Montana Sky (30 page)

“She's lean, but she's tough.”

“Tell me about it,” Tess murmured, nursing her swollen lip. “She needs to get away from here. More than I do, more than Lily does.”

“I think you're right about that.”

“I don't know when she sleeps. She's up before anyone else in the morning, spends half the night in the office, or out here.” Then she shrugged. “What the hell do I care?”

“I think you know.”

“Maybe.” She looked back at him, arched a brow. “I tell you what else she needs. A good sweaty, mind-emptying bout of sex. What the hell are you waiting for?”

It wasn't something he cared to discuss. But even as propriety urged him to shut up, instinct tugged in a different direction. He glanced back toward the barn, took Tess's arm, and led her farther away.

“Willa, you know . . . she's never . . . she's never,” he repeated, and then shut his mouth.

“Never what?” The narrowed, impatient look in his eyes tipped her off. Tess stopped dead. “She's never had sex? Good God.” She blew out a breath, readjusted her thoughts. “Well, that puts a different light on the matter, doesn't it?”

Despite her throbbing lip, she pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “You're a patient, considerate man, Ben McKinnon. I think that's lovely, and very sweet.”

“Hell.” He shuffled his feet. “I'm thinking maybe she never had anybody to talk to about, to explain things to her.”

Tess caught the drift instantly and shook her head. “Oh, no, uh-uh. No way.”

“I just thought maybe, you know, being sisters—”

“Oh, yeah, Will and I are like this.” Sarcasm dripping, Tess crossed two fingers. “Just how do you think she'd take to me giving her a crash course in Sexual Relations one-oh-one?”

“Yeah. You're right.”

And you're a frustrated, hungry man, Tess thought, and patted his cheek. “Just keep working on her, big guy. And maybe I'll think of something. I'm going to go soak in the
Jacuzzi for a day or two.” With a hand pressed to her sore ass, Tess limped off to the house.

 

“O
H
.
MY
.”
IT WAS ALL LILY COULD SAY
.
ALMOST ALL SHE
'
D
managed to say since they'd driven to the Mountain King Spa and Resort.

She'd never seen anything like it.

The main lodge spread for acres, glass and wood and clever pebbled paths through snow-dipped evergreens and heated pools where steam curled in dreamy mists.

She'd clutched the strap of her purse tightly as they checked in, her head swiveling in wonder around the plush lobby with its double fireplace, atrium ceiling, and lush plants. Her heart had begun to thunder as she'd thought of the expense, for surely any place so beautiful, so quietly sumptuous, would cost the earth even for an overnight stay.

But Tess had greeted the desk clerk with a friendly smile, called him by name, and chatted easily about how much she and her companion had enjoyed their stay earlier in the season.

He'd all but simpered over her, calling up a bellman to take care of their luggage and guide them to their private cabin nestled on a ridge behind curtaining pines.

Then the cabin itself had simply wiped her mind clean.

A huge wall of glass opened up the living area to the majesty of the mountains, offered a tempting peek at the private hot tub built cleverly into the rocks.

There was a fire already set and burning in a stone hearth, flowers, fresh and dewy, exploding out of pottery vases, a deep, curving seating area in buff, accented by jewel-toned pillows in front of an entertainment center complete with big-screen TV, VCR, and stereo.

A charming dining room set in dark wood was arranged conveniently near a sleek little kitchenette.

“Oh, my,” she said, but under her breath this time, as the bellman led the way into a bedroom with its own glass doors leading to a stone terrace. Two double beds were made up neatly with thick pillows and quilts, and the bath beyond—she only managed a quick look—had a mile of
ivory counter, an oversized jet tub, and a separate glassed-in shower. And surely that was a bidet.

A bidet. Imagine it.

She could barely think as Tess instructed the bellman. “These bags in here, thank you. You can take hers . . .” Tess sent Willa a steely look. “In the other bedroom. You don't mind sharing the room with me, do you, Lily?”

“What? No, no, of course not, I—”

“Good. Go ahead and get settled. Our first treatment's in an hour.”

