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  Was that what was bothering her? That she knew Hal wouldn't make a move on her? Or that he would, but only as part of his job, and only if she gave him the right signals?

  Laila shoved such thoughts away firmly. Hal was a nice guy, if a bit clumsy, and so what if he had sexy eyes and a great smile? She was paying him to be interested in her and that was all.

  "It's all yours." She brushed by him, head held high.

  He took a small case and a bundle of clothes from his ridiculously large bag and went into the bathroom. Through the closed door Laila could hear water running and the toilet flushing. Gargling. Her cheeks pinked. There wouldn't be much privacy this week.

  She found some extra blankets and pillows in the large carved armoire and laid them on the love seat. She looked down at Hal's new bed critically. He was at least six-two . Most of him would be hanging over the edge. She looked at the large, luxuriously appointed brass bed.

  No. She couldn't invite him to join her. She looked again at the love seat, with its scratchy buttons and hard cushions. But could she sleep on that?

  She was saved from self-sacrifice when the bathroom door opened and Hal came out. He'd slicked his wheat-colored hair back from his forehead in smooth waves. He wore only a pair of loose cotton drawstring pants, but it wasn't his bare feet that made Laila's breath catch in her throat. It was his bare chest.

  Beneath the oxford shirts, Hal had been hiding the chest of a real David. Michaelangelo's David, to be more precise. His skin was smooth and nearly golden in the room's dim lighting. His abs were sculpted, his pecs smooth humps of muscle sprinkled with just a smattering of crinkly golden hair. His arms, too, bulged with well-defined muscle, but none of it was grotesque or overblown. He didn't look like a body-builder, just like a man who took care of himself.

  "I left my t-shirt in the suitcase," he said apologetically.

  Laila swallowed hard, willing the saliva pooling in her mouth to moisten her dry throat. All she could think was, Whoa. Her mind called up an image of Clark Kent and Superman. What else was Hal hiding behind his glasses and his slightly geeky wardrobe? The phrase Man of Steel rose to her mind and made her blush at the implications.

  She stepped aside to let him open his suitcase. The huge bag was too big to rest comfortably on the room's small suitcase stand. Hal wrestled with the bag, finally managing to balance it on the stand. Laila watched in guilty pleasure as his muscles tensed and strained under the weight.

  "Just a minute." Hal fiddled with the suitcase's zipper. It didn't budge. Hal pulled harder, really tugging on it with strength.

  Laila saw that when he'd zipped the bag earlier, he'd caught a piece of clothing in it. The way he was working at the zipper now, he'd never be able to open it. "Let me help you."

  Everything happened all at once. Laila moved next to Hal and slipped her fingers into the small opening, freeing the caught cloth. Hal's tugging released the zipper forcefully. The suitcase lid, bulging with all the stuff Hal'd packed, flew open. Hal fell backward, knocking Laila over with him. She landed on his chest with an, "Oof!" The suitcase, set precariously on the stand fell over on top of both of them.

  Laila had just a few seconds to appreciate the warmth of Hal's bare skin against her cheek and the way he smelled before the square silver packets rained down on them both. There were dozens of them, some larger, some smaller, but all contained the same thing.

  "Condoms?" Laila cried, holding one in her hand. Extra-ribbed for her pleasure.

  She threw herself off of Hal, stepping on him in the process. Hal let out a low, pained groan and curled into a fetal position. Laila barely noticed the damage she'd caused. She flung the prophylactic down with the rest of them, and it hit Hal squarely in the head.

  "Condoms?" She looked around at the mess from Hal's suitcase, noticing the sheer extravagant number of them. "I don't know what you were thinking, mister, but--"

  "...prepared," Hal wheezed.

  Laila noticed he was cupping his privates. Oops. "What did you say?"

  Hal managed to sit up, but his face had gone pale. "We have to be prepared for anything. That's the LoveMatch rule."

  "So, along with your three changes of clothing per day, you thought you'd better pack condoms." Laila stepped over the suitcase and flopped down on the bed. "Some Eagle Scout!"

  "I'm sorry," Hal said. He began shoving things back in his bag. "I wasn't sure if--"

  "If what?" Laila demanded. "If I'd be so horny or lonely that I'd beg you to service me?"

  He didn't answer right away, and she thought she'd embarrassed him.

  "I just didn't know. And I didn't want to be in a situation where I might regret not taking precautions. That's all."

  She'd known many men who expected an evening to end up in sex but didn't bother with thinking about protection. Maybe she'd overreacted. But she didn't know how to say she was sorry to the man who now, silently, had taken his place on the love seat.

  "Goodnight," she said finally, and turned off the light. In the light coming in through the window, dozens of little silver packets gleamed on the carpet.

  So many of them. How many had he expected to need? Again, she thought, Man of Steel, and a hot blush stole across her face. What kind of man was Hal in bed anyway?

  Hal's knees were on fire and his rear end felt like it had been slammed with a crowbar. The slow, plodding animal between his legs was no rodeo champion, no thoroughbred racer. Just a slow, placid horse who liked to follow the others on the trail in front of him. Without stopping. For hours.

  The ride had begun at sunrise. The whole family, all but the youngest kids, gathered at the stable to get their mounts and head out into the rolling hills and woods of the resort's property. Hal's last ride had been on a pony. He'd been six.

  "How're you doing? All right?" Laila urged her horse, a black-and-white mare named Daisy, next to Hal's mount, Stanley.

  "Oh, sure," Hal said through gritted teeth. "Just fine."

  Laila walked her horse beside him for a few minutes. The others on the ride kept their faster pace, but Hal could see another patch of rough meadow opening up in front of them and was grateful Laila had slowed them to a walk.

  "You're doing great for a beginner," she said encouragingly.

  Stanley paused to put his head down and pull at some of the weeds growing by the trail side. Hal pulled on the reins. Stanley ignored him.

  "Don't let him eat," Laila said.

  "I'm not letting him do anything," Hal muttered. He yanked the reins again, hard, and Stanley started moving again.

  "The ride's almost over." Laila smiled at him.

  Suddenly, he no longer felt the pain in his legs and butt.

  "Then we can hit the tennis courts."

  Was she trying to kill him? All Hal wanted to do after this ride was soak for a while in the hot tub. A long while. But he wasn't on vacation; he was working. And his job was to do whatever Laila wanted him to do.

  Still, his face must have shown his true feelings, because Laila laughed. "I'm kidding. I'm thinking that a big breakfast, followed by a nice long soak in the hot tub is in order."

  Hal sent a prayer up to the powers-that-be. "I'm at your service."

  Wrong choice of words. He remembered her comment of the night before about if he'd expected to service her, and he wished he'd thought of that before speaking. Laila frowned a little and lifted her chin, focusing her eyes back on the trail ahead instead of on him.

  "All work and no play," she said quietly. "You know how it goes. I know this is a job for you, Hal, but it's okay if you want to enjoy yourself."

  Why on earth would she think he wouldn't enjoy food and a soak in the hot tub? No matter how many of the LoveMatch training courses he took, Hal knew he'd never understand women. He sat back a little in the saddle, trying to ease the pressure on his knees.

  "I'm enjoying myself." The lie flew out of him like a sneeze.

  Laila looked at him skeptically. "Sure you are."

  "I haven't ridd