Читать книгу Up Close and Personal - Joanne Rock - Страница 10

JESSICA HELD her breath along with every other woman in the room when Rocco Easton shrugged out of his white jacket.

What was it about a set of great shoulders that commanded attention from even the most aloof feminine observer? And damn it, Jessica considered herself the queen of detached. She could provide a good deal of male testimony that would agree.

Yet something about the waiter’s expressionless compliance suggested he could turn off his personal desires even faster than she could. Wasn’t that an odd quality in a man who couldn’t be a day over thirty? There was something strong and unyielding about him, something that reassured her he would never be overcome by an attack of lecherousness after a bit of massage.

Whatever the reason for the reserve she sensed in him, Jessica appreciated it in light of her own hang-ups.

“Well?” Rocco’s voice emanated at breast level while she stood next to him.

The sound seemed to rumble right through her, sending frissons of response over her skin. And oh my, but that was an unusual reaction for her. She’d paid for every kind of counseling imaginable after the rape—well, she’d paid for it after college, during her internship at a psychologist’s office, since she hadn’t been able to afford it until then. Still, no amount of therapy had ever made her a wildly responsive woman in the sexual department. That coolness of her own desires had prompted her to study sensuality and make it her area of specialty in her seminars.

But being able to teach it and being able to live it were two different things. This waiter’s ability to ignite a physical response in her so quickly surprised her more than her father’s announcement, when she was twelve, that he was going to quit drinking. Of course, she figured this startling discovery would turn out to be as false as her dad’s promise.

“The goal of this massage is a deep understanding of your partner along with increased physical awareness.” She launched into her discussion by rote, her memorized notes coming to mind easily despite the highly unexpected circumstances of this talk.

The words made her feel in control again, arming her with much needed distance. Kneeling on the chaise beside the waiter who bore a stronger physical resemblance to the SEALs they’d seen out in the surf than to any server running around the hotel, Jessica was glad she hadn’t brought a massage table. She’d wanted to give the room a suggestive ambiance instead of a classroom feel, and she thought it was the right choice, even if it made working on Rocco a little challenging.

He was built like a truck. His shoulders taxed the seams of his white cotton shirt, the V of his back tapering admirably by the time her eyes reached his belt level. If she’d seen him on the street, she would have pegged him as someone involved in physical labor. And she definitely would have taken note of him. No wonder her students had come in from their manhunt positively glowing with their triumph.

Rocco was a first-rate male specimen.

His icy blue eyes studied her now, his attention intense if somehow clinical. She had the impression he absorbed far more of the finer points of massage than her paying students. The eight women who were here to reclaim their sensuality all seemed to be more interested in licking their chops over their guest.

Of course, if Jessica hadn’t been speaking, she might have engaged in a bit of chop licking of her own. She hadn’t really missed sex in the last few years since life had closed that particular door, but that didn’t mean she didn’t notice men. Far from it. Her imagination had always succeeded in painting more delectable interludes with men than she’d been capable of in real life, and the stud seated to her right had the power to inspire all kinds of tasty fantasies if she had the time to indulge them.

“If you’ll just turn sideways for me, Rocco, I think we’re ready to begin.” Jessica warned her hands not to be nervous as they fluttered over his shoulders and then landed softly on either side of his neck.

Holy Mary, Mother and Joseph.

She had to hold herself rigid in order to suppress her reaction to the electric shock that traveled through her fingers, up her arms, danced around her breasts and then seared all the way down to her womb. Did the reaction show on her face? She lost her place in her spiel for a moment as she struggled to stifle the hum of sexual energy vibrating through her now.

She peered down at her fingers, planted on his shoulders, as if she could perceive some cause for the phenomenon.

“Excuse me,” she intoned finally, closing her eyes as she prayed for some memory of what the hell she’d been talking about. “I seem to have lost my place.”

Rocco cranked his neck around to see her, his blue eyes sparking with the same live current she felt through her hands. She was so completely out of her depth.

“You were discussing the right times to apply a variety of strokes.”

Jessica swore she could fall right into those eyes of his. They didn’t appear icy anymore. The crystalline blue held a white heat that threatened to singe away all her carefully rehearsed words. Already she felt herself falling into a sea of sensations, her brain failing to grasp what strokes he was talking about.

Damn it, maybe she was having a stroke. Although heart failure seemed more likely with this amount of stimulation.

