Angel's Touch (10 page)

“I’m glad you’re not hurting anymore.” That part, at least, was the truth.

“The healing energy here is amazingly powerful. It’s worth protecting.”

And again with the nut factor. The pistachio didn’t give up, did she?

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not changing my mind.”

***

Megan yanked at more poison ivy and tried not to feel like a failure. She would have more chances to change Kira’s mind. Just because Kira had walked out on her without listening this time, didn’t mean she wouldn’t succeed the next time. She
would
succeed. She had to. The angels were counting on her. But it hurt that Kira had actually turned her back on her and left.

Gwynne tossed her gardening gloves on the ground. “So.”

Megan stopped what she was doing and waited for whatever was coming next, even though she wasn’t really in the mood to talk right now. It was bad enough to fail without doing it in front of an audience.

Gwynne glanced over her shoulder as if she wanted to make sure no one would overhear. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” she said in a low voice. “With Kira Wagner?”

“What? No.”

Gwynne gave her a look.

Oh, for God’s sake. She’d been expecting Gwynne to have something to say about Kira, but not…not this.

“I’m really not.”

“No, I think you really are.”

“You’re wrong.” Megan gave Gwynne her best I-don’t-know-what-the-heck-you’re-talking-about look. Whatever she felt for Kira, it was not love.

Gwynne snorted. “I don’t think so.”

When Kira saw Megan arrive in the hotel driveway, she ran outside with her clipboard to meet her, pulling up short when she realized Megan was in the middle of a phone call.

“Like I said, I don’t have any openings until the day after tomorrow. A one thirty and a four o’clock. Maybe you could tell me what seems to be—”

Kira took a step back, but Megan held up one finger and motioned her closer. She covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “This’ll be over in a minute.”

Kira stayed put and pretended to review the list attached to her clipboard. Megan’s hair was a mess, as usual. If it were hers, she’d pull it back in a ponytail. But she was kind of glad Megan didn’t, because there was something really sexy about seeing it so mussed. She’d always had a weakness for unmanageable hair. Or, to be more accurate, unmanaged hair—the kind that got all messed up because you were the active, outdoorsy type and didn’t think it was natural to shellac your hair in place, no matter how limp or frizzy it got from the humidity. Growing up, she had always been mildly freaked out by her mother’s perfectly groomed friends—women who honestly thought they looked ugly without makeup, even when there were no men around to impress.

Of course, it helped that the girl in her long-ago dreams had wild hair, too. Megan looked so much like her, especially when her hair misbehaved. It reminded her of those dreams, of how tangled the strands got over the course of a long night, and how the girl had been so much more sure of herself—and more sure about what she wanted to do with Kira—than Kira herself had been back then. The dreams had been both enlightening and—because her dream girl wasn’t real—endlessly frustrating.

She wasn’t dreaming now, though—not the old dreams. Megan was heart-poundingly real—tell-your-friends-to-call-back-next-year-because-you’ll-be-busy-not-sleeping real—and Kira had a pretty good idea what she wanted to do with her.

If she’d ever let her.

Megan held the phone away from her ear and shot the mouthpiece a look of disgust. She pushed her wonderful hair away from her face and switched the phone to her other ear. “I don’t do nine p.m. appointments.”

This caller was
arguing
about when her next available appointment was? Take it or leave it, honey—don’t be obnoxious. Kira couldn’t wait to hear her soft-spoken angel inform her caller that she was
not
going to squeeze anyone in.

“Look, Joe, I think you have the wrong idea about me.” Megan’s voice hardened, but she wasn’t angry—not yet. Her tone reminded Kira of her high school chemistry teacher asking the class to settle down.

Wait a minute…the wrong idea? Kira’s jaw locked.

“I do therapeutic massage. For wellness and injury rehab. I’m sure you understand why I won’t see you.” Megan turned off her phone and put it in her back pocket.

