‘I want to order.’
‘Do so, then.’
‘What do you want to drink?’ she asked.
‘They know my order,’ he said
‘A drink for Mikael and one Irish coffee for me.’
He just looked at the barman who, to his credit, only blinked once.
‘Can I have some money to pay him, Mikael?’ she asked.
‘I have an account here.’
‘I want to pay, though,’ she said. ‘I want to buy you a drink.’
With his money!
‘Mikael!’ A couple of silks came over. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Bad luck—really thought you’d got him off.’
‘So did I for a while,’ Mikael said.
They chatted about work for a few moments, but all eyes were on Layla.
‘Where the hell did you find her?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘She’s stunning.’
‘She’s exhausting,’ he said, and looked over to where Layla sat perched on a bar stool. She was wearing a cream moustache and chatting to the now besotted barman, who’d been foolish enough to say that he’d noticed her shoes as she came in.
‘And now…’ Layla smiled to the barman ‘…I take them dancing. Come on, Mikael!’
She could dance!
‘It’s so easy!’ She beamed. ‘So sexy!’ She laughed. ‘No wonder it is forbidden.’
As she danced and swayed Layla had possibly never been happier in her life, and her exuberance and sheer joy were infectious. So much so that the mood at the rather staid club lifted and a night that might have been spent commiserating over Mikael’s loss seemed to have turned into a party—everyone was up and dancing.
‘You are sexy, Mikael,’ Layla said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He was so lithe and so full of surprises—for she’d thought he would sit at the bar, but instead they’d moved together and danced into the small hours.
‘Will you kiss me again?’
‘Not here,’ he said, and as the music slowed she leant against him.
‘When we get back to the hotel can we do what they did on the television?’
Mikael frowned. It seemed a very, very long time ago since he’d been told that the verdict was in, and only when Layla spoke on did he remember she’d been watching a TV show.
‘Can we act as if we’re having sex but keep our panties on?’ Layla asked.
‘No,’ Mikael said. ‘And I don’t wear panties.’
‘Please?’
‘No,’ he said again.