“Yes, Jessica,” chimed in one of her students. Ingrid was a Hollywood director’s wife who had driven all the way to San Diego to take the class in the hope of keeping her attendance a secret from her husband. “You were just about to show us how to caress him for maximum benefit.”

The chorus of laughter began again, reminding her that she needed to keep a tight rein on the group or they would commandeer the class with racy innuendo and bawdy talk. And she had so much more to offer than that—if only she could keep her focus. She could not afford to let her unexpected reaction to Rocco derail her new business after all the years she’d worked to get this far.

“You’d just mentioned that there were different benefits to fast and slow strokes,” another woman prompted before lifting a martini to her lips.

“And could you perhaps define what you mean by ‘maximum benefit’ for a man? Is that a euphemism for climax?”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“No.” She raised her voice enough to drown out some other helpful soul only too happy to join the discussion. “I’ve remembered my place now and I’d appreciate it if you could hold your questions until the end of the session.” She moved her fingers experimentally around Rocco’s impressive shoulders. “I was in the midst of demonstrating the difference between a friction touch and a vibration touch. Ladies, feel free to move your chairs around or walk to this side of the room if you can’t see.”

As the dynamics of the group shifted and the attendees shuffled around behind her, someone knocked into Jessica just enough to press her up against Rocco.

For one breathless second, her abdomen and her pelvic bone grazed his laterals, the whipcord muscles flexing enough to provide her with an intense secret thrill.

And oh my sweet stars. She needed to focus on her job and not the ill-timed attraction. Peeling herself off him with an effort, she half wondered what he thought of her workshop. Her.

“This is the friction touch.” She applied the necessary pressure, her hands ratcheting up the heat even though his skin burned beneath his shirt to start with. “It requires a more aggressive motion and it can draw your partner into a more sensual frame of mind.”

She’d read as much about the massage she was licensed to give, but she’d never experienced the magnetic pull on the other end. Not that she’d had reason to give many massages to men. She’d grown out of her old sexual fears a long time ago, but even as she’d been proud of herself for facing those fears, she hadn’t exactly been wowed by sex as a college student or after. Three years after her last relationship ended, she still hadn’t felt any great urge to revisit that perspective.

Until tonight.

Touching this man had her wickedly distracted as she realized she would be content for everyone else in the room to fall away. While that wouldn’t be good for her business, she thought it would be deliciously good for her.

“Next is a movement called petrissage, which is a type of kneading massage.” She spoke in order to help herself maintain focus, to lead herself through this lesson no matter how difficult it might be. “This technique involves light squeezing, gripping the muscles and rolling them under your hands.”

Rocco’s muscles were in such abundance it wasn’t hard to find a sample for her demonstration.

A student nearby cleared her throat before she spoke.

“It’s difficult to tell how much pressure you’re applying. Do you think we might be able to talk Mr. Easton into removing his shirt? Seeing your hands directly on his skin might be more helpful.”

Eight women nodded in tandem. Jessica’s knees buckled just a little at the mere thought of touching Rocco’s naked skin, as she noticed a tray full of scented massage oils waited nearby.

“I think we’ve probably detained our guest long enough as it is.” She hoped he would take the hint and sprint his sexy self right out the door before she melted all over him. “I hardly think we can ask him to—”

Rocco’s hands were already moving over the buttons of his dress shirt, his bow tie hanging loose and undone about his neck.

“It’s okay,” he returned easily, his movements relaxed despite the soaring temperature of his skin. “I’m finding your workshop informative too.”

And without another word, his white cotton dress shirt slithered off his shoulders, leaving Jessica facing the bronzed expanse of wide shoulders and taut sinew. From somewhere in the room, a dreamy feminine sigh seemed to encapsulate her thoughts completely.

“Maybe a little massage oil?” Ingrid said, passing her a bottle of vanilla honeysuckle blend. “It highlights the muscle groups, you know.”

The wicked grin on the woman’s face assured Jessica she was loving every second of class so far. Just what she wanted.

Working up her courage, she squirted some oil between her palms and rubbed them together for warmth. The scent filled the air as she lifted her hands to touch him again. Forcing her fingers onto his back, she braced herself for the electric shock all over again.

This time, her breasts ached and her breath caught. Her heart pounded so hard she feared the whole class would see the palpitations given that her camisole didn’t exactly provide extensive coverage.

“This is the friction touch.” She demonstrated briefly to minimize the sweet torment of caressing him. “And now we’ll learn the vibration touch.”

