Sweet Seduction

by Camilla Stevens

  “That was amazing,” she murmured as she kissed his chest.

  “You have no idea,” he said breathing heavily toward the ceiling. “Frankly, that was the best bottle of wine I’ve ever had.”

  It took her a moment of confusion to get the reference. Then she laughed against his chest which was already shaking with laughter.

  God, she loved this guy.

  15

  The windows in Layla’s large bedroom faced east and the morning sun announced itself through the gauzy curtains that covered them.

  Patrick had already been awake for a while and looked down at the top of Layla’s head. Her body was warm and small curled against his side while her head rested perfectly on his large chest, her tousled hair getting tangled with the much lighter hairs on his chest.

  He didn’t want to wake her up just so that he could see that lovely face of hers, so his eyes explored the room. It was feminine without being too sickly sweet: white bedding and window dressings, large oak furniture with antiquated lines, small floral touches here and there.

  It made Patrick think of a time when domestic affairs were left entirely to the woman of the house, while the man went out and made a living to provide for the family. He thought of Layla and himself living a Victorian life in this old house. It even came ready made with a small town where everyone was friendly and knew one another.

  He had a woman (future wife?) who already loved to bake. She had perfect—amazing—child-bearing hips. Patrick thought of filling this huge house with children. Maybe they’d have three, no, four. Two boys and two—

  His little anachronistic fantasy was interrupted as Layla stirred underneath him, reacting to the increasingly intrusive light sneaking through the windows.

  She moaned as she woke out of her slumber and stretched her body against his in a way that vividly reminded one specific part of him of last night’s adventures.

  “Morning sleepyhead,” he said smiling as her face lifted up to face him with a crinkly morning smile.

  The smile broadened as she saw his face. “Morning, yourself. What time is it?”

  “Dunno, my cell phone is in my jeans and hell if I’m removing myself from underneath you to go and get it.”

  She laughed lightly and snuggled her face into his chest. “Well, what time are we leaving?”

  “The car is coming at 10 a.m. Which means pretty soon I’m going to have to make the walk of shame across town back to my room at the bed and breakfast to get my own stuff.”

  Layla wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. “Mmmm, not just yet. I like having you in my bed.”

  “Well, I like the sound of that,” he said, smiling to the ceiling. “But if we don’t get on that plane, you don’t get your money, and I may just get fired.”

  “Hmm, I think what you did last night is worth giving up $500,000 for a little repeat.”

  Patrick laughed. “Well, it’s good to know I have a very lucrative profession to fall back on when they give me the boot.”

  Layla matched his laugh with her own feminine titter that stirred something in his nether regions. “Of course, then I wouldn’t be able to afford you.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I’d better let you get your stuff so I can get one last night with you should the worst happen.”

  As much as Patrick hated leaving the warmth of her soft body, he groaned and slid to the edge of the bed. “Obviously, you’d get the frequent flier discount.”

  “Frequent flier?” she laughed.

  He winked at her as he brought his legs over the edge of the bed. “Wishful thinking.”

  She poked one perfect foot into his back. “Well, from my vantage point, I’m more than happy to collect those miles, captain.”

  Patrick prided himself on his figure, which had to-date earned him plenty a roll in the hay. All the same, he found himself flexing as he pushed himself off the bed and strutted across the room to retrieve his clothing.

  “Oh, I like it,” Layla teased, encouragingly.

  He bent over to pick up his pants and pulled his phone out. “To answer your question, it is now exactly 7:47.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “By my calculations, that gives us at least 2 hours.”

  “I do believe you’re right.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have another one of those condoms in there, would you?”

  Patrick grinned. It wasn’t his first rodeo after all. He dug into another compartment of his wallet, and pulled it out between two fingers.

  “Oh, I like a man that comes doubly prepared.”

  “Well, you’re about to like me a whole lot more.”

  She gave a startled laugh as he jumped onto the bed next to her and grabbed her in a bear hug, condom firmly in hand.

  “So two weeks in L.A? You’re so lucky,” Bree sighed.

  She and Di-Anne had come to see her off and probably to pump her for information about last night’s date that had no doubt made the rounds in Olla.

  They were on the porch waiting for the car that would take Patrick and her to the airport. Layla was looking rather pretty in a sleeveless white dress with black graphic designs covering it. She wore comfortably flat, black espadrilles and black drop earrings. Truth be told, she was beginning to enjoy dressing up, especially now that she had someone to dress up for.

  “Well, it’s going to be mostly work, but I’m sure there will be parts of it to enjoy as well,” she said as smiled to herself. Two weeks in the city where Patrick lived.

  The look on her face wasn’t lost on either of the women standing next to her. They gave each other knowing smiles, then began laughing.

  “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do down there,” Bree teased.

  “Speak of the devil,” Di-Anne said with a wink, looking over Layla’s shoulder at the black Town Car approaching her house. The three of them watched it approach.

  “Ladies,” Patrick said with a bow as he hopped out of the back. The three ladies in question all smiled like a gaggle of school girls.

