Stumbling into Love
Page 9

When I reach her office, I find the door open. She’s sitting at her desk with her hair up in a ponytail, and her face is makeup-free. She has a Chinese-takeout container in front of her, and her eyes are on the computer. She looks beautiful. More beautiful than the night I met her, when she was dressed up and wearing makeup.
“Hey,” I say.
Her head whirls around, and her eyes widen when she hears my voice.
“You . . . you’re here.”
“I was in the neighborhood.” I shrug, knowing she’ll catch on to the fact that I’m using the same lame excuse she did when I found her outside my door attempting to leave me a note. “Do you have any openings?”
For a long moment, she does nothing but stare at me like she can’t believe that I’m standing in front of her.
“Mackenzie?” I take a step toward her, and she blinks.
“You . . .” She wiggles her head, causing her ponytail to move from side to side and to slide along her neck. “You want a massage?”
“Your mom suggested it might help me,” I remind her.
She rolls her eyes as her lips lift into a small smile. “My mom is insane.”
“A little,” I agree. I ask my question again. “Do you have any time available today?”
She nibbles her bottom lip, studying me before answering. “My next client isn’t scheduled to be here for another hour and a half.”
“I’m sure we can make that work,” I reply, feeling satisfaction when her eyes flash with desire and her nipples pebble under the thin top she has on.
“I . . . um . . .” She looks around. “You just need to fill out this paperwork.” She picks up a clipboard and shoves it my way without looking at me. “I’ll get everything set up, then come back out to get you.”
I don’t get a chance to reply before she takes off. I sit and fill out the paperwork as I was told. She comes back out a few minutes later and takes the clipboard from me. Tucking my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I watch as she reads over everything quickly.
She sets the clipboard on top of the desk, then shuts and locks the door.
“Do you always lock the door when you have a client?” I ask as she looks up at me.
“Yes. If I’m with a client, the door is always locked. That way no one can just walk in while I’m working,” she states.
I want to ask her about the fact that she buzzed me in without knowing who I was, but I can tell by the shortness in her tone that she wouldn’t appreciate me questioning her right now.
“If you’ll follow me.” She scoots around me, and I follow her down a very short hall and into a dimly lit room where soft music is playing in the background.
The walls are a light blue, almost white. The color goes well with the pictures of the ocean she has hung on the walls. Pulling in a lungful of air, I realize the room smells like her—like lavender and vanilla.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed and under the covers.” She points at the massage bed in the middle of the room. It’s covered in white sheets. “Just shout when you’re ready for me.”
“Don’t leave on my account.” I smile and toss my jacket on the chair in the corner of the room.
“This is my job.” The words are breathy, giving away the desire she’s feeling.
I use that to my advantage as I strip off my shirt.
“I take my job seriously.”
“As you should.” I nod in agreement, then kick off my sneakers and strip out of my jeans. “Should I leave them on, or lose them?” I question with my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers.
Her tongue wets her bottom lip, causing it to glisten—and my cock to throb.
“Leave them on.”
“All right.” I remove my fingers. “How do you want me?”
At my question, her eyes flare. She quickly schools her features and crosses her arms over her chest.
“On your stomach,” she instructs.
Turning my back to her, I get onto the table and lie down on my stomach, cursing my hard-on when my weight presses it into the unyielding mattress. Resting my face in the cradle at the top of the bed, a million fantasies play out in my mind as I wait for the first touch from her hands.
When I hear her feet pad across the carpet and get closer, my body fills with anticipation. I hear her sharp inhale as her finger touches one of my scars.
“What are these from?”
“Gunshot,” I say quietly, knowing she’s looking at the three small scars on my right shoulder. I was shot during a drug bust gone bad.
“I didn’t notice them before.”
“You were a little preoccupied,” I remind her, trying to lighten the mood.
She doesn’t laugh or reply at all.
Feeling a drop of wet hit my back a moment later, my eyes tighten. Fuck.
I sit up and take her into my arms without thinking. I hold her against me as she cries, overwhelmed that she’s upset over me.
“I’m sorry.” She pulls away before I’m ready to let her go, ducking her head and wiping the wet from her cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I’m not going to complain that you let me hold you,” I say.
Her eyes meet mine.
“How did it happen?” she asks.
I ignore the question, just like I’ve been ignoring the constant pain in my chest since I moved away from Seattle and to New York City.
“It’s not important. Let’s get started,” I say, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. I know I don’t succeed in that endeavor, because she flinches. “Sorr—”
“You’re right.” She cuts me off and looks away from me, making me want to kick my own ass around the room. “We should get started. My next client will be here soon.”
Without a word, I move back to my stomach and close my eyes. Feeling her oil-covered hands slip across my back makes it almost impossible to relax. I want to apologize for being harsh and for shutting her down when she was obviously only concerned for me, but I can’t get the words out. I’ve never opened up to anyone. I can’t imagine that Mackenzie wants my burdens dragging her down.
“I was arrested once,” she says out of the blue minutes later.
All the muscles that had started to relax tighten again, but she ignores my reaction and continues talking while gliding her hands across my skin.
“It was stupid, really. I skipped school one day and went to the park to hang out with a group of friends. We were all just being kids, not doing anything bad, but we were having fun. So much fun that I thought the moment should be recorded for history’s sake. Like an idiot, I carved my full name and the date plus ‘Peace, love, and happiness’ into the top of one of the wooden tables in the park.”
She laughs softly, and I smile at the sound.
“Two cops showed up at my house a few weeks later, asking where I was on that date. At first, I had no idea what date they were referring to, but that didn’t last long. They had photos of my handiwork. Those made it perfectly clear that they knew where I had been. My dad, as you can imagine, was not impressed that his daughter had skipped school to deface public property. So he told the officers to arrest me.”
“Your dad had you arrested?” I ask, incredulous, through a smile.
She laughs. “Yes, and that day I had the privilege of sitting in a jail cell for a few hours before my mom found out what happened and came to get me out.”
“Was she pissed?”
“Pissed isn’t even close to what she was. The minute I saw how mad she was, I begged one of the officers to keep me locked up. I had never heard her screech so loud in my life. Thankfully, I haven’t heard that god-awful noise since then.”
I can hear the smile in her voice, so I tip my head to the side to get a look at her face. Christ, she’s beautiful. Seeing the smile she’s wearing causes my breath to freeze in my lungs and my chest to ache.
“Needless to say, I never skipped school again—or defaced public property.”
“Was that the only time you’ve been in trouble with the law?”
“No . . . that’s just the only time I was arrested.” She smirks, and my stomach muscles tighten while my cock starts to come back to life.