Angel's Touch (28 page)

“She says she’s straight.”

“She
says
she’s straight? What does
that
mean?”

Megan slipped her arms under Kira’s clinging wet T-shirt and Kira’s already-racing pulse picked up speed. Megan moved her hands up her back with expert skill and Kira tried not to think of her amazing touch being wasted on grabby Barbara Fenhurst, because thinking about it was not helping.

“Barbara Fenhurst is the last person on earth you need to be jealous of,” Megan said.

“Sorry,” Kira said. “It’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t work out of my home. I know it’s not the most professional setting.”

“It is
not
your fault.”

“If I drew the line more clearly…”

Kira gripped her wet arms, feeling the steel underneath the softness, hating that anyone could make Megan doubt herself. “Will you get upset if I tell you I want to beat her up?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Probably not,” Kira admitted. “But keep in mind she’d be just as bad in a real office. And it is
not your fault
.”

“I don’t know.” Megan chewed on her lip. “If you were at someone’s place of business and you saw food lying around, how would you know it wasn’t fair game?”

“
She eats your food?
” What a piece of work. “What is she doing in your kitchen?”

“She forgets it’s not a social call.”

Megan was the most generous, forgiving person she’d ever met. Forgiving enough for both of them, really. If there was anything Kira could do to protect her from people who took advantage of her, she’d do it. And there
was
something she could do. “Do you want office space at my spa? I’d love to have you there. There’s plenty of room.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to work for you.”

Yes, she remembered that quite clearly, and it wasn’t what she meant. “Not working
for
me. Completely independent. I have Trish Martin working for me now, and I will
not
let her ask you to step in and help.”

Megan considered it for a moment. “I don’t know if I can afford it. Anyway, you’ll need all those treatment rooms for your guests.”

She could afford to rent Megan one of those rooms for free. Was there a way to give her a room without insulting her pride or making her feel beholden? There had to be a way.

Megan rubbed her hands down Kira’s back and around her waist. “Maybe there’s something I can do to hide my living space from my clients. Folding screens around the living room or something. A door blocking the kitchen.” Her hands kept moving around her waist, gently at first, then with increasing frustration. When Kira started wondering whether Megan was actually going to hurt her, she abruptly stopped. “I can’t believe that woman had the nerve to suggest building a wall in my living room so she could move in.”

Kira whistled in disbelief. “That’s what that freak wanted you to do?”

“I guess I should be glad she didn’t suggest taking over my bedroom.” Megan gave a high-pitched giggle that sounded like she was on the verge of hysterics. “I wouldn’t put it past her.” She hid her face in Kira’s shoulder and started shaking. “It’s my house. It’s my space.”

“Oh, honey, don’t cry,” Kira whispered into her hair. She held her tightly and stroked her wet head. Megan felt so tiny and vulnerable. “Tell her you can’t see her anymore.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

“I’d like to, but I…I can’t bring myself to do it.”

***

Monday evening Kira sat on the steps in front of Megan’s townhouse doing some paperwork while she waited for Megan to finish up with her last client of the day. Their plan was to walk down to the beach, eat dinner on a blanket on the sand and swim, because after working with Barbara Fenhurst, Megan was definitely going to need to unwind.

When the door finally opened, Barbara did not look pleased to see Kira there.

“Is she one of your clients?” Barbara demanded. “I thought six thirty to seven thirty was your last appointment of the day. Do you have a seven forty-five? Because I can come later.”

“No, she’s…”

Kira tightened her grip on her papers as it suddenly occurred to her that by arriving a few minutes early she’d put Megan in a tough spot. She hadn’t intended to do that. Would Megan say she was her girlfriend? A friend? A neighbor? She knew Megan liked to keep her personal life private. She knew about Megan and her rules.

“…just visiting,” Megan said easily. That seemed to satisfy Barbara because she went back to chattering with Megan as if Kira weren’t there.

“If we lived together, I could make you breakfast,” Barbara said. “I make a great omelet. People beg me for my omelets.”

Wow. Megan wasn’t kidding when she said Barbara wanted to move in with her.