“Treatment? But what—”

“Don't worry,” Tess said, as she sailed out after the bellman. “I took care of it. You'll love it.”

All Lily could do was sink down on the side of the bed and wonder if she'd wandered into someone else's dream.

 

“W
HAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EYE
.
HONEY
?”

The technician, therapist, consultant, whatever the hell she was called, made a long, sympathetic study of Willa's shiner. Willa didn't shrug. It was tough shrugging when you were buck naked on a padded table in a small, dim room.

“Wasn't watching where I was going.”

“Ummm. Well, we'll see what one of our skin consultants can do about it. Just relax,” she ordered, and began to wrap Willa in something warm and damp. “Is this your first visit to Mountain King Spa?”

“Yeah.” And her last, she promised herself.

The claustrophobia came quickly, unexpectedly, as the wrappings snugged her arms close to her body. She felt her heart pound, her breathing shorten, and she began to struggle.

“No, no, just relax, take slow, quiet breaths.” A warm, heavy blanket went over the wrappings. “A lot of clients have that initial reaction to an herbal wrap. It'll pass if you just clear your mind, let yourself go. Now, these cotton balls are soaked in our Eye-Lax solution. It'll probably help a bit with that swelling as well as the puffiness. You haven't been sleeping enough.”

Swell. Now she was blind as well as trapped. Willa
wondered if she would be the first client to tear herself free of herb-soaked restraints and run naked and screaming out of the Ladies' Treatment Center.

Since she didn't want the distinction, she fought to relax, let herself go. It was no more than she deserved, she supposed, for keeping her mouth so stubbornly shut on the drive down.

Music was playing, she realized. Or it wasn't music really, but the sounds of water falling into water and birds chirping. She took one of those slow, quiet breaths and reminded herself she only had just over forty-eight more hours to suffer.

In less than five minutes, she was sound asleep.

She awoke groggily twenty minutes later with the consultant murmuring to her.

“Huh? What? Where?”

“We're getting all those toxins out of your system.” Efficiently the consultant removed the layers of herbal wrap. “I want you to be sure to drink plenty of water. Nothing but water for the next few hours. You have a gommage in ten minutes. So relax. I'll help you with your robe and slippers.”

Still half asleep, Willa let herself be bundled into her robe and slid her feet into the plastic slippers the spa provided. “What's a gommage?”

“You'll love it,” the consultant promised.

So she was naked again, on yet another table with yet another woman in a pale pink lab coat fiddling with her. At the first rough swipe with a damp loofah over bare skin slicked with a fine sandy cream, Willa yelped.

“Was I too rough? I'm terribly sorry.”

“No, it just caught me by surprise.”

“Your skin's going to be like silk.”

Willa shut her eyes, mortified, as the woman rubbed her bare butt. “What the hell is that stuff you're putting on me?”

“Oh, it's our special exfoliator. Skin-Nu. All our products are herbal-based and available in our salon. You have
fabulous skin, the coloring . . . but where did you get all these bruises?”

“Pulling calves.”

“Pulling . . . oh, you work on a ranch. That's exciting, isn't it? Is it a family operation?”

Willa gave up, let the layers of skin be scraped away. “It is now.”

 

T
HE NEXT TIME WILLA SAW TESS
,
SHE
,
WILLA
,
WAS FLAT ON
her back again, naked again, unless you counted the warm, thick brown mud that was being slowly smoothed all over her. Tess poked a head in the door, took one look, and burst into deep, bubbling laughter.

“You're going to pay for this, Hollywood.” Christ, the woman was painting hot mud on her tits. On her tits!

“Correction, Mercy's already paying. And you've never looked lovelier.”

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” the new consultant said, “these are private rooms.”

“It's okay, we're sisters.” Tess leaned against the doorjamb, looking right at home in her white terry-cloth robe and plastic slippers. “I've got a facial in five. Just thought I'd see how you were holding up.”

“I've been lying down since I got here.”

“You really want to try the steam room if you have time between treatments. What have you got on next?”

“I have no idea.”

“I believe Ms. Mercy is scheduled for a facial next as well. The one-hour Bio Treatment.”

