Chapter 1
1
MONTANA
“ A re you Montana?”
The male voice blasted through the silence in the brand-new Rosewood Retreat Center Spa. I probably jumped a foot off the ground, then spun, ready to go to battle with whatever intruder had broken in to kidnap me. Not that kidnapping me would be all that easy since I wasn’t one of those women who lived on celery and carrots.
But one look at the man standing in the doorway and I had no worries about that. He was bulky and solid, his short-sleeved T-shirt showing off his muscular arms. He could definitely handle me. And I didn’t just mean that he could lift me off the ground. I was having a vivid image of him stripping off my clothes and taking me on this massage table.
“I’m Rowe,” he said. “Zack said you might be able to help me.”
Those words pulled me out of my daydream. Zack was the husband of the owner of this place, Ashlynn. She was a childhood friend of mine. We’d probably been playing together since we were both in diapers, considering our grandmothers were best friends from their own childhood.
When Ashlynn’s grandmother died, she left this plot of land to her, and now it had become the Rosewood Ridge Retreat Center.
“We’re not open yet,” I said.
“I know it’s nearing dinnertime,” he said. “I’ll pay extra for you to stay a little late.”
I was already shaking my head before he reached the end of that last sentence. “I mean we’re not open for business yet. Zack should have mentioned that.”
“Oh yeah. He said you were getting things set up but that you were doing some sort of soft opening.”
Crap. Zack would say that to this guy. It was true. We’d put the call out for friends and family to stop by to try out the new space. But that was supposed to begin next week when the full-time massage therapist started work.
“Zack said you’re the best,” Rowe said.
He stepped into the room. He still moved tentatively, probably sensing that his bulging muscles and laser-blue eyes could be intimidating.
They weren’t scaring me, though. They were exciting me in a completely different way. The guy was gorgeous. Not just handsome, but drop-dead gorgeous.
“Did Sierra tell you to come back when you entered the lobby?” I asked.
Sierra was the woman Ashlynn hired to keep an eye on the construction in her final months of pregnancy. Now that the baby was several months old, Ashlynn was around much more often, but Sierra was still her right-hand person. Surely, she would have stopped someone from breezing through the lobby and heading down the hallway that led to the spa.
“Zack told me to park at the back entrance.” Rowe gestured toward the door he was still standing in front of. “The main area is still keeping bankers’ hours.”
That was right. Sierra would probably be gone by now, along with her boyfriend Travis, who was overseeing the construction of this place.
“Look.” The guy took several steps into the room, and I crossed my arms over my chest, facing him in a standoff sort of position. “Normally, I’d come back when you’re officially open, but I need help.”
My arms fell to my sides and my entire body relaxed. The guy’s pleading tone, coupled with the desperate softening of those intense eyes, went straight to my heart.
I’d always been a sucker for a good sob story.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Bum knee,” he said. “I’ve seen every specialist within a two-hour drive. They’ll prescribe drugs, but nothing gets me up and running like a good massage.”
I touched bare bodies for a living. There was nothing sexual about it. But with this guy, my mind was solidly in the gutter. Nothing could get him up and running like a good massage, huh?
“Without proper imaging, I’m not authorized to treat?—”
He pulled out his phone and started tapping on the screen. “Scans from three months ago. I’m not asking you to move my kneecap or fix a slipped disc in my back. I just need a little relief from the pain so I can get out on the field next week. I don’t like taking pain meds. A massage can get me back in business pretty quickly.”
That explained his muscular build and confident stature. He was a professional athlete. But Rosewood Ridge didn’t have any sports teams. Knoxville wasn’t too far away, and there were teams there, I was pretty sure. It wouldn’t be unusual for an athlete to spend his offseason in the mountains. Was this the offseason?
“Baseball, football…?” I asked.
I had no idea why that question even popped out of my mouth. He’d have every right to ask me why I wanted to know, but he didn’t. Instead, he answered.
“Football. Just a little friendly competition between friends. Some of the bikers up here challenged us a few years ago, so every summer we take over Rosewood Ridge Park on Friday nights.”
It was Wednesday night, which meant there was still a little time for him to heal. He edged a few steps closer.
“I really won’t take up much of your time, ma’am,” he said. “If you could just take a quick look at my knee and see what you can do, I’ll pay triple whatever your normal rate is.”
“That’s not necessary.” I shook my head, closing my eyes and opening them again. “Drop them.”
His eyes widened, then he blinked, like he was trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. I was the one who’d been having a perfectly boring day when this gorgeous muscle man walked in. If anyone was dreaming here, I was.
“Drop them,” I repeated, gesturing toward the lower half of his body. “Your jeans. I can’t help with your knee with those covering it.”
He scanned the area. “I thought you’d have a towel or something.”
“Do you want to strip down and put a towel on for me to look at your knee?”
God, even as I said the words, my body was heating up. His eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. There was no mistaking the twitch of his mouth. He was fighting a smile.
Be professional, Montana. You’re trying to promote yourself as a trusted professional here in the mountains, not some horn-dog who gets wet at the thought of one of these mountain men naked.
I should turn around and give him some privacy. That was what I’d normally do. Hell, normally I’d tell the guy to go and come back Monday at nine when the new full-time massage therapist showed up. But this guy had short-circuited all the wires in my brain.
“No, this works fine,” Rowe said.
I opened my mouth, planning to offer to turn my back or leave the room but before I could get a word out, he’d unbuttoned and unzipped, and the jeans fell right to his feet. He stepped out of his sneakers and jeans, then moved forward a few steps wearing only a T-shirt, black briefs, and ankle socks.
“There?”
He pointed toward the massage table. Part of my brain registered that he’d spoken. Most of it was homed in on that very noticeable bulge in his briefs.
Did that mean he was really big or getting hard? Maybe a combination of both. I’d studied human anatomy in the classroom, but I was embarrassingly uninformed when it came to the way a penis worked in a sexual situation. There were some things books couldn’t teach you.
I forced myself to nod. “Yes.”
I should grab the towel anyway. He could drape it over his lap. But why? If it were anybody else, I wouldn’t think twice about proceeding like this.
As he situated himself on the table, my mind ran in circles. All I could think about was this man, who was now just a few feet away from me. The thought of touching him sent warmth rushing straight to the area between my thighs.
How was I going to get through this when I couldn’t even stand close to him without trembling from head to toe?