FOUR WEEKS LATER
I have my back to the door when it opens. I smile, ready to turn and meet my newest client.
“Hey, sunshine.” Oh dear god. That voice. The deep throaty growl I know so well. My legs tremble. My knees almost buckle
Spinning around, I gape at him and drink him in. And dammit, he looks so good. His beard has been neatly trimmed, his thick hair combed to the side. He’s wearing dark gray suit pants and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. Those forearms—my kryptonite. A dull ache builds between my legs, and I clench my thighs together. I haven’t had enough time away from him to stop responding to his presence. I wonder if it’s even possible for enough time to pass for me to forget the pleasure this man’s body can wring from my own.
He laughs nervously. “Surprised to see me?”
I finally find my voice. And my backbone. Damn right I’m surprised to see him. I’ve worked hard to start a new life here in Iowa. I love my job at The Relaxation Rooms and if he thinks he can just walk in here … “What the hell are you doing here, Lorenzo?”
He rocks his head from shoulder to shoulder. “I have that twinge in my neck again.”
I fold my arms over my chest and fix him with my fiercest glare. “There are plenty of good masseurs in Chicago.”
He starts unbuttoning his shirt. What the hell is he doing? “I drove five hours to have you give me a massage though. So hadn’t we better get started? You charge by the hour, right?”
Charge by the hour. Jackass!
“Yes, and you got fifty-eight minutes left.”
A smirk plays across his lips, and he shrugs off his shirt before placing it on the chair in the corner. “Pants as well?” he asks with a cock of one eyebrow.
I sigh. “Just your shirt is fine.” He’s actually going through with this?
“Where do you want me, sunshine?”
Back in Chicago? Or with your head between my thighs? I can’t decide. I go with neither of those responses though. “On the bed. Face down, please.”
He mumbles something unintelligible and lies on the bed, arms above his head and his face in the small hole in the bench. Without him watching me, I take a moment to check out his body while I rub massage oil into my hands. His powerful back is covered with eye-catching tattoos. Every muscle taut and toned and begging me to touch. And then there’s that ass. I could sink my teeth into it, even when I’m pissed at him for intruding into my new life, especially when I’ve done my best to move on and get over him. Right now all I can think about is how I’d much rather be getting under him.
Stop it, Mia. He’s a client. Nothing more. You can do this.
I slide my oiled hands over his back and his muscles flex beneath my palms. “Is it just your neck you’re having trouble with?” I ask, biting on my lip as warmth spreads through my core.
“My back and shoulders too.” He lets out a deep groan as I work my fingers into the muscles between his shoulder blades.
“You still sleeping on the sofa?” I ask and immediately regret it. I don’t need to know where he’s been sleeping. I don’t need to know anything about his life.
“Uh-huh.” He really has the most beautiful body. So big and powerful. Hard and toned and …
“Are you okay?” He cuts through my internal chatter, and I wonder if I said any of that aloud. Or did I stop massaging him while I was thinking about how good his body feels?
“Yes. I’m sorry, did I stop?”
“No. It’s fucking perfect.” He groans again. “But are you okay here? In Iowa?”
What the hell kind of question is that? “Why are you here, Lorenzo?”
“I told you, my neck.”
“Yeah, right.” I stop massaging him. “Tell me why you’re here or you can leave now.”
He’s quiet for a few beats. “I had to make sure you were okay, that’s all. I just needed to see you and …”
“I’m okay.” I resume his massage. “It’s nice here. I like my new job. My house is lovely and it’s in a quiet neighborhood. Dante did a great job picking it out,” I say, although I suspect Lorenzo had a hand in it too.
“I’m glad.”
“You could’ve asked me all of this over the phone, you know. It would’ve saved you a trip.”
“I told you, I needed to see you.”
I swallow down a lump of sadness. “I wish you hadn’t,” I admit, dropping my hands to my sides.
He turns over and sits up on the bed, and I can’t fail to notice the huge erection he’s now sporting. I guess it’s not just my body that remembers, huh? “I’ve told you before that I don’t offer those kinds of services,” I say with a nod to his groin, trying to add a little humor to defuse the increasing tension.
He swings his legs off the side of the bed. “I swear I didn’t come here for that, Mia.”
I nod, glancing at the floor. I should be pleased about that, but for some reason it hurts.
“That’s not to say I’m not currently thinking about pinning you up against the wall and fucking you so hard you pass out,” he adds with a shrug. “But I came here to talk to you.”
I look up at him and find his dark, pain-filled eyes fixed on my face.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for being such an asshole when you said you were leaving. It was the right thing for you to do, and I should’ve supported you instead of pretending like you didn’t exist.”
“You should have,” I agree.
“I need you to know why I acted like that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
Tears prick at my eyes. “Okay. Why?”
“Because it hurts so fucking much to lose you. I need you to know that it wasn’t all one-sided. You told me you loved me and I let you believe you meant nothing, when you mean more to me than I thought anyone ever could again.”
He takes my hand in his and lets out a long breath. Bastard’s about to break my heart all over again, isn’t he?
“But?”
His face tightens, so full of anguish and pain and heartbreak. “I care about you, Mia. I really do. But I can’t let her go.”
A tear runs down my cheek. I don’t bother swatting it away. “That is why we would never work, Lorenzo. Not because you still love your wife—of course you do—but because you have no idea who I am. For a man so intuitive to my emotions and my physical needs, you don’t actually know me at all.”
His brow furrows. “I know you, Mia.”
“No.” I shake my head. “If you knew me, you’d know that I believe every person we love makes their mark on our hearts, shaping us into the people we become. You are the man you are because of Anya. Who knows if I would’ve even liked the man you were before her? But I love the man you are now. And if you truly knew me, you’d know that I would never ask you to let her go.”
I pull my hand from his. “I’m going to the store. When I come back, I’d like you to not be here.” I walk out of the room.
Don’t look back. If I risk even one glance, I might break. I might accept the crumbs of affection he offers me. But I deserve more, and he was the one who helped me realize that. I close the door behind me. Closing it on him. On us.
With trembling hands, I open the door to my treatment room. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me hoping he’s still in here, waiting to tell me that he can’t live without me. I suck in a deep breath, and I’m flooded with both relief and sorrow when I find the space empty. His scent and his essence remain. The memory of him. And a note, in his handwriting.
I’m sorry I can’t be the man you deserve, sunshine. But I will always be here if you ever need me. No matter what or when or why, call me and I’ll come. X
His cell phone number is scrawled at the bottom.
Tears rolling down my cheeks, I crumple the note in my hand. Damn that man!
