Angel's Touch (21 page)

“I have a hard time believing that. A wet T-shirt isn’t that flattering over a sports bra—at least not this sports bra.”

“Hmm.” Megan looked far too smug.

“I look better without it.”

“I’m sure you do.” Megan sank into the water and leaned back, letting her arms drift out to the sides as her perfect, tempting breasts crested the surface of the murky water.

Kira’s breathing turned harsh. She didn’t know how any part of her could possibly be warm in this freezing ocean, but she was definitely warming up. And it sure as hell was not because of the bouncing.

“How come you’re not cold?” Kira ground out.

“Because it’s summer.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Kira doubted it. “You do this often?”

“Yeah.” Megan dove under an incoming wave, moving farther from shore. She wiped the water from her eyes and pushed back her wet hair. “I like to come here to relax after I’ve had a tough client. It washes away the negative energy.”

Crap. What happened to her today? She looked so vulnerable with her hair plastered to her head and her eyes red from the salt water.

Megan flipped onto her back again and floated. “I’m not exactly allergic to perfume, but I have a really good sense of smell. Sometimes I’ll get a client who wears way too much, and I get a massive headache afterward.”

“Can’t you ask them not to wear perfume?”

“I do. It’s also in my brochure. But people don’t always remember, and I’m not going to turn them away at the door.”

The lengths Megan went to for her customers—they had no idea. Why did she do this to herself? She wanted to help others and make the world a better place, but if she wore herself down, how was that an improvement? It didn’t result in a net gain in global happiness. Back in the spring there’d been that massage therapist she’d talked to who made it sound like Megan was ready for burnout—something about it only being a matter of time before Megan snapped those scrawny little wrists of hers and started to hate her clients. At the time, she’d chalked it up to professional jealousy. Now she wondered if maybe there wasn’t some truth to it.

“I’m guessing you have a headache.”

“The fresh air helps.”

Kira jumped to avoid getting hit by a random wave that shouldn’t have broken this far out. Megan floated gracefully over it, but Kira, who so far had managed to keep her head and neck out of the water after her initial dive, didn’t quite make it, and protested the shock of cold water on her head. Man, there were easier ways to get fresh air. “Is there anything I can do to help? Rub your head?”

Megan ducked under the next wave.

Kira waited for her to reappear. “Feel free to say no. Because I obviously have no skills.”

“I should say yes just to prove to you that you have more massage skills than you think you do.”

***

Megan dunked her head again and tasted the familiar comfort of briny seawater. There was something about the cold, turbulent ocean that worked miracles when it came to getting rid of client-induced headaches.

A massage would be nice, though. Kira might think she had no skills because she had no training, but training wasn’t everything. Kira had already proven herself the night she’d driven her to her apartment. At one point when they were talking, Kira had rubbed her shoulder, and the way she’d touched her, with her heart open and compassion flowing through her hands, was more healing than half the professionals out there, who were too burned out to care, or in the wrong field to begin with. She would love to feel Kira’s attentive presence again, feel her fingers massage away her pain.

And let’s face it—Kira’s screech when she ran into the cold water was more than a little suggestive. A bit out of breath, because that’s what happened when sudden cold shocked your lungs. As well as in other situations… Kira had looked a little guilty and embarrassed after that outburst, then laughed when she realized that of course Megan had noticed.

She should let her massage her head. Her reasons for keeping her at arm’s length hardly made sense to her anymore.

They swam out past the breakers, where the water came to Kira’s shoulders and Megan’s neck. Kira reached tentatively for her and Megan swung around so she was floating with her head toward her. Kira swept her hands through her hair and kept her from floating away with the slight pressure of her fingertips on her scalp, massaging gently. Megan stared up at the gray sky, breathing in the smell of seaweed and salt. It was so nice to be out here with someone who didn’t drain her.

“You work too hard,” Kira said.

“My clients don’t seem to think so.”

“They think you have a natural talent for massage, so it must be easy for you.” Kira cupped one hand at the base of her skull and caressed her brow.

