Angel's Touch (16 page)

“Ow, ow, ow.”

“Sorry.” Megan rubbed soothingly at the spot.

The waitress looked over her shoulder again, forgetting her instructions to not turn her head. “What was that?”

“That’s what’s making your shoulder hurt,” Megan said.

“But that doesn’t hurt my shoulder—it hurts my back.”

“Hold on.” Megan braced herself with one hand on the front of the woman’s shoulder and pressed into the spot again, hard.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Megan,” warned Svetlana.

Megan ignored her. “If I press hard enough with my thumb, you’ll feel the pain shoot into your shoulder.”

The waitress gasped.

“Feel it?”

She nodded.

“Don’t waste your time rubbing your shoulder. Rub here instead. You have trigger points in your rotator cuff. Right here.” Megan touched the spot on the shoulder blade where she’d been pressing. “Massage will definitely help.”

“But it is necessary to tell your massage therapist where the problem is,” Svetlana added. “Because practitioner who only does relaxation massage will not understand how to help.”

Megan dug a business card out of her purse. “Supraspinatus,” she said, writing it down on the back of her card.

“Thanks.” The waitress rotated her shoulder experimentally. “It feels much better.”

“I’m glad.”

She examined Megan’s card and slipped it into her apron pocket before casting an anxious glance in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll take the rest of your orders now. And if there’s anything you need, let me know. I mean it.”

They ordered quickly and their waitress dashed off. Kira suspected there was going to be a big smiley face drawn on their bill. She angled her head toward Megan. “This happens to you all the time, doesn’t it? People tell you their medical problems.”

Svetlana answered for her. “All the time.”

Kira frowned, annoyed at the intrusion. No, that was unfair of her. It was only natural that Svetlana would know about Megan’s life. They were friends. They’d known each other for a long time before Kira came on the scene. But still, it made her jealous.
She
wanted to be the resident expert on all things Megan. She wanted to know her past, and her parents’ names, and her favorite pizza topping, and the color of her sheets, and whether she secretly preferred jazz to that spacey massage music. She wanted to know everything.

Megan picked up her water glass. “Sometimes I think I have a sign above my head that says ‘Good Listener.’”

She was right about that—there was something in her face that was incredibly open and friendly. No wonder people came to her with their problems. You could see in her wide-set eyes and in her gentle way of interacting that she genuinely cared.

Patrick cleared his throat and Kira glanced at him, disoriented. Had she missed part of the conversation? Svetlana swatted him.

Kira glanced back at Megan, who raised an eyebrow at her. Was she staring? She hadn’t meant to. Megan shook her head but made no move to look away.

What the hell happened at the club the other night, anyway? She’d thought that kiss was the last one she was ever going to get from Megan. Now she wasn’t so sure, because Megan might be trying to look mad, but her eyes gave her away. Her eyes were like sunlight. It was amazing how good that felt, to just look into her eyes and be dazzled by the magic shining from her soul. Kira’s grin stretched out of control. She was sure she looked lovestruck, but she didn’t care. Patrick would either have to look away or get over it.

But, oh, my, God, those eyes were going to get her into trouble. How was she supposed to keep things professional if mere eye contact was enough to make her forget why she’d ever agreed to keep her distance?

When they left the restaurant, the gray skies that had threatened rain all day were unleashing a downpour. Megan paused under the awning outside to give Svetlana a hug goodbye, awkwardly trying not to bump her with the folded umbrella looped over her wrist.

Svetlana wasn’t the touchy-feely type—despite what she did for a living—so Megan was surprised when she turned to give Kira a hug, too. “Thanks again for helping me yesterday,” Svetlana told Kira. “You called the right person.”

“Glad I could help. I had no idea Megan knew how to banish evil spirits.”

The strain on Kira’s face belied her light, joking tone. She wished Kira was more comfortable with what she’d witnessed, but at least she wasn’t trying to pretend the whole thing had never happened, the way Megan’s mother had always done, somehow managing to convince herself her child’s embarrassing behavior was all the product of an overactive imagination.

“It was a surprise to me, too,” Patrick said, his eyes on Svetlana. “Let’s hope this never comes up again.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket, took Svetlana’s hand, and together they dashed through the rain to their car.

