot. You hogged the covers."
"I get the picture."
Laila set her mug down on the dresser. "I'm going for breakfast. Are you coming?"
"Just let me get dressed," Hal said, already out of bed and pulling on his jeans.
Laila let out a sigh so longsuffering Hal knew her long list of complaints was not the only reason she was mad this morning. But darned if he could figure out why. He'd stayed on his own side of the bed, for the most part any way. He hadn't made any wrong moves and hadn't tried to touch her.
"Laila," he said finally as he buttoned his shirt. "What's wrong? Why are you really mad at me today?"
"Mad?" She said, shoving her arm into her coat sleeve so hard some threads popped. "What on earth gives you the idea I'm mad at you?"
He pulled on a sweatshirt, then some socks. Matching. "You seem mad."
"I'm just tired," she said shortly. "I didn't sleep well last night."
"Because of me," he said.
"Yes," Laila replied, glaring.
"Because I snored," Hal offered, still trying to figure out her real reason.
"Because--because you slept!" Laila fumed.
Fortunately, the bed was close enough for him to sit on. Hal sat, completely perplexed. "What?"
She threw her hands in the air. "Forget it!"
Even as she headed toward the door, Hal reached out and caught her by the wrist. She didn't struggle too hard to get away. She even let him turn her so she faced him.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"You slept all night long," Laila said, as though she were admitting some terrible secret.
He frowned, not--quite--getting it. "And?"
She sighed in frustration. "I thought you might...I wanted you to...oh, just forget it!"
Her cheeks were pink like she was embarrassed. Hal still didn't understand. "You didn't want me to sleep?"
"No!" She shouted. Then, softer, "No."
"What did you want-- Oh." Hal could have kicked himself for being so blind. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. He dropped Laila's wrist and pushed off from the bed. All at once he felt like he needed to pace.
"Let's just go, okay?" Laila almost pleaded. She headed toward the door again, her back straight like she had a poker stuck down her pants.
"If I had known," Hal began.
"Well, obviously you didn't," Laila said formally, pausing before she opened the door. "I'm sorry I brought it up. Forget it."
But he couldn't forget it, not when images of how the night could have been spent kept pushing their way into his head. If he hadn't been so blind. If he hadn't been stupid!
"Let's go," Laila said and opened the door. Hal followed her out because there wasn't much else he could do.
Breakfast was sawdust in Laila's mouth. It was hard to eat through a forced smile, especially when she felt like crying. What had she expected anyway? Muriel Whitehead had told her up front that no LoveMatch escort ever initiated sexual intimacy with a client, unless it was clearly and obviously stated to be the client's desire.
And she had desired it, she thought as she followed the crowd out of the morning dining room. Hal's kiss after the carriage ride had awakened a passion in her she'd thought dead after losing Ian. She'd had few dates in the three years since Ian's death, and none of those men had made her feel the way Hal did.
"Walleyball?" Eli asked, catching up to her. "Bubbe and Zayde rented the court until lunchtime. Ready to play?"
The last thing Laila wanted to do was to join one of the infamous Alster sports tournaments. But she was here to enjoy family fun time, and it would prevent her from having to spend time alone with Hal. She managed a weak smile of agreement.
"Sure."
Eli looked at her closely. "Laila, are you okay?"
Laila looked over her shoulder. Hal was walking alone, and she knew she should go back and keep him company. "Don't start, Eli. Please."
"If he's done anything to you--"
She took her brother's hand for a minute. "I'm fine. I told Ruth the same thing. Please, believe me."
"We just want to see you happy," her brother muttered.
His emotional admittance touched her. "I know."
"We all liked Ian," Elijah said gruffly. "He was a good guy."
"Hal's a good guy, too," Laila said.
Elijah looked confused. "Who?"
"David," Laila said quickly. "I said he's a good guy, too."
"It sounded like--"
"Hey, I'll meet you at the court!" Laila countered and waved him off. She fell back until Hal caught up with her. "You up for walleyball?"
"Never played." Hal took her hand and they both waved at all the family members who were now staring at them suspiciously.
"It's like volleyball but in a racquetball court," Laila explained. She tried to ignore the way Hal's grasp on her palm made her heart race, but couldn't.
"I'm pretty bad at volleyball."
Ian would never have admitted to being bad at anything, Laila thought suddenly. And if he had, wouldn't she have thought less of him? But coming from Hal, the admission didn't sound so bad, so unmanly. It just sounded honest.
"Join the club," Laila said. "Maybe we should be on different teams."
Hal stopped, and since he still held her hand, Laila stopped, too.
"Are you sure you want me to play?"
His question was so serious she couldn't give him a joking answer. "Of course I do."
"I just thought..." He shrugged. "You might
not want me around."
"Hurry up, you two!" That was Bubbe calling from the entrance to the sports building. "Shake your bon-bons!"
"Listen," Laila said, then sighed. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say. "Forget about what I said this morning. I wasn't thinking right. I was just tired. We only have two more days to get through, and then you can leave."
"Yeah, right," Hal said without enthusiasm.
"So let's go in there and play walleyball," Laila said, equally unenthusiastic. "And Hal?"
"Hmmm?" He asked, already starting to walk again.
"You have to start being mean. Meaner."
He stopped again. "Meaner?"
Laila nodded firmly. "Be a real jerk. They've got to really hate you by the time we break up. I don't want anyone telling me I need to give you another chance."
"They already hate me," Hal muttered with a look at the sports building. "They think I beat you, for Heaven's sakes!"
She could tell he was uncomfortable playing the bad guy, and no wonder. Hal was just about the most decent man she'd ever met. Unfortunately, she didn't need a nice, decent guy. She needed a real jerk.
"It's time to get tough," she said. "Can you make them hate you without having them make death threats?"
Her attempt at humor fell flat. "I'll try," Hal said grimly.
"They're waiting," Laila said. "Let's go."
It was like they were going into battle. Hal's grip grew firm, then almost painful, until he finally dropped her hand at the door to the building. Didn't just drop it, in fact, but threw it away from him. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
Laila opened the door, assaulted instantly by the shouts and sounds of shoes squeaking on the wooden floors. Two racquetball courts ran along side the large, open gymnasium set up with basketball hoops, ping pong tables and other play equipment. She found the court marked Alster and pointed.
"In there."
Hal gave her a look so contemptuous it actually made her take a step back. "I can read."
"Oh." Laila's voice was small. "Sorry."
Instantly, Hal's cold sneer turned to a concerned frown. "I was just practicing," he whispered.