Barbara kept it up. “I’m very easy to live with. You’ll see.”

Kira rolled her eyes. Barbara could talk all she wanted, but she was never going to get a chance to prove her qualifications as a housemate.

“First I’ll need to repaint. I can’t live in a place that’s not moss green. That’s the color my old masseuse in California used. You’ll love it.”

What do you know, disproved herself already.

“I’m not interested in a housemate,” Megan said. “I don’t have room.” She actually sounded sorry that she had to let Barbara down.

Kira put away her paperwork, impatient for Barbara to finish up with the bullshit. The fried chicken and sweet potato fries in the take-out bag at her feet were going to get cold if they didn’t get a move on.

At last Megan and Barbara hugged goodbye. Kira’s fingers dug into her palms. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have minded. Sure, there wasn’t a lot of hugging going on in most businesses, but massage wasn’t most businesses. It was more like kindergarten, where the teacher hugged the kids and it was all very nurturing. What got to her was that it was Barbara. I-have-a-crush-on-my-massage-therapist Barbara. With Barbara, things were not all warm and fuzzy and innocent. She didn’t deserve one of Megan’s hugs.

Kindergarten, she reminded herself. Nurturing. She looked to see what was taking so long and saw Megan was engulfed, her arms pinned at her sides, her face stoic as Barbara squeezed the life out of her.

“Can’t wait till next week,” Barbara said cheerfully, keeping a suspicious eye on Kira as she made her way past her down the steps. “I’ll bring a measuring tape so we can figure out where to put that wall for my room.” She was so busy glaring over her shoulder at Kira and giving her the evil eye that she stumbled on the last step.

As she struggled for balance, Kira leapt up and caught her arm to make sure she didn’t bash her face on the concrete sidewalk and then need to make even
more
appointments with Megan to speed the healing process. Barbara needed to stay away from Megan. And work on her listening skills.

Barbara shook off Kira’s restraining grasp and scowled. “Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!”

“Are you all right?” Megan rushed down the steps to Barbara’s other side.

“Did she trip me?” Barbara accused.

“Of course not. Why would you think that?” Megan gave her a look that might have passed for concern if Kira didn’t know her so well. The eyebrows were right, but her eyes were distant and cold. She hadn’t appreciated that claustrophobic hug.

Devoid of support for her accusations, Barbara changed tack. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Kira didn’t believe that, not for one minute. “Do you need help getting to your car?” she offered, knowing it would be difficult for Megan to resist her Good Samaritan instincts. Barbara would be only too happy to get herself invited into the house for first aid, and then it would be impossible to get her out.

“We’ll both walk you there,” Megan said, jumping in before Barbara could respond.

Good call. Kira took hold of Barbara’s arm again, this time with both hands. Barbara resisted, but Kira kept a firm grip. Otherwise Barbara would sag her weight against Megan, who had her other arm, and no way was she going to let that happen. Barbara’s hour-long appointment was up.

In a few minutes they were helping Barbara into her car, watching her drive off, and walking back through the courtyard to Megan’s door.

“There’s no way she really twisted her ankle, is there?” When the angry glares in her direction had stopped and the limping continued, Kira had started to wonder.

“I think once she gets home she’ll be happy she has an excuse to call her doctor. And her chiropractor. And me. The woman’s a hypochondriac.”

Megan looked tired, and that made Kira mad again. “You know how I said I wouldn’t really beat her up? I changed my mind.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Yeah.” How could she even ask?

A hint of amusement crept into Megan’s voice. “She might deserve it.”

“What? Is that an un-Hippocratic attitude I hear coming from your oh-so-professional lips?”

“My lips are
not
professional. Eew.”

Kira cringed. She wished she could joke about that aspect of Megan’s career’s reputation, but she still wasn’t used to it. “You know what I mean.”

Megan put an arm around her shoulders and gave her an apologetic squeeze. Kira relaxed into it. She had to admit she understood why Barbara craved Megan’s company. Barbara might be crazy, but she had good taste.