Kira stared at her, wondering how she could look so unfazed.
She
had been mad thinking the guy just wanted to change Megan’s schedule, when in fact he had been—

“Did that guy just try to hire you for sex?”

Megan rubbed her forehead. She looked like she was fighting a headache. “He was scoping out the situation,” she acknowledged.

Unbelievable. She’d been hoping she was wrong. It was too gross to think about. “Why didn’t you hang up on him?”

Megan looked up at her from between her fingers, then returned to rubbing a spot directly above her eyebrows. Her eyes were half-closed in pain. “I did.”

“I meant why didn’t you hang up on him sooner.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

“
You
didn’t want to be rude?” Kira would have had a few choice words for any man who phoned
her
for sex. She didn’t see how Megan could stay so calm about it. “
He
was rude to
you.
” She hoped this didn’t mean Megan really was straight and she was used to getting propositioned by men in weird, inappropriate ways. That would be so unfortunate.

“It’s not completely his fault. If prostitutes give normal-looking massages before they massage guys’ dicks, then how are these guys supposed to know who’s who?”

Kira tried not to gag at
that
visual.

“They call me because they’re honestly making an effort to find out whether sex is one of the services I offer. I’d rather they try to find that out on the phone than in person.”

“In person?” Who did these guys think they were? Kira fought the urge to grab Megan’s phone to see if the guy had been stupid enough to call from a traceable number.

“I’ve never had a problem,” Megan assured her. “I don’t take same-day appointments—that alone tends to cool them off. And I’m pretty good at screening them on the phone. I know the code words they use.”

Yeah, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. She knew the code words because some jerk-off had used them on her, and she had innocently breezed right over the innuendo until one day one of those guys didn’t buy the innocent act and made it frighteningly clear what he wanted. And now she knew the code words.

Christ.

Kira pushed her hands deeper into the pockets of her jeans so she wouldn’t reach for Megan’s phone and call the jerk back. Megan obviously didn’t think this guy was a problem, and that was her decision to make. She was the owner of her own business, not some entry-level hotel registration clerk on her first day at work. She had a feeling Megan wouldn’t appreciate her interference.

“Don’t they ever get mad when you won’t give them an appointment?” Kira asked, unable to let it go. “What if one of them tried to hurt you?”

“I try to be nice when I turn them down. It seems to work.”

“You shouldn’t have to be nice to them.”

“They’re real people, too.”

How could Megan be so forgiving? There were good eggs and bad eggs, and the bad eggs needed to be kicked to the curb because they just didn’t get how to act like normal, respectful human beings, especially when they had sex on the brain. “I work all day with men—I know what they’re like. I’m being realistic. I mean who in their right mind does that, anyway? Paying for sex? With someone they don’t know? That is totally a male concept.”

“Nothing’s ever happened. I’m telling you, I know how to handle these guys.”

“I cannot believe you have to put up with that crap.”

Megan smiled weakly. “To be honest, this was not what I imagined I’d be doing when I dreamed of becoming a massage therapist.”

Yeah. It wasn’t what Kira had imagined her doing, either. “How often do you get calls like that?”

“Not often.”

Which could mean anything. Kira led Megan up the driveway, through the lobby, and into her office, her feet hitting the ground with an impact she could feel all the way up her legs. How Megan handled her phone calls was none of her business. Not that that was going to stop her from feeling furious. But it might stop her from arguing about it.

She picked up a stack of spa brochures from her desk as they walked in and peeled one off the top to hand to Megan. They were samples from the competition, both local and from around the country. The one she’d just given her was from Peaceful Moments down on the boardwalk. “I want to go through these with you.”

Megan flipped over the glossy card stock. “This is Mary’s brochure? I like the graphic.”

Megan was too nice for her own good. Too nice with problematic guys, and too nice with her colleagues in the industry. No sense of self-preservation.

“Why am I not surprised to hear you compliment our competition?”

Megan snagged three more brochures from the stack, more interested in checking them out than in acknowledging Kira’s comment.

Right. Back to business.

