What?
As she stepped out onto the extra-thick bath mat and grabbed a towel, she swayed like a drunk. She grabbed her towel and sat down on the closed toilet to try to get control — physically and mentally.
Nate Rottinghaus had her turned inside out like no other man ever had, and she couldn’t even say why.
He was good-looking. Okay, more than. His body was cut like a Navy SEAL’s, and his beautiful eyes touched something deep inside of her whenever she looked at him. He was hotter than the other guys she’d been with, sure, but it went deeper than that. He was attentive and gentle and comforting and comfortable, and when she was with him, she dropped her guard without even realizing it.
That man had the power to hurt her like she couldn’t even imagine.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, and, wrapped in a bath sheet, she darted out of the steamy bathroom as if it were on fire. She whipped open the door to the balcony, hoping the cool air blowing through the living room would cool her down.
Not being a fan of public exposure, she was about to step back from the doorway when the sea air penetrated her brain via her nose. She paused, holding on to the jamb, and breathed it in, letting it flow through her lungs and outward into every cell in her body. After the third breath, the shaking inside of her dissipated, as if sea water had washed over her and taken the shakes with it.
She was drawn outside and stopped short when she felt the cold surface of the balcony under her feet. Glancing in both directions, she assessed the privacy—concrete walls stretched up on both sides, blocking her space from the neighbors’. The railing was thick, transparent plexiglass, but she was six floors up.
Screw it. If someone wanted to ogle her in her towel, they could have a free show. She’d been missing out for too long.
Sophie tightened the towel at her chest and stepped to the railing. The water was bluer today. More vivid. The November wind still whipped, but the sun reflected on the water, so bright she couldn’t look directly at it.
The courage the fresh air had inspired in her yesterday returned. The determination to do more than bury herself in her career pulsed in her. When she finally shivered from the cool air, she dragged herself away from the edge of the balcony, went inside, and grabbed her cell phone.
“To girl time,” Iona said, holding her champagne flute out to Sophie, who clinked glasses.
“To girl time. This isn’t what I expected when I called you.” She smiled and took a sip of the light, slightly sweet bubbly, working to let go of the idea that she should be getting a little work done today.
“It’s a sin against nature that you’ve never had a pedicure before,” Iona said.
“I didn’t know it included champagne or I might have.”
“All about priorities — and knowing which spa to hit.”
“Feet haven’t been at the top of my list, I guess.” Sophie leaned back into the massage chair, the champagne warming her insides as her feet soaked. She may have decided her priority list had been flawed, but that didn’t mean refocusing was easy.
Iona had been in her car when Sophie had called, and she’d told Sophie to get dressed because she was stopping by in five minutes. After throwing her hair up and pulling on jeans, a sweater, and boots, she’d met Iona out front, deciding once she sat in the front seat of Iona’s Camry it was probably best she hadn’t had time to think.
Spontaneity wasn’t her strong point. Who had time for spontaneity when you worked or thought about work all your waking hours? Though she and Iona shared a strong work ethic, Sophie was realizing they had a lot of differences outside the office. She could stand for some of Iona’s habits to rub off on her.
“Your feet will thank you. Trust me,” Iona said.
Two spa employees came over to their chairs and went to work pampering them. Sophie felt weird about having anyone touch her feet, but within about two minutes, she was over it and succumbed completely.
“Okay, you could be right,” she told Iona, sipping more champagne.
Iona reclined against the luxurious cushion and let out a sigh of bliss as her nail tech began massaging her arches. “How are you feeling, Soph? You look pretty good considering the time I gave you to get ready.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Betsy’s a busy lady.” Iona waved a manicured hand at her tech. “Nobody keeps her waiting.”
“Ha,” Betsy said. “If only…”
“Is your head feeling better?” Iona asked quietly.
“Mostly. Just a little dizziness every once in a while. I’m feeling good. I…” She looked at the two techs, wondering how much they were listening to their conversation. “Nate cooked me dinner.”
Iona leaned forward, and her dark blond brows rose. “Ooh? Firefighter Nate?”
Sophie felt her cheeks heat as her tech, Suri, looked up from the pumice stone she was using on Sophie’s feet.