“Oh, that's a honey,” Tess remembered. “Well, enjoy. Lily's getting the full-body facial in the next room. She's whimpering in pleasure right now. See you.”

“You came with your sisters,” the consultant said when Tess closed the door.

“So to speak.”

The consultant smiled and painted mud on Willa's face. “Isn't that nice.”

Willa gave up and closed her eyes. “So to speak.”

• • •

W
ILLA GOT BACK TO THE SUITE AFTER SIX
,
ALL BUT
crawling, as her legs were so limp and loose they didn't seem willing to hold weight. She could have whimpered herself and hated to admit that it, too, would have been from pleasure. Her body felt so light, so pampered, so relaxed that her mind simply had no choice but to follow suit.

Maybe the fifteen-minute steam bath with a bunch of other naked women after her full hour massage had been a bit of overkill. But she'd lost her head.

“There you are.” Tess was just popping the cork on a bottle of champagne when Willa walked in. “Lily and I had just decided we wouldn't wait for you.”

“Oh, you look wonderful.” Still wrapped in her robe, Lily got up from the sofa and clasped her hands together. “You're positively glowing.”

“I don't think I can move. That guy, that massage guy, Derrick, I think he did something to me.”

“You had a man?” Eyes wide, Lily hurried over to lead Willa to the couch. “For a full-body massage?”

“Wasn't I supposed to?”

“My massage therapist was a woman, I just assumed . . .” She trailed off as Tess handed her a flute.

“I ordered a female for you, Lily. I thought you'd be more comfortable.” She passed another flute to Willa. “And I requested a male for Willa because I thought she should start getting used to what it feels like to have a man get his hands on her—even in perfectly professional surroundings.”

“If I wasn't afraid I'd melt if I tried to stand up again, I'd punch you for that.”

“Honey, you should be thanking me.” With her own glass, Tess eased onto the arm of the sofa. “So was it great or what?”

Willa sipped the wine. She'd downed enough water to sink a battleship and the change to bubbles with a kick was glorious. “Maybe.” She sipped again, let her head fall back. “He looked like Harrison Ford, and he rubbed my feet. God. And there was this place just above my shoulder blades.”
She shuddered. “He used his thumbs. He had incredible thumbs.”

“You know what they say about thumbs on a man.” Smirking, Tess lifted her glass, toasted when Willa bothered to open one eye. “I've noticed that Ben has very . . . large . . . thumbs.”

“Isn't noticing Nate enough for you?”

“Sleeping with Nate's enough for me. But I'm a writer. Writers notice details.”

“Adam has wonderful thumbs.” The minute Lily heard herself say it, she choked and went beet-red. “I mean, he has good hands. That is, I mean, they're very . . .” She snickered at herself, gave up. “Long. Could I have some more?”

“You bet.” Tess bounced up, grabbed the bottle. “A couple more and maybe you'll tell us all about Adam's wonderful long thumbs.”

“Oh, I couldn't.”

“I've got another bottle.”

“Don't tease her about it,” Willa said, but there wasn't any sting in the words. “Not everybody likes to brag about their bedroom activities.”

“I'd like to,” Lily said, and flushed again. “I'd like to brag and strut and tell everyone because it's never been like this for me. I never knew it could. I never knew I could.” Though she had no head for liquor, she knocked back her second glass with abandon. “And Adam is so beautiful. I mean his face and his heart, but his body. Oh, my God.”

She pressed a hand to her breast and held out her glass, which Tess obligingly filled. “It's like something carved out of amber. It's perfect, and I get all loose and fluttery inside just looking at him. And he's so gentle when he touches me. And then he's not, and I don't care because I want him, and he wants me, and everything goes wild and I feel so strong, as if I could make love with him for hours, for days. Forever. And sometimes I have three or four orgasms before we're finished, and with Jesse I hardly ever had even one, and then—”

She broke off, blinked, swallowed. “Did I just say that?”

Tess took a slow, labored breath, a long drink. “Are you sure you want to stop? Another few minutes, and I might just come myself.”