Arrested Pleasure (7 page)

Dani, dressed in one of Casa de Massage's signature pink smocks, sauntered into the room. Of course, the outfit clashed with her bright red hair, but Dani didn't seem to care. "I caught sight of the two men who came in." She fanned her face. "Woohoo! The one is
really
hot." She winked at Cassie. "You get first dibs since I'm taken." Though Dani and Cassie sometimes joked about their customer's looks, Cassie had made it clear she wouldn't allow any fraternizing.

"You're dating? What happened? Found yourself another Bill?" Cassie chuckled as she thought about Dani's penchant for guys named "Bill." The Bills, Billies, and Williams of Portland weren't safe from the Bill-loving Dani.

She got a pout in return. "His name is Willie. Just because I'm attracted to guys who happen to all have similar names . . . ."

"Well, Willie
is
another variation of Bill." Cassie shook her head. "Sweetie, you need to get out more if all the men you can find are named 'Bill.' There are other names for datable guys." Dani always went gaga over men if she found out their names were Bill or William.

"He's really sweet. I met him at my sister-in-law's house. They work together."

"Want to bet she's well aware of your Bill attraction? I'll have to introduce you to guys not named Bill one of these days. You need a little variety in your life," she joked to her friend and coworker.

Dani stuck her tongue out before she laughed and turned away. "Still, I'll let you take the hot looking guy. I'll do the massage on Stonebridge and you can have Banks."

"Mmm . . ." Cassie took a sip of her water. "Is he drop-dead handsome?" As a rule, she didn't date her patients. She couldn't afford to get romantically involved with anyone she'd likely see here even after the affair ended. She generally "fell" into her relationships. Like meeting Gavin at the airport.

Dani handed her his card. "Yeah, Banks is the good looking one. Trust me, he'll have you drooling." She winked at Cassie, who rolled her eyes. No man could be good enough to lose saliva over.

She shook her head and perused the card in her hand. Nothing unusual per his answers to health related questions. Probably came here on a recommendation from someone who was a regular.

"Your mother called while you were busy." Lola entered the room, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh? What did she want?"

Lola leaned closer. "She needs a facial and wants to know if you'd be available to do the procedure. I told her you'd probably squeeze her in. She also said she wanted to talk to you about your cousin's wedding." She gave Cassie a questioning look.

Cassie grimaced. The last thing she needed was her mother putting pressure on her to attend the wedding. Unlike her father's gruff personality, her mother's gentle prodding usually convinced her to come to functions she deemed important.

"Thanks for warning me. It'll be good to visit with mom and also give me a chance to prepare myself for the onslaught of pressuring me about Junie's wedding."

Fanning the card across her face, she strode down the hallway to where her client awaited. This should be her next to the last appointment of the day, and if she got lucky, she'd have some time to make some calls to other banks about loans. She'd decided she couldn't wait for her bank to come through. Lola had also told her earlier Mr. Winkler called again, demanding to speak to her. She couldn't let him get the upper hand. Her livelihood—and that of her employees, was at stake.

Quietly opening the door, she glanced at the man lying on his stomach atop the table. After dimming the overhead light, she flicked the switch for the mood lights, transforming the room into a peaceful, muted environment. She flipped the switch on the CD player, and soft music soon drifted throughout the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Banks. My name is Cassandra, and I'll be your therapist today." She kept her voice quiet, to help sustain the mood. "Are you ready to get comfortable and lift the stress away?"

He stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed and nodded, his eyes remaining closed.

"Good. First thing I'll do is lift the towel and move this down." Lowering the towel to his hip area, she gave a silent oomph at the sight of his well-tanned and broad back. Dani wasn't kidding. If his back was anything like the rest of him, he had to be a hunk.

As she oiled her hands, she stared at him and goose bumps rose on her arm.

Why did the sight of his well-toned back give her the shivers? Shaking her head, she began her massage. He tensed, and she responded to that reaction by pressing her palms down. Her fingers were strong from years of giving massages. A professional at her job, she got into the task of providing a relaxing rub down. Her body relaxed, and she began to hum in time to the music. Lost in thought, he soon became
an objet d' art
for her, and not a person.

