Serenity (Inevitable Book 5)

by Janet Nissenson

  He was drawn to her, he acknowledged now. Drawn to her kindness and compassion, and the way she expressed concern for his wellbeing. It had been a long, long time since anyone had gone out of their way to take care of him, to encourage him to think about himself, and to forget about the rest of the world for a little while. God knew that Lindsey was probably the least nurturing person in the world, and she had always assumed he would take care of everything when it came to the house and their finances and even the children. Hayley was unfortunately evolving into a mini-me of her mother, and was completely caught up in her own teenaged universe at the moment. Casey continued to be a great kid, the one person who made life worth living most days, but he wasn’t even a teenager quite yet and couldn’t be expected to shoulder too much responsibility at this point in his life. Elena looked out for him, of course, but Matthew was never quite sure if most of that was because she considered it the chief responsibility of her very well-paid job - and also because she was just bossy by nature. The rest of his staff - including managers, board members, and investors - were all quick to make multiple demands on his time, but rarely if ever asked if he needed anything.

  He didn’t think - or, more accurately, didn’t know - if Sasha was attracted to him as well. He might have been forty years old, and married for nearly half that time, but he was admittedly still naïve when it came to the opposite sex. Of course, it had been a hell of a long time since he’d dated or even thought about another woman, and he had zero idea at the moment about the best way to pursue his attraction to Sasha. Nor did he have any friends he could consult, with the exception perhaps of Ian. But Ian seemed rather protective of Sasha, likely because of her close friendship with Tessa, and Matthew wasn’t at all sure that he would approve of his interest in her.

  As the day wore on, Matthew decided the best course of action would simply be to let things unfold naturally. Whether that resulted in things remaining status quo, or with him simply asking Sasha out for coffee or dinner, or wound up with the two of them in bed, he was content to let nature take its course.

  Of course, he mused, it probably wouldn’t hurt if he left the office a little early today just to make sure the condo was tidied up in anticipation of Sasha’s arrival this evening. He’d make sure there was plenty of herbal tea on hand, maybe chill a bottle of wine, and have some fresh fruit available as well. As he jotted down a list, he wondered if buying a bouquet of flowers would be considered overkill.

  Chapter Seven

  Sasha tried her best not to feel intimidated upon entering the lobby of Matthew’s condo building, telling herself that he was far from her only client who was wealthy and lived in luxurious accommodations. The Gregson’s house, for example, was a veritable mansion, three stories high and surrounded by a security gate. But as lavish as Ian and Tessa’s home was, it still felt warm and welcoming every time Sasha set foot inside the door, and she had never once felt out of place there. Unlike, for example, the way she was beginning to feel right now in this high-ceilinged, discreetly lit lobby with its white marble floors and walls, and the dark-haired, bespectacled concierge who was regarding her suspiciously from behind his desk.

  “May I help you, madam?” he inquired in a snooty voice, the accent sounding vaguely British or perhaps Australian.

  “Yes, please,” replied Sasha in the sort of soothing tone she used to calm particularly stressed out clients. “I’m here to see Mr. Bennett. Can you please let him know that Ms. Fonseca has arrived?”

  The concierge gave her a look of disbelief, as though he couldn’t comprehend why this woman who resembled a gypsy was asking to see the building’s wealthiest resident. Sasha sighed, wondering if she should have taken Chad’s fashion advice after all and worn something besides the batik printed peasant skirt and hip length cotton sweater that she’d selected. Trouble was, she thought, that this was actually one of the nicer outfits in her limited wardrobe. And Sasha highly doubted that any of her clothing would have met with the approval of the uptight young man who was still regarding her warily. Now here, she thought rather meanly, was someone who was in dire need of a relaxing massage, and whose jaw muscles probably ached constantly from maintaining that stiff upper-lipped expression of disapproval.

  “I’ll inform Mr. Bennett of your arrival,” he informed her disdainfully. “Please have a seat.”

  He motioned to a trio of plush white leather sofas that had been arranged around a low, glass-topped table. Sasha hid a smile as she took a seat, thinking that the concierge was probably afraid she’d dirty something. With a rare display of devilry, she plunked her oversized brown and gold brocade shoulder bag on top of the table, watching with ill disguised glee as the concierge was unable to hide his horror. She briefly considered stretching her legs out and resting her espadrille shod feet on the table, but too many years of being forced to abide by her mother’s rules about ladylike behavior stopped her just in time.

  As she waited to be granted admittance to Matthew’s condo, Sasha fretted yet again about whether this had been a wise decision or not. There had really only been a couple of occasions in the past when male clients had tried to cross a line with her or outright proposition her, and neither of those times had occurred during an in-home appointment. But she had always been very attuned to things like emotions and feelings, and had even attended a few workshops and read several books about reading the auras of others. It was how she’d known that Julia’s unborn twins were going to be boys, and how she’d sensed from the first moment after meeting Matthew at the Gregsons’ wedding last June that he was unhappy.

