LITMIR.BIZ

      The following morning Layla woke to bright sunshine pouring through the windows of her bedroom. Her bedroom. Not their bedroom. Her first night as a married woman and she had spent it alone.

      She heard sounds of Logan moving about in the suite outside her room and wondered if he too had found it odd to have spent their first night as a married couple in separate beds. Probably not. He was the one who had made the rules and was so determined to stick to them. And she had agreed to them, so why was she even mulling over their situation?

      It was a sensible plan to keep their emotions out of the arrangement. It was wise for both of them to refrain from developing feelings that demanded more permanency. Her dream of finding someone to love her was just that—a dream. A fanciful dream that had little hope of being realised. And that secret little smouldering coal inside her? It needed a bucket of ice-cold reality thrown over it.

      The fragrant smell of freshly brewed coffee tantalised Layla’s nostrils and she threw off the bedcovers and slipped on a bathrobe to cover her satin pyjama set. She came out to the dining area of the luxury villa to find a colourful fruit platter and fresh croissants and rolls with butter and preserves laid out ready for breakfast.

      Logan was pouring coffee into a cup and glanced up when she came in. ‘Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes. Coffee? Or would you prefer tea?’

      ‘That coffee smells delicious,’ Layla said, thinking he looked and smelled pretty damn delicious too.

      His hair was still damp from a shower, his jaw was cleanly shaven and she could pick up a trace of the lemon and lime notes of his aftershave. He was dressed casually in white cotton shorts that set off the deep tan of his legs, his light blue T-shirt showcasing his well-toned chest. He looked rested, relaxed and ridiculously sexy, and her female hormones swooned.

      He handed her a cup of steaming coffee. ‘How did you sleep?’

      Layla took the cup from him and breathed in the delicious aroma. ‘Not bad…considering.’ She took a sip of coffee, conscious of his unwavering gaze.

      ‘Considering what?’ He leaned one hip against the counter, holding his cup by the base.

      Seemed she didn’t need alcohol to get her tongue out of control. Some inner demon was goading her to point out the weirdness of their situation. A honeymoon with separate bedrooms. If that wasn’t weird, what was? Layla put the cup down on the table and, pulling out a chair, sat and reached for a piece of golden pineapple. ‘Considering it was the first night of my honeymoon.’ She raised her fingers in air quotes over the word ‘honeymoon’, sending him an ironic look. ‘It’s not the way I imagined it as a child. Just saying…’

      A ripple of tension crossed his features like sand blown by a breeze. ‘You know my reasons for insisting our relationship stays on paper only.’ His tone was schoolmaster stern, his gaze determined. ‘I couldn’t have made it any clearer.’

      Layla took a bite of the juicy pineapple and chewed and swallowed. ‘Yes, you’ve made it perfectly clear. And I’m totally fine with it.’ Was she? Or was she just paying lip service? ‘But I can’t help wondering if it’s not me you’re trying to protect but yourself.’

      He placed his cup on the table with a thud and frowned. ‘Protect myself from what?’

      She kept her gaze trained on his. ‘From getting too close to someone. To feeling something for someone other than transient lust. You keep people at a distance. You’ve had plenty of casual lovers but you haven’t had a live-in lover since you lost Susannah.’

      He picked up the coffee pot and refilled his cup. ‘You seem to know a lot about my love life.’

      ‘But it’s not a love life, is it? It’s a lust life.’

      He gave a rough laugh that held not a shred of humour. ‘Works for me, sweetheart.’ He raised his cup to his mouth and took a mouthful of coffee.

      ‘It will work until one day it won’t,’ Layla said, picking up another piece of fruit—a wedge of pink watermelon this time—and placing it on her plate.

      Logan pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down and placed his coffee cup on the table, his forehead creased in a frown. ‘Why is it so important to you how I live my life?’

      Layla found it hard to hold his gaze. ‘I’ve known you since I was a twelve-year-old kid. How could I not care about how you live your life?’

      He gave a brief movement of his lips that fell short of a smile. ‘I know you mean well, Layla, but, believe me, it’s best if you don’t care too much. Now, finish your breakfast. We have some serious sightseeing to do.’