On Pins and Needles

by Victoria Pade

  Josh held up one index finger as a sign for her to wait while he sneezed again. Twice.

  “Gesundheit,” Megan responded before going on. “I did find out a few things, but maybe we should go some where else to talk so you can concentrate.”

  “I’m concentrating just fine,” he said, his tone laced with innuendo as his gaze remained intently on her. “Just tell me what your father had to say.”

  Megan repeated everything she’d learned from the phone call. Then she said, “I was all ready to ask your questions about why they didn’t sell the house and where the traveling money came from when the call was disconnected. I did ask if my dad thought Chaney might have come back after we left, though. If maybe because he’d known the place would be empty he might have decided to set himself up for a little house-sitting. Dad didn’t think Chaney would have done that because he and Mom offered to let Chaney stay there if he wanted to, but Chaney said he was ready to move on. What I’m wondering is if maybe Chaney changed his mind for some reason. Maybe he even opened up the house to another drifter—someone he knew. They could have had a fight, Chaney was killed, and the other drifter buried him and took off without anyone being the wiser.”

  “Were there signs that the house had been broken into or used when you opened it up again?”

  “No, not really. There was a lot of dust on the dust-covers is about all. But still—”

  “So you think not one, but two drifters set up housekeeping in your house without anyone knowing it? And while they were here they had a fight, one of them was killed and the other one buried him in the backyard? But there wasn’t so much as a chair over turned in the process?”

  “Maybe the second drifter cleaned up afterward so there wouldn’t be a sign.”

  “Mmm. And how did this fight cause death without cracking the skull or any other bones?”

  “Maybe he sat on Chaney and held a pillow over his face.”

  “And maybe pigs can fly, Megan. That’s still not as likely as the possibility that your folks contributed to Chaney’s demise to take his gold doubloons and bank-roll their escapades.”

  “Except that’s not what happened. I told you, my father said he never saw the coins and he didn’t think they existed.”

  “What else is he going to say if he took them and sold them?”

  “Check coin dealers, why don’t you? See if you find some place that bought gold doubloons from somebody. I’ll bet you won’t.”

  “As a matter of fact, hitting the coin dealers in Cheyenne is tomorrow’s project.”

  “And I want to be there to say I-told-you-so when you find out no one has ever seen gold doubloons.”

  “I never doubted that you’d be right by my side,” Josh said as if he were enjoying going head-to-head with her.

  Then he had another sneezing attack before he said, “I still need to talk to your parents myself.”

  “I know. My father said he’d call back when the storm ends and I’ll make sure the first thing I tell him is to get hold of you. But he isn’t going to tell you anything different than he told me.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll just tell my superior I don’t need to talk directly to my prime suspect because he told his daughter that he didn’t do it.”

  Megan had a retort for that but before she could give it Josh went into more sneezing.

  When it finally subsided, she said, “I can take care of that, you know.”

  “My superior? What are you proposing, Ms. Bailey?” he joked.

  “Not a lap-dance for your boss,” she said. “I can take care of that allergy. Or at least I could if you weren’t such a big baby about the needles.”

  “I’m not afraid of needles,” he insisted, taking the bait.

  “What are you afraid of, then? That acupuncture might work and I’ll prove you wrong in that along with proving you wrong in suspecting my parents?”

  Josh crossed his arms over his chest and smiled a smile that said he wasn’t falling for any more of her tactics.

  “I think you’re just trying to get me on a table,” he countered, his tone full of insinuation.

  Okay, so that was an intriguing thought.

  But she fought it.

  “I had Clair Winston in today,” Megan said instead, reminding herself that she was a professional. “By the time I was finished with her, she left a believer. But then I guess she’s just more open-minded than you are.”

  “Is that so,” he said noncommittally.

  “You wouldn’t have anything to lose. If I recall, our deal was that if it doesn’t work, you don’t pay.”

  “But I’d still have had needles stuck in me.”

  “You won’t even feel them.”

  He went on staring at her and Megan didn’t have any idea what was going through his mind.

  But what was going through hers was that if he didn’t agree to the acupuncture this brief en counter in his driveway would be the last they saw of each other today. That there wouldn’t be any reason for him not to turn around and go back inside his house, or any reason for her not to go home to hers.

  And as much as she knew that would be for the best, she hated the thought.

  “Come on,” she cajoled, hoping she wasn’t being transparent. “If you don’t have a hot date tonight what else do you have to do?”

  The mention of a hot date made him smile again, the way he had when he’d believed—rightly—that she was jealous of that possibility.

  But he didn’t comment on it the way she thought he would. Instead he pushed off the fender with his hips—a motion that sent a little tingle of unexpected appreciation all through her—and opened the driver’s side door on her car for her.

  “Okay. I’ll follow you to your torture chamber and be your pin cushion.”

  “Wise choice,” Megan said as she worked to contain her pleasure and slid behind the wheel.

  “Buckle up,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir, officer, sir,” she clipped out like a boot camp recruit.

