I realized that we hadn’t talked about the facts of ourselves.
“We had two beautiful, astounding, fun dates,” I said, not sounding defensive in the least. “I think it’s a good sign that we’re beyond the boring date questions—what do you do for a living? What’s your favorite color, etc. If I want to know those things, I can ask Ashley for his profile.”
I smiled, trying not to look too dreamy. “I’m seeing him again on Tuesday for a massage and on Saturday. He’s promised to surprise me.”
“You’re certainly smitten with him.”
“Risking a jinx, yes, I am.”
Kellie pursed her lips, started to speak, and backed off. But just for a second. The impulse to second-mother me ran strong with her. It was a force of habit. Big sisters generally have a reputation for being bossy, and mine was no different. “I suppose working with a matchmaker is different. She screens out the liars, the cheaters, the deceivers, and the sponges. If I were you, though, I’d find out more about him. Not the public persona, not the one-quarter of Seattle’s hottest bachelor thing, but him.”
Yeah, he’d been voted one-quarter of Seattle’s hottest bachelor with three of his friends, all of whom were no longer available. I knew that about him, but I didn’t dwell on it.
“I know his character,” I said. “He’s sweet, kind, smart, confident, and thoughtful. He’s not a douche, believe me.”
We’d both dated far too many of those.
“What does he know about you?” Kellie said. “Have you told him about your awesome business?”
“Just that I’m defending my office space against an unknown entity of evil and arrogance.”
Kellie let me divert the conversation to my troubles for a while and rant about the bastard who was trying to steal my office space from out from under me. “Believe me, Cam is the opposite of that douchebag.”
“Does Cam know the details of your business? Have you told him what you do and why? Does he know why your mission is so important to you? Have you told him about Adam?”
9
Toria
My visit with my sister left me thinking about Adam again, something I was finally able to do without the sharp edge of pain that used to be part of the package. Adam was my gray zone. My twilight space. My tragedy.
And yet I often wondered why it was my tragedy and not his. It was his, really. He just didn’t realize it. That was his blessing and his curse. I was just collateral damage. I could walk away. And had. That was my cross to bear.
Adam was the reason I started my business to help military spouses, the reason I fought for it, the reason I wouldn’t let it fail. He was the reason I had sympathy for military spouses and the problems they faced. Finding employment and making a career when they moved all over the country at a moment’s notice was just one difficulty I could help them with. It was the one thing within my power, but not the power I wished I had. If only I could take away the all the heartache and pain the military life could throw at a person.
There was a time when I had expected to be one of those spouses trailing after my brave warrior husband. Bonding with the other wives. Being part of the larger military family.
It hadn’t worked out that way, obviously. My company was my penance, my way of dealing with survivor guilt when there hadn’t been a physical death, just an emotional one. It was my way of staying connected and helping the friends I’d made when I’d thought I was going to be one of them. Of staying connected to a younger, more naïve, rose-colored-glasses version of myself that I sometimes envied and sometimes despised, while at the same time moving on with my life, the life of the cynical Victoria.
Fate can snatch many things from you—love, happiness, the future you’ve planned. How you handle fate is what matters and gives you character. If you let it defeat you, you’re done for.
I found that out fast enough. If you take everything fate throws at you and try to turn it for good, you win the prize. That prize is priceless, let me tell you—a worthwhile life, one really worth living. Hope and happiness. If you’ve ever been at the bottom of the pit of despair, you know what I mean.
Maybe my big sis was right. Maybe I should have cared more about what Cam did with his time, what his five-year plan for his life was. Whether he wanted two-point-five children and a picket fence in the suburbs or not. The fact that he’d engaged a matchmaker was proof he was serious about finding a wife.
We’d both filled out detailed questionnaires answering the basics and beyond—how many children we wanted. Did we like pets? Cat or dog person? Snakes? No. And other major points of compatibility. I wasn’t worried about irreconcilable differences. Ashley was too highly recommended, too well respected to make a rookie matchmaking mistake like that. She wouldn’t pair two people who had opposing views on matters as important as children.
