Angel's Touch (12 page)

Not to be sidetracked, Kira returned to her spiel. “Svetlana’s really great.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” someone pleaded.

“Sorry, ladies,” Kira said. “That’s it for tonight. I know you’ll want to check out the bar for our specials, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bummer,” someone else shouted.

Kira pulled Megan away from her fans and over to a private corner under the balcony. She offered her the beer she still had in her hand. Megan shook her head.

“Want to leave?” Kira said.

Megan’s throat tightened and she blinked several times, too quickly. She hadn’t expected Kira to understand how easily she got overwhelmed in places like this. She had taught herself from an early age to tolerate as much chaos as she could and to expect to be criticized when she couldn’t. “I need to talk to the manager before I go. And you don’t have to leave with me.” She nodded toward Kira’s beer. “You haven’t even had a chance to finish that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine as soon as I run to the restroom.” That was the one place she could partially escape from the sensory overload, short of going outside, and she needed that right now.

***

Kira glanced down at her feet and noticed how she was standing: feet planted firmly apart, arms crossed in front of her chest. Was she seriously guarding the door to the restroom? Yes, that was exactly what she was doing, and she had a feeling Megan wouldn’t appreciate her protective crap. She’d been told over and over again by a string of ex-girlfriends that if they wanted a macho attitude, they’d find a man. That just because they looked femme, didn’t mean they couldn’t take care of themselves. Goddamn
Charlie’s Angels.
She
wasn’t
a man. Somehow they always knew how to push her buttons. Well, they’d be happy to see their complaints had sunk in.

Kira stepped away from the door and forced her arms to uncross and drop to her sides.

A couple of women she recognized from the line for Megan’s massages walked up to the restroom door. They paused when they spotted Kira.

“Keeping her all to yourself?” one of them asked.

Kira clenched her teeth, incensed. If she had to watch Megan get hit on, she didn’t think she could take it.

“Yes,” she bit out. It was the best way to get rid of them.

I wish
was more accurate, but she was not about to go down that road. The thought of Megan coming home with her… It stole the breath right out of her lungs.

Didn’t stop her from giving those women the evil eye, though. She didn’t want them coming back and corralling Megan into another back rub, because Megan wouldn’t turn them away, even though she was exhausted. She was too nice for her own good.

The women wandered away. Smart crowd.

Before she could threaten anyone else, Kira strolled to the bar and got Megan a glass of seltzer with ice and lime—something she remembered seeing in one of the spa brochures she’d been collecting. Honestly, if it were her, she’d drink a beer to relax. But Megan hadn’t wanted her beer. So maybe this seltzer would do the trick. If she was lucky, lime juice was a spa rejuvenating secret. Kira eyed the highball glass in her hand. Yeah, right. When had the word “rejuvenating” entered her vocabulary, anyway?

***

Megan leaned over the shared sink in the club’s graffiti-covered restroom and splashed cold water on her face. She pressed her wet hands over her eyes and took several deep, calming breaths that did nothing to ease the pressure in her forehead. She felt guilty about how long she was making Kira wait, but she kept her eyes closed and breathed, trying to talk her body into overcoming its exhaustion.

When her face was dry and she emerged from her sanctuary, Kira was leaning against the wall outside the restroom talking to Shayna, who relieved her of the door before it could swing shut.

“She’s got great hands, Kira. Must be nice getting free massages every night.” Shayna winked at Megan as she headed into the restroom, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Kira’s jaw visibly clenched. “If I hear that innuendo crap one more time…”

Was Kira defending her honor?

Kira glared at the restroom door. “Shayna can be such a jerk.”

“She’s your friend, right? I’m sure she didn’t mean to insult me. She thinks you have a girlfriend…”
Okay, don’t choke on that thought…
“And she’s happy for you.”

“One who’s talented in bed,” Kira fumed.

A rush of warmth hit her abdomen. No one had ever reacted like this before. She was so used to being told she was too sensitive that she didn’t know quite what to do. She smiled wanly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re not offended?”

“I know she didn’t hear it from you, since we’ve never slept together.”