* * * * *

Gabe relaxed as the masseuse's skilled hands worked their magic on his tight muscles. He hadn't gotten a glimpse of her, but he bet the rest of her was just as competent.

When she'd first spoken, a sense of déjà vu had hit him. The husky voice sounded familiar. He'd run all the names of the employees at Casa de Massage and none rang a bell. He'd been working too hard lately, stressed out a bit, and so perhaps cases were starting to blend together.

He burrowed his face into the soft towel, eyes closed, as she rubbed his shoulders. Her fingers dug into a particularly tight spot, and he couldn't bite back the groan escaping his lips.

"Feels good, doesn't this?" she murmured close to his ear. The smell of incense filled the air, adding to the relaxed mood.

He mumbled something incoherent that even he couldn't understand, unable to string two words together right now if his life depended on it. The therapists certainly were well trained. It'd been years since Gabe had a massage. Once his caseload lightened a bit, he planned to schedule a few mind clearing ones.
She
would be at the top of his list.

"I can tell you haven't had a massage in a while. You're tight—"she pressed a vulnerable spot and Gabe nearly came off the table—"here."

Damn, she was good. Yet, again he detected some elusiveness about her tone of voice that he couldn't put his finger on. Had he met her somewhere before? He reminded himself he was on assignment and forced himself to focus on her actions and not the sound of her voice. So far, she hadn't done anything suspicious, but he needed to keep his ears open.

Her hand snaked down his back to rest on the small of his back. He tensed.

"Just relax, Mr. Banks, while I loosen your tense muscles." Her hand dipped underneath the towel and pressed.

"Jesus," he muttered.

"Hurts at first, but after a few minutes you'll feel relaxed." She moved her second hand to join the first one and pressed even harder.

Gabe grunted as she found another tender area, but he had to admit the pain felt good after a few minutes. If he wasn't on duty and needing to keep his eyes and ears open, he would've likely been asleep by now. She was that good.

The tempo of the music changed to a salsa beat. He didn't know how she did it, but the Latin rhythm pulled him into the sensual mood. Soon he ignored the fact he had a strange woman's fingers on him as his body warmed.

Her light touch drifted along his sides, working his waist area. Feathery fingers massaged his hip. The towel slipped lower, and he held his breath, afraid he'd expose more skin than he liked. She paused, and he wondered if this was going to be it—an overt sexual move.

Then she adjusted the towel, moving the material higher. A sense of loss enveloped him at her action. Why did he want her to put the moves on him? He wanted to turn his head and check her out, but not seeing her made it almost an erotic game of

"Who am I?" for him.

"Sorry about that." Her voice was soft, and he strained to catch the cadence, hoping he might be able to pin where he'd heard her speak before.

Her delicate hands unexpectedly started rubbing his upper thighs. The towel didn't hide much except the necessary parts of his body, like his backside.

Her fingers glided higher, and he squirmed at the light, feathery touch. The first stirrings of an erection began.
Damn. Hell. Fuck
. A masseuse's stroke could
not
turn him on. This was supposed to be business, not pleasure.

But he was definitely getting turned on.

Gabe shifted his body slightly to relieve the pressure. Damn. Hard to be face down when a certain part of your body is throbbing. Tingles ran up his spine, not only from the massage, but also from his erotic thoughts.

"The feet are considered part of the erogenous zone. It sends out messages to the rest of your body for healing." Her voice sounded soft and sultry.

Just once, he told himself. He had to see if her sexy voice matched her face.

Opening his eyes, he lifted his head to the source of her voice.

Her back was to him, her head down. Her velvety black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a pink smock. Tall and thin, with long legs. She wore a blue and white peasant-style skirt perfectly matched to her lithe body.

She made a sudden move, stepping out of his vision. He inwardly groaned.

He closed his eyes.
Come on, babe, I want a glimpse of your face.

Without warning, she pushed him back down face first. Grunting, he muttered a protest.

"Don't lift your head. You want to remain supine and relaxed." She firmly held his head in place. Hell, he couldn't move if he wanted to.

