Bodywork Read online

  BODYWORK

  by Marie Harte

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and plot points stem from the writer’s imagination. They are fictitious and not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Bodywork

  Copyright © December 2011 by Marie Harte

  Edited by S.M. Jacobson

  Cover by Cover Quest Design

  All Rights Are Reserved. None of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for reviews or promotion.

  http://www.marieharte.com

  Chapter One

  Shane Collins scrambled to find the buffed, black leather oxford to match the existing one on his left foot. Getting in at four a.m. had been hell, but waking three hours later to blaring rock music, courtesy of his uninvited younger brother who’d seen fit to sleep over, made his already sour mood worse. His head ached, his eyes burned, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

  Which he already had, before he remembered he had an important meeting with the Graces this morning.

  Son of a bitch. He searched frantically for his missing shoe while tucking in a white pressed shirt. He searched under the bed, in the closet, even in the bathroom, for God’s sake.

  Glancing at his watch for the twentieth time that morning, he ripped the shoe off his left foot and threw on a similar pair. Then he donned his sport coat. Clothes, check. Shoes, check. Now to find his briefcase. He thought he’d left it on the coffee table when he’d come home.

  Where the hell was it? Desperation festered into annoyance as he spied an empty pizza box on the couch. His younger brother was such a pain in the ass. He cursed George to an eternity of high school as he spied a familiar handle sticking out from under the sofa. Pulling it free, he also found his missing shoe covered in something sticky.

  Not having the time or inclination to guess what might be covering it, he tossed the shoe, grabbed his case and hustled to the door. Where the car keys should have been hanging, a note had been punched over the hook. Swearing, he ripped it free and read it.

  Hey bro, since I have football practice early this morning and after school, I’m borrowing the car. I’ll return it after practice. Coach’ll skin me if I’m late again. Hope you have a good day catching up on sleep. Thanks a million. I owe you one—Geo.

  Angry, frustrated, and at fault for not clueing his brother into his last minute change of schedule, he forced himself to calm down. He ran a hand through his hair and thought hard about his options. It’d be tough to get a cab this early in the morning during the early working commute. Shane needed a ride.

  Inspiration sparked and he quickly dialed Mac’s cell.

  His best friend answered on the second ring. “Yo.”

  Shane heard the sound of music in the background. Please be close. “Mac? It’s Shane. I need a favor.”

  “Don’t tell me. You slept through your alarm, your brother crashed your car while you were gone, and you need a ride to work.” Mac’s rumble was laced with humor.

  “Close enough. Man, I’m begging. I need a ride like yesterday.”

  “I’m next in line at Sofa’s. You got lucky this morning.”

  “Perfect. Look Mac, I’m leaving my place now. Grab me a special and I’ll be there in two minutes.” Shane disconnected, pocketed his cell phone, and raced out the door. Sofa’s Coffee House sat a few blocks from his house, and he sprinted the entire way, grateful for this reprieve and really needing a caffeine boost. The run to grab his ride was definitely worth a hot blast of java.

  He spotted Mac sitting in his car outside the shop and thanked God for his friend’s caffeine addiction. With his attention focused on Mac, Shane didn’t see the woman standing in his way until he ran into her.

  She yelped against his chest before she stumbled away and righted herself.

  “Shit.” He leapt back as pain hit him squarely in the stomach. Plucking the scorching fabric from his body, he noticed a dark brown stain spreading over his once pristine shirt. He cursed again and looked down into amber eyes filled with irritation. “Thanks a lot, lady.” He’d be lucky if he made it on time, and now this. Before she could tear a strip off his already late hide, he raced to Mac’s waiting car, fumbling at his shirt buttons.

  Mac raised a brow as he slammed inside.

  “Not now, Jameson,” he snapped. “Just get me to Harmon & Sons as soon as you can.”

  “Aye aye, boss.” The bastard had the nerve to laugh.

