“You know I’m right on this one.”
“You’ll never know for sure,” Kira scoffed.
Shayna leaned back on her hands. “Neither will you.”
“Which is fine with me.” Kira returned to working on her sand sculpture.
Shayna moved on to the next woman strolling by. “Now those are real.”
“The one in shorts? Really?” Kira poured on the doubt, even though she was pretty sure Shayna was right. Not that she was looking too hard. Even if no one could tell whether she was or was not looking from behind her sunglasses, she wasn’t going to stare like some sexist pig. Besides, the fun part wasn’t the scenery, it was riling Shayna up and watching her get all competitive.
“Hard to tell on the brunette in the black tankini,” Shayna said.
Kira didn’t even look. “I say fake.”
“Fake it is. And her friend?”
“Fake.”
When Megan had called in the morning to say she wanted to meet on the beach during a break between clients, Kira had given up any hope of focusing on work and had changed out of her work boots and jeans into shorts and clogs and a T-shirt whose constricting sleeves had long ago met with a deliberately unfortunate accident with a pair of scissors, leaving two ripped armholes. On her way to the beach, she’d happened to run into Shayna on the boardwalk, and gladly accepted her invitation to keep her company while she sunbathed, figuring that having someone to talk to would keep her from worrying too much about what to say when Megan showed up.
“You’re distracted,” Shayna accused.
“Just thinking.”
“Thinking about Megan?”
“Trying to figure out what she saw in her ex. If you ask me, the ex doesn’t even have curb appeal.”
“Good personality?”
“Not really.”
Kira built up a second mound of sand and shaped it into another hand, making the fingers of both hands touch but not quite clasp. She cleaned up the edges with a broken shell. Was this her subconscious’s way of telling her Megan was out of her reach? She held the shell above one of the hands, poised to draw the downstroke of the letter “M”, then realized what she was about to do and tossed the shell aside with a snort of irritation.
“Better to focus on the important things,” Shayna advised, “such as learning to not suck at Real versus Fake.”
“I do not suck,” Kira protested, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
“You do if you think those are fake.”
Those would be the ones she hadn’t even glanced at. “Whose did I say were fake?” Kira asked, just as a shadow approached from behind, entering her space. Crap.
“What are you two ladies up to?”
Yup, it was Megan. She had to have heard them talking. What she thought of what she overheard remained to be seen.
“Just watching the world go by?” Kira ventured.
Megan loomed in front of her in a white camisole and stylish white linen pants that were identical to those she’d worn the other night, belted this time with a lavender scarf. Her closet seemed to be full of white, and with good reason—she looked great in it. She was born to wear white.
Megan glanced up and down the beach, then back at Kira. “Watching the world go by. Uh-huh.”
Kira laughed. Megan did the suspicious mother thing quite well. “Actually, we’re—”
“Practicing some important skills,” Shayna cut in.
“Unless you’re into dating straight women, I seriously doubt this is a skill you’ll ever need,” Megan said.
“Hmm.” Shayna pretended to consider it. “You might be right about that. But I like to be prepared.”
“For what?” Kira said.
“You don’t have to be straight to get plastic surgery,” Shayna pointed out.
“Only willing to risk your life on an unnecessary elective procedure,” Megan said as she settled cross-legged on the edge of Kira’s towel, awfully close for someone who claimed she didn’t want to get close to her. “You both obviously spent too much time hanging out with your brothers when you were growing up.”
“Don’t have a brother,” Shayna said. She turned to Kira. “Is that where you learned to play this game?”
“Shayna, you taught me this game.”
Shayna clutched her heart, acting like she was shocked. That was Shayna for you—innocent until proven guilty.
“You teach it to everyone you know,” Kira reminded her.
Shayna shrugged. “Nothing to teach, really. It’s an inborn skill.”
Kira scooted away from Megan and lowered herself onto her back, careful not to bump into her guest or kick her sand sculpture. Positioned with her shoulders toward Megan, she reached her arms overhead and brushed her fingers under the wide hem of Megan’s pants to clasp her ankles. She held her breath, hyper-aware that she was touching Megan’s body and Megan hadn’t flinched. “You want to join us? You’d be good at this.”
“I’ll pass.”
