by Avery North
“Perhaps that’s it. Maybe that’s somewhere we could go sometime?” He looked down at her upturned face, noticing again the yellow flecks in her dark green eyes.
France, with her, would be good.
“I hope you like French food,” he said at the entrance to the restaurant, “the chef here is a fellow countryman.”
The French influence was obvious in the restaurant. Diners were well dressed and sophisticated, making Louise grateful for her shopping splurge. Huge vases of flowers sat on the shabby-chic side-tables, fresh linen adorned the dining tables, prints of Paris hung on the walls. A pianist played on a small stage beside the polished strip of the dancefloor.
“Do you get homesick when you see this, Gilbert?” she asked as the waiter showed them to their table.
“Sometimes, a little,” he answered but without the dark shadow on his face that usually accompanied any mention of France.
“Your perfume reminded me of France. I spent a lot of my childhood at the seaside with my mother.” He flicked through the menu. “That was a long time ago, long before my family went their separate ways. Do you have an idea of what you would like to eat?”
Louise had noticed that he never spoke for long about France or his family. But then again, neither did she.
He was deep in thought, studying the wine list when the waiter came for the order. When the waiter brought their wine over, he decided it was the right moment to give her the pendant. Sliding the little box across the table towards her, he said, “I got this for you yesterday.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as she extracted the chain and pendant from the satin bed.
“I love it.” She gasped. The amber glistened as she held it up to the light.
“May I put it on for you?” he was at her side, sweeping back the stray hair tendrils, fastening the slender chain around her neck, sending a shiver of anticipation along her spine. “It matches your eyes.”
“Thank you,” she smiled across the table as he resumed his seat.
“What will you call it? You already have a name for your ring. Your talisman, isn’t it?”
She had told him the story about the ring keeping her safe but hadn’t filled in the details. She decided she could tell him now.
“Yes, I bought it because it made me feel safe after a messy divorce.”
“OK.” He squeezed her hand, “but you came safely through the divorce?”
“Yes, with the help of a friend," she looked at him, a question in her eyes. "Why do you ask?"
“Is this the friend who keeps sending you messages?”
He had overheard a heated argument while waiting outside the library and heard the regular pinging of her phone. He wouldn’t mention it now but thought that he should tell her later that not all friends were as trustworthy as Ahmed. Despite her air of independence, he wanted to protect her.
“Maybe later we can dance?” he said, bringing the conversation back to lighter topics.
“Yes, we shall dance,” she said, spearing a prawn and offering it to him.
As they finished their meal, the pianist was starting another tune, a slow romantic ballad.
“Dance with me?” he asked.
Safe in his arms on the polished floor, Louise smiled up at him.
“Happy?”
“Yes, very happy.”
He held her closer, burying his nose in her hair, one hand caressing her back, sending further shivers of anticipation down her spine.
“Shall we go?” he whispered in her ear, after nibbling on the lobe for a moment.
Parking the car next to a narrow stairway set into the sidewall of the Riad, he removed his hand from her thigh, where it had rested for the journey back.
“No hotel duties tonight. Tonight, we go to my private quarters.”
“Yes.” She turned her eyes, sultry with longing, towards him. Her finger traced the outline of his lips and told him she was as ready for this as he was.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he led her to the stairway. Pausing at the bottom step, she turned to face him. Reaching up, she took his face between her hands, feeling the stubble under her fingers, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Not the chaste kiss they had shared earlier but the passionate kiss of a woman hungry for more. Holding her tightly, he responded, hearing her moans as he answered the kiss, nuzzled her neck, and bending lower pressed his lips to her breasts, his hands caressing the fabric of her dress.
He could feel her fingers working on his shirt buttons, small hands deftly undoing the first one then the next.
“Shall we go up?” he asked, and in response to her nod, he half carried her up the staircase. Fumbling with the key in the lock, he pushed the door open, revealing a room bathed in moonlight.
“Should I close the curtains?” he indicated the expanse of glass.
“No,” she was in his arms again, her undone hair streaming over her shoulders. “This light is so beautiful, so romantic. And the scent?”
"I have never seen your hair fall loose," he commented, running his fingers through it. “You should leave it loose more often.”
Bending down, he clasped her tightly again. Kissing her neck, he reached for the zipper, letting the silky dress fall to the floor.
"You are beautiful so beautiful.” She gasped as his hands cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples, before reaching to undo her bra. Her breathing became heavier as his hands slipped under her panties, a finger brushing her engorged clitoris. She was becoming desperate for him as he scooped her up to carry her through to his bedroom, laying her on the white covers.
She pulled him towards her, hungry for him to continue, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off. She slipped her hand past his waistband, running her hands over his smooth skin and taut muscles, stroking his hard member. Moaning as she felt the member respond to her touch, she pulled him down against her and feeling his tongue in her mouth, his fingers stroking her clitoris, entering her, making her cry out with pleasure.
When his member entered her, pushing through the tangle of damp curls, she was more than ready. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she held him there, feeling the thrust of his body as he went deeper and deeper until they both came together.