“They’re right. It’s not
hard
. I don’t know why it’s so exhausting.” Her forehead relaxed under Kira’s touch and she closed her eyes. “Everyone thinks it’s so wonderful that I can intuitively find exactly where it hurts, and I know that makes me a good massage therapist, but some days I don’t
want
to feel other people’s pain.”

“How do you do that, anyway? How do you know where it hurts?”

“I sense it. I sink my awareness into the other person’s body. I get quiet and one hundred percent focused and then my hands just know what to do. Some massage therapists can do that and keep themselves separate, but I can’t. I get lost in there. Lost in the heartbeat of another person I may not even like.”

“That sounds pretty intimate.” Kira’s fingertips circled at her temples. Speaking of intimate…

“It is. It’s…too much, sometimes. I’m too sensitive.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“You’re not too sensitive,” Kira said.

On days like today, when a whiff of perfume could ruin her whole day, she
was
too sensitive. But she wasn’t going to argue.

Kira traced the line of her eyebrows, smoothing away the tension in her face. “Can I invite you over for dinner at my place on Saturday?”

“Sure,” Megan answered without thinking. Kira’s touch felt so good.

“I wasn’t sure you’d say yes. You didn’t, last time.”

“This is so relaxing. Don’t stop what you’re doing to my head or I might change my mind.” She shouldn’t have freaked out when Kira had come over for a massage lesson—they could have been doing this for hours.

“I’m glad you have a place to go to de-stress,” Kira said.

“The ocean? Yeah. But the ley lines would be an even better place.” Thinking about that made the pressure inside Megan’s skull increase. She couldn’t let her traitorous feelings for Kira make her forget what she really wanted from her. She wanted her to save the angels’ gathering place. That was important. “I wish you wouldn’t build there.”

Kira let go of Megan’s head. “How can you say that after what happened to your friend Svetlana? She was throwing up. Now, I’m not convinced the puking wasn’t psychosomatic, but maybe I
should
cover up that site if it’s going to make people sick.”

Megan let her feet drop to the sandy bottom. “It’s not dangerous.”

“I’m not sure Svetlana would agree with you.”

“Svetlana’s
fine
. She’s completely back to normal.”

“You seemed pretty worried about that whatchamacallit.”

“Hitchhiker,” Megan said. “But they’re everywhere. Blocking access to the leys isn’t going to do anything to stop them.”

“Then why was this hitchhiker there? Why did this one wait for Svetlana to sit by that rock before it jumped her? If they’re everywhere, and this rock has nothing to do with it, then it could just as easily have gotten her on the way to the drugstore, or at her office, or anywhere. Except it didn’t.”

Okay, so maybe Kira had a point. Megan did suspect that hitchhiker had not been there entirely by accident. It might have been a gatekeeper. When she saw the angels glowing above the ley lines, that had only happened
after
she had passed through some kind of spell—a spell manifesting as the shadowy fears that had almost scared her into turning back. It was a spell of ward, most likely, and explained why no one had ever noticed this site and written it up in a New Age tourist guidebook. Svetlana was oblivious when she stepped into it, and wasn’t sensitive enough to have picked up on the scary vibes that should have warned her away. If she had done what was expected of her and left, she would have been fine. But when she attempted to astral travel, she left herself completely unprotected, and one of the hitchhikers who were there to scare people off had spotted lunch and grabbed her.

But that didn’t mean the leys were dangerous. It just meant Kira shouldn’t turn the site into a tourist attraction. The people who were meant to discover the site would discover it on their own. Others, like Kira, would wander through without noticing anything out of the ordinary, protected by their personality’s natural shield against psychic phenomena. And wizard wannabes who thought they knew what they were doing, but didn’t, wouldn’t attempt to meditate—or astral travel, for God’s sake—while leaning against the standing stone.

Megan pushed a strand of wet hair from her face. She wondered if the story of the murdered woman was even true. “I changed my mind about advertising it to your customers and making it a tourist draw.”

“I think that’s a good call,” Kira said.