Kira shrugged into her rain jacket and zipped it all the way up. Her shorts disappeared under the bottom of the jacket, emphasizing the bareness of her tanned, muscular legs. “It looked like you and Gwynne were old pros at handling Svetlana’s problem. You must work together a lot.”

“No, not really.” Megan glanced away from Kira’s legs. Did they have to talk about Gwynne right now? “It’s been a long time since we’ve done any work together.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed. You had that finishing-each-other’s-sentences thing going on.”

So those two were keeping an eye on each other, were they? Interesting. It made her forget that Kira thought she was crazy. No, wait…what was it she called her?
Different.

Megan opened her umbrella and held it over Kira’s head. “I’ll walk you to your car.” Kira’s raincoat had a hood, so there was no real need for her to offer. She wanted to, though. She could walk her to her car, and maybe on the way they’d get chilled from the rain and decide to stop somewhere for coffee.

Except sitting across from Kira at a cozy little table after dinner might feel like a date. Sipping coffee and gazing at her over the rim of her cup might feel like a date. Being alone with her might feel like a date. And she needed to make sure this didn’t turn into a date.

“Where did you park?” Megan asked.

“I didn’t bring my car.”

“Let me drive you home, then.”

Kira adjusted her hood and stepped out onto the sidewalk, away from the shelter of Megan’s umbrella. “I can walk.”

Megan jerked her umbrella back, hurt. Again. Five minutes ago inside the restaurant Kira was staring into her eyes like she wanted to pull her into her arms, and now she refused to accept a ride when it was pouring down rain?

“I’ll drive you,” Megan insisted.
I’ll behave myself,
she added silently. She’d keep both hands on the steering wheel and not even look at Kira’s gorgeous bare thighs, no matter how close she was in the passenger seat. They’d talk business and she’d try not to enjoy it too much when Kira pretended to be a ruthless businesswoman who’d never be nice to a competitor.

“Thanks, but no.”

There was something in Kira’s eyes she couldn’t identify. She wished she could touch her—hold her hand, even—so she could use her weird abilities, which worked best through physical contact, to sense what Kira was feeling and understand what was going on.

And that was no way to think about a client and a friend. Because hand-holding would lead to running her hands up her arms and cupping her face and stepping into her personal space and kissing the explanation out of her.

Which would be out of line.

Which was exactly why Kira didn’t want to accept a ride from her, wasn’t it? Kira was holding the line. The line that
Megan
had drawn. She felt like a jerk.

“At least take my umbrella.” Megan held it out but Kira refused to take it.

“You’ll get wet,” Kira said.

“And you won’t?”

“I’m a runner. I’m used to being out in the rain. Sometimes I even do it on purpose.”

The air smelled tangy with ozone, which meant the storm was about to get worse. Kira didn’t have to be a selfless idiot. Megan was the one who had drawn the line and she was going to re-draw it. “It’s storming and it’s dark out. Come on, my car’s not far.”

Kira looked away, into the darkness, her hands shoved in her pockets.

Megan pursed her lips as the hollow feeling in her stomach turned into a knot. So she’d get rained on. She hoped Kira wasn’t refusing a ride for her sake, but really, if Kira didn’t mind getting wet, why should she argue? She didn’t have to force her to accept her help. She wasn’t a client on her table asking her to solve her problems.

Megan gave up. “I’ll go,” she said.

Kira didn’t turn around. “I’ll go with you.”

***

With her windshield wipers smacking furiously, Megan pulled into the parking lot of the complex of squat three-story garden-style apartments where Kira lived. Each unit was clustered around an open stairwell and had its own miniature balcony.

“Svetlana lived in one of these apartments her first summer here,” she told Kira.

“How did she like it?”

“She liked that it was affordable.” Svetlana had been one of the hundreds of Eastern European teens who were lured to the Delaware shore each summer to fill unglamorous jobs like waitressing, lifeguarding at hotel pools, selling chocolate-covered frozen bananas, and taking tickets at putt-putt courses because there weren’t enough locals to fill the demand. She was already in the hole from airfare just to get here, so she did what everyone did—squeezed in with as many of her new acquaintances as possible in short-term rentals that they furnished with plastic lawn chairs. “She shared the apartment with five other women.”

