Samantha looked at her friend, Rick’s body rising between them. “He’d do whatever I need him to do,” she said.
“Oh, well. That’s wonderful.” Mona grinned.
Samantha blushed and changed the subject. “So how’s Mr. Regular?”
It was Mona’s turn to blush. “Still regular.” Chuck Yardley, aka Mr. Regular, came for a massage five days a week, feigning rugby strains, but really to get to know Mona, who refused to budge on her no-dating-clients rule.
Samantha understood her reluctance. Sleazy massage parlors gave legitimate therapists a bad name. Samantha had a similar problem with callers who asked for vulgar photos, using words she preferred not to think, let alone hear.
But Mona could easily send Chuck to another therapist and go out with the guy. She claimed her people instincts went amok once chemistry kicked in and she had a rat of an ex-husband to prove it. So poor Chuck forked over hundreds a week in unnecessary rubdowns in a vain effort to coax his reluctant sweetheart that he was safe to date.
Rick tested the outflow, then looked down at them. “That should do it.”
Mona tilted up her face. “Mmm, feels better already.”
While Rick climbed down, his back to them, Mona mimed licking her finger and touching it to Rick’s behind, then yanking the digit away as if burned.
Samantha fought a laugh.
Rick reached the floor and turned. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” Mona said, her eyes twinkling. “I just mentioned how nice it is that you’re so handy. I mean besides being an assistant.”
“Whatever Samantha needs,” he said, winking at her, teasing, turning her nerves to hot wires.
“Yes, she mentioned that.” Another look from Mona.
Samantha had to clear her throat to speak. “Rick’s also a photographer. He helped me with a shoot earlier.”
“Even better. Photographer, assistant and handyman. Ideal in every way.” Then Mona quit teasing and honed in on Rick’s back, studying it with a clinical eye.
“I hope to learn a lot,” Rick said, glancing from Mona to Samantha, clearly puzzled by Mona’s change of focus, but when she grabbed one of his shoulders and ran a knuckle down his spine, his eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”
“I’d guess mostly Swedish with a little shiatsu,” Mona pronounced, prodding him with a bent knuckle. “Maybe some trigger-point work. You’ve got a slight curvature…. That sore?”
“A little, yeah. I was in a car wreck in high school.”
“That explains it. Makes the intercostals go into spasm.” Mona grabbed both of his arms, bent at the elbow and pulled them to first one side, then the other. “Get a lot of kinks?”
“Some.”
She manipulated his shoulder and he said, “Ohh…yeah,” his body sagging with relief. Watching Rick’s ramrod-straight frame dissolve into relaxed pleasure made Samantha want to melt.
“Better?” Mona released him.
He turned from side to side, testing his range of motion. “Yeah. Better.”
“I’ll get my book.” Mona glided out of the room.
“She’s getting her book?” Rick asked.
“To schedule you a massage. That felt good, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but…”
He seemed so flummoxed by the idea she had to smile. “Then imagine a whole, entire hour.”
Mona returned with her dog-eared planner. “How about four tomorrow?”
“We’ll be too busy, I’m sure,” he said, looking at Samantha for a way out.
“There’s always time for a massage, Rick. Consider it an employee benefit, since I don’t offer insurance.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” Rick said, twisting at the waist to prove it.
“Mona won’t settle for fine. By the time she’s done, you won’t know your own name or even where you are.”
When he blanched, she almost laughed, but she hid her reaction and turned to Mona. “Also, Rick will be following up on the wedding-planner mailing. Do you want me to include a coupon?”
“Sure. I’ll put something together.” She turned to Rick. “I’m glad you’re on our team.”
“Yeah. Me, too. And if you have any other problems, let me know. I’ll drop in regularly, see what else needs doing.”
“Sounds great,” Mona said.
Samantha thought it was nice how he was taking charge, accepting responsibility for extra duties already. Maybe a little too conscientious, but, so far, a good hire.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Rick said as soon as they were outside the shop. “I can pay for the massage.”
“Mona gives me a discount. And you’ll need it. I’ll be working you hard.” She put her hand to her mouth and stood stock-still.
Rick chuckled. “I’m going to let that one alone.”
She smiled her gratitude, liking the wicked look on his face all the same.
“I don’t know that I like the idea of Mona making me forget my name or where I am,” he mused.
“Why not? Haven’t you ever been swept away?” she asked.
“Not on a massage table,” he said in a tone that made her heart pound.
“I know what you mean,” she said, though she really didn’t. She’d never been that lost in a physical moment. She wanted to be. With Rick. Forgetting everything but him and what he was doing to her. Rick, Rick, oh, Rick.
She sighed, then realized they were standing outside Valerie’s display windows, which held the naked mannequins she’d agreed to dress.
“Venus in a C-cup, huh?” Rick said, reading the shop name from above the nude figures. “This whole place is something else.” He shook his head, as if mystified by it all. Again she had to wonder why he’d wanted this job.
The atmosphere was so not Rick.
For a moment they stood side by side staring at the naked women with their plaster hips thrust provocatively forward, fingers extended, inviting, teasing. In her mind, she saw Rick staring at her instead of them, sliding his hot, green gaze over every trembling inch of her naked and needy body.
“I’d ask what you’re thinking, but I bet I’m better off not knowing,” he said, his low tone vibrating through her.
She turned to him. I’m thinking, you…me…naked…now.
But she was spared that bold response or a clever retort when Val burst out the door of the shop. “Thank God you’re here! My inventory finally arrived.” She stopped short at Rick.
“Meet my new assistant, Rick West. Rick, Valerie Sumner. He’ll be helping you with any tenant issues. We’re heading over to the salon right now to—”
“Terrific. You can both help. The shipment barely got here and I cannot under any circumstances miss Lindsay’s twirling tournament. Plus, you have the windows to do, Sammi.” She nodded at the displays.
Samantha looked from her frantic friend to Rick to her watch. It was already four. “You don’t need to stay, Rick. Blythe’s plumbing can wait for tomorrow.”
“I’m happy to help,” he said.
“That’s excellent,” Valerie said. “Come