Maybe finding out the other things were only incidental. In due time. For now, I wanted to enjoy the journey of falling in love again. I wanted to savor it and not let life intrude until it absolutely had to. I wanted my affair of the heart separate from the businesswoman me. From Toria the sister, the boss, the daughter.
No matter what I did, how I tried to savor it, it would race by too quickly. I knew that all too well. For now, I just wanted to fall in love, to smile at the thought of Cam, and to remember that sweaty kiss and the look on his face as he used a single finger to lift the weight from me. If he could be that guy who went through life helping me deal with the weight of what fate threw at us, I’d be happy until the end of my days.
Yes, I was a sap sometimes. Call me a sappy romantic any day. That’s the way I liked it.
I’d tell him about Adam in due time, in due time.
*
Toria
The Lipstick Spy School was one of those upscale places I’d only dreamed about visiting. It was a destination event location that was relatively new, but always had a great deal of positive local buzz. Part spa, part adventure, part spy-themed resort. It was the place for bachelorette parties. It was my personal disappointment that none of the bachelorette parties I’d ever attended had been held there. Note to self—make sure my future maid of honor knows I want my bachelorette party at the spy school.
You can imagine my surprise, and delight, when Cam texted that he’d booked a couples stone massage session there for Tuesday afternoon. Stone massage. Yum. It was the perfect thing for easing sore muscles and pain, boosting immunity during this tail end of the flu season, and relieving stress and anxiety. When was the last time I’d pampered myself with a massage?
My stress levels were so through the roof that a massage could be considered therapeutic and essential. I could rationalize it that way, anyway. If I kept burning the candle at both ends, I was going to burn out. And we couldn’t have that.
In addition to all the usual little business issues—like, oh, making payroll—I was still dealing with the office space issue. Adding insult and injury to anxiety, the property manager was playing hide-and-seek and refusing to get back to my agent and me. There was a game afoot, and I meant to squelch it. I’d call in Lazer if I had to. In the meantime, some hot rocks on my back sounded like heaven.
The Lipstick Spy School was in a fashionable area of downtown Seattle along Fifth Avenue, nestled among the pricey shops and boutiques. It was a highly feminine, fashionable establishment—a spa, a beauty retreat, an adventure-vacation destination, which was why it surprised me that Cam had booked a massage there. The “school” was part of a franchise that had spy schools in cities nationwide. Each one was individually owned and operated.
As the name suggested, women went to spy school to be pampered and pretend to be spies. It was like escapist fiction come to life. Visitors learned how to dress like femme fatales. How to mix the perfect drinks. Self-defense skills. How to dance exotic dances. And they had some of the best stylists, makeup artists, and, apparently, masseuses in the area.
I was curious how the spy school got on Cam’s radar in the first place.
I made a note to ask him.
Wasn’t learning about the other person fun? So many things were a mystery. Each new nugget of knowledge was like a piece of treasure, a gift. Or maybe a horror. But I didn’t anticipate any horrors with Cam. He was such a straightforward guy. It was hard to imagine any skeletons in his closet.
I really squeezed this date in, which was unlike me. It showed how eager I was to see Cam again. Plus he was right—every muscle in my body now ached. I had just two hours to spare before meeting with a group of local military spouses who worked for me. We were meeting to discuss new designs for the next season’s product line. Usually I loved our meetings and looked forward to them. Just bad timing on this one.
I told Cam I’d meet him at the spa. My heart raced with anticipation as I stepped into the lobby and looked around for Cam, ready to erupt in a dopey “dead giveaway that I was falling for him” smile. Maybe I could pick up tips on mastering a poker face while I was here. I expected him to be sitting casually, reading on his phone as he waited for me. He was nowhere to be seen. I’d actually arrived first? I hoped traffic wasn’t keeping him.
I checked my phone. Nothing.