  As Mac drove, Shane hurriedly changed out of his ruined shirt and undershirt into a clean set he saved in his briefcase for occasions like these. Wrinkles he could handle, but the coffee stain wouldn’t fly. At least his coat would hide most of the rumpled mess. He only hoped Mr. Grace wouldn’t be on time for this morning’s appointment in—he swallowed hard—twenty minutes.

  Then he inhaled and took in the heavenly scent of coffee. Mac nodded him to the second up sitting in the cup holder. After a hesitant sip, Shane guzzled the brew like a thirsting man.

  “You’re welcome.” Mac’s eyes twinkled as he put his foot down on the accelerator. “Don’t worry, buddy. You need to be somewhere in a hurry, I’m your man. Just remember, that’s another one you owe me.”

  * * *

  Shelby Vanzant stared morosely at her crunched coffee cup bleeding all over the cement sidewalk. She’d been dying for a mocha latte. Yet the only one satisfied with her purchase was a yappy little Chihuahua tied to a nearby tree licking up her spilled drink. She frowned at the rat-sized creature in distaste. “I didn’t know dogs liked coffee.”

  Her best friend joined her and shook her head at the dog still licking the ground. “This is Seattle. Everyone and everything in this city loves coffee. Tough break,” Maggie sympathized. “I’ll wait while you get another one.”

  “I don’t want to wait in line again.”

  Maggie placed her hands on her hips. “We’re not walking anywhere together until you’ve had your daily fix. No coffee, no conversation.”

  Shelby muttered under her breath but returned minutes later with a smile and a steaming cup. She rejoined Maggie, and they crossed the street to resume their bi-weekly walk around Green Lake. As Shelby drank, she couldn’t help seeing the humor in the situation.

  “Considering this is our day to discuss the idiocy of men, I’d say I’m off to a good start. My first client today is a woman, at least. Nine o’clock on the dot, and she’s never late. Not like that moron running like his shirt was on fire.”

  “After running into you it might have been.” Maggie chuckled. “Sofa’s makes their coffee hot.”

  “Good. Serves him right.” They moved to the side while a trio of joggers passed. “Why is it whenever I run into a man, I get a frog instead of the prince? Even this morning, instead of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, I got Mr. Tall, Clumsy, and Rude. Why is that?”

  “Who knows? But at least your rude man was sexy. I mean, did you happen to check him out when you were giving him third degree burns?”

  “I didn’t burn him.” Not on purpose. Shelby flushed. “It wasn’t my fault. He flew out of nowhere and bumped into me. Then he acted like it was all my fault and stormed off before I could say a thing.”

  She slurped her coffee.

  They walked in silence, and Shelby’s thoughts shifted from Mr. Rude to appreciate the clear blue sky. Seattle had a clear day. Mark that one for the books. The weather wasn’t as dismal as was commonly thought. When it turned as warm as it had been lately, she took advantage of the August heat wave—heat wave being a relative term. This morning notched in at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees. If th
ey were lucky and the weatherman guessed correctly, the temperature might reach a high of eighty-two.

  Too bad she had no one at home to show off her new red bikini.

  She sighed.

  Maggie groaned. “After two years of these walks, you’d think I’d be used to this three mile loop.” Another painful groan. The woman could exaggerate misery like nobody’s business. “I know we need our exercise, but I distinctly recall telling you aerobics is my thing, not walking.”

  “Considering my line of work, you should be used to my healthy habits. I’m just glad Shantell lets you work a later shift every Tuesday.”

  “Me too. Shantell’s a gem, and working at her gallery is a godsend. But someday I’ll be my own boss, like you. Bodyworks has really flourished since you opened it.” Maggie rotated her neck. “Maybe I’ll book an appointment soon. I think I might have strained my neck the other day.”

  Bodyworks, Shelby’s massage therapy clinic, was her pride and joy. Thanks to her business, she’d not only found a source of income, but her best friend. Bumping into Maggie Doran on her first day of work had been fate. They had immediately clicked and been thick as thieves ever since.