Scavenging up her autopilot teaching mode to take over, Jessica’s lips moved, spouting out her lesson. But in her head, she continued to linger on the idea of a vibration touch.

Never in her life had she found a need for the battery-operated toys some women used to find pleasure. But after tonight, she would seriously investigate the options ASAP. Something about touching Rocco Easton had made her realize she would need to find a way to take the sexual edge off her thoughts or she might never think straight again.

WARDING OFF pleasure—surprisingly—wasn’t all that different from warding off pain. Rocco had to mentally travel somewhere else in order to withstand the experience, his body growing more and more susceptible to its physical reactions.

Jessica’s hands proved as seductive as her charm had been to his father. Rocco fell deeper under their spell the longer she talked, the longer she worked her lubricated fingers over his skin. Interestingly, the seduction didn’t come from her obvious assets. She didn’t employ the more expected female tactics, like brushing her half-bared breasts against his back. Instead, she simply followed the guidelines she had set out in her workshop, using her professed techniques to the letter.

There was, he thought, something honest in that at least. And he had to believe he hadn’t abandoned his mission despite the way he’d allowed himself to come into such intimate contact with his investigative subject tonight. No matter what Jessica’s financial picture might be, he believed she sincerely embraced the principles she taught in this workshop by the way she kept the class on track.

Not once in the half hour—he glanced at the clock—no, forty-five minutes that he’d been here had Jessica rested her fingers or deviated from what he suspected was a well-rehearsed lecture. She gave her students more information than they’d ever retain.

“Ladies, this is a good touch to use on a man’s inner thigh.” Jessica’s words suddenly blasted their way into his consciousness, wrenching him back to the moment before he could steel himself for the impact.

A couple of the lecture attendees asked her some follow-up questions about that statement, but Rocco’s brain kept envisioning Jessica applying her skillful hands to his thighs. She touched him with light surface caresses in a quick, upward movement. What would that feel like if she transplanted it somewhere more overtly sexual?

Rocco was thankful for his foresight in putting his shirt on his lap after he removed it, as his blood surged south like a rogue wave.

“What do you think, Rocco?” Jessica leaned down into his field of vision, half-bending around his shoulders to make eye contact. “The question was—which touch did you find most effective for relaxation and which for erotic purposes?”

For a minute, the words sounded like Greek, since the only language he wanted to speak was physical. He was more interested in making this woman sigh with pleasure and call out his name. He wanted to see how fast he could get her naked and have her splayed on the chaise underneath him.

Except that he wasn’t here to sleep with her. He was here to investigate Jessica’s character. Test the legitimacy of her business and see if it seemed to generate enough income to finance her automobile. Too bad he was too freaking distracted by the raging erection he sported to comprehend much about her other than the fact that she turned him on.

“The first touches were the most relaxing.” Either that or he’d had more control early in the evening. “I think the styles of massage increased in, uh—firepower—as we went. Perhaps Jessica designed the program that way intentionally.”

“And what about the scent?” another student pressed.

“How did vanilla honeysuckle strike you?”

Like a freaking thunderbolt?

“Good.” He nodded. “Definitely a good scent.”

He looked to Jessica mostly to take some of the class scrutiny off of him. He’d never been this publicly aroused. The only time he’d been close, he’d marched his date out of the bar to take her home with him. That didn’t seem like an option now.

“Where’s everyone going?” He blinked his way through his turned-on state as he noticed two of the women disappearing into the connected suite.

“We’ve finished the erotic-massage portion of the retreat.” Jessica’s hand slowed on his back, her fingernails scratching lightly over his skin before coming to rest in the center of his shoulders. “A few of the women had dinner reservations downstairs they didn’t want to miss, but I know they all appreciated your willingness to sit in for the demonstration.”

The remaining women in the room zipped purses and jingled keys. Some moved toward the door while others checked cell phones and made calls.

One of the women paused in her conversation, and called over to Jessica, “Don’t fool yourself, hon. Those women are lighting out of here to look for men to try those massage moves for themselves. You got this class so hot and bothered I don’t think anyone can face the idea of going back to their hotel room alone.”

“There’s a tip for you though, Rocco.” The dark-haired woman who’d originally invited him in gestured to a bar glass full of cash. “We didn’t want you to sacrifice any income on our behalf.”

Ah crap. He’d wanted to assess Jessica Winslow’s potential as a scam artist and yet the presence of the overflowing tip jar made him feel like the one doing the scamming.