"This will be over before you realize it." She dug a finger into his calf. "You should think about having a massage regularly as it will help your immune system."

There. That familiar voice. He knew her from somewhere. His body tensed as he tried to pick up anything else about her voice and remember where he'd met her.

She rubbed his lower legs with oil and continued to knead them. The blood in his body pumped furiously, while his dick between his legs throbbed incessantly. He shifted a bit to his side, hoping to relieve the ache that tore at his groin. The change in position began to work. His body relaxed and the tenseness slipped away. For the moment, he forgot where he was or why.

"Is there another part of you that you want me to work on?" Her innocent question startled him.

Yeah, he could think of someplace else. However, he wasn't at Casa de Massage to encourage her, rather to find out if the accusations were accurate. She'd have to make the first move.

"Uh, no. Just keep on doing what you're doing," he replied. He laid his head down gently on the headrest, closed his eyes again, willing his pulsing cock to subside.

The cadence of the music changed to a soft tune, and her kneading also lightened up. Her slick hands glided smoothly over his legs, and the tenseness melted away.

A soft sound startled him for a moment, and then he realized it was her humming in tune to the music, the effect causing his libido to flare again. He had a suspicion that if she propositioned him, he'd want to take her up on the offer. Damn, this wasn't what he'd planned. He'd better ignore the melodious lilt of her voice and concentrate on why he was here. Granted, a perk is a perk, but he was here on business.

Her hands moved to his knee area. A few years ago, he'd hurt it chasing a suspect. Now, whenever the wet wintry weather moved in, he paid the price. Maybe she'd fix the knee.

But his relaxation came to an end when pain shot up his leg. She'd found a particular sore spot. He jerked his leg. "Ow!"

"Tight, aren't we?" she murmured, and kneaded even harder. "Once you make regular appointments, after a while the knots will lessen." She dug in more.

Through intense pain, he tried to relax. Despite the agony, she still managed to make her actions sexy. He wouldn't mind making her a regular something or other. Her sultry voice turned him on, and he bet her body was just as hot. He couldn't wait until they were done and he got his first glimpse of her.

Her hands drifted upward to his neck. Even though he couldn't see her, he could smell her closeness. She wore a perfume, the scent was familiar. He couldn't place it.

His brain was fuzzy from the effect her hands had on him. Minutes passed as she rubbed the back of his neck, almost paralyzing him, lulling him to sleep.

She cooed huskily into his ear, "Bet that feels good. Most people like a neck rub."

She pressed her fingers into his neck and his groin shot up quicker than his gun. He bit back a curse. Fucking to hell. She was good.

"Good. Just relax. Don't talk."

He concentrated on relaxing and willed his cock to do the same thing. Hard for a man to do with all the exotic smells taunting his senses and naughty thoughts about this woman who had her hands all over him filling his brain.

"Okay, Mr. Banks, time to turn over."

He grunted. He definitely didn't want to turn over, or she'd find the tent in his towel down south. He didn't move, trying to pretend to be asleep while he worked on controlling his erection.

"Come on, turn over." The room was silent as she waited for him to respond.

He held his breath as he worked on some kind of control. Then, her hand touched his shoulder.

"Mr. Banks? Are you okay?"

Stiffly, he lifted his head, not wanting to face her quite yet. He didn't want her to discover the lust in his eyes. If he looked at her, he'd go over the edge.

"Just a minute," he mumbled. He stretched his long legs.

"Take your time. I'll go outside so you can turn over in private."

He grunted as he heard her light step fading away, then the door close quietly.

Now alone, he grabbed his towel and sat up. He glanced around the room. The usual assortment of oils, towels, and gadgets. Framed pictures of tranquil scenes lined the wall. A plaque proclaimed Cassandra Nichols as a certified massage therapist. Aware she'd be back in a minute, he breathed deeply to get his overworked senses under control.

Damn, never in his life had someone's touch affected him that way. Of course, he'd never had a massage this erotic, but surely they didn't intend to invoke this kind of response in the first place? If so, they should be outlawed.