  He was dressed as casually today as he had been yesterday with the same khakis and loafers but wearing a light blue button-up shirt. He still looked dashing as ever as he raised his eyebrows at her as if to ask if she was ready for this little adventure.

  You bet I am, sweetheart.

  She remembered last night, imagining two more weeks of that. Layla bit her lip with anticipation.

  “You sure you aren’t having second thoughts about this?” he teased as he took her hand.

  “Well, it’s a bit late now, I’ve already signed the contract,” she said, smiling.

  Bree giggled next to her. “Sounds naughty.”

  Normally Layla would have given her an annoyed look. Now she didn’t care, even laughing at the insinuation. All three of them had read Fifty Shades of Grey.

  “Well,” Patrick said, crooking his elbow out for her to take, “Your carriage awaits.”

  She turned to hug Bree and Di-Anne as the driver grabbed her luggage to load in the back. Then she took his arm, enjoying the feel of his bicep under her hand. Everything about him made her feel so feminine and cherished and safe.

  “Have fun sweetheart!” Di-Anne said waving.

  “Forget what I said earlier,” Bree said. “Do all the things I wouldn’t do!”

  Layla just rolled her eyes as she slid into the car.

  “What was that about?” Patrick asked with a curious smile.

  “Nothing,” she said smiling back and shaking her head.

  He held her gaze, then shrugged. “Well, the drive to the airport is actually longer than the flight down to L.A. So it looks like we have time to actually get to know one another now that…well, we’ve already gotten to know one another.”

  He slid in close next to her, wriggling his eyebrows. Layla laughed and cuddled up next to him, enjoying the solid feel of his chest and the security of having his arm around her.

  “So what do you want to know?” she asked.

  “W
ell, what’s the ‘long story’ with the house, for starters?”

  Layla paused. They were delving into deep waters here and she wondered exactly where she should start. In the end, she decided to start at the beginning.

  “I never had a house growing up. I mean, I had a home, in a manner of speaking, but my parents lived in a high rise condo in Philadelphia. It was all very modern and chic and…almost sterile. They were doctors.”

  “Were?” he asked, interrupting. She felt his body stiffen underneath her.

  She paused before answering. “They died two years ago on their way to a conference. Plane crash…or something. Malaysian Airlines.”

  “Oh Layla, I’m so sorry,” he said in shock. The downed flight had been all over the news for a period.

  She turned her head to look up at him and saw the sadness in his eyes. She gave him a sad smile. “It’s okay. We….we weren’t that close in the end. In fact, I hadn’t really spoken to them in years.”

  She rested her head against his chest so he couldn’t see the bitter tears that threatened to come to her eyes. Her parents had been right about everything and she’d ignored them. Everything she’d done in the years prior to moving to Olla had been in defiance of the insistence on excellence they’d pressed upon her growing up. She’d paid dearly for it, and she still was.

  “Di-Anne was my nanny growing up. She was actually closer to me than they were. They had busy medical careers and were always off someplace or another, attending conferences or just traveling for the sake of it.

  “Anyway, they left me almost two million dollars. I moved to the other side of the country to spend time with Di-Anne and fell in love with Olla. I fell even more in love with the house. It represented everything that I didn’t have growing up: a yard and garden; neighbors that were more than just another door down a hallway in a high-rise building; even a porch swing.”

  She smiled as she thought of the house and all that it promised.

  “I know it’s silly but everything about it represents hope. I imagine the big, happy families that once inhabited it and it fills me with warmth, even though it’s just me right now. It has a good vibe about it.” She stared out the window at the vineyards passing by them as she paused to reflect on that. Waking up in Patrick’s arms this morning had just felt so right.

  “Anyway,” she said moving on. “Di-Anne was thinking about quitting the bakery so I used a good chunk of the rest of the money to buy it from her, and lived off of what was left until my business started taking off.”

  She felt him tense a little underneath her as she talked about the bakery. She wriggled in closer to him, letting him know that it was okay.

  Everything was okay now. Even if she had left out the most important part.

  16

  Patrick held out a hand to her and saw her pause as she exited the car.

  “What is it?” he asked when he saw the look on her face.

  “It’s so…small,” she said, visibly swallowing as she finally took his hand to exit the car.

  Patrick turned to look at the Falcon 5X jet awaiting them. It was certainly smaller than the average commercial airliner, but as far as private jets went, it was rather roomy.

  Then he recalled the story about her parent’s death and wanted to kick himself. “Are you okay to fly? I mean, considering your parents….”

  She blinked at him and gave a smile that he knew was more confident than she felt. “Actually I’ve always had a fear of flying, but I’ll be okay.”

  He held her hand as they made their way up the stairs and into the cabin.

  “Wow,” she said looking around. “It’s much nicer than I thought.”

  Patrick was so used to flying that he was unaware of the effect the interior might have on someone who was used to commercial flying or not flying at all. The color scheme was cool and sleek, all grays and black and white. Individual swivel chairs were situated across from each other across small tables. There was a long couch facing a television.

