Certainly, someone who wouldn’t mislead her into thinking he did want what she wanted and then just string her along.
And any man who gave her the slightest indication that that wasn’t who he was, absolutely was not a contender. Absolutely was not someone she was putting an ounce of energy or a minute of her time into. Because doing that three—three—times was enough. More than enough—three engagements that ended short of the altar were more than any one person’s limit.
So no more fly-by-nights.
Or, as in the case of Ry Grayson and his arrival for yesterday’s wedding, no more fly-by-days, either.
His own sister had said that he was just a kid at heart, that she didn’t think he would ever grow up. And even if Kate hadn’t had a preconceived belief that that was the kind of man he was, Marti saying it was a glaring warning that Kate was not taking lightly. In fact, she didn’t need any more confirmation than that to cement Ry Grayson on the do-not-touch-with-a-ten-foot-pole list.
So, all right, maybe he had gotten to her a little at the wedding and maybe that was why what she was feeling could possibly be excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. Opening up to her, letting her know he liked her brother, confiding his feelings about his sister’s late fiancé—there was no denying that the man could be charming and appealing.
But she’d learned—three times—that charm and appeal didn’t get her to the altar. And she couldn’t let charm or appeal blind her again. She had a goal, she was unwavering in her pursuit of that goal and that was all there was to it. She absolutely would not allow herself to be waylaid by anyone she honestly didn’t believe was a potential life partner.
And when it came to this massage, she was a professional and she could do this and keep it purely in that arena—business as usual. And no business-as-usual massage excited her.
With that sorted through in her mind, Kate set her shoulders straight and imagined her goals and resolve protecting her like a shield from Ry Grayson’s charm and appeal. She took several deep breaths for strength and to clear her mind. And then she knocked firmly on the door.
“I’m indecent, come on in.”
Well, no one had ever said that before.
Kate suppressed a smile and went in.
“Hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said unapologetically.
“I think I dozed off, so even if you did keep me waiting, I didn’t know it.”
He was lying facedown on the massage table, his arms at his sides. He hadn’t used the sheet he’d been given to cover up with, probably because he was still wearing everything from the waist down. But he was naked from the waist up. Naked, tanned, muscular and broad-shouldered at the top of an impressive V that narrowed to his waist and an equally impressive rear end that she almost wished he hadn’t left encased in jeans because one look at his backside and a slight shiver ran up her arms.
“Is it cold in here?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“As long as you’re comfortable,” she lied to cover her own reaction.
Business as usual, she reminded herself.
“Which shoulder is giving you trouble?” she asked, moving closer to the side of the table.
“The left,” he answered.
“I can use oil or lotion—which would you prefer?”
“Makes no difference to me.”
Kate chose oil, pouring some into her hands to warm it and trying as she did not to admire the pure, raw masculine magnificence of those shoulders and that back that could make a person drool, and biceps that were honed and carved and looked as if they were amply able to pull his body weight and more up the sheer sides of mountains.
Business as usual.
She went from the side of the table to the head of it.
“Fancy feet!” he exclaimed the minute she was in position and he could see her from the opening of the headrest. “Polish and a toe ring? That’s a surprise.”
Leave it to him to say something about it.
“The polish was for the wedding—open-toed shoes. And the ring has been there for so long it won’t come off,” she said as if there was no more to it.
But the truth was, she’d refreshed the polish, and she never tried to take off the ring. She just didn’t want him to know that she secretly liked that thin, silver bit of nonconformity that had come out of her late teens.
She also didn’t mention the fact that his view would have ordinarily consisted of only clunky clogs, but that she’d opted for sandals today. With him in mind, although she didn’t want to admit it even to herself.
“I’m going to touch you now,” she warned because sometimes her clients liked to know in advance.
“Go for it,” he said with a laugh that managed to sound sexy even through the slight muffle of the headrest.
“I’m pretty strong, so if I hurt you at all, let me know right away.”
“Give me all you’ve got, I think I can take it.”
And yet her hands hovered over his shoulders.
You said you were going to touch him, now do it!
It was just that she had some concerns about what touching him was going to do to her. Maybe nothing—after all, she’d never had any kind of personal reaction to touching anyone else. But Ry Grayson? There was something different about him.
Still, she had no choice, so she took a deep breath and laid her hands on his shoulders.
Another wave of those shivers went from her palms all the way up her arms again. But she put every effort into ignoring it. And when she did, she began to get an idea of what she was dealing with therapeutically.
“Wow, those are some big, hard knots,” she said.
“Big and hard—isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?” he countered with another laugh.
The man was definitely incorrigible.
Kate took her hands away. “I’m going to have to loosen the knots with some heat before I can deal with them,” she informed him without acknowledging his remark.
Then she escaped from the room and collapsed silently against the wall just outside the door.
She took more deep breaths. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She told herself again why she could not allow herself to be affected like this by Ry Grayson.
But only after about the sixth deep breath did she feel strong enough to cross the hall to the supply area of the office and continue with what she was supposed to be doing.
She took some hot packs from a drawer and heated them in the microwave. Then she retrieved two warm, damp towels from the Crock-Pot where she kept them heating, and went back to the treatment room.
On went the first towel, then the heat packs, then the second towel over them.
And the moan that came from Ry Grayson in response sounded much too much like the kind of moan he might make during the course of far more intimate activities.
Kate swallowed with some difficulty, pressed herself flat against the wall inside the room this time and decided to try polite, innocuous conversation to keep her mind and her reactions to him on another path.
“Did your grandmother end up making it through everything yesterday without any upset?” she asked.
“She did okay, actually. She’s pretty