  Shelby linked her arm through Maggie’s. “Tell me about the latest masterpiece you’ve been designing.”

  While Maggie explained her work in detail, Shelby thought about how much she enjoyed Tuesday walks with her BFF. They had similar attitudes about men and life, though in appearance they were quite different. Whereas Maggie was a pretty blonde with a petite yet curvy body, Shelby felt like the queen of average. Neither fat nor skinny, with brown hair and brown eyes, she had even features and a nice complexion. Her olive skin tanned quite well whenever she had a chance to see the sun.

  “Okay, I can tell when you’re zoning out on me.”

  Busted.

  “So, back to Mr. Rude,” Maggie’s continued. “Did you happen to notice that thick black hair and his frosty green eyes?”

  “No, but obviously you did. All I noticed was that he stood several inches taller than me and had a nice set of abs.” At Maggie’s raised brow, she explained. “When the coffee scalded him, the liquid made his white shirt transparent.”

  “Thank God for wet, white shirts.” Maggie sighed, and they laughed together.

  They picked up the pace after tossing their empty cups in the trash, completing a quarter of the three-mile course around the lake. As they walked, Shelby considered Green Lake and thought again about moving out here. Only her proximity to work, in her current house in Queen Anne, stopped her.

  Though the lake had several signs warning about the algae and the danger of swimming, it rippled calmly under the cool breeze, giving the ducks a safe place to gather. Fresh clumps of flowers decorated rock formations that dotted the trail, and when the wind blew, she inhaled the sweet smells of lavender and magnolia.

  “Could you pick up the pace a little, Methuselah?” Maggie glanced at her watch again. “I have to be at work before Wednesday arrives.”

  “Sorry.” Shelby lengthened her stride. “I was just taking in the sweet smells around us in an attempt to forget that idiot from this morning.” She barely avoided a pair of sweaty men running by like their hair was on fire. Joggers. Ech. Who the hell ran without a reason?

  Maggie poked her in the side.

  “Ow.”

  “You know what your problem is?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “You confuse every good-looking guy with Rick. Just because Rick was a complete ass, who not only used you but cheated on you, doesn’t mean every hot guy will do the same. Dumping him was totally the right thing to do.”

  “Thanks, Maggie. I feel so much better now.” Shelby didn’t want to discuss Rick the Prick on such a nice day, but Maggie was like a dog with a bone; she never let go.

  “No. I think you need to be honest about this. It’s been six months since you caught him sleeping with that trashy blond bimbo. Don’t go there,” Maggie warned, her blue eyes flashing. “I can call her a bimbo. You, of the dark-haired variety, cannot.”

  Maggie’s self-esteem should have been higher than a kite considering the number of dates she had. But being seen as a blond plaything bothered her.

  Shelby, on the other hand, would have paid to be considered a hottie, brainless or not. Apparently she wasn’t the only one with issues. “Okay. I won’t say how humiliating it was to walk in on Rick sitting in his chair with that slutty woman’s lips around his—”

  “Exactly. No need to rehash all that unpleasantness,” Maggie interrupted. “The point you seem to ignore every time we have this discussion is that Rick really was a dick for the way he acted. Most guys aren’t that bad. What about the guy you dated before the prick?” she asked, grinning. “Bobby something or other. He wasn’t bad looking and seemed pretty nice.”

  Shelby flinched. “Bobby Wiener was his name, and there you go grinning again. Do you know how hard it is to go out with a guy named Wiener?” She frowned when Maggie burst into laughter. “Every time we reserved a table for the Wiener party, I got looks. And I couldn’t call him at work and ask for his name without cracking up. Even he seemed embarrassed by it.” Feeling guilty about making fun of such a nice guy, Shelby defended him. “Wiener’s really not a bad name.”

  “You’re right, Shelby.” Maggie bit her lip, but the giggles continued all the same. “Wiener isn’t a bad name. Bobby Schlong, that’s a bad name.”

