“Why are you upset?” Noah asks again.
The sound of his robe dropping into one of the chairs deepens the crimson heat across my cheeks. Noah fucking Graves is about four feet from me and fully nude. The awareness is offensively arousing, even with how upset I am with him. The image of us fight fucking comes raging in and I pinch my eyes shut.No.This is not the time.
“Are you decent?” I ask, without looking up.
“I’m covered. Why are you upset?”
I fold an arm across my chest and prop myself up on the other elbow, my cheeks still burning. Noah’s face is sincere as he stares at me in the low light.
“Your credit card,” I snap.
His frown deepens. “Was there a problem? Did it not work?”
“Oh, it worked,” I say, my frustration rising again. “You gave me yourpersonalcard.”
His face is a wash of confusion. “But it worked?”
“Yes, it worked you psycho. But you lied to me. Business expense my ass. You tricked me into taking your damn pity money.”
Noah chuckles and drops his head to the table. “Charlotte . . .”
“Shut up.”
“It’s not pity money, “ he insists. “Yes, I gave you my own card, but it’s still a business expense. I can still write it off. I needed the other card for the club.”
I scowl at him. “You handed me a card with no spending limit and didn’t even warn me. I almost had a heart attack when I saw the total and then again when I realized it wasyourmoney,notFlourish’s.” I drop my face into my hands again. “Who does that?”
“It’s fine. I doubt you spent anything I would balk at.”
“That’s part of the problem!” My voice is higher, almost shrieky, but we are interrupted by another knock at the door.
The two women who come to give us massages are as polar opposite as possible. The one who approaches my table is young, blonde, and far too sunny for my sour mood. Noah’s masseuse is an older woman with black hair pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck. They lower the lights further and retrieve trays with bottles of oil from a cupboard along one wall.
“I’m Riley,” the blonde one says, “and that’s Rita.”
I offer her a polite smile as she passes.
“One thing we like to ask before we get started is if you want to practice any techniques on each other. Sometimes couples?—”
Neither of us let her finish the thought, both popping up to answer with an emphaticno.Even if I wasn’t pissed at him, having his hands on me while he’s greased up and smelling like a god is the last thing I need. We stare at each other, the panic clear on both our faces.
“Alrighty then,” Riley continues, unbothered by our lack of desire to touch each other. “We’ll get started.”
As the perky blonde works her way from my shoulders and down my back, the stress and worry I’ve been holding melts into the table. I fight the urge to moan with this woman’s magic hands running smooth, practiced rounds on my back. She kneads out every pocket of tension in every muscle, and by the time she reaches my legs, I’m over the fact that Noah is lying next to me. Well, almost over it.
I replay the conversation before she entered the room and realize Noah did have a reasonable explanation for giving me his card, even if he still should have told me what it was. I might have jumped to conclusions, but he did still make a call withoutcluing me into it. I work to focus on how I might express this to him, but Riley’s hands continue to pull all my attention away from my frustration.
As she rubs up and down my legs the awareness of Noah’s naked body being so close comes back, but it’s no longer tainted with anger. Instead, my mind fantasizes abouthishands running along the inside of my thighs, and back down to my toes. I picture him holding my ankle and working out the knots in the ball of my foot with the same strong hands that shook me last night when we bumped into each other. God those are good hands.
When Riley finishes the hour long massage, I am a puddle of goopy desire. Gone is the anger I held for Noah and in its place, a pulsing need. The women leave us and I stay lying on the table for a few minutes, reaching for every piece of logic I need to stay out of Noah’s way.
He’s my boss.Who agreed to fake date you.We are on a business trip.To impress two people who already think you’re together.He’s done little to encourage the attraction.Except show up shirtless this morning and touch you at every available opportunity.My post-massage brain fights with itself until Noah clears his throat.
“I’m turned around if you want to get dressed.”
Reality comes screaming back as I sit up. Logic Lottie is right. He’s done nothing to encourage the attraction and his touch has always been when Tom and Cheryl are around to observe it. It’s not his fault I find him attractive, and entertaining thoughts of even a one time thing is beyond the realm of what I should be doing. I push up from the table and slip to the floor, pulling the robe around my shoulders with one quick motion.
The truth of it is, I am attracted to Noah, but he has been nothing but professional with me. Even when I’ve crossed everyline there is, he’s maintained a polite attitude and treatment. He’s been the perfect gentleman.
