A Heart to Call Home

by Amanda Torrey

  “You like my dancing.” She stated matter-of-factly.

  He nodded. And gulped.

  “Maybe I should give up on the hospitality industry and switch to exotic dancing.”

  She used the bar stool as a prop and moved her hips and ass like a back up dancer in a rap video.

  “Reed…”

  “Oh, don’t look so uptight.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her hips to his.

  Jesus—how much could he take?

  “Reed…”

  “Mmm. I like how you growl my name.”

  “I wasn’t growling.”

  “No?” Her breasts pressed to his chest, and it was all he could do not to grab her ass and force her even closer.

  “Let’s get something to eat.”

  She reached up and nibbled his ear.

  “Reed…”

  The song changed to a fast-paced dancing song, and her mood changed with it. She squealed and skipped away, and he had to get himself together before he could follow her.

  By the time his deep breathing helped his throbbing erection to ease up, she was on the dance floor, surrounded by predatory young guys.

  He stood to the side. He wasn’t a dancer. And he wasn’t about to try to compete for her attention.

  He leaned against a pole, arms crossed, trying to ignore the sensations her dancing provoked in him.

  She noticed him standing to the side and waved to him. He smiled, but stayed put.

  She did some crazy arm-dancing thing, calling out to him to join her. Some overly randy twenty-something began to grind against her, and before Rogan could make it over, she pushed the jerk away and danced toward Rogan.

  “Tease!” The drunk boy called out.

  “Yup!” She returned, laughing and swaying.

  The song ended, and as it transitioned, she strolled toward him. Her seductive stride turned a little wobbly. An overanxious group of women rushed the dance floor, bumping into an already unsteady Reed. Before he could catch her, she plummeted to the floor, hitting her head on a pole.

  He lifted her and carried her to the bar.

  “Ice!” He demanded.

  Reed laughed as Jake scrambled to fill a cloth with ice.

  “I’m fine!”

  “How much do you think your poor head can take before it fights back?”

  Reed reached up and stroked his cheek.

  “You’re very handsome, you know.”

  “And you’re very drunk. And probably have another concussion. Next time we’re doing something safe.”

  “I want to go skydiving.”

  “Hell no.”

  “It’s so cute that you’re protective of me.”

  “How many of those drinks did you have?”

  “I might have had a little wine before you picked me up.” She chewed on her cuticle. “You make me nervous.”

  “I make you nervous?” His rumbling laughter made her bounce as he held her on his lap.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I’ve never told anyone I was nervous before.” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Tell anyone and I’ll slay you.”

  “You will, huh?”

  She nodded solemnly, eyes wide and golden.

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him on the lips, then jumped up and started toward the dance floor.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Not so fast, boss. Time to call it a night.”

  “Are you kidding? We just got here.”

  “And you’ve already sustained one injury.”

  “That was just a little bump.”

  He pulled her toward his stool, closing his legs around hers to hold her captive.

  Reed’s shoulders slumped in defeat, all signs of flirting and teasing rushing out of her like a deflating balloon.

  “This is never going to work, is it? I’ll never be laid back and sexy.”

  He couldn’t stand the dejection in her voice and posture.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “You’ve got the sexy down pat.”

  “Hmmph.” She rolled her eyes.

  “You just need to relax.” He picked the ice pack off the counter, holding it to her head. “You’re growing an egg.”

  “Ooh, so sexy. Lovely lady lumps on my head.”

  He surprised himself by chuckling.

  “You always manage to surprise me.” He meant it, too.

  “How?”

  “You’re not at all who I thought you were.”

  “I don’t want to know what your impressions of me were. I only want to move forward.”

  He nodded.

  “Listen, you’re always the planner, right?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  “So if you’re changing your colors, you should let me plan the date.”

  She paused, and he watched her expression change as the wheels in her head turned.

  “Okay.” She started nodding in that slow, unsure way that people nodded when they were working hard to convince themselves. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow night.” She agreed.

  Rogan ignored the hooting and hollering from Jake as he escorted Reed out of the bar and to the car.

  He also ignored the pounding of his heart as she stared intently at him the whole ride home.

  Chapter Nine

  Rogan made Reed promise she’d wait for him to come to the door. She felt ridiculous, sitting on the worn out sofa while she knew he had pulled into the driveway, but he said he owned this date and she had to go along with anything he planned.

  A shiver of excitement tickled its way through her.

  She had always been the take-charge type. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone had tried to woo her. Maybe it was her own fault, but maybe she hadn’t been around strong enough men.

  Rogan knocked on the door, and Reed smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt. She had purchased this particular item of clothing because it looked like a replica of the hippie clothes her mother used to wear. The peasant shirt made her feel womanly and free. It even complimented her stick figure.

