room. I will have the box of his belongings brought up to you. The room has been used since…it was vacated last month.” Her lips tightened but she nodded. “Room 206 for Mr. Black, Avil.”
“Thank you, Mr. Willep,” Kailin said and turned to follow the boy struggling with the keys while his two hands held the trunk. It was a small trunk, but heavy, and the boy’s arms were thin.
“Much obliged,” Jackson said, tipped his hat and stepped forward. Without a word, he took the trunk from the boy, placating him with a few words in Arabic. Jackson nodded for him to proceed and the boy waved them to follow. Jackson’s own duffle slung against his narrow hips as he walked ahead of Kailin. Occasionally he glanced back to ascertain she was still there.
“Don’t fear, Mr. Black,” Kailin called. “I will scream if anyone tries to abduct me on the way to the room.”
“Just making sure you’re not ducking alone down any more alleys on the way,” he shot back. Several bystanders stared and Kailin almost laughed at their open-mouthed reaction to their banter. Really, current mores were so ridiculous. Perhaps that’s why she much preferred studying long dead societies to the annoyingly alive one she lived within.
With curious eyes taking in her every gesture and glance, Kailin kept her gaze level with the back of Jackson’s neck where his hair touched his broad shoulders. The way the muscles played through his shirt as he hauled their luggage was stimulating enough. She pursed her lips and fought to keep her gaze from sliding down to where she knew his pants lay in a perfect fit. If she wasn’t careful all the ferns in the hotel would shrivel with the irritating heat the man lit in her. She’d never before had such a reaction to an individual. Even embarrassed or irritated at the parade of eligible men Anthony and Bruce insisted she be exposed to, she didn’t lose control of her magic. Jackson Black was different. He loosened the tight knots she purposely tangled around her talent and he’d been clever enough to see through her necessary façade.
Kailin clamped a tight cage around her reaction and chilled herself from the inside out. At this rate, she’d have to take a nap before dinner.
Room 302 looked like any other simple suite. Kailin strode through the confines of the walls to the balcony doors, swinging them wide to the dry open air. She leaned against the rail and overlooked a tamed central garden. A trickling waterfall fed a rock pond with large goldfish. Wrought iron tables with chairs sat at random intervals amongst the manicured beds set apart by an inlaid stone path. Quaint, pretty, but more importantly… Kailin glanced upwards at the empty sky. Open.
Kailin glanced at the breadth of the small balcony. It was big enough to accommodate some cushions from the lounge inside. Yes, she’d be comfortable enough here. She turned to investigate her father’s old room.
Jackson stood by the open door. Avil waited in the corridor. Jackson walked to the rail and leaned over. “Three floors up. Safe enough.”
“Apparently not for my father,” Kailin answered and began her inspection of the room. “They must have come through the door. Were there signs of forced entry?” she asked Avil.
His eyes grew wide, confused. She repeated her question in Arabic. Avil shook his head, eyes still wide as moons.
“I did not see, madam , but I did not have to repair the door afterwards,” the boy supplied and glanced at the door jamb as if looking for evidence. He shook his head and looked back at her. “No broken wood.”
Kailin nodded, her bun rubbing against her nape. She reached behind and cupped her neck to soothe the ache already building there. She turned to survey the rest of the orderly room. Several potted ferns and a miniature palm stood in corners. Green curtains tied back around a regular-sized bed with matching coverlet and plump rust-colored pillows. A small chandelier in orange and
“Thank you, Mr. Willep,” Kailin said and turned to follow the boy struggling with the keys while his two hands held the trunk. It was a small trunk, but heavy, and the boy’s arms were thin.
“Much obliged,” Jackson said, tipped his hat and stepped forward. Without a word, he took the trunk from the boy, placating him with a few words in Arabic. Jackson nodded for him to proceed and the boy waved them to follow. Jackson’s own duffle slung against his narrow hips as he walked ahead of Kailin. Occasionally he glanced back to ascertain she was still there.
“Don’t fear, Mr. Black,” Kailin called. “I will scream if anyone tries to abduct me on the way to the room.”
“Just making sure you’re not ducking alone down any more alleys on the way,” he shot back. Several bystanders stared and Kailin almost laughed at their open-mouthed reaction to their banter. Really, current mores were so ridiculous. Perhaps that’s why she much preferred studying long dead societies to the annoyingly alive one she lived within.
With curious eyes taking in her every gesture and glance, Kailin kept her gaze level with the back of Jackson’s neck where his hair touched his broad shoulders. The way the muscles played through his shirt as he hauled their luggage was stimulating enough. She pursed her lips and fought to keep her gaze from sliding down to where she knew his pants lay in a perfect fit. If she wasn’t careful all the ferns in the hotel would shrivel with the irritating heat the man lit in her. She’d never before had such a reaction to an individual. Even embarrassed or irritated at the parade of eligible men Anthony and Bruce insisted she be exposed to, she didn’t lose control of her magic. Jackson Black was different. He loosened the tight knots she purposely tangled around her talent and he’d been clever enough to see through her necessary façade.
Kailin clamped a tight cage around her reaction and chilled herself from the inside out. At this rate, she’d have to take a nap before dinner.
Room 302 looked like any other simple suite. Kailin strode through the confines of the walls to the balcony doors, swinging them wide to the dry open air. She leaned against the rail and overlooked a tamed central garden. A trickling waterfall fed a rock pond with large goldfish. Wrought iron tables with chairs sat at random intervals amongst the manicured beds set apart by an inlaid stone path. Quaint, pretty, but more importantly… Kailin glanced upwards at the empty sky. Open.
Kailin glanced at the breadth of the small balcony. It was big enough to accommodate some cushions from the lounge inside. Yes, she’d be comfortable enough here. She turned to investigate her father’s old room.
Jackson stood by the open door. Avil waited in the corridor. Jackson walked to the rail and leaned over. “Three floors up. Safe enough.”
“Apparently not for my father,” Kailin answered and began her inspection of the room. “They must have come through the door. Were there signs of forced entry?” she asked Avil.
His eyes grew wide, confused. She repeated her question in Arabic. Avil shook his head, eyes still wide as moons.
“I did not see, madam , but I did not have to repair the door afterwards,” the boy supplied and glanced at the door jamb as if looking for evidence. He shook his head and looked back at her. “No broken wood.”
Kailin nodded, her bun rubbing against her nape. She reached behind and cupped her neck to soothe the ache already building there. She turned to survey the rest of the orderly room. Several potted ferns and a miniature palm stood in corners. Green curtains tied back around a regular-sized bed with matching coverlet and plump rust-colored pillows. A small chandelier in orange and
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