***

If only Megan knew how much she wanted to do just that. Which was probably why Shayna’s teasing had pissed her off so much. Pushing that thought from her mind, Kira offered Megan the glass of seltzer with a slice of lime wedged on the rim.

Megan hesitated before taking the glass, eying it warily. “Is this a gin and tonic?”

“Seltzer with lime.”

Megan broke into a grateful smile. “Observant, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you mean presumptuous?”

“It takes an observant woman to connect the dots.” She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. There was something intimate about watching the way she hugged herself with her free arm, cradling Kira’s gift and rounding her shoulders expressively, trying to eke out every ounce of comfort she could. Kira’s heart twisted.

“Perfect.” Megan took another sip. “How did you know this was just what I wanted?”

“Lucky guess.” Kira couldn’t explain it to herself, even. All she knew was there was something about Megan that filled her with a tenderness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“The ice is good.” Megan drained the glass and eyed the ice as if she were deciding whether to salvage it. She glanced around. “Looks like no one’s waiting to pounce on me for a massage. I was expecting people to track me down.”

“Why would they?”

“You
were
convincing,” Megan conceded. “You made it sound like you were with the management.”

Kira thought she detected a hint of criticism in Megan’s voice. “The real management won’t mind.” She didn’t really give a shit about what she’d done—either about her management impersonation or about her little encounter with Megan’s groupies outside the restroom—an encounter that would remain unmentioned.

“Let’s hope not.” Megan put her glass down on the closest empty table. “Because I need to go talk to the manager now and get paid.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“I’ll just be a minute. Do you want to wait here?”

“No problem.”

When Megan returned, Kira folded the completed surveys she’d been looking over and tucked them into the back of her waistband. There were several requests for body mud and several more for yoga, and one for a beer waterfall, which didn’t surprise her, considering the venue.

“You ready to go?” Megan asked.

Actually, no, she was not ready to go. Not until she found out whether Megan’s invitation to join her here tonight was one hundred percent work-related, or whether there was some small part of her that would say yes to dancing. She was almost certain Megan would say no, since the first time they met she had shot her down when she suggested dinner—and dinner was a lot safer—but it was worth a try.

“Do you dance? Since we’re already here…”

Megan’s eyes widened. “Okay.”

Kira’s jaw dropped. She should have had faith. Extroverts were entertaining, but they were too easy to figure out. The quiet ones had a way of surprising you.

She took Megan’s hand and led her to the edge of the dance floor. It was probably a bad idea to touch her, but she couldn’t help herself. Megan got to her on a level where logic didn’t always rule. And speaking of logic, she had no idea why Megan had agreed to dance with her, although it was just like her to be sweet and generous and… Wait. Kira let go of Megan’s hand. She didn’t want her to do this out of politeness. “If you don’t want to…”

Megan recaptured her hand.

Kira melted. It was still entirely possible that Megan was just being polite, but she let herself pretend it was more than that. All her senses focused on Megan’s powerful grip on her hand. Amazing how such a small, delicate hand could be so strong.

She pushed her way blindly through the crowd, Megan at her heels. Grudgingly, the mass of bodies ceded them a few square inches on the dance floor. Megan moved her hips to the throbbing beat. Their bodies swayed and swiveled in unison, close enough to feel the heat of each other’s bodies, but not touching except for that one hand, palm to palm, fingers intertwined.

Megan was a good dancer. Slinky and graceful and smiling like she was having a good time. Smiling at
her
. God, if she could feel this happy from Megan smiling at her when they weren’t even on a real date, she was afraid to think about what would happen if they
were
on a real date. Because passing out would just be embarrassing.

A couple of blondes tried to squeeze past them without coming unglued from each other. Megan faltered and fell off the beat and the color drained from her face. The taller of the two blondes paused and stared at Megan in surprise.

“Amelia,” Megan said.

Kira frowned at the intruders and stopped dancing. She took a step closer to Megan.

“You’re dating another massage therapist?” Megan blurted out. “No offense, Cynthia,” she added, acknowledging her target’s companion for a microsecond before redirecting her anger. “What happened to the woman you were with at the Sand Bar the night you broke up with me?”

