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An Excerpt From: LAILA’S BARGAIN
Copyright © REESE GABRIEL, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
Leave it to Matthew to answer the door half naked.
Leave it to him to have no shame, either, greeting Laila
like he was an old friend instead of the serial commitment-phobe who had broken her heart into itty-bitty pieces
two years ago.
“Laila Prescott,” he drawled, leaning his
calendar-perfect body against the doorframe of his run-down beach bungalow.
“You’re looking good, baby doll.”
Laila did her best not to react to the pet name, not to
mention the proximity of his bronzed skin, honed and muscled from his bare
chest all the way to his narrow waist and strong thighs.
He smelled of musk and sea salt. His sandy brown hair
was longer now, curled, tousled. The way he wore those khaki shorts so low
on his hips made her want to reach out and slide her trembling fingers
under the waistband to grab his cock. And what a cock it was—thick and hard
and pulsing—the best she had ever seen or felt inside her.
Baby doll.
Words whispered in her ear, making her feel safe, wanted,
treasured, needed and desired. In Matthew’s arms—in his bed—she had learned
what it meant to be a woman, to be swept away, comforted…taken.
What nerve he had. Talking like nothing had ever
happened.
“Coming here is hard enough,” Laila pronounced, attempting
to keep her voice steady. “Without you calling me that.”
His stance remained open, relaxed. She hated how
confident he was, how completely, unapologetically male.
“Not sure how to make things much easier,” he said.
“You’re the one who left. You’d have to tell me.”
Oh, no, he was not going to go there.
“You know very well why I left, Matthew.” She trembled
slightly, resisting that old pull, so strong after all this time. “You
practically forced me out the door.”
A part of her wanted him to fight back. He didn’t.
Some things never change.
“Two sides to every story.” He shrugged. “So what brings
you back to Paradise
Island? I don’t have
your toothbrush anymore if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Laila took a deep breath. The only way forward was to bury
the past. She had a purpose in coming here—a life and death purpose.
“I’m looking for Bobby. Have you seen him?”
Matthew’s handsome brow furrowed. His full lips curled
downward into a slight frown. He had been close to Leila’s younger brother,
almost like a big brother. “I haven’t seen Bobby since you left. I thought
he was with you on the mainland.”
“He’s gone missing,” Laila explained. “No one’s heard
from him in a week. He doesn’t answer his phone, he—”
She broke off. She was nearer to tears than she had
realized. It must be the combination of all the stress over Bobby plus
seeing Matthew again.
She had loved this man once, honest to god, she had thought he might be the one. The last thing
she needed to do now was show weakness in front of him.
“Come on in. Let’s sort this out.”
Laila dared not move. It wasn’t the same place they had
shared together but it was damn similar.
Memories flooded back—the power he had had over her,
casting a spell to make her forget her life, her responsibilities. She
could have stayed on this island forever, making love to this man, playing
kinky sex games, sipping margaritas, dancing on the beach.
Things like that aren’t meant to last and men like
Matthew never settle down. Just one of those cruel rules in life.
“Laila?”
The sound of her name jarred her to the present.
She nodded, entering the bungalow.
The new place looked much like the old, decorated in
contemporary American bachelor. A torn sofa, held up by blocks, sat in the
corner. He had several fishing poles and a tackle box on the kitchen
counter. Empty beer and rum bottles lined the top of a single bookcase. A
pack of cards and a leftover pizza box adorned the coffee table.
She recognized the easy chair he had inherited from his
father—the only thing the old man had left him.
Laila had tried to civilize Matthew, introducing him to
such rudimentary concepts as placemats and monthly refrigerator sweeps for
hazardous foods. She had moved in just three weeks after their whirlwind
romance had begun at a tiki bar, of all places.
He had made the first move, pure Matthew—brash,
completely artless…and totally devastating.
“What’s it going to take…” He
had approached her, looking sexy as hell in a Hawaiian shirt and white
slacks. “To get you into bed?”
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