  She opened the door with a smile, but Rogan took her breath away. Dressed in black from head to toe, he looked… charming. Powerful.

  Powerfully charming.

  From behind his back, he pulled a bouquet of white flowers, set in a crystal vase.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She brought the elegant bouquet to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent. “And so thoughtful of you to include the vase.”

  “I haven’t seen one around here.”

  His eyes were intense, focused.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  His voice, husky and low, sent chills through every cell of her body.

  “Thank you. So do you.”

  She placed the vase on the table inside her door, then accepted his arm.

  “What, no limo?” she joked.

  “Eh, they aren’t worth the money.” A scowl wrinkled his face, but he soon relaxed his expression and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I forgot for a moment that this is a date. No money talk.”

  “Actually, I agree with you. They aren’t worth the money. And I’d much rather have you as a chauffeur.”

  He lifted her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. The simple gesture made her shiver.

  When she had first met him, she never would have guessed he could be so chivalrous.

  He had even added a linen scented car freshener to his now spotless SUV. No more Cheerios stuck to her thighs.

  “Where are we going?” She began the interrogation as soon as he shifted into drive. “I should probably tell you that I can’t stand surprises.”

  He didn’t answer. Just sent her a sidelong look, grinned a little, and kept driving.

  “Where’d you get this scar?” She rea
ched over and traced the thin, white mark that ran over his eyebrow.

  “An accident.”

  “I didn’t think you did it on purpose.”

  He remained silent. She noticed his knuckles turning a little white as he gripped the wheel. His shoulders tensed.

  She pulled away, setting her hands in her lap where they wouldn’t cross any other boundaries.

  A few minutes later, he pulled into a spot in front of the bookstore downtown.

  “Did you need to run some errands?”

  “This is part one of our date.” His tone was lighter, more jovial, as if they hadn’t just experienced some strange, silent altercation that she didn’t understand.

  “The bookstore?”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  “I read all the time. Well, I do in the summer. When I have time.” She paused. “Has it really been two years since I’ve read a book?”

  Horrified at the realization, she made a promise to herself that she’d stock up on books and read every night.

  How had she become so busy in her life that she couldn’t make time to do something as pleasurable as reading?

  “I’m not here to judge. I’m just here to set the stage for our date.”

  She followed along—a position she had never found herself in prior to moving to Healing Springs—and tried to redirect him when he led them to the romance section.

  “I think you meant to stop up there.” She pointed to the front of the store where all the book club books were.

  “Nope. I’m right where I intended to be.”

  He pulled a book off the shelf. The redheaded bride on the cover smiled back at Reed as Reed peered around Rogan’s shoulder.

  “The Counterfeit Bride? Really? You read this stuff?”

  He didn’t say a word, just grabbed her hand and brought the book to the checkout counter.

  “Excellent choice. Liberty Blake is one of my favorite authors.” The young girl working the registers gushed about the book, and Reed was embarrassed to be associated with this entire situation. She read books that nourished the mind. Books that Oprah would recommend. Books with substance.

  Who was she kidding? She hadn’t read a book in ages. How nourished could her mind really be?

  And why was he buying a romance novel when they were supposed to be on a date, anyway?

  The man was a mystery.

  She held the book on her lap the whole ride. A few minutes later, they pulled into his driveway.

  “Did you forget something?”

  He got out and opened the door for her.

  “What are we doing?”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “You know, I probably should have run a background check on you. Are you bringing me here to lock me in your basement? Because I’ll have you know that I lived in the city for a very long time, and I feel it’s only fair to warn you that I have some remarkable self-defense moves up my sleeve.”

  She watched his chest bob up and down with unexpressed laughter.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed her hand.

  “I like holding your hand in mine. It’s so small.”

  “My hands are not small, Rogan.”

  He held their joined hands up to show her the difference in size. Okay, so maybe compared to his they were small. But in general?

  The familiar tension returned to her shoulders. She whisked it away like an unwelcome houseguest and squeezed his fingers with hers.

  “You still wear your wedding ring.”

  He stiffened at her words.

  “I guess I do.”

  The statements hung between them like a toxic fog. Rogan cleared his throat and increased his pace.

  “Come on, I have a special surprise planned for you.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  She hadn’t expected much, but she certainly thought they’d do something more than spend time with his family. If this was his idea of a romantic and relaxing date, she would have to let him know he was wrong.

  “The kids are with their grandmother for the weekend.”

  That familiar thrill boiled in her belly, shooting sparks of pleasure up and down her spine.

  “The weekend, huh? Feeling optimistic?”

  He laughed and opened the door for her.