She wished she knew what went wrong in Megan’s bedroom. Oh hell, she knew what went wrong. Maybe it was good that Shayna was here—so they wouldn’t be alone. Why else would Megan specifically ask that they meet on the beach instead of at the hotel?
When Megan had called, she’d hinted that she wanted to apologize for the other night, but what did that mean? It might mean that Megan was sorry she’d pushed her away—and Kira sincerely hoped it did. But she knew it didn’t. Because what it probably meant was that she wished she hadn’t led her upstairs, or touched her arm and stared at her like she wanted to undress her, or gotten up off the couch to begin with, or dared her to follow through on her supposed reason for coming over.
It could mean anything.
All she knew was that Megan felt responsible for part of this mess. And that she wanted to meet in a public place. As soon as that thought hit her, Kira let go of Megan’s ankles. She’d never made a woman afraid to be alone with her.
But she was wrong, because Megan purposefully placed both hands on her shoulders and began to massage her.
Kira’s gut tightened. Now she wasn’t sure what to think, because Megan wasn’t acting skittish at all. Not even conflicted. Kira closed her eyes and crossed “upset that they sort of touched” off her mental list of what Megan wanted to discuss with her.
Then, as if having her hands on a safe, socially acceptable part of her body wasn’t enough, Megan slid her hands down the slope of her shoulders and gripped her biceps. Kira forced herself to breathe normally. Yeah, Megan was willing to touch her because she was confident nothing was going to happen. She knew she could trust Kira not to try anything until she put up a life-size 150-watt green light.
Which was good, right? She trusted her.
“I’m sorry I was unclear with you the other night,” Megan said.
Shayna scrambled to her feet. “I’m going for a swim. Anyone want to join me?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
Kira hardly noticed. She was too busy absorbing the shock of Megan’s hands on her, warm and electric.
Megan brushed sand off her arms and continued rubbing. “I got a little freaked out.”
“That’s okay,” Kira said.
“It is? Because I’m picking up on some tension here.”
You think?
Kira struggled to act relaxed as Megan explored the shape of her arm muscles with gentle, kneading strokes. Did she honestly believe she could touch her like that and not make her tense up?
“I wish I hadn’t asked you to leave,” Megan said softly. “I overreacted.”
“We could try again. Do you want to come over tonight after you’re done with your clients? I’ll make you dinner.”
Megan stilled. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Kira shot straight up to a sitting position and twisted around. No. They had come this far, they were not going back to I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
“Why isn’t it a good idea? If it’s more than a question of professio
nalism…”
Megan dug her hands into the sand. “What else would it be?”
Do you like me, Megan? Do you like me enough to break your rules? Kira watched Megan draw her hands out of the soft sand and push them back in, fingers first. She’d break her own rules for Megan in an instant. Surely there was some chance she could raise her blood pressure—in the best possible way—without making her run.
“I’m sorry I made you freak out,” Kira said.
“Not your fault.”
Kira took off her sunglasses and squinted at her in the bright sunlight. “I’d kind of like it to be.”
***
“Look who I found,” Shayna said, returning to her beach towel with police officer Tammi Baldini, saving Megan from having to respond to the seductiveness behind Kira’s quiet words or from melting on the spot from the simmering heat in her eyes.
Kira, however, seemed to be in no hurry to turn her attention away. She gazed at her for several long seconds before glancing up at the new arrivals.
It took Megan several seconds more to recover before she, too, could acknowledge there were other people around—people who wanted to talk. “I thought you were swimming,” she told Shayna, taking in Tammi’s police uniform. No way had Shayna found her in the water.
“Nah. You didn’t see me?” Shayna said. “I turned back and went up to the boardwalk instead.”
Megan’s glance dropped to the police officer’s belt and fixated on her gun. She’d be a nervous wreck if she had to carry one of those around.
Tammi gave her a cocky tilt of her head that said Don’t you worry honey, I know how to handle this gun.
Oh, puh-lease. She bet she could make Tammi yelp if she got her hands on her quadratus lumborum. That swayback was a doozy.
“How’s Svetlana?” Tammi asked. She always asked.
“Still straight,” Megan said.
“That won’t last.”
Megan coughed. She never could tell if Tammi was serious.
“I read about you in the paper,” Tammi said.
“What?”
