Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
W hen Alex disconnected their now twice-a-week call with Rochelle and Rohaan the following Tuesday, he caught Mary rubbing her temples. The dark shadows were back, and now they were joined by redness around her eyes.
Another headache? She d gotten one Friday night after karaoke, and then she d been too busy with the weddings, work, and her family over the weekend to see him. Tonight, she was taking her brother and his fiancée to the airport. She had a list as long as her arm of last-minute tasks for her other wedding this Saturday. She was running herself ragged.
Just a little one, she said, closing her binder and shoving it into her satchel.
I have a present for you. He walked to his desk and slid open the drawer to pull out the flat package. Yasmin had wrapped it in white paper with a jaunty pink bow.
Mary had followed him to his desk and stared at the shadow box. You saved the sand dollar? And you printed out our photo?
I did. I wanted to remember our trip.
Her gaze darted between it and the photo of his mother. The line between her eyebrows melted. That s so sweet.
He cleared his throat. Yasmin put it together. Here. He held out the package. For you.
Tilting her head, she took it from him and slipped her thumb under the seam of the wrapping paper. Gently, she peeled it off.
She gasped. You bought me a tablet computer?
You can use it to store your notes electronically and sync it with your desktop computer. Or replace that dinosaur altogether. Then you won t have to lug around your bulky binder.
This…this is too much.
Consider it an investment, he said. And a peace offering, he didn t say. He d acted like a dick at karaoke. But the place had been packed with his business contacts, including some he needed for the Paradise deal. He couldn t make a fool of himself in front of people he needed to impress.
I… She hugged it to her chest. Thank you.
You re welcome. And I have another gift for you. He pulled a black card from his pocket and handed it to her.
A hotel gift card? She scrunched up her nose.
It s for you to use at the spa. Unlimited treatments. Maybe you could go tomorrow? You said Wednesdays are usually slow at the shop. The gift was at least fifty percent selfish. A day of relaxation might get them back to where they were after San Diego. When they d become friends and.
Oh. Um. You re right. I could go in the morning. A massage would be nice.
Stay all day. The spa bistro serves lunch. The ancient grains salad is amazing. And after…
After? Both corners of her mouth quirked up.
After your day of pampering, I can relax you the way I did in San Diego.
Mmm. I like the sound of that.
So did he.
* * *
The next day, Alex was so distracted by visions of a relaxed, glowing Mary that at noon, he took a break from work to ride the elevator down to the spa level.
The wide-eyed receptionist in her black scrubs stammered, M-M-Mr. Villa. We weren t expecting you until Friday.
It s fine, Chantal. I m meeting Miss Forza in the bistro. He turned toward the men s changing rooms, which led out to the restaurant and indoor pool area.
Oh! Um, Mr. Villa?
Yes? He turned back impatiently.
She—she s not here. She left.
Left?
She had the desert sage oil massage and started the parafango wrap, but then she said she couldn t stay. We scrubbed it off, and she…left.
She left before lunch? The spa didn t open until nine. A full day of pampering had turned into an hour or two. Dammit, Mary, he muttered. The woman could take care of everyone except herself. Would it have been so difficult to enjoy herself for a change? Would it have killed her to let him take care of her?
His breath caught in his chest. Unless something had happened to her. Or to her brothers.
Are you okay, Mr. Villa? Would you like me to find someone to give you a hand massage?
He cracked his knuckles. No, thank you, Chantal. I ll wait for my regular appointment on Friday.
He strode to the elevator and waited until he was back in his office with his resources all around him before he called Mary.
Hi! she chirped. Thanks so much for the spa day. It was lovely.
He let out the breath trapped in his chest. She sounded fine.
I think you re unclear on the concept of a spa day, he snapped. A spa day involves spending the full day relaxing. If you didn t like the treatments, you could have gone to the sauna. Or the pool.
I know. And I had a lovely massage. But while I was lying there wrapped in plastic, I couldn t stop thinking about work, and it wasn t relaxing, and I was wasting your employee s time, so I left.
You weren t wasting my employee s time. They re paid to work.
I know, I know. And I m sorry. Though, really, I m not sure what I m sorry about. I didn t ask for a spa day. You offered it. And I spent as much time there as I wanted to. Fire crackled in her voice.
Deliberately, he rolled his shoulders. I m sorry. I shouldn t have tried to make you feel bad about it. I was— He cleared his throat. Concerned.
Concerned about the Richardson wedding?
No, darling. I m concerned about you. That you had an emergency of some type. That the masseuse pinched a nerve in your beautiful neck. That fucking Michael let a car fall on him.
She laughed, a long, merry tinkle, like wind chimes that danced across his skin. I had so many lists working in my brain I had to write them down or I d lose it. I m sure you know how work can grab you and not let you go.
He understood that well. Work sustained him and challenged him at the same time. It allowed him to achieve success and security for himself and for the people he loved. His gaze fell on the photo of his mother. Then on the photo of Mary next to it.
Fuck.
Did he love Mary, too?
Was that why her photo sat next to the only other person he loved?
His knees wobbled, and he collapsed into his chair. He couldn t, could he?
They d been friends for so long, and now the sex had produced a flood of confusing endorphins. It was all chemistry.
They hadn t had sex in almost a week. Yet something in him thrilled whenever he heard her voice.
Fuck.
Alex? Are you still there?
Yes, yes, I m here. I m glad you re all right. He was holding his phone, so he couldn t do it properly, but he pressed his fist into the surface of his desk until he felt a comforting pop.
The massage was lovely. Maybe you can come over after work, and I can thank you properly?
I like the sound of that. Though you should come to my place instead. He needed the fortification of his own turf. If he went to Mary s cozy little house, he might be lulled into saying something foolish.
Ooh, she teased. I finally get to visit your fortress of solitude.
It s not like that, he muttered.
Isn t it?
Remember, I invited you before. I ll leave a card at the front desk. Again.
I ll see you at eight, she said.
Come for dinner. At seven.
I ll bring dessert.
He lowered his voice. That had better mean racy lingerie.
She lowered hers, too. I don t know about racy. I ll try to wear something I bought at the mall and not the clearance rack at Target.
Target has a clearance rack? I thought the whole damn place was a bargain bin.
Elitist. I ll take you with me sometime. We ll hit the skincare aisle. You ll be amazed at the value.
It s a date. And so is dinner tonight. His turf, his rules. He d wrest back control of whatever emotion had knocked him off his game.