  She smiled when she realized the house had been scrubbed clean. Not a trace of anything icky smelling remained.

  “You know I can’t stay the weekend, right? We’re on a tight schedule.”

  “I had no such expectation. The kids like to go to their grandmother’s house. And she loves having them. Can’t say I mind the break, either.”

  “As long as we’re clear.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  She sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Rogan. Would he ever learn?

  “Okay, okay. Don’t give that look. Come on over here.”

  He led her to a small, cluttered room, lined with bookshelves and a desk. A lone cot stood in the middle of the room. Fresh, crisp-looking sheets covered the small bed.

  She raised her eyebrows at him.

  He pulled a purple towel off the back of the door.

  “Here you go. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “What’s this?”

  He had to be losing his mind. This was not a date. This was a thinly veiled attempt to get her naked!

  “Lie on the cot, cover your back with the towel, and I’ll be back.”

  He closed the door before she could reply.

  She paced the small, cluttered room, her brain working hard to make sense of this strangeness. She had been on bad dates, but this took the cake.

  Pausing to study a bookshelf, she briefly considered rearranging the books into some semblance of order. Some of his books even had the spine facing inward.

  What kind of person did that?

  Hmm, not a romance novel in sight.

  Had she been tricked?

  How? Why?

  She had just decided to bolt when he returned to the room.

  “Why are you still standing there?”

  “Rogan, this is crazy. I don’t know what you thought was going to happen tonight, but I don’t work this way. I thought we were going on a date.”

  His eyes clouded and his lips turned to a slight frown. She felt like she had kicked a puppy across the room.

  “This is a date. We’re on part two.”

  How to tell a guy his planning was horrific…?

  “While I appreciate the thought and attention you put into this evening…”

  “Don’t you dare give me that ‘nice effort’ speech. Get out of those clothes and onto the cot. These hot stones won’t stay hot forever.”

  “Hot stones?”

  “For your hot stone massage. Hurry up.”

  He had planned a massage for her?

  “You hired a masseuse to come here?” She tried to hide the cheeriness from her voice, but her muscles stood up and cheered at the thought of having their kinks worked out.

  He shrugged.

  “That was incredibly thoughtful. I have been so sore with all this physical labor.”

  “I told you you needed a night of relaxation.”

  She grinned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll disrobe now. You should have said something. I thought you were all kinds of weird.”

  He bowed on his way out the door, after setting the tray of stones on a table next to the cot.

  She had read him all wrong. He was being a good friend.

  She removed her clothes, folded them neatly, and placed them on the neatest part of the desk she could find, hiding her bra and panties between the shirt and skirt. She spread out on the cot, face down, pulling the plush towel over her back end.

  The door opened, the lights dimmed, and she smiled as she waited expectantly, eyes closed.

  Most of the masseuses she had experienced in Manhattan didn’t speak English, s
o she kept quiet and let them go to work.

  She moaned when the first stone was placed on the center of her back. This was one type of massage she had never indulged in, though it had been on her never-ending To Do list.

  Small stones were added along her spine, while larger ones worked her bigger muscles. Once they were all placed, strong hands began massaging her feet.

  She sighed in pleasure.

  Best. Date. Ever.

  Reed felt herself drifting off into the deepest state of relaxation she had ever been in as her leg muscles were gently, yet deeply, massaged.

  “That feels so good.”

  His hands worked their way up the side of her body and onto her neck. Once he massaged the once-tense area, he replaced his hands with warm stones.

  She had found heaven. It was in this guy’s hands. The way he massaged her head, her ears, her temple—pure expertise.

  Rogan was a genius.

  She’d have to throw in a big tip—this masseuse was worth every penny. Maybe she’d hire this guy to work for her once her resort was open for business. She could have him come in on the weekends to start, then maybe add some weekdays once the guest list filled up, and then—

  “Stop thinking about work.”

  Rogan’s voice in her ear had her bolting upright, knocking stones to the floor.

  “What the hell!” Too late, she remembered she was naked. She covered her breasts with her arm, crouched to the floor, and grabbed the towel from the cot. “What are you doing?”

  Rogan stood on the other side of the cot, grinning like he had won the lottery.

  “I thought you hired a masseuse!”

  “I never said that.”

  She gripped the towel to her front, wishing she had her clothes on so she could pummel his smug face.

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “Why? Didn’t you enjoy your massage?”

  “When I thought it was being given by a professional!”

  “How could you not know it was me?” He stepped forward.

  “Stay over there!”

  He had the nerve to smile. A big, fat, juicy smile. The kind of smile she’d expect to see on the face of a teenage boy with his first issue of a stolen Penthouse.

  “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

  “I have to admit—I love it when you get riled up.”

  “You’re such a—”