“Oh, you mean Carol. That was nothing serious.”

Okay, definitely the ex.

“I can’t believe this,” Megan continued. “You said I was too weird. You said all massage therapists were irrational.”

“Cynthia’s different.” Amelia smiled at her new girlfriend, who rubbed one hand up and down her back like a supportive massage therapist girlfriend straight out of Shayna’s ridiculous fantasies. “She’s not out on the fringe the way you are.”

Megan squeezed Kira’s hand, hard.

“And she’s not too stubborn to take my advice. She’s willing to improve.”

Kira took a menacing step forward. “Megan doesn’t need improvement.”

Megan stopped her with an insistent tug and Kira shut her mouth.

“Would taking your advice have changed anything?” Megan asked bitterly.

“Contrary to what you seem to think, I tried to make things work.”

“By dumping me? I see.”

“I tried,” Amelia snapped. “We can’t all be a damn saint.”

Kira moved so she was standing behind Megan and wrapped one arm around her waist, hoping Megan wouldn’t stop her. She pulled her pretend date’s ass to her hips, front to back, away from Amelia. Not grabbing her, not desperate the way Amelia was clinging to her sidekick—who had the grace to look nervous, but not the grace to look embarrassed—just a firm grip with one arm. A nice possessive gesture that said
back off
without violating Megan’s personal space.

Or at least that was the idea. It wasn’t actually working out that well, because she probably
was
violating Megan’s personal space, seeing as how her entire body was pressed up against her, and because holding Megan this close felt unbearably good. And that was going to make it difficult to think straight.

Oh well. To hell with thinking straight. Kira locked eyes with Amelia to make sure she was watching, then moved her pelvis to the techno beat, grinding into Megan’s backside. And what do you know, Megan mirrored her every move perfectly, as if they’d been dancing together for years. She might have even felt her giggle. Maybe when this was over, Megan wasn’t going to smack her after all.

What had possessed Amelia to break up with this sexy, amazing woman? She almost felt bad for her. To make such a serious error in judgment…

“Don’t keep Megan out past her bedtime.” Amelia gave them a condescending smirk and moved off into the crowd.

“Forget about her,” Kira told Megan, her lips grazing her ear.

Megan stroked Kira’s forearm where it lay wrapped around her waist and continued to shimmy her hips to the music. Kira kept hold of her, tightening her grip with an involuntary shudder. She watched over Megan’s shoulder as Amelia got lost in the crowd.
That’s right, Amelia, go away. Go dance with your deluded girlfriend and leave Megan alone.

She clung to the warmth of Megan’s back against her chest, breathing her in. She knew she had to let go, but she didn’t think she could. If they weren’t in public she would be extremely tempted to turn around and ease her to the floor and press her body against her and work very, very hard to find out exactly how to make her scream.

This was not good news.

As long as Megan wanted to keep dancing she’d be okay, but what did she think was going to happen when it came time to stop? A little preventative thinking a few minutes back might have been called for.

Megan rotated in her grip, their legs and hips and chests still close, but no longer touching. She raised her hand to the side of Kira’s face and traced the line of her jaw. “Your jaw’s tight.”

Whether it had been tight before or not, Kira had no idea, but Megan’s caress did nothing to relax her. If anything, it made her clench her jaw tighter. Megan’s touch was innocent and gentle and feminine. Not to mention irresistibly arousing. And Kira didn’t have the right to hold her this way. She should let go.

Instead, she leaned into Megan’s hand. Megan curled her fingertips around her jaw with a featherlight pressure that she probably didn’t even realize drew her closer. Kira moved her head in a barely visible hitch of invitation, the only warning she could give. And kissed her.

She hadn’t intended to do more than brush her lips against hers in a gentle, tentative, not-quite-sure-of-her-reception kiss. But Megan’s lips were warm and hungry and not at all guarded, so instead, she lost her mind. She thrust her tongue into her mouth and it felt like the best decision she’d ever made in her entire life.