And skin. A touch slid up her ankle – impossible. No one was in the cabin but her, no one was on the bed with her – but he was. Layla could feel his gentle, trailing fingertips smooth up her leg as she closed her eyes, breathing in his scent off the sheets. Shedding her cardigan and shimmying out of her jeans to feel the lusciousness of his touch sliding up her skin, Layla found she was breathless, moving with that touch, sliding her bare legs along his sheets and feeling his caress. That touch slid up her body – slow and intimate, though avoiding the places she most wanted it to caress. As it slid up her neck under her jaw, she rolled to her back and arched, feeling the smooth touch of a thumb caress her lower lip.
Sleep, my beauty. Dream of me.
His voice was like a sigh of wind in her mind. And on its vast reaches, Layla suddenly felt drowsy, as if called to do as he asked. Nestling down into the black silk covers, pulling the duvet up over her deliciously aching, heated body, she breathed in his intoxicating scent as it flowed in through every pore. A sensation of arms came around her, holding her as she settled deeper into the place where sleep begins.
A kiss like a breath of wind touched her neck, as Layla tumbled into dreams.
* * *
A presence in the cabin stirred her and Layla’s dreams shifted. She had been soaring over the desert, high over dunes and canyons, arroyos and dry riverbeds. She’d been inside a vaulted palace of mirrors and light, water and the rustle of greenery, listening to someone laugh; a man, bright and merry, his smooth baritone like music through the air. She had gone to one of the gazing-pools, standing before an ornate fountain and staring through the water at the deep turquoise tiles at the bottom of the pool. Watching the shifting aqua light like the glinting of the sun off the Mediterranean Sea – and then the dream had been interrupted.
Layla surfaced from the dream, though only halfway. Some part of her registered that she was still in the jet, snuggled in Adrian’s black silk covers, breathing his cinnamon and spice scent. But another part of her knew that she was actually still dreaming – because in the dream, the partition was open, a tall figure haloed in the stark light from the main cabin. It wasn’t John. Lean and elegant, the man in the doorway had one hip set against the wall, his hands in his pants pockets as he watched her. She could feel him; Layla could feel his aquamarine eyes even though she couldn’t see them – watching her in the dream.
Is that all you’ll do? Just watch me from afar?She thought, feeling him near but wanting him closer. With a smooth chuckle that eased through her ears like honey, licking deliciously across her skin, he moved into the cabin.
How you tempt me…His sigh was like palm fronds rustling in an evening wind as he moved to the bedside. Settling down, he reached out, stroking impossibly soft fingertips over her jaw; smoothing his knuckles over her cheek and down the side of her neck.I never thought I’d find you. Yet here you are… in my bed. Without me.
You’ve been looking for me?
For years.
Then come to me. Find me here.
In the dream, Layla reached out, her left hand with the Moroccan cuff sliding up his bare forearm over his dragon tattoo, the touch between them electric; wild. The hamsa-cuff brushed his skin and he shuddered, a ripple of luminescence passing through his body in a wave before it was gone. In the low light of the bedroom, Layla watched his eyes burn aqua as they fixed upon her, smoldering with gold. And then he leaned down, brushing her lips in the softest kiss.
Sleep, Layla Price. I’ll find you when the time is right.
The dream shifted; the cabin was gone. And Layla fell deep, without dreams.
CHAPTER 12 – ARRIVAL
Layla awoke to a polite knock on the wall of the plane, solid but not invasive. She blinked her eyes open, bleary from how deeply she had slept – seeing the partition was still closed, though in her dream it had been open.
“Ms. Price?” John LeVeque’s deep basso voice came from the other side of the partition. “One hour until we land in Paris! Can I get you anything?”
Rubbing her hands over her face to wake up, Layla stretched, her body feeling amazing. She hadn’t slept that deeply for years. Glancing at the bed, she supposed rich moguls could afford nice mattresses, even for their jets. A faint scent of cinnamon and jasmine wafted around her, and Layla sniffed her bare arm, smiling slightly. Her dream of Adrian surfaced, the feel of his touch lingering upon her skin, his kiss silken at her lips. Her body heated, a wash of pleasurable warmth flowing through her.
What had he said in the dream? She couldn’t remember.
“Ms. Price?”
“Yeah! I’m up!” Layla yawned, then pushed to the side of the bed and hauled on her jeans. A quick duck into the restroom to pee and twist her loose curls back up into their clip with a splash of water to her face and then she pushed out through the partition barefooted. Making coffee at the sideboard, John glanced over and smiled, then turned and handed her a mug – an Americano filled with extra cream, just the way she liked it. Layla sipped as he gestured to the table and they sat.
“Good sleep?” John rumbled as he sipped his own coffee – just as creamy as hers but probably without sugar.
“The best.” Layla agreed. “Adrian doesn’t skimp on nice sheets or mattresses.”
“That he does not.” John gave a pleasant laugh and leaned back in his chair, seeming a bit more at-ease with Layla now that they had spent some time in each other’s presence. Sipping his coffee, he continued. “We’ll be landing at the Charles de Gaulle Airport soon, and Mr. Rhakvir had me purchase a few things for you to make your first impression at the Hotel. You’ll want to look through them and find something you like.”
“The shopping bags.” Layla nodded, not finding it strange anymore that Adrian would have researched her size and made John go shopping before they left Seattle. “Sure.”
“They’re fancy, but hopefully nothing too off-putting.” John continued, eyeballing her.
“I can do fancy,” Layla sipped. “Is that the norm at the Hotel?”
“Yes and no.” John grinned. “You want to make a stunning impression at first, but then you’ll get some more normal cocktail dresses to do Concierge in, and a Hotel pin. They’ll let patrons know you’re staff rather than a guest. But for your first day interview and welcome, you’ll want to lookrealgood. Think James Bond party good.” John chuckled again, amused at his own joke.
“So – really fancy.” Layla glanced back to the bedroom area, wondering just what was in those bags. Judging by Adrian’s back-up suits, it was most likely going to be stunning.Spare no expenseseemed to be her employer’s motto.