“Didn’t you see it? Your client, Barbara Fenhurst, was the victim of a suspected arson. When we went over to do the police report, she kept yammering on about how she needed to get a massage to deal with the stress. She must have said the same thing to the reporter, because your name made it into the article. I’m surprised she didn’t say anything to you about it.”
“I have an appointment with her in a few days.” A shiver ran down Megan’s spine. Was it more than a coincidence that the victim was one of her clients? Her karmic curse wasn’t going to start harming other people, was it? The very people she was trying to help?
The beach receded from her field of vision.
She was caught in a tug-of-war between two men who pulled at her from behind and a woman who gripped her hands from the front, screaming with rage at the men. The men ripped her away and dragged her down a cobblestone street to the center of the town square, where a crowd gathered around a stake set in a mound of kindling. They yanked her arms behind her back and dislocated her shoulder.
“Megan?”
She blinked. It was the same shoulder that had been giving her so much trouble before the angels used the ley lines to heal her.
Kira peered at her with concern. “Your eyes glazed over. You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Ms. Fenhurst got out of the house in time,” Tammi reassured her. “She’s okay.”
Megan blinked rapidly to clear her head. “She wasn’t hurt?”
“No, she was lucky,” Tammi said. “She told us she’s a light sleeper and heard a noise. She went to check it out and discovered her porch was on fire. The porch sustained a lot of damage, but the guys at the fire department got there before the fire spread to the residence itself. Are you real close to her?”
“No. She’s just a client.”
Tammi glanced at her watch.
“You’re sure the fire wasn’t an accident?” Megan asked.
“I’m not authorized to say too much about it, but as you’ll read in the paper, we did find an accelerant on Ms. Fenhurst’s porch, so yes, we’re pretty sure it wasn’t an accident.”
“Arsonists don’t usually strike only once, right? There’s a good chance whoever it is will set more fires?”
“It’s a strong possibility, yes. But we’ll be doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kira jogged along the edge of the water, enjoying the sea breeze and dodging the waves that washed away webbed bird prints and lapped at her feet. It was a nice time of day for a run. The lifeguards had gone home for the day and the sunbathers had left to have dinner or cruise the boardwalk, leaving the beach relatively abandoned. She zigzagged around a couple doing the romantic walk-on-the-beach thing, holding hands, and noticed there was someone still out there swimming. Was that…
“Megan?” Kira stopped in surprise, then sped along the shoreline toward her.
“Megan!” she called again, waving both arms overhead.
Megan waved and swam toward shore, standing when she reached the breakers. Water glistened on her bare shoulders above a purple bikini top, making her look like a goddess rising from the sea.
“Coming in?” Megan called.
Kira glanced down at her own running shoes, shorts and sleeveless T-shirt. “I’m not wearing a bathing suit.”
“You never have one when you want one, do you?” Megan teased.
“I—”
“So come in anyway.”
Kira laughed at herself. What was she doing, turning her down? She pulled off her shoes and socks and left them in dry sand higher up the beach, then returned to the water’s edge. She ran into the surf, ignoring the cold, and dove under a column of breaking waves.
Shit, it was cold. She waded the rest of the way to where Megan stood chest-high in the water, not quite sure whether her heart was racing from the shock of the water temperature or from watching Megan curl her fingers under the edge of her bikini top and tug to adjust it.
“For payback, you’re going to let me feed you dinner,” Kira said, catching her breath. She rubbed her arms and bounced up and down. “I’ll cook.”
Megan joined in with a leisurely, companionable bounce that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the need to stay warm. “Payback for what?”
“The cold,” Kira gasped. “Aren’t you cold?”
“You didn’t have to race in here. You’re allowed to get used to the water first.” Megan ducked underwater and surfaced a few feet away.
Kira rubbed her arms harder. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“It might not feel so cold.”
“I doubt it.”
“Should have left your T-shirt on the beach so it would be nice and dry and warm when you got out.” She made a show of staring at Kira’s chest. “You’re wearing a sports bra under there, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Kira stopped bouncing.
“Am I embarrassing you?” Megan smiled evilly—or as evilly as an innocent happy puppy face like hers could manage, which wasn’t much. “You look good in a wet T-shirt.”
It wasn’t like her. “Are you trying to get back at me for overhearing me playing Shayna’s sexist game?”
Megan’s smile broadened. “I ought to, but no.”
“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 no
t 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.”
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