“But I’m not changing my mind about preserving the site. The leys are a valuable tool. I’m convinced they were instrumental in healing my injury. They… Don’t blame them for what happened to Svetlana. It wasn’t their fault.” Megan clasped her hands together underwater in private entreaty. “It’s such a beautiful energy. Angels use it as a crossroads when they travel through. If you knew how beautiful it was, you’d never dream of—”

“I can’t just abandon my plans. I need to build a spa.”

“Then put the spa inside the hotel. Convert a few rooms. Or build an addition. Or add another level. There’s got to be some way you can have your spa without destroying the leys.”

“Megan…” Helplessness filled Kira’s voice.

Megan felt a little sorry for her. She knew how it felt when clients begged her to do something she didn’t want to do. She hated it when clients did that. But she had to try. She’d promised the angels she’d protect their grove, and she wasn’t going to let her feelings for Kira get in the way. She
promised
. She might not have much time left before Kira started construction and did something that couldn’t be undone, but she wasn’t going to let them down.

That Saturday, Kira made good on her promise of dinner. There was barely enough space for two people at the tiny dining room table in Kira’s apartment, let alone for two sets of dishes, and what was even better news, Megan realized as soon as she sat down, was that the living room was in her direct line of vision, making it impossible to escape her vivid memories of crowding Kira on the couch.

She swallowed the last spoonful of yummy homemade tomato and basil soup, conscious that Kira was watching her. She dropped her spoon into her empty bowl and jumped up from the table to clear the dishes, stacking one into the other with an unintended clatter.

Kira reached up and stopped her, taking the bowls from her hands. Their fingertips brushed. “I’ll take the dishes.”

Megan let go and dropped back into her chair, too unnerved by her own reaction to argue. Every time she touched her—even accidentally—something in her did
not
want to let go.

“You should offer your staff free housing inside the hotel,” Megan said inanely. “That’s why no one answered your out-of-town ads for a spa manager. They can’t afford to live here. It would help you attract good people.”

“Free housing is a great idea.” Kira carried the dishes to the kitchen and returned with two plates of baked trout. “I love the idea of the staff living together. It would be a real community. And it means I wouldn’t have to poach the local talent and make the other spa owners hate me more than they do already.”

“They don’t hate you.” Megan squeezed some lemon on the fish and took a bite. It was melt-in-your-mouth good. “This food is delicious.”

“The secret is in the salt. I had so many free samples of salt body scrub that I figured…” Kira’s eyes twinkled as Megan tried not to choke on her food.

“You really are trying to eliminate the competition.”

“Of course,” Kira joked, but her smile was weak and her mood seemed to have already sobered. “Nobody loves their competitors, Megan. If I didn’t know you better I’d suspect you made up this whole ley line thing to try to stop me from opening a spa.”

Megan stiffened, and Kira reached across the table and lightly touched the back of her hand to take the sting out of her words. Megan let herself enjoy Kira’s touch for several long seconds before she pulled her hand away. “You don’t really think that, do you? That I’m lying?”

“Not you, my little pistachio.”

Her little
what
? Megan’s heart warmed at the odd endearment. For all her tough business talk, Kira always seemed to have a soft spot for one particular competitor—her.

“But that doesn’t mean,” Kira continued, “that there aren’t other spa owners who would be happy to see me fail before I ever open my doors.”

“They might worry about losing business, but they wouldn’t hate you. As I said before, we support each other.”

“If you say so.”

Kira was humoring her, which meant it was time to stop thinking candy-heart thoughts and press her advantage. “So when are you going to decide I’m right about the ley lines, too?”

Kira chewed thoughtfully. “Let me ask you something. Your clients really wear you out, right?”

Where was Kira going with this? Megan savored another bite of the awesome fish before answering. “Not always.”

“You looked exhausted the last time I saw you. Fragile.”

Kira’s concern wedged a crack into her already weakened defenses. Megan pushed the fish skin into a small pile in the corner of her plate. “I was,” she admitted. “That’s not uncommon in a caretaking-type job.”