The heaviness in his limbs made it tough to stand. The heaviness between his thighs made it a bad idea anyhow. He willed away the effects of Jessica’s massage, wishing he could recover faster. He never should have allowed himself to get personally involved in the debtor’s world. It was pretty much the cardinal rule of repossession work and, of course, impossible to honor if you were looking out for personal interests like his father’s business. His father’s pride and independence.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He’d fork over the cash to the waiter who’d brought the appetizers halfway through the class. Or donate it to charity. There had to be something he could do with the cash to take away the sting of guilt.

“But thanks.”

The woman stepped out of the room with her friend, the silent blonde, leaving Rocco alone with his masseuse and no witnesses for all the accusations he was about to make.

As soon as he shook off this sexual spell she’d kneaded into his skin with her addictive fingertips.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Rocco.” Jessica stepped back from him abruptly and reached for her suit jacket, almost as if she was nervous around him. But that couldn’t be. She didn’t have a clue about his real identity or his motive for being here.

What was that all about?

And moreover, how could he report back to his father on Jessica’s financial standing when he hadn’t done much tonight beyond finding out the woman possessed the most talented fingers imaginable? Had he gone to all the trouble to drive into San Diego and remember all he’d left behind on Coronado Island only to go home with a damned inconvenient hard-on to show for it?

Hell no. He hadn’t become a repo man for the fun of it. He’d done it to help out his father’s failing business. So he’d damn well do his job tonight, even if it meant confronting Jessica to find out the truth.

His plan for the night might have been delayed, but it was far from over. As an ex-SEAL, he was pretty good at assessing a situation and adapting as the need arose. He also knew better than to have any qualms about confronting a woman on her perfidy. He’d backed away from it once before and the end result had forced him out of the military for good.

“I didn’t come here just to work at your retreat.” He needed to remind himself of that fact—he’d gotten entirely too caught up in everything Jessica was selling.

Still, he couldn’t help but hope he’d been wrong about her. Or rather, that his father had been wrong about her.

“Really?” Her eyes widened as she shrugged into her conservative black jacket and covered up the fire-enginered camisole. “You came here for something else?”

She tipped her head sideways, her eyes wide as her fingers froze above the unfastened jacket buttons, her silver bracelet jingling gently.

And then she took a step toward him. He was still on the chaise longue and finally had himself under control again. The moment seemed surreal after she’d been so careful to keep physical distance during the massage. Her hands might have been turning him inside out with expert touches, but she hadn’t ever stepped over the line into sexual teasing or flirtation.

He didn’t think it was conceited of him to suspect that had taken some restraint on her part. The chemistry between them had been as irrefutable as the heat still rolling off his body and the jump in his pulse whenever she touched him. That chemistry simmered all over again now as she sank to sit beside him on the chaise, her hip just inches from his.

Anger churned beneath the heat. Anger at himself for being drawn in by her, and at her for attracting him in spite of a formidable willpower that had successfully hauled him through weeks of training that pummeled and defeated ninety percent of the guys who attempted it.

Damn it, he missed life as a SEAL, where the line between right and wrong had been more clearly defined, determined by the military or at least by his team as a group. Now he forged his own path. Was forced to trust only his gut without the resources of the Navy at his fingertips or the support of his team to back him up.

“I came here to—”

Investigate you.

But the words remained unspoken in the face of her expression. There was an openness about it, a yearning that was so palpable it seemed almost innocent.

Her gaze flicked down to his mouth, her pupils dilated.

She wanted him. She thought he was a damned waiter and she wanted him.

Not exactly the behavior of the gold-digging schemer he’d expected.

“Yes?” she prodded, nipping her lip and spinning her silver bracelet around one wrist while she waited for him to explain why else he had come to the workshop.

Shit.

Was she more innocent than he’d believed? Could she have gotten in over her head with her credit because she was naive or had somehow fallen on hard times? The memory of shoe polish covering the scuff marks on her heels nipped at his brain. The need to find out the truth weighed on him, forcing him to wait a little longer. To see what else he might learn about her.

Then again, maybe he just needed an excuse to taste her. To test the level of her innocence for himself before he confronted her with the reality of her bad debt.

Taking what her eyes had offered him long ago, Rocco slid his hand around the back of her neck to steady her and drew her closer. Her eyelids fell to half-mast, then drifted closed. He couldn’t have stopped himself if his father had launched the surveillance videotape at his nose.

Shoving aside second thoughts, he pulled Jessica’s mouth to his and kissed her.