  They both burst into laughter. And like magic, Maggie had lightened her mood.

  “Now, Shelby, be honest about Mr. Rude.”

  “Okay, okay.” Shelby curbed her mirth. “I might have noticed he looked pretty solid under that jacket. I might even have noticed that his black hair nicely went with his dark green eyes that stared at me wide with shock.”

  “And?” Maggie prodded.

  “And he was tall,” she muttered. The number one standard she and Maggie agreed about their dream man was height. At five-foot nine, Shelby looked down on the average female. But Maggie barely reached her chin. “What’s your deal with height, anyway? You’re not that tall yourself. What would it matter to you if a guy stood six-foot or five-five?”

  Maggie huffed. “We go over this every time you bring up the subject. I don’t have to be tall to like tall men. Granted, I’m kind of small, but that just means I’d like somebody larger than myself for protection. Besides, don’t all the men in your books stand a head taller than the women?”

  “Yeah, they do.” Shelby recalled her latest steamy read. Now that hero had been one tall order of hot sex and enduring desire. If only she could find her own hero and shack up for a few days, months, years… “But you’ll notice in my books the man always has a tender side around the woman, a touch of chivalry that makes her feel loved and protected.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Maggie frowned. “The last book of yours I read had this really hunky cowboy in it that treated the woman like dirt, a real macho type.”

  “Really? And you liked that?”

  “No. I liked the part where the heroine shot at him and roped him. Then she tied him to the bed and screwed him six ways from Sunday. Now that, I liked.” Maggie grinned and then groaned. “And speaking of restraints, I think it’s time I told you what really happened with Michael.”

  “I knew you were holding out. Tell me.”

  Maggie had more dates than she knew what to do with, and God bless her, she kept going out, disappointment after disappointment. Shelby sometimes wondered why Maggie bothered, but her friend would tell her that you couldn’t win if you never played the game.

  “You’re not going to believe this.” Maggie lowered her voice to a whisper. “I almost don’t believe it myself. I have to say he was my worst one yet.”

  “Boring Dr. Yeats?”

  Maggie snorted. “Boring is the last thing I’d use to describe him. So you know it was our fourth or fifth date. I’d decided to maybe let things progress a little further.”


  “Further?” Shelby’s eyes widened. “He’d already hit second. Was he rounding to third or stealing home?”

  “Shh, keep your voice down.” Maggie glanced around her then said, “I liked the guy, and he seemed so normal.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, we ate at a really nice restaurant, right on the waterfront. We were having a great time, and then we headed back to his place.”

  “His place.”

  “Yeah. He lives on the Hill in a really nice house. Truth is, I was impressed.”

  “He’s a doctor, what did you expect?”

  “I expected to play doctor, not participate in some weird S&M games!”

  Shelby’s jaw dropped.

  “I mean, not that I’m averse to that type of thing, I don’t think, but I’d just met the guy a few weeks ago. It was really embarrassing.”

  Shelby pulled Maggie down to a nearby bench and squeezed her arm. “Tell me.”

  “We’d just gotten back to his place, right? Well, he told me to wait for him, that he had a surprise for me in the bedroom. I knew what he was getting at, or at least I thought I did. I expected some candles, maybe a little mood music, satin sheets, that type of thing.”

  “And?”

  “So I go into his bedroom and find him dressed in a black mask with a zipper where his mouth should be and two slits for eye holes. He’s also wearing a studded dog collar around his neck.” Maggie’s voice lowered. “But this is the real kicker. He was wearing a pair of women’s black lace panties and a garter holding up fishnet stockings!”

  “I’m getting flashbacks of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

  “Oh yeah. The whole look, but add the ski mask and you have my bizarro evening.”

  Shelby could only stare when she realized Maggie wasn’t lying. Talk about strange. She’d actually met Dr. Michael Yeats and been impressed by his looks, profession, and pleasant demeanor. Maggie typically dated a lot of liberal types that had trouble making ends meet. Yeats had seemed normal, if a little staid.