  But Josh merely smiled again, this time letting it stretch into a grin as he closed her door. Then he went to his own car.

  Which left Megan watching the way those black jeans made his already to-die-for derriere look.

  And thinking what an especially delicious delight the view was when it came with the knowledge that it wasn’t the last she was going to get to see of him tonight.

  Chapter 7

  NISSA HAD ALREADY CLOSED the office for the day when Megan and Josh got there. But the scent of lavender oil lingered in the air as Megan led Josh through the front door and turned on the waiting room light.

  “Do you want to read the literature or just get right to it?”

  His smile this time had a twist of wick ed ness to it. “Oh, by all means, let’s get to it.”

  Megan took Josh past the first treatment room where frolicking bunny rabbits were stenciled on the walls. There were toys in a box in one corner and a pint-sized play table and chairs in another, along with the massage and acupuncture table in the center. It was where she and Nissa treated children and it would never do for the big man who followed her.

  Instead Megan opened the door on the second room and went in ahead of him, turning on that light, too.

  “I’ll need to test you to make sure I know exactly what you’re allergic to. For that you’ll have to lie on your back on the table. Shoes and socks off, please.”

  “I can just leave my feet hanging over the end. Then my boots won’t get anything dirty.”

  “Your shoes and socks need to be off to do the acupuncture.”

  A slight frown tugged at Josh’s square brow. “Guess I never really thought about it but just how much undressing does this involve?”

  Megan endured a flash of temptation to tell him he had to take everything off. But she’d have a hard time explaining it once he realized it was unnecessary, so she said, “Shoes and socks off, shirt sleeves rolled up. That’s all.”

  “I’m not too sure I like the
idea of naked feet.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve seen a million of them. Ones with more than five toes apiece. Ones with fewer than five toes apiece. Even a few with webs.”

  That skeptical expression she’d seen on his face the day they’d met returned and for a moment he just stood at the end of the treatment table staring at her.

  She was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking about this time. He was thinking that maybe he wouldn’t go through with the acupuncture after all.

  “This is totally un professional,” Megan said before he had the chance to bail out. “But if it would make you feel better, I’ll take off my shoes and socks, too.”

  That idea brought out another smile, this one slow and devilish. “Okay. You first.”

  Megan turned her back to him. She barely raised the front of the long skirt of her dress, just enough to reach the thigh bands on each leg and roll off her tights without Josh being able to see anything. Then she slipped her feet out of her braided rope clogs and pulled the tights off, too.

  The tights went into the clogs and the clogs went against the wall before she spun around again, curling up the bare toes she had no doubt Josh would be looking for.

  She was right. His eyes went directly to the floor. And once more he grinned.

  “Ten toes. No webs. Nice,” he said.

  “Your turn.”

  The grin widened and Megan half expected him to go on refusing to take off his own shoes and socks like a mischievous boy who’d just won a game.

  But that isn’t what he did.

  He sat on the chair that out fitted each room for just that purpose and removed his boots and stockings. And while he did, he kept his eyes squarely on hers, as if he were one-upping her because he did it without turning his back to her.

  Megan patted the table then to remind him that was where she needed him. “The method I use for testing is called applied kinesiology. Or muscle testing, because that’s what it is. You lie on your back and hold small glass vials of the suspected allergens in your left hand and raise your right hand straight up in the air. If you aren’t allergic to the sub stance, you’ll be able to resist me pulling down on your right arm. If you are allergic to it, you won’t be able to.”

  Josh had gone as far as perching a hip on the corner of the treatment table, letting one bare foot dangle but keeping the other one flat on the floor.

  “You’re kidding, right?” he said.

  “No, I’m not kidding. It’s a valid procedure.”

  “You think that a little vial of anything is going to make me unable to keep you from pulling my arm down?”

  “If you’re allergic to it. Lie down and I’ll prove it to you.”

  He was very amused by this whole thing now. In fact, he chuckled to himself, shaking his head as if at a private joke.

  It didn’t bother Megan in the least.

  Then he finally stretched out on the table, lying his head on the pillow and smiling up at her. “Bring it on.”

  “Raise your right arm.”

  “Without any of your magic vials?”

  “Without any vials.” He did.

  “Resist me,” Megan instructed.

  “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ and tryin’ to do but I’m not havin’ much luck,” he said, purposely misunderstanding. Then he pretended to catch on. “Oh, you mean don’t let you pull my arm down.”

  “Mmm,” she confirmed, clasping his wrist and attempting not to notice how warm his skin was or how steely the bones she grasped. At tempting to stop the little electrical volts that skittered along her own nerve endings in response.

  He’s no different than any other client, she told herself.

  But that wasn’t easy to believe when her reaction to him was so totally unlike any reaction she’d ever had to any other client. Or to any other man, for that matter. Including Noel.

  Megan forced herself to continue in spite of it, though.

  “Here we go,” she said, putting all her strength into pulling his arm down. She couldn’t.

  “Okay, now with the vial,” she told him, taking one from the collection lined up on the top of the corner cabinet.