I took the opportunity to absorb the ambience of the lobby. Do you want to know a secret? I’ve always wanted to be a kickass Bond girl. But a kind one. Don’t laugh. Beautiful spies can be kind, too. I settled for being a kickass businessperson.
The lobby was lightly perfumed to set a mood. I inhaled and closed my eyes, letting the scent speak to me. Adventure and sensuality. Yes, that was it, at least in my imagination. The place was elegantly, tastefully decorated to appeal to the kind of woman who imagined herself a sophisticated, mysterious woman of the world. It was pure fantasy. The receptionist, a beautiful woman in a low-cut red dress, the signature uniform of the school, greeted me.
“I have an appointment for a massage.” I smiled at her and gave her my name.
The receptionist nodded and looked me up on her computer. “All checked in. Your friend has already arrived. He’s waiting for you on the spa level.” She picked up an old-fashioned red phone. “Take the elevator to the third floor.” She pointed. “I’ll call it for you.”
A few minutes later, I arrived in the reception area of the spa. When I stepped out of the elevator, an attendant greeted me by name and showed me to my changing room. I was impressed by the customer service. Everything was high class.
She handed me a robe. “We need you completely naked. Then put on the robe.” She indicated a plush chair. “When you’re ready, you can wait there. Kiki will come to get you shortly. In the meantime, may I bring you a beverage? Cucumber water? Lavender water? A cleansing smoothie?”
I opted for cucumber water, changed, feeling suddenly nervous—I mean, naked? Come on. Of course I knew I’d be naked, but I didn’t think about it. Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, either. No sooner was I undressed and robed than Kiki came to get me.
She showed me into the room—no Cam. So I got led to the slaughter first? That was how it worked, huh? Actually, I was relieved. Now I’d be able to get on the table and not worry about preserving my modesty.
“This is your massage table.” Kiki patted the table. “Don’t be shy. We’ll get you settled in before the gentleman arrives.”
The table was luxurious, padded, and gently scented with relaxing lavender and peppermint. A towel was draped across the middle. There was a fluffy pillow and a plush rolled towel at one end. They were determined not to strain my neck.
I slid onto the table and out of my robe. Kiki covered my lower half discreetly with yet another towel. The room was softly lit with a small, burbling fountain in the corner for atmosphere. It smelled like the rest of the school, but with a twist of warm basalt and fragrant massage oils.
I had no sooner settled in when the door opened and Cam walked in with his masseuse. He wasn’t wearing a robe, just a towel. The rolled towel wasn’t going to cure the whiplash I got from twisting around to stare at him with a big, drooling grin on my face. His towel was so low that I could see the V to his groin. One little slip…
I pushed that thought away for my own sanity. He’d looked hot in his gym clothes. The towel left little to the imagination, giving me no worries he’d look hotter completely out of his clothes. Forget the hot rocks, all I needed was to look at him.
“Hey, beautiful.” His voice was low and flirty. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I ran my gaze up and down him, letting my interest show. “Good to see you, too. Wonders never cease—I beat you here.”
“I’ve been here for a good half-hour.”
“I beat you to this room.”
He laughed. “You’re going to love this massage. Fair warning—when Kiki is through with you, you’ll be so relaxed you’ll have trouble standing.” He pointed to our masseuses. “These two ladies are the best.”
“You come here often?”
“Whenever I can.” He winked at his masseuse as walked to his table.
I got the impression he’d generously asked his regular masseuse to attend to me. I held my gaze steady, waiting for his towel to drop.
He hopped up on the table, flipped onto his stomach, and untied his towel. He pulled the edges out from beneath him and there he was, ready for his massage. I hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of anything more than I’d seen when he walked in.
I indicated the room around us. “It’s beautiful here. But not generally the kind of place one associates with men. How did you…come to try it?”
