gripping the back of his neck with his hand. Doreen met Layla’s eyes from the other end of the bar, seeming reluctant to interrupt them. Layla waved her down.
“Did you want to order?” Doreen asked.
“Sure, I’ll have the salmon and vegetables. And … a glass of white wine, if you have it.”
“We have several,” Doreen said.
“Just pick one. I’ll be happy with anything.”
Doreen walked away and Layla chanced a glance at Ben. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw set tensely. She wondered if she’d made him angry.
“What if we could?” he asked, glancing over at her. She looked at him skeptically. “What if we agreed that for a certain amount of time, like maybe … two weeks, you get to be in control of everything? And then I get to be in control for two weeks? We can evaluate things after those four weeks and if you want us to go separate ways, we can.”
“Of course we can, you’ll be done with me by then,” Layla grumbled. “Once you’ve slept with me, the novelty will be gone.”
“No sex unless you ask for it. The whole four weeks,” he said. She looked at him tentatively. “Worried you won’t be able to resist me?”
His teasing grin caused a flare of annoyance that made Layla sigh deeply. “Not at all. You have a deal, sergeant.” She extended her hand.
“I predict this two weeks will show you that you don’t like being in control as much as you thought,” Ben said, tipping his beer bottle to his lips.
“And I predict you’ll be disappointed when that doesn’t happen,” she said, smiling. “And highly frustrated as well. You can’t sleep with anyone else during this four weeks.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said coolly. “And be warned, I’m the jealous type.”
“So we’ll start tomorrow? Friday? I don’t want to get screwed out of part of my day by starting tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, smiling.
Chapter 4
The lunch crowd at O’Malley’s was heavy, but everyone was sitting, rather than standing around chatting as Layla was used to. Her heart skipped as she wondered if Ben would be there. She hoped he wouldn’t, because she wanted to focus on her lunch meeting with Melanie Price.
She spotted Melanie in a dark wood booth, eyeing the menu over the top of the glasses that were perched on the end of her nose. She’d gone back to the short, practical braids that Layla was used to seeing in her hair.
“Hi,” Layla said with a smile.
“Hey, girl,” Melanie said, grinning back at her. They’d met when Layla started doing pro bono legal work for Advocates for Hope, a mental health organization Melanie was the executive director of, but over the past several months, they’d become friends.
They probably seemed an unlikely match; Melanie was a stout, big-bosomed black woman in her late 50’s. But the more time they spent together, the more Layla came to think of Melanie as one of her closest friends.
“How’s everything at work?” she asked. Melanie groaned and rolled her eyes.
“Wondering why the hell I beat my head against a wall every day, so just the usual, I suppose,” she said.
“What’s going on?”
“Just dealing with the bureaucracy of state agencies. I’m trying to help someone get approved for disability benefits and get a family into subsidized housing. I don’t know how average people can navigate these things without help.” Melanie shook her head with frustration.
“Anything I can do?”
“No, I don’t need my big gun yet.” Melanie grinned. “But I’ll call you if I do. You’ve done so much work for us that Cole’s volunteering for another organization, but he said we can always call if we need him.”
“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“It’s just easier to work with you since we get together so often. Plus you’ve got that extra something that just gets things done faster.”
“The bitch factor,” Layla said with a smirk. “It opens doors.”
“So what’s new in
“Did you want to order?” Doreen asked.
“Sure, I’ll have the salmon and vegetables. And … a glass of white wine, if you have it.”
“We have several,” Doreen said.
“Just pick one. I’ll be happy with anything.”
Doreen walked away and Layla chanced a glance at Ben. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw set tensely. She wondered if she’d made him angry.
“What if we could?” he asked, glancing over at her. She looked at him skeptically. “What if we agreed that for a certain amount of time, like maybe … two weeks, you get to be in control of everything? And then I get to be in control for two weeks? We can evaluate things after those four weeks and if you want us to go separate ways, we can.”
“Of course we can, you’ll be done with me by then,” Layla grumbled. “Once you’ve slept with me, the novelty will be gone.”
“No sex unless you ask for it. The whole four weeks,” he said. She looked at him tentatively. “Worried you won’t be able to resist me?”
His teasing grin caused a flare of annoyance that made Layla sigh deeply. “Not at all. You have a deal, sergeant.” She extended her hand.
“I predict this two weeks will show you that you don’t like being in control as much as you thought,” Ben said, tipping his beer bottle to his lips.
“And I predict you’ll be disappointed when that doesn’t happen,” she said, smiling. “And highly frustrated as well. You can’t sleep with anyone else during this four weeks.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said coolly. “And be warned, I’m the jealous type.”
“So we’ll start tomorrow? Friday? I don’t want to get screwed out of part of my day by starting tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, smiling.
Chapter 4
The lunch crowd at O’Malley’s was heavy, but everyone was sitting, rather than standing around chatting as Layla was used to. Her heart skipped as she wondered if Ben would be there. She hoped he wouldn’t, because she wanted to focus on her lunch meeting with Melanie Price.
She spotted Melanie in a dark wood booth, eyeing the menu over the top of the glasses that were perched on the end of her nose. She’d gone back to the short, practical braids that Layla was used to seeing in her hair.
“Hi,” Layla said with a smile.
“Hey, girl,” Melanie said, grinning back at her. They’d met when Layla started doing pro bono legal work for Advocates for Hope, a mental health organization Melanie was the executive director of, but over the past several months, they’d become friends.
They probably seemed an unlikely match; Melanie was a stout, big-bosomed black woman in her late 50’s. But the more time they spent together, the more Layla came to think of Melanie as one of her closest friends.
“How’s everything at work?” she asked. Melanie groaned and rolled her eyes.
“Wondering why the hell I beat my head against a wall every day, so just the usual, I suppose,” she said.
“What’s going on?”
“Just dealing with the bureaucracy of state agencies. I’m trying to help someone get approved for disability benefits and get a family into subsidized housing. I don’t know how average people can navigate these things without help.” Melanie shook her head with frustration.
“Anything I can do?”
“No, I don’t need my big gun yet.” Melanie grinned. “But I’ll call you if I do. You’ve done so much work for us that Cole’s volunteering for another organization, but he said we can always call if we need him.”
“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“It’s just easier to work with you since we get together so often. Plus you’ve got that extra something that just gets things done faster.”
“The bitch factor,” Layla said with a smirk. “It opens doors.”
“So what’s new in
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