“I want to make a list of everything we should offer and what equipment we’ll need,” Kira said.

“You do realize I’ve never worked at a spa, right?”

“Heck, you’ve got to know more about it than I do. I’ve never even had a massage. Well, except for the one you gave me at the race tent.”

Megan looked up from the brochures and squinted at her in dismay. “Then why in the world are you opening a spa?”

“I got bored building medical offices and I got burned opening a restaurant. I wanted to do something fun this time.”

“Even though you don’t know anything about spas?”

“It’s not that different. I know about construction and permits and all the state and county regulations you have to deal with. The specific type of business doesn’t actually matter that much. I researched the financial aspects. I know the laws governing the spa industry in the state of Delaware, and I know what my costs are going to be.”

Megan shook her head and reached over to take another brochure from Kira’s stack. “An aesthetician would know more about this than I do. Beauty treatments and I don’t mix.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for this job.”

“That’s why I’m
not
perfect for this job.”

Kira was used to people doubting her business plans, and was used to dismissing those doubts as she would a complaining muscle during a run. It was a fact of life that if you pushed yourself hard, some people were going to say you were unprepared. She’d never felt shaken by a mere look.

“I
want
a massage therapist,” Kira explained. “Not an aesthetician. I’m not in the manicure business. I want this to be somewhere women come for good food, clean air, exercise classes and to-die-for massages.”

“And spa treatments.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Megan flipped open the next brochure and scanned it quickly. “I really think you should experience a spa treatment before you try to sell one.”

“I agree with you. I do. I just haven’t gotten around to it.” Kira wished she didn’t sound so defensive. She just didn’t think she was the spa type. If she needed to relax, she’d rather go for a good run than lie down and have someone smear scented crap on her face.

Megan’s massage in the tent had felt good, though. She wouldn’t have minded if
that
had lasted longer than ten minutes. So maybe she
was
the spa type—at least for leg and foot rubs, if not for facials—and just didn’t know it yet. Or maybe it all depended on who was doing the massaging. Megan was clearly amazingly good at her job.

“How about I make an appointment with you for a massage?” Kira suggested.

It was the perfect solution. Her lack of hands-on experience seemed to be a sore point, so this would make Megan happy, and she could guarantee herself that a massage, as long as it was with Megan, wouldn’t be a waste of time. It would also give her a chance to make a small financial contribution toward repaying Megan for her advice.

Megan refused to meet her gaze. “My friend Svetlana is great with athletes. I think you’d really like her better.” She pulled a business card out of her wallet and wrote Svetlana’s name and number on the back.

Great. Had she been so sweaty and rank after the 10K that Megan was too revolted to touch her again? Megan was so sensitive to smells… Or was it asking her out that had ruined any chance of ever getting a massage from her? This was bad. If Megan had men calling her up for prostitution, asking her out may have triggered some toxic memories. Maybe Megan was scared of her. Kira took a step back, suddenly grateful that Megan was even willing to be alone in a small room with her talking about brochures.

Megan tossed Svetlana’s number on top of the stack of brochures Kira was still holding. Kira plopped the whole thing down on her desk and slipped the business card into her back pocket. “Thanks. I’ll call her.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to work with you—” Megan started.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings…”

“You didn’t.”

Kira tried not to look hurt so Megan would stop looking so guilty. She had no right to feel hurt. Appalled with herself for making Megan nervous, yes. Hurt, no. She would call up Megan’s friend Svetlana and hope that one day Megan would forgive her for being an ass.

“So let’s talk about saunas,” Kira said, hoping the change in subject would make Megan more comfortable. “Do people really want a sauna when they’ve been out on the beach all day?” She flipped through another pile of papers on her desk and found the printout showing how much saunas cost to build and operate. “Of course, we will have off-season guests.”

Megan looked at her with her mouth half-open as if she couldn’t quite figure out what to say—either about saunas or about rejecting her.

Kira showed her the printout. “I need to do a survey, find out what local women want from a spa.”