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“Why?”
“Something happened downstairs that made you so worked up you downed a shot and came up to my room half an hour after swearing you wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
I hate that he can read me so well when he doesn’t even know me. “I’m entitled to change my mind.”
“So am I.”
“If you don’t want to do this anymore, I can just go.”
He shrugs. “I’m just not up for angry sex. Not that it doesn’t have its merits, but not tonight.”
My jaw drops. This guy is so arrogant, so full of himself, so—
“I want you to have a clear head before anything happens,” he adds, smoothing the tension. “That okay?”
I was about ready to get the hell outta here, but he’s pulled me back in.
“What do you propose?” I ask.
“How about a foot massage, to start?” he asks, and, eyeing my shoes, adds, “Those stilettos must be killing you.”
The heels are uncomfortable, but… “A foot massage?” I ask. “I thought we were going to do something a little moredaringthan that.”
Archie’s thumbs circle over my wrists, which he’s still holding, letting me know everything this man does with his hands isdicey.“I promise,” he says, his grin growing more wicked, “it will be the dirtiest foot massage you’ve ever had.”
That, I can believe.
With my mouth already a little dry, I nod.
“Let’s go outside. The night is warm, and I won’t even need to put on ambient sounds.”
He guides me across the room, then lets go of my hands to open the French doors on the other side. The balcony is a photocopy of mine: fifteen feet by ten, furnished with a table, two chairs, and two chaise lounges, all in brown plastic wicker.
Archie gestures to one of the recliners and I lie down on it, kicking my shoes off as soon as my feet lift off the floor—gosh, these pumps are real killers. As I ease back on the cushions, my black dress rides up my legs, showing a quantity of skin I’m not usually comfortable with. The fact doesn’t escape my host’s eyes, and he throws my exposed thighs a hungry look. Well, pal, you’re the one who wanted to waste time with stupid foot rubs. He turns the other chaise lounge so it’s perpendicular to mine and sits on the edge, patting his thighs expectantly.
I give him my right foot.
Warm, dry hands swallow my foot in their grip. Either my feet have shrunk, or his hands are really big. The moment his fingers start to move in slow, soothing circles, I relax against the back of the recliner. Despite my initial reservations, I close my eyes and let out a moan of appreciation. Maybe a foot massage wasn’t such a terrible idea.
Until the masseur disrupts my quiet enjoyment by starting to talk.
“So, are you going to tell me what sent you bolting for my room?”
I lift a single eyelid. “Actually, I was planning on enjoying my massage without having upsetting conversations.”
“Sorry, I play by different rules.”
“Really?” I turn my full attention to him. “When you promised me a week of fun, I thought the purpose was for me to forget about my problems, not to get the third degree about them. Isn’t the whole point of a no-strings deal to keep everything on a surface level? Why do you want to know?”
Archie rubs my heel, and it feels so good I might accept playing by his rules. “You’re a riddle, and I’m curious.”
“A riddle, how?”
“I know your sister pretty well, and you’re nothing like her.”
“Just because we look the same doesn’t mean wehave to bethe same.”
“No, okay. But you don’t seem like someone who would—”
