Escape From Reality by Adriana Hunter Page A

caught herself looking over every inch of him, mentally
checking off the details she’d written: broad chest, muscular arms, long legs…
    She closed her
eyes and tried to stop thinking of what she’d described next, how he’d looked
naked, the sounds he’d utter while making love, what he’d smell like. The sun
was suddenly very hot and she wanted to be in the shade, away from the glare.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep on the sand and was suffering from heat stroke. That
happened sometimes to people who weren’t used to the intensity of the tropical
sun. That was it; this was all just a dream.
    “Maybe you should
sit down…”
    At his words, Leila’s
eyes flew open. He’d taken her arm firmly at the elbow and she looked down at
his hand. It was very real, very warm, and not very dream-like at all. She
could smell the salt on his skin, and beneath that the scent of his body as the
sun warmed him. The world began to go gray and foggy, wavering as if she were
underwater again.
    As he pulled
her against his chest, Leila’s hands rose, sliding over smooth hot skin. She
blinked, watching her hands as if they belonged to someone else.
    “I’m…fine. It’s
the sun…it’s so hot.” She looked up into his emerald green eyes and made a
small sound of regret. She’d neglected to describe the ring of deep blue that
circled the iris, a rather stunning feature and a detail she should never have
overlooked. Cheryl would be very disappointed in her. 
    Then the world
went dark and she felt herself falling, relieved to think it would be onto the
soft, warm sand.

 
     
     
    Chapter
Four
     
    Leila woke
slowly, her hand sliding across the surface she was lying on. It should be
sand, warm sand, possibly even wet sand. She’d fallen asleep in the cove and
had a bad dream, but she was safe now.
    But it was
fabric beneath her fingers and a mattress cradling her body.
    She opened her
eyes and found herself looking up at the underside of the canopy of her bed,
the deeply carved panels holding the same floral patterns she’d looked at this
morning. Sitting up, she looked down at herself and found she was wearing the
same gown she’d slept in the night before.
    In panic, she
looked at her watch. It was late afternoon, almost time for her meeting with Cheryl.
    Swinging her
legs over the bed, she set her feet on the floor and stood. She cried out at
the sudden pain in her ankle and sat back, pulling her foot onto the bed. There
was a circle of abraded flesh just above her anklebone and the foot was
slightly swollen. But the wound was clean, as if someone had washed the sand
away.
    She was more careful
this time. She stood gingerly, gradually putting weight on the injured foot. After
a few tentative steps, the pain subsided and she was able to walk almost
normally. Glancing down, she found her dress and lingerie folded neatly on the
bench at the foot of her bed. But the shirt the man had given her was nowhere
in sight.
    The man who’d
saved her life. He must be an employee, a gardener or some other staff,
obviously someone she hadn’t met yet.
    But the eerie
resemblance to her written description hung in her mind. He was exactly as
she’d described, eye and hair color, body size and shape, even his masculine
scent. Everything except the dark blue in his hypnotic green eyes.
    Leila suddenly
laughed out loud. Of course, it was all part of the fantasy of the writer’s
retreat. Cheryl must be part of it, and Dominick as well. She’d read Leila’s
description of the hero and found an actor who fit the bill. Or close enough.
Tall, handsome men with dark hair were common; contacts could easily change the
color of someone’s eyes.
    As if it had
been triggered by the thought of Cheryl’s name, Leila’s watch alarm sounded and
she switched it off. Tapping the watch face, she thought for a moment. She
wouldn’t let them know she’d figured out what they were up to. Playing along
would make it more interesting. Her face grew hot. Just