  She handed the vial to him and said, “Ready?”

  “Give it all you’ve got.”

  She didn’t have to. Taking his thick wrist in her grasp the second time, she pulled his arm down as easily as the handle on a slot machine.

  “Oh, come on. There’s a trick to this,” Josh said, his surprise ringing loud and clear.

  Megan took the vial from him, had him raise his arm and resist her again, then handed the vial back to him and proceeded to once more pull his arm down. “No trick.”

  “What’s in the vial? Kryptonite?”

  She laughed. “Are you comparing yourself to a super-hero?”

  “The cape is in the car. But don’t tell anybody. So what’s in the vial?” he repeated.

  “Plain old run-of-the-mill gasoline. It’s an extremely toxic sub stance, which is what anything you’re allergic to is to your body—a toxin. So the response is the same.”

  “And doing this kinesiology thing will tell you what I am and what I’m not allergic to?”

  “Yes. What are you absolutely sure you’re not allergic to?” she asked.

  He thought about it. “Oranges.”

  She handed him a different vial, did the test and he was able to keep her from budging his arm from midair.

  Then she gave him another vial. “Horse hair.”

  And again he was weakened enough for her to bring his arm all the way down to the table.

  “You’re definitely allergic to that.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Josh muttered.

  “You told me yourself that horses made you sneeze.”

  “I mean I don’t believe how this works.”

  “There are a lot of alternative medicines and treatments in the world. Western medicine isn’t the be-all and end-all, you know.”

  Josh studied her for a long moment and Megan had the impression that he was still looking for the trick in what she’d done.

  But then he said, “Okay. I guess we’ll give it a try. But I’m still not convinced that sticking needles in me is going to make any difference.”

  “We have to finish the testing first,” she informed him, ignoring his continuing skepticism.

  It took nearly half an hour to determine that he was allergic to horse hair, hay and animal dander. But Megan explained that she could only treat him for one of the of fenders per time.

  Josh decided to start with hay.

  “I use eight needles,” Megan explained then. “One in the top of each foot, one in each shin, one in each hand in the fatty part between the thumb and the index finger, and one in each forearm. You’ll have to hold several vials—the one we’re clearing you for and others that strike the balance we need. You get to rest that way for twenty minutes or so—I’ll leave you alone with music and the lights turned down—and then I’ll come back and remove the needles, and for twenty-five hours after that you have to stay completely away from any contact with the sub stance to allow your system to clear and correct itself.”

  “Twenty-five hours?” he said as if she’d told him some thing outlandish. “Not twenty-six? Not nineteen? Not twenty-four hours, thirty-three minutes and eight seconds?”

  “Twenty-five hours. That’s just how long it takes your body to reset.”

  “And during that time do I have to dance around the oldest tree in town or howl at the moon when it’s in its final phase?” he teased.

  “You just have to stay away from hay for twenty-five hours,” she said patiently. “Now why don’t you roll up your sleeves while I put the needles in your feet and legs?”

  “Ah, the needles again. How big are they?”

  Megan showed him one after freeing it from its sterile wrapping. “It’s hardly bigger than the diameter of a human hair.”

  He studied it suspiciously, said, “A needle is still a needle,” but
finally gave her the go-ahead and Megan moved to the foot of the table.

  “I’ll need to push up your pant legs a little,” she warned when she got there.

  “Do what you have to do.”

  She did, edging his jeans just above mid-shin. Then she removed more needles from their wrap pings and went to work.

  As she did she was extremely aware of every detail of Josh’s feet and lower legs. Far more aware of every detail than she’d ever been of any client before him.

  His legs were thickly muscled and hairy. His ankles just a little bony. He had big feet—no shock in that since he was such a big man—but they were well cared for, free of calluses, the nails clean and cut.

  He was slightly flat-footed but not that or the bony ankles mattered. It didn’t even matter that what she had exposed before her was hardly the most attractive portion of anyone’s anatomy. Just the sight of his naked feet, calves and ankles, the intimacy of touching him, got to Megan. She felt flushed and warm inside, and she discovered a strong craving to see more of him. To touch more of him…

  But if taking off her shoes and socks had been unprofessional, it was nothing compared to those thoughts and feelings, and she told herself that in no uncertain terms.

  It just didn’t help much.

  “That’s it for down here,” she announced in a quiet voice she hoped Josh would believe was part of the therapy and not an indication of what was happening to her in response to treating him.

  “All the needles are in?” he asked in amazement. “I felt a tiny prick with one, I didn’t think you’d done any others.”

  “I’ll save my I-told-you-so for later,” Megan said, moving to the left side of the table.

  He’d rolled up his sleeves and the sight of his hands, wrists and forearms only intensified those unprofessional feelings she was having about him. Strong, powerful, capable arms and hands. And the yearning to be touched by them, held by them, hit her like a ton of bricks.

  But again she tried to keep it contained and made quick work of inserting the needles on the left side. Then she moved to the right to do the same there, and once she had, she handed Josh the various vials—three in one hand, three in the other.