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“Is your macho card worn out yet?” she asked.
He didn’t bother to stop the grin now that they were alone. “Not quite. I have a few days left before it expires. Come on. Or do you need me to carry you?”
She crossed her arms, which did not help his mind stay out of her cleavage since it was so nicely framed and jutting upward. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Her mulish expression didn’t change. “I’m not having dinner with you. I have a lot of work to do and apparently will be spending more of my precious time tomorrow doing your job. Unless the surprise involves wine and a bubble bath, keep it.”
“It does.” Smoothly, he bent down and extracted her from the chair, pulling her to her feet. “The manager of spa services needs a guinea pig with high-end tastes to evaluate the recently added staff. I immediately thought of you.”
“That was a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one,” she groused, but her face lit up and the sledgehammer took aim at his gut. She was inches away, close enough to get a hint of her perfume, which wound through his brain like an opiate.
One small movement forward by either of them would draw their bodies together. And his hadn’t gotten the message to forget about how much he wanted to take a slow, leisurely tour of her cleavage.
“I think she mentioned champagne.” He cleared the catch from his raw, burning throat. He should step back. Into the next room. The next building, before he started breaking her back-off sign into tiny little pieces.
“Lead the way.”
Golden flecks in her espresso irises had him pinned. He couldn’t look away. “You’re not too busy?”
“For the spa? Never.” Her husky voice whispered from parted lips and he was acutely aware that if there was any breaking going on, it was to his sanity.
He rocked on the ball of his foot and at the last instant moved back. Not forward. “It’s this way.”
His senses buzzed as they crossed the pool deck to the spa building overlooking the beach. The late-afternoon sun cast everything in shadow. It was going to be a long, long, frustrating night, he suspected.
Keith introduced Cara to the spa manager, Elisabeth, a diminutive French transplant from another Regent property in the Canaries, and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Cara asked.
“Back to work.” As always.
Elisabeth excused herself to prepare the technicians as Cara spread a graceful hand across his chest and shoved. He took a step back to humor her.
“Not so fast, Mitchell. We have much to discuss. Besides, your tastes are just as high-end as mine.”
“Are you suggesting I be a guinea pig, as well? A spa day is not on my to-do list.” Neither was listening to her ream him again for his crimes. His subconscious was doing a fine job of that without additional input.
“Mine either. But here I am, doing you yet another favor. The least you can do is listen to what I have to say about the wedding services. Mary is going to make all kinds of mistakes.”
That was a different kettle of fish. If she wanted to discuss her ideas, that counted as work. “Fine. I’ll stay. But I’m not getting a manicure. I’ll be the unobtrusive one in the corner.”
“Ha. You’re as unobtrusive as an elephant in a lingerie store.”
Elisabeth, who had returned, broke in. “They’re ready for you.”
She guided Keith to a plush suede chair and settled Cara into a matching one across the aisle. Three smocked women with various instruments of torture in their hands swarmed around it, chattering to each other, to Cara, to Elisabeth, doing things to Cara’s nails and face and completely ignoring him. He was content to watch, especially when one of the ladies drew off Cara’s shoes and plunked her feet in a tub of soapy water.
After a few minutes of soaking, the technician began working her thumbs into the arch of Cara’s bare foot and Keith was mildly ashamed of how erotic his lower half seemed to find the whole scene.
“Elisabeth.” He jerked his head, indicating she should come closer. In a low voice, he said, “Tell your girl to be careful with Cara’s left ankle. She twisted it earlier today.”
“Yes, sir.” Elisabeth repeated the instructions to the technician, which Cara clearly overheard. She narrowed her eyes at Keith and stuck her tongue out.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” he called to her.
“That was before I knew your magicians were going to melt my bones.” Her eyelids drifted closed and pure bliss radiated from her body. “But I know you’re busy, so listen up.”
