Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Okay.” He walked through our adjoining door, and I yelled after him. “Wait! What should I wear?”
“Just leave on what you’re wearing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He wiggled his brows. “You won’t be needing your clothes for very long for what I have planned next, anyway.”
• • •
I hadn’t paid attention to the button Max had pushed, but when we stopped on the third floor and he put his hand at the small of my back to guide me, I shook my head. “This isn’t the lobby, Max.”
“I know.” He gave me a little nudge to keep walking. “We aren’t going to the lobby.”
“Where are we going?”
That answer became clear as we turned the corner from the elevator. The Four Seasons Spa.
“Oh my God, did you book us massages?”
“I did. And a little something extra for you.”
“What?”
He opened the door. “You’ll see.”
Inside, the pretty woman at the front desk did a double take and immediately turned pink when she got a load of the man next to me. She put her hand over her heart. “Mr. Yearwood, I’m sorry. We’re not supposed to make a big deal when celebrities come in. But I’m a huge hockey fan. I grew up in Minnesota.”
“Oh yeah? I went to high school in St. Paul, at Mounds Park Academy.”
“I know!” She squealed. “I’m from Bloomington. It’s only about twenty minutes away.”
I had to work at not rolling my eyes. I was pretty sure she hadn’t even noticed me standing here.
“We have two massage appointments.” Max motioned to me. “I wasn’t sure what kind she would want. Would you happen to have a list of the different types you offer so she can take a look?”
“Of course.” The woman pulled out an oversized menu and held it in my direction, still batting her eyelashes at Max.
“Also,” he said. “She’s getting another service after the massage. But she doesn’t know what it is. So, if you could keep that under wraps for now.”
“Oh, how fun! Of course.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Why don’t I let your therapists know you’re here, and that will give you a few minutes to make your massage choices.”
“Thank you.”
Little Miss Enamored disappeared down a hall, and Max and I took seats in the waiting area a few feet away.
“She was nice,” he said.
That time I couldn’t hold back my eye roll. “Would you like to bet that she asks you for an autograph when she gets back…on her breast?”
Max looked amused. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Ms. Delaney?”
“Pfft. No.”
His smile grew wider. “Don’t worry. She’s not my type.”
I stared down at the menu and mumbled, “I wasn’t worried.”
After a minute, Max asked, “So what are you thinking?”
“About what?”
He pointed to the salon services menu I’d been staring at. “Which massage are you going to get? I thought about booking us a couple’s massage, but I didn’t know how you’d feel about that. So I went with two private ones.”
Once again, his thoughtfulness softened me. “Thank you. I think I’m going with the deep tissue massage. How about you?”
“That’s what I already picked.”
The young woman returned. “Your therapists will be right out.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way…” I tilted my head and lowered my voice. “You said she wasn’t your type. What is your usual type?”
Max shrugged. “Not sure I have a usual type. But I can tell you what I really like in a woman.”
“Okay…”
He leaned forward and hooked a big hand around my neck, pulling me to meet his lips. “You. You’re what I really like in a woman.”
Good answer.
“Mr. Yearwood? Ms. Delaney?” the woman from the desk called. Another woman stood beside her wearing all white. “This is Cynthia. I’m sorry—I didn’t ask if either of you had a preference for a male or a female therapist. We have both available.”
Max shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t care.”
“Me neither.”
Just then, a guy walked out from the back—a very good-looking one. He was a different kind of handsome than Max, but nonetheless gorgeous in his own right. Tall, lean but muscular, clean cut—he sort of reminded me of a younger version of Gabriel. “This is Marcus,” the receptionist said. “He’ll be your other massage therapist today.”
Marcus slipped his hands into his pockets and bounced back and forth on his heels. “Which one of you is my victim?” He smiled, and dimples popped out.
They weren’t Max level, but still adorable.
Max frowned. He glanced over at me and quickly raised his hand. “Me. I’m your victim.”
“Right this way,” Marcus said. “Cynthia and I will show you to the locker rooms.”
As we followed, I leaned over to Max and whispered with a grin, “What if I wanted Marcus?”
“No shot, sweetheart.”
I raised a brow. “Who’s jealous now?”
“Me. But at least I’ll admit it. If I don’t have my hands all over that body, that dude definitely isn’t going to either.” He leaned down as we arrived at the locker rooms and brushed his lips with mine. “Enjoy your massage. You have another treatment after this. I’ll find you when you’re done.”