  And now, after having had several massage sessions with Matthew, she was quite sure that he was attracted to her, both physically and emotionally. Small wonder, she supposed, given the fact that he’d been living apart from his wife and children for months and was obviously lonely. Sasha was used to her clients confiding in her about a wide variety of things during their massages - not unlike what you’d tell your hairdresser or manicurist, Julia had joked once. And Matthew had been no exception, freely expressing his frustrations about work and family during their sessions.

  But he had also made it a point to ask her personal questions, to engage her in conversation, and at times it almost felt to Sasha that he was flirting with her just a little. Not that she was an expert on that sort of thing, however, but enough men had tried to hit on her during her twenty-eight years that she could recognize the signs. And while Matthew himself seemed more than a little awkward and definitely out of practice, she was pretty sure that he’d begun to lay the groundwork for putting the moves on her. And it was that particular realization that made her wonder for perhaps the tenth time since agreeing to this in-home appointment if her being here this evening was the right thing to do. In fact, maybe she should just tell Matthew she wasn’t feeling well and that they needed to re-schedule. She could ask the concierge to -

  “Sasha. It’s so great to see you. I really, really appreciate your agreeing to come over here this evening.”

  She glanced up to find Matthew smiling down at her, and looking far more casual and relaxed than she was used to seeing him. Instead of his usual suit and tie he was wearing jeans and a plain gray T-shirt, with a pair of Adidas trainers on his feet.

  Sasha took the hand he extended towards her as he helped her to stand. “It’s no problem at all,” she assured him, even though she felt less than confident in her own words. “I understand how busy you are, that you can’t always make it into the studio.”

  He kept a hand on her elbow as they began to walk towards the elevators, but paused as they reached the concierge desk. The dark-haired man who’d been so snooty towards Sasha was all smiles now as Matthew approached.

  “Yes, Mr. Bennett. What can I do for you this evening?” he practically cooed.

  Matthew’s gaze narrowed, and he did not return the concierge’s smile. “When Ms. Fonseca visits again in the future, you’re to allow her right up. No need to call and get my app
roval next time. And if you could please let Xavier and the rest of the concierge staff know, I’d appreciate it. Thank you, Gareth.”

  Gareth looked visibly stunned at this instruction, but was evidently too well-trained and well-mannered to offer up any sort of protest. Instead, he merely stammered, “Of - of course, Mr. Bennett. I’ll make a note of it immediately. And please let me know if there’s ever anything I can do to offer assistance when you visit, Ms. Fonseca. The concierge staff prides itself on taking very good care of our residents and their guests.”

  Sasha didn’t really have it in her to be mean or catty to anyone, and the smile she offered Gareth was sincere. “I appreciate that, Gareth.”

  “Let’s head upstairs,” urged Matthew as he steered her towards the elevator. He took a key card out of his back pocket and inserted it into a slot at the top of the panel of floor buttons.

  At Sasha’s quizzical look, he grinned a bit sheepishly and put the card back in his pocket.

  “I’ve got one of the penthouse units,” he explained. “The elevator only stops at that floor if you use this access card. Not really my idea to buy such a big place, by the way. When my board of directors suggested the company acquire a condo near the office to use for visitors, I envisioned something a little more on the compact side. But it was definitely convenient to have this place available when I filed for divorce, even if it’s not exactly my style. Ah, here we are.”

  The sleek, ultra-modern elevator had zoomed up thirty-six floors in what felt like a matter of seconds, and Sasha was glad that she didn’t suffer from either motion sickness or fear of heights. Still cupping her elbow in his hand, Matthew ushered her to the right at they exited the elevator.

  “There are only four penthouse units in the entire building,” he explained as he opened a set of wide double doors. “Two on each of the top floors. I’ve got a view of the bay from mine, while the other has a city view.”

  And what a view it was, thought Sasha in awe as she walked slowly inside the spacious, light-filled condo. She ignored the polished wood floors, sleek cream and gray furnishings, and the various paintings and sculptures that hung from the walls or rested on tabletops as she glided over to the closest window. The sun was just beginning to set on this balmy October evening, and the view of San Francisco Bay was indeed breathtaking. She stared out at the cityscape in awe, mesmerized by how tiny everything looked from this height, and enchanted by so many bright lights. She was sorely tempted to fling open the door that led out to a spacious balcony in order to get an even closer view, but somewhat belatedly recalled why she was really here this evening.

  “Sorry,” she apologized as Matthew appeared at her side. “I didn’t mean to space out that way. But this view is really spectacular. I can understand why your company wanted this particular unit.”

  He nodded. “It’s a pretty special place, that’s for sure. And surprisingly quiet given the location. There’s another balcony that you access through the master bedroom, and that one is even more private. I’ve, uh, got all the equipment set up in my home office, though. Would you - should we go take a look?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  En route, Matthew gave her a quick tour of the spacious condo, which consisted of a living room, dining room, enormous eat-in kitchen, a family room, home office, three bedrooms, and three and a half baths. The décor throughout the unit was sleek, cool, and modern, not at all what Sasha normally liked, but even so she could appreciate the clean, simple lines of the furniture, and admired the pieces of modern art that had been hung at strategic locations.