Spent, they lay on the tangle of sheets and covers watching beams of moonlight lighting up the walls.
Rolling over onto his side, Gilbert pulled Louise to him again, this time to smooth her hair and fold her in his arms.
“That was so beautiful, so sweet,” he murmured into her ear before falling asleep.
She lay awake beside him for a long time, watching the moonlight fading and hearing the dawn chorus through the open windows. This was so right, so good. This was what had been missing in her life. Turning to the sleeping Gilbert, she laid her head on his chest and fell asleep.
***
His stirring woke her.
“You stay there,” he whispered, “I will rustle up some breakfast.”
Pulling on his boxers, he headed for the kitchen. The smell of percolating coffee and the sound of crockery reached Louise as she lay in bed. A mewling sound announced the arrival of Moustache, followed by Gilbert carrying a tray.
“I hope you don’t mind her,” he said. “She is usually banished up here when the kitchen is busy.”
“I love cats,” Louise struggled out from the tangle of sheets, looking for something that would serve as a dressing gown. Spotting Gilbert's shirt, she pulled it over her head. He laughed, seeing her curled up on a chair at the table, her hair falling over the pinstriped shirt she had found.
“It’s as though you’ve been here forever,” he commented. “We could be any respectable married couple.” He placed her coffee in front of her.
"Damn," his back was turned when he heard the ping of her phone, and Louise swearing softly.
“Your friend again?” he said in a concerned voice.
“Yes.” Louise sounded weary. Pulling his chair closer to hers, he took her hand.
“Louise,
good friends, true friends, don’t harass you like that. She may have helped you through tough times, yes, but a true friend will allow you to find your own feet when you are ready.”
She looked at him in silence for a moment, then answered, “I feel like I’m being mean turning my back on her now.”
“You are not. You are rebuilding your life. What happened in the past can’t keep intruding on your present.”
She nodded.
“Good.” He felt there was more to this friend than met the eye, but for now, it was enough that Louise would be cautious.
“Let’s finish breakfast and go back to where we left off last night.”
He reached over to lift the shirt over her head, running his hands over her body again and guiding her hand to his already erect member.
Epilogue
“They’re leaving today,” Louise said to him over the breakfast tray.
“Will you miss them?”
“A little,” Louise confessed. “Joshua and I have always had a rocky relationship, yet we worked well together. Emma? Emma will be back. She has the travel bug.”
She took a sip of her coffee, "Besides, there's the project in France next year. I will join them for that. And working remotely will mean regular contact even if it is by email.”
“And the Dubios project! I’ve sent the details to the old man. He might listen now that he needs more publicity.”
“Great,” slipping into the negligée she had bought in Ville Nouvelle, she rose to pour more coffee.
“Has having breakfast delivered to your room always been a thing?”
Gilbert shook his head.
“No, this is just Ahmed’s way of showing his approval of my new way of living.”
Louise laughed. “I like having his approval. Don’t forget, Emma and Joshua will be leaving at twelve.”
***
Standing on the steps as the midday sun beat down, Louise once again answered Joshua’s confusing questions.
"No, Joshua, I am not going back, I can work from here and see how it goes."
"But, you have a house in Wales."
"That can be sold or rented out. Besides, I don't have family there."
“True,” Joshua had to concede, though he still looked perplexed. “Well, you take care of yourself.”
He edged closer to give her a clumsy bear hug before turning to Gilbert.
“Thanks for the wine, Gilbert.”
“No problem, enjoy it.”
“Ahmed, thanks for taking care of us.”
Joshua pointed at Moustache, rubbing herself against Gilbert's ankles. "To that damn cat, I have nothing to say." He laughed.
Gilbert slipped his arm around Louise’s waist, waving as the car drove into the sunshine.
“Now, it is just you and me.” He planted a kiss on her hair.
“Yes, just you and me. And Ahmed and Moustache, of course.”
“And your friend?” he asked anxiously.
“No, not now, not ever. Just you, me, Ahmed and Moustache.”
They walked into the Riad, arm in arm, Moustache leading the way.
Book 2: Unexpected Passion
Blurb
Helen is on a mission to Marrakesh to make sure her friend Louise isn’t making a terrible mistake – Loiuse has fallen in love with a handsome Frenchman and decided to stay forever. Helen is determined to persuade her to return to the UK but doesn’t count on meeting confident, successful Aryn. Initially just trying to gain Helen’s admiration, Aryn finds that what he really wants is her respect and finds himself falling deeply in love with her.
Despite her determination to enjoy the single life Helen finds herself developing feelings far beyond a holiday fling and starts to question her life decisions.
Will Helen give in to love and make a new life in Morocco? Or will she focus on her career and return home?
Chapter 1
One-time womanizer and handsome Frenchman, 35-year-old Gilbert Dubois, was finally taking his work seriously, running his father’s Riad in Marrakesh. Falling in love with Louise, a pretty Welsh travel writer, while she was on assignment in Marrakesh, changed his life forever. Louise was now living with him in his apartment at the Riad and working remotely on her travel writing. For both of them, life had never looked better.