  It also came staffed with a flight attendant. Today it was Kimberly, who greeted Patrick with a warm, familiar smile. She had just the sort of look that had attracted Patrick once upon a time: bright blonde hair with a Barbie face and figure. And, once upon a time, he had happily acquiesced to her blatant advances. Although, perhaps “once” wasn’t exactly the correct term.

  Oh boy.

  “Good morning Mr. Fitzgerald,” her gaze lingered on his for just a tick-tock too long before sliding over to Layla. “Ms. Brown,” she said in a professionally warm tone.

  Layla sat down in one of the chairs at the table, planting her hands flat on the top as she looked out the small windows, obviously bracing herself. Patrick reached out and took one of her hands in an attempt to comfort her.

  The story about her parents and the way she’d grown up was such a stark contrast to the craziness he’d dealt with, fighting for space in a three-bedroom, two-bathroom home with eight other people. His own parents had been warm, but firm, and most importantly, present. His family had definitely gone through their fair share of trials and tribulations, but for the most part it had been that happy home Layla had pictured with her large house.

  Patrick thought about filling that house with tiny little Laylas and Patricks. He thought of what a trouble maker he had been growing up. That, combined with Layla’s own stubbornness, promised no end to the headaches that such a union promised. He almost laughed out loud.

  “Would you like some champagne, Ms. Brown?” Kimberly asked. He had to give it to her, she was nothing if not professional.

  “I think that would be a good idea,” she said, the tension in her body still evident.

  “And you, Mr. Fitzgerald,” there was a slight gleam in her eye. “Would you like your usual?”

  The question was innocent enough, but based on their past, it definitely hinted at something else once the plane landed. That “something else” certainly wasn’t the whiskey that he usually had on these flights.

  “No, I think I’ll just have what she’s having, thank you.” The “thank you” was said in such a way that it left no room for doubt: the “usual” was a thing of the past.

  Kimberly simply nodded with a smile and went to get their drinks. Patrick turned his attention back to Layla to find some of the tension gone, now replaced by a look of disapproval. Apparently none of that subliminal interaction was lost on her.

  “The ‘usual?’” she asked with a raised eyebrow and an inquisitive smirk.

  “I fly on this plane a lot,” he explained.

  “I’m sure,” she said sarcastically.

  All Patrick could do was shake his head with a rueful smile at the innuendo.

  Kimberly came back with their champagne.

  “Thank you,” Layla said looking the woman in the eye. It was polite enough, but the underlying statement was definitely one of: Your job is done, I can take over from here on out.

  Patrick was more than happy with that.

  “Thank you,” he added, putting a firm period on the end of that sentiment.

  The pilot announced that they would be taking off and Kimberly wandered away to settle in for take off.

  Patrick felt Layla’s hand grip his as the plane began to move, making its way to the runway.

  “Just breathe,” he said smiling, half amused, half sympathetic. “It’s a short flight down.”

  “It’s still in the air,” she pointed out. “Thousands of feet in the air.”

  “I’ll have Kimberly bring some more champagne when she can.”

  “Just tell her to leave the bottle, maybe bring another.”

  Patrick laughed, then winced as her grip became a vice when the plane sped down the runway and lifted off the ground. As much as he loved the feel of her hand touching his, he was going to lose it due to lack of blood flow if she didn’t ease up. Definitely more champagne was in order.

  It was probably a good idea considering what he had to tell her before they landed.

&nb
sp; Once they reached cruising altitude he signaled Kimberly and told her to just leave the bottle with them. Layla let go of his hand so that he could pour, instead gripping the armrests of her seat.

  “So, Layla, here’s the thing,” he began.

  “Uh oh,” she said, looking at him warily as she took her glass. “That’s never the start to a good conversation.”

  Patrick laughed lightly. “It’s nothing terrible, well at least eventually it won’t be.”

  “What is it?” she said with a slightly impatient smile. “Just tell me.”

  Patrick looked at her gorgeous face, then looked around to make sure they were out of earshot. Hollywood was a notorious gossip machine and ears were always listening.

  “Last night was,” he lifted his eyebrows and exhaled, “great. Amazing.”

  “Yeah,” Layla agreed with an uncertain smile, no doubt wondering where he was going with this.

  “It’s just that it was a major breach on my part. I represent Lion Studios and, well, you did sue us. Even though the contracts and settlement agreements have been signed, technically you are still…an opposing party.”

  The smile disappeared. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, as much as I’d love a repeat of last night—you have no idea, Layla—but we have to wait until…well, until all of this is finalized.”

  “So I’m basically in Los Angeles for two weeks by myself.”

  “No,” he clarified. “I mean I’ll be there if you need anything—anything related to—”

  “To my contractual duties,” she said with a slight undertone of bitterness.

  “Layla, be reasonable. I’m already in hot water with the way I’ve fumbled this thing so far. Do you think they were happy about the $500,000? If it comes out that I slept with—Jesus, I could probably get disbarred.”

  “Disbarred?” she asked with alarm.

  “Well, since the paperwork was signed maybe not that bad, but it doesn’t look good. Lion Studios would have every reason to fire me.”

  She stared at him for a while letting it sink in. Finally, he saw a look of understanding come to her eyes. Then she gave a wry smile.