  “Here we are. I hope I got everything you’ll need. And that all of it’s okay.”

  Matthew sounded so anxious, almost apprehensive, that she gave him a reassuring smile even before entering the room he used for his office. But upon seeing the top of the line massage table that had been set up in the middle of the room, Sasha couldn’t stop herself from gasping in surprise.

  “Wow.” She ran a hand almost reverently over the sturdy oak frame, and the exquisitely soft sheets that covered the thick table pads. “You might have gone a little overboard here, Matthew. The tables we have at the studio aren’t half this nice. Same with the sheets.”

  “That’s just part of it. Look.”

  He hurried to show her the rest - the half-dozen Jo Malone bergamot scented candles that he began to light; the tray of assorted massage creams, oils, and ointments; the iPod in its docking station that began to play some soft, relaxing music at the touch of a button. The room was lit only by a fabric covered floor lamp in one corner, but the lights from the city, not to mention the magnificent blaze of the sunset, nearly flooded the room with brightness.

  She was deeply touched that he had gone to so much trouble, far more so than any of her other clients had ever done, and she knew without having to ask that he had ordered all of this himself, hadn’t delegated the task to his assistant or another staff member.

  “It’s lovely. Just lovely,” she told him earnestly, placing a hand lightly on his forearm. “Thank you for arranging for all of this so quickly, Matthew. But these weren’t on the list I gave you.”

  Sasha took a deep, appreciative sniff of the lavish bouquet of autumn flowers that had been expertly arranged in a hammered bronze bowl - tiger lilies, chrysanthemums, daisies, roses, all in shades of bronze and gold and burgundy.

  “No.” He looked down at his feet a bit uncertainly. “Those - those are just for you. As a way to thank you for coming here this evening. I hope I’m not keeping you from something important, that you didn’t have to cancel plans or re-schedule something.”

  “I didn’t,” she told him gently. “And there’s no place I’d rather be this evening than right here in this beautiful room with the amazing view and gorgeous flowers and my favorite client. Speaking of which, I’ll leave you to get ready, hmm? I need to wash my hands. I’ll just use the bathroom we passed out in the hall, if that’s all right.”

  Matthew’s eyes had widened when she’d referred to him as her favorite client, and the smile that lit up his face made something in her tummy begin to flutter with - what? Nerves? Anticipation? Desire? Or maybe a little bit of each. Sasha beat a hasty retreat, closing the door after her, as she struggled to bring her wayward emotions under control.

  ‘You’ve got to remember that he’s just a client,’ she told herself sternly as she washed her hands in the elegantly appointed bathroom. She was pretty sure the bathroom was larger than the bedroom she occupied at Chad and Julio’s. ‘A really good looking, and really sweet one, but a client just the same. Act like a professional, Sasha. And no more giving him compliments, understand? The poor man obviously needs a boost to his ego, but that’s really not your responsibility, is it?’

  She took a minute or two to run through a few deep breathing exercises of her own, something she often did when she needed to focus for an extended period of time. When she knocked on the bedroom door a moment later, Sasha felt much more in control of herself, with renewed determination to keep this evening’s session strictly professional.

  But as the next hour progressed, she found it increasingly more difficult to remind herself that Matthew was simply her client - not her boyfriend and definitely not her lover. He seemed to be extra responsive this evening, groaning and grunting a bit louder than usual when she found a sore spot or dug a little deeper into a knotted muscle. Or moaning in pleasure when she soothed away the tension he always seemed to hold in his neck and upper back.

  Maybe it was the fact that they were all alone up here in his penthouse condo instead of back at the yoga studio, where there were always other people close by. Or it could have been the sensuous, musky scent of the candles as they continued to burn, combined with the hypnotic strains of the violin piece that was currently playing on the iPod. All of those factors combined to make Sasha hyper-aware of the smooth, leanly muscled masculine flesh beneath her hands, and of the clean, fresh scent of his skin, as though h
e’d showered just before her arrival this evening. Several times during the massage she had to pause and take a few more of those deep, calming breaths, feeling the need to continually re-focus her energy and attention on what she was doing.

  She was also reminded - reluctantly so - of exactly how long it had been since she’d had sex. Long months, maybe closer to a year, she figured, and gave her head a little shake in bemusement. She had never been one to sleep around, or feel that she desperately needed a man in her life. Too many years spent watching one or the other of her parents with their current paramour had turned her off the concept of casual, meaningless sex. And while she had never actually been in a long-term, committed relationship, at the same time she had always liked the men she’d slept with, had had something in common with them, and for the most part had remained friends with them after the physical part of the relationship had fizzled out.

  Her aunt Linda had been accurate in her description of Sasha during their most recent visit. Sasha was very much a creature of sensation and emotion, had always been comfortable in her body, and while her attitude about sex was nowhere near as carefree and relaxed as that of her parents’, she was honest enough to admit that she liked sex, enjoyed being intimate with a man, and had missed sharing a bed with one.