His answering grin was not the least bit self-conscious. “Good deep-dive dating question. Trying to determine how I got in touch with my feminine side?” He laughed. “Through Lazer. Who else? Lazer the fashion plate.” He laughed again. “And Ashley. Lazer is good friends and business partners with the American duke, Riggins Feldham.”
“I’ve heard of him.” I was impressed.
Cam nodded. “Riggins is apparently a longtime friend of Milia, the owner. He introduced them—Lazer and Milia.” Cam cleared his throat. “Lazer and Milia became even closer friends, if you catch my meaning, and parted just as friends. But that was all well before Lazer met Ashley. And probably more than you wanted to know.”
“No, it’s fascinating,” I said. “But it doesn’t explain your addiction to the place.”
“Milia is a mistress of disguise, and makeovers. Lazer hired her to pretty us up before we hit the dating scene. You should have seen us before.” He caught himself. “Or maybe not. We weren’t a pretty group. And then we trained with Stryker here—”
“Stryker works here, too?” I nearly popped up on my elbows out of habit, nearly forgetting my topless status. I caught myself just in time.
A quick look of disappointment crossed Cam’s face. He’d almost gotten me. He nodded, watching me with round, dark eyes. “They have a gym here, too. A nice one. Well equipped. He sometimes teaches classes for Milia.”
Cam paused. “You really should meet Milia sometime. She’s… Well, you have to meet her. But she’s a genius with this place.”
Kiki and Cam’s masseuses had been busy readying the room while we chatted. I had the feeling Cam pulled his punches because the walls—or, in this case, the women—had ears.
Kiki interrupted. “Do you have an area in particular you’d like worked?”
“Pretty much everywhere. I hurt all over.” I pointed at Cam. “His personal trainer put us through a merciless workout a few days ago.”
Kiki smiled. “Stryker?”
Cam nodded. “Who else?”
“Now I understand. We’ll begin with the back and the spine. But we’ll work the whole body, including the palms all the way down to the toes. We’re using basalt rocks heated to one hundred and forty degrees today, the perfect temperature to get blood flowing and ease soreness. When we’re done with you, you won’t even remember the pain you were in when you arrived.”
“You won’t remember how to walk or stand, either,” Cam said.
*
Cam
The minute the hot rocks hit my spine and my masseuse began working her magic with them, I relaxed. As much as a guy who’s hot for the naked woman next to him can relax. This intimate couples massage had seemed like such a genius move when I suggested it. I have to admit—I stole the idea from Lazer. Yes, just about everything I knew about dating I’d learned from my buddy, the former playboy. It was good stuff. Until I realized the agony of defeat. Wanting Toria so badly and not being able to touch her, or even talk to her, was torture. All I could do was look and imagine. But not too hard, not if I didn’t want my line of thinking to become uncomfortable and obvious.
Her towel covered her to the top of her firm, shapely butt cheeks, leaving off just where the crack began. I’d turned my head so I could look at her, and ostensibly talk to her, during our massage. She was turned toward me. Come to think of it, I’d never had a group massage before, or I would have realized this wasn’t the atmosphere for chatting.
I did have the pleasure of watching Toria relax as Kiki worked on her. Toria closed her eyes, giving me the gratification of staring all I liked at the roundness of her bare breasts spilling to the sides. The masseuses were too busy concentrating on their work to notice. And I could always pretend to be studying Toria’s face.
People look completely different with their eyes closed. Her long, dark lashes rested against her creamy cheeks. Her full lips were relaxed and gently parted. I imagined myself waking up to her sleeping next to me looking like that. For now, I drank my fill of her, wanting more, more, more, the full buffet.
I was a seasoned pro at getting massages. They never ceased to ease out the tension and relax, but it wasn’t having the same effect on me as it was on Toria. Her breathing was calm and shallow. From time to time, she smiled with her eyes closed.
“This is heaven,” she whispered.
All right. So not the best date for further conversation and getting to know each other. Unless you counted what the other person looked like completely relaxed.
Mr. Accidental Rival_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Cam Page 8