“They fit six people in here? These apartments are all one-bedrooms.”

“She slept on the floor. She said she was used to living in a small apartment in Moscow and the close quarters didn’t bother her.”

“Did she at least have a mattress?”

Megan’s heart warmed at Kira’s concern. She wanted her friends to like each other. “You sound like Patrick. When he found out, he couldn’t wait to get her out of there.”

Kira looked at her like she was clueless. “Patrick just wanted to sleep with her without an audience.”

Okay, so maybe Kira wasn’t a complete angel of concern.

“Do you like it here?”

“I don’t spend much time here,” Kira said. “As soon as we’re done working on the plumbing and the electrical at the hotel, I’m moving into a room over there.”

Megan braked in front of Kira’s building. “I guess you don’t worry too much about separating work and home.”

“I move around a lot. Usually it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.” Kira unbuckled her seat belt. “But if my job involved questionable men coming to my home and getting naked, I’d make the effort. You should think about getting a real office.”

“I think about it,” Megan protested. “But I don’t have any problems working at home. Besides, everything is so expensive around here. I can’t afford to rent office space on top of what I already pay for my townhouse, not unless I raise my fees—and I don’t want to do that to my clients.” She slid the gearshift into Park and draped her left hand over the top of the steering wheel. “So I’ll see you later?”

Kira paused with her hand on the door handle. “Want to come in for coffee?”

Megan’s fingers clenched spasmodically around the steering wheel.
Not a date,
she reminded herself. Driving her home was not supposed to turn into a date. She pressed her foot harder, unnecessarily, on the brake. Coffee and dessert near the boardwalk—whether in a dimly lit restaurant or in the bright glare of an ice cream shop—would have been dangerous enough. Coffee in Kira’s apartment, just a few feet away from her bedroom, was…was not something she wanted to dwell on right now. She wished she could tell whether the tension buzzing in the enclosed space was mutual or whether it was all one-sided, but Kira’s face was unreadable in the darkness inside the car.

“Okay.” Megan shifted back into gear, wondering how worried she should be. “Do you have decaf?”

Right. As if staying awake was what she was worried about.

They found a parking space in the visitors’ lot and Megan shared her umbrella for the dash to the entrance. A futile gesture, now that the rain was coming down in violent gusts and her umbrella was in serious danger of flipping inside out, but Kira didn’t rebuff her, and that made her happier than it should have. Kira also didn’t hold her arm or touch her hand to steady the umbrella, but that was probably for the best. There was enough electricity in the air from the lightning storm without her huddling any closer.

When they got inside and up the stairs to her second-floor apartment, Kira stripped off her raincoat and relieved Megan of her umbrella. She gestured vaguely toward the living room couch and headed for the tiny kitchen. “I have some herbal tea in here somewhere if you want that instead of coffee.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, herbal? It comes in a red box.”

While Kira disappeared into the kitchen, Megan looked around. The main living area held a couch, an ancient television, a dining table with two plain wooden chairs, and not much else. No personal knickknacks, no art, no clutter, no dust. Did she always live like this, or was most of her stuff in storage? She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she didn’t spend much time here. She couldn’t sense Kira’s imprint at all in the emotional debris left behind by the apartment’s many previous occupants. She closed her eyes and, with a whoosh of an exhale, swept her arms in a breaststroke-like motion through the emotionally clogged air, clearing it out until the apartment felt as psychically clean and unburdened as Kira had tried to make it look.

“You okay out there?” Kira called out from the kitchen.

“Yup.”

Megan nodded with approval at the smoke detector and sprinkler. Scanning the ceiling for smoke detectors was a bad habit, but no one could accuse her of being neurotic if they didn’t see her do it. She moved one of the chairs and climbed onto it so she could take a closer look.

She was still standing on the chair, holding the smoke detector’s lid open and examining its inner workings, when Kira walked in with two mugs of tea. Megan blushed with embarrassment. Not that this was a date, but no relationship guru would recommend invading your host’s privacy as a way to make a good first impression. Butt at eye-level, no less.