Ahmed, general manager at the Riad and Gilbert’s right-hand man, looked up from his pile of work as Louise entered the office. Taking in her untidy chestnut bun and her pretty gypsy-style dress, he raised a hand in greeting.
Smiling to himself, he remembered how Mr. Gilbert had fallen hopelessly in love with Louise − the lady in green as he had called her. That had been a lucky day for Mr. Gilbert and even for Ahmed himself. Mr. Dubois’s exes no longer called reception, and Ahmed was no longer burdened with the responsibility of keeping the young man in check. Yes, Louise was a welcome addition to their lives.
“Good morning Ms. Louise,” he smiled at her, "Samira at reception has been looking for you. A lady, one of the new arrivals, wants to meet you there at two o'clock."
“Oh, really? I have no idea who that might be,” Louise responded, reaching for the coffee pot.
“Neither do I,” Ahmed pushed a tray of pastries towards her and opened his diary. “Mr. Dubois has left a message for you as well. Some business associates of his are coming to stay tonight. And the head office would like you to write some more travel articles about their other properties.”
"Wow, Ahmed. That is exactly the news I have been waiting for," Louise's eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Thomson. Mr. Gilbert has the details. Here’s to a good working relationship,” Ahmed raised his coffee cup in salutation.
Louise wondered who she was going to meet; reception hadn’t been very clear as to who was there. They had said it was a woman, but what woman? She hadn’t been there long enough to have casual visitors. Entering the lobby, she stopped short when she saw the tall, slim woman leaning on the reception counter. There was no mistaking the short dark hair, the slim legs encased in jeans, the pinstriped jacket thrown casually over the shoulders. Helen? But it couldn’t be. They weren’t exactly on friendly terms since Louise had decided to live in Marrakesh and leave the Welsh countryside behind. Why then, was Helen here? Was she trying again to convince Louise to return to the UK?
Steeling herself, Louise approached the reception. Helen would very quickly discover that Louise had found a place she could be happy in and a man she was happy with.
As Louise neared the desk, Helen turned around and held out her hands.
“I had to come Louise. We have been friends for so long I just couldn’t leave it there. I had to make sure you were happy here.”
The warm handshake became a hug, and Louise could feel her tension melting.
Iced coffees in the lobby gave them the opportunity to catch up. Helen hadn't changed her mind about the impracticality of Louise's decision, but at least she was now prepared to listen.
“Yes, I have a guy here. Yes, I can work remotely for the London office. And, yes, I love the country and climate, and I will be here for the foreseeable future,” Louise answered to Helen’s barrage of questions. "And I will show you around, and you may find that you love it as much as I do.” Louise laughed roguishly, “You may even find your own love interest here!”
“I doubt it,” Helen responded coolly. “I doubt if they have any well-paying jobs in Finance here. I will not sacrifice my career for a man, no matter how attractive he is. That is simply not my style Louise, as I am sure you know.”
“OK, OK.” Louise replied, unwilling to start an argument again, “have you checked in yet? We could eat here tonight. You could meet Gilbert!”
“Sure, but this Gilbert … Who is he exactly?”
“The son of the Riad owner, Mr. Dubois. He owns a chain of hotels. Gilbert manages his interests in Morocco.”
“Well, you have certainly fallen on your feet.” privately decided that she was going to check the Du
bois's financial standing when she got to her room. For now, it was enough to know that Louise seemed happy. They could discuss her returning to Wales over the next few days.
Later, Helen thought while she unpacked in her room. Her Google search had turned up nothing untoward about the Dubois empire. There seemed very little possibility for Louise to get into trouble in her relationship with the son. Still, she would be watching carefully. Louise had endured enough in that horrible divorce of hers. She could hardly endure another mishap.
She had time for a shower before dinner. Laying out her palazzo pants and matching shirt, she headed for the bathroom. She had made sure that on her first trip to Marrakesh, she was ready for all possibilities. Though why she was thinking of it as her first trip, she really couldn't fathom, it would be more correct to say her only trip. New York and other big American cities were really more to her taste.
***
When Louise came downstairs, the lobby was in its usual state of pre-dinner conviviality. Guests relaxed on leather couches while waiters scurried about carrying trays of drinks. Bowls of roses sat on the polished side tables. Rays from the setting sun slanted through the tall windows while the scents of roses and leather hung in the air.
As she helped herself to another iced coffee, she spotted the porter admitting two young men, both of whom she judged to be in their mid-thirties. That was unusual, guests were generally in tour groups or traveling as couples. And these guests appeared to be native Moroccans, wealthy Moroccans from their appearance and the exquisite luggage the porter was struggling with. They were probably the business associates of the Duboiss Ahmed had mentioned earlier.
***
Helen had taken care of her appearance for the evening. Sliding in her gold chandelier earrings, she made one final adjustment to her outfit before leaving her room. The bold colors suited her, the fluid fabric of shirt and trousers showed off her figure, the heavy rope of beads around her neck drew eyes towards her cleavage. Tucking her clutch under her arm, she descended the stairs.