“Speaking of professional,” Kira said, “you really smoothed things over.” Megan in action had been impressive. In just the few minutes it took them to walk her client to her car, she had calmed her down to the point that Barbara was thanking her for the wonderful massage and seemed to have forgotten all about their little incident.

“I didn’t want either of us to get sued,” Megan said. “Amelia taught me to be paranoid about that.”

“Barbara wasn’t hurt,” Kira protested. And Megan’s ex was out of her lawyerly mind if she thought Megan would ever get sued for a trip-and-fall outside her townhouse. Her clients loved her. Customers sued because they were angry—they didn’t slap lawsuits on people they adored. “She wasn’t hurt, right?”

“That might not stop her.”

“I give an awesome massage myself,” Barbara said as Megan lifted Barbara’s arm in a gentle stretch so she could massage the underside of the arm and all the way down the side of her ribcage. “People tell me I should do it professionally. We should trade sometime.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t trade with my clients,” Megan said absently.

“I could still pay. So you wouldn’t be losing me as a paying customer.”

“No thanks.”

“Why not? I used to massage my boyfriend and he thought I was pretty good. I know I’m not a professional, so I probably wouldn’t give you chills the way you do, but it would be fun.”

Chills? Now there was a compliment she could do without. Was it Barbara’s word choice or the way she said it that made her want to say…eew?

“Sorry.” Megan focused on her long effleurage stroke up Barbara’s side. When she was in the midst of giving a massage and tapped into the flow of universal love, she could ignore stuff that would normally make her uncomfortable, such as the thought of letting her boundary-impaired client touch her naked body.

She took a deep breath and invited the angels to fill her with their healing light. Barbara had momentarily knocked her out of her zone, but she’d get it back. As the angels appeared and the light began to flow through her, she relaxed and sank into a love space. Compassion bubbled up and she blinked back tears. Underneath all Barbara Fenhurst’s crap was a little girl who liked her and wanted to be her friend.

Barbara’s voice snapped Megan out of her trance. “I don’t have a massage table, but we can use yours, of course. It would give me a chance to practice. Don’t want to get rusty.”

“You’ll get more out of this massage if you don’t worry about conversation. Just pay attention to your body.”

“Mmm.” Barbara purred in appreciation. “You’re amazingly gifted at what you do. You have this healing touch that no other masseuse has. You give me the shivers, you know that?”

Megan tried to stop her hands from shaking.

Barbara took Megan’s silence as encouragement. “We have such a great connection. It’s like you’re psychic—you always know exactly where I’m hurting. You understand me.”

Megan moved Barbara’s arm back down to her side and carefully rested it on the massage table.

“You understand me like no one else,” Barbara continued. “I feel like we’ve known each other forever.” Her arm shot out and grabbed Megan’s waist under the floating hem of her blouse, fondling her bare skin.

Megan sprang back, her heart racing.

Clients never touched her—not when they were on the table.

When she worked she was always conscious of the fact that she was intruding into her clients’ personal space. She leaned over them, she undraped them, and occasionally she got too close and inadvertently breathed on them. But it didn’t feel intimate, because
she
touched
them,
and
they
did not touch
her
. That was the rule.

Barbara sat up, not bothering to cover her breasts with the sheet. “I’ve never dated a woman before, but—”

Oh, no. When had Barbara gotten
this
idea into her head? Megan cut her off before things got completely out of hand. “Any connection I have with you is strictly professional.”

It was sad. She did have a connection with her clients—with every single one of them—and she did care about them deeply. It disturbed her that Barbara misunderstood that love.

“The way you touch me…I know that’s not true.”

“I don’t date clients.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Not this time, there wasn’t. Megan moved to put herself farther from Barbara’s breasts and closer to the door.

Her client’s jiggling flesh leaned forward pleadingly. “We’d be so good together. You know we would! Just imagine how much better it would be if I was touching you too.”

Okay, no. She would rather not imagine that. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“But why?”

Megan’s heart pounded. How could a sane person act so bewildered? “I’m going to leave the room so you can get dressed, and I’ll be waiting for you by the front door.”