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“Please, come in.”
Ellen entered, pulling an oversize canvas bag on wheels. The strap of another bag made of the same material rested on her shoulder. She placed the larger bag on the floor and the smaller one on top of it.
“That’s the massage table?” Ellen nodded. “The whole table is in that small bag?”
This elicited a smile and another nod. “I assure you that it’s comfortable and durable, yet light and easily transportable. Top of the line.”
“If you say so. Would you like a drink, a glass of water, perhaps?”
“No, nothing. Thank you.”
“I hear you’re one of the best.”
“I try. You signed up for the Swedish/deep tissue combo. Is that still your choice?”
Ace nodded. “I think that’ll work.”
“Very well. I will get set up in the master suite.”
In short order the therapist returned and stated that she was ready to begin. “Please remove your robe, climb between the sheets and let me know when it’s fine for me to enter the room.”
“Will do.”
Ace found humor in Ellen’s serious nature and entered his suite with a smile. The shades had been pulled, he noted, with aromatic candles placed strategically around the room. An array of oils were positioned on a nearby table. New age music wafted from an iPod. Five minutes and Ellen had turned the master suite into a spa room.
He removed the robe, tossed it on the bed and climbed aboard a table, which, surprisingly, was as light, sturdy and comfortable as Ellen had claimed. As he settled himself between the sheets, a sound resembling a knock reached his ears. He paused and heard a muted conversation. Probably the housekeeper. Ace settled himself beneath the sheet, placed his head into the headrest and anticipated with pleasure a much-needed massage.
A moment later, there was a knock on his door. “Come in.”
“Ready?”
“Yes, Ellen. I’m ready. Come on in.”
“Just relax. Close your eyes.”
Ace’s brow furled. The voice sounded deeper, forced, her accent more pronounced. He dismissed the suspicion as quickly as it came. In his twenty-nine years he’d learned to question everything. But he was on vacation at a reputable, first-class resort and spa in a town he’d not heard of until clicking the link. If there was any place he could relax and feel safe it was here, in Temecula, California, in a bungalow named after a wine.
Two seconds after Ellen moved toward him, the frown returned. There was a smell—citrusy, spicy—that had not been there moments before. While most men wouldn’t have noticed, Ace had always been a lover of fragrance, especially when inhaled from the skin of a fine woman. Had Ellen whipped out the perfume before reentering his boudoir? Was there a little freak behind the formal facade? He almost laughed out loud. Still, his senses, especially those of smell and sound, were heightened in the darkened room. The music shifted from a haunting, piano-driven melody to a sensuous-sounding serenade led by a sultry sax. He heard hands being rubbed briskly together to warm up the oil. Felt the slightest of hesitations before two soft palms pressed against his upper back. Small hands. Smaller than he’d imagined Ellen’s would be. Softer, too. The oil was warm and soothing. Expert fingers began to knead the healing oil into his skin, across his back and shoulders. He closed his eyes, told himself he’d earned the right to relax.
Her fingers were slender but surprisingly strong. She massaged and nudged and kneaded his tight muscles into submission and glided her palms softly, slowly, almost lovingly, across his body. A swirl of air kissed his skin as the sheet was pulled lower, exposing the dimples just above his hard butt. Palms came together briskly. Ace could feel the heat of them hovering just above his buns.
Come on, Ellen. Don’t get shy now!
She didn’t. Not at all. Instead she pulled the sheet down farther, exposed his cheeks and slapped his bare ass.
“What the—” A shocked Ace turned and sat up in a single motion. “London?”
London was smiling, but his expression made her laugh out loud.
“Where’s Ellen? How...” The sheet slid to the floor. Ace cupped his hands over, well, as much of himself as he could.
London tried to stop laughing. “Don’t worry about that, big boy. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, there’s no modesty in modeling. You know that.”
He rolled off the table, reached for the sheet and hurriedly wrapped it around him, totally flustered. “What are you doing here?”
“Until a second or two ago, I thought I was giving you a darn good massage.”
“This isn’t funny, London. How’d you get in my room?”
London was as calm as Ace was rattled. She sat on the four-poster king-size bed and leaned back on her elbows. “You’re not happy to see me?”
Though she appeared to him as a vision of pure loveliness, he looked at her like she’d grown a horn in the middle of her forehead. “It’s not about being happy or not. My being here is supposed to be confidential. How’d you know I was here?”
“I have my ways. It’s not like I’m a stranger, Ace. I’m a friend, who you’re treating quite rudely at the moment.”
“Forgive my lack of manners, London, but I thought a hotel employee just smacked my ass and then found out, no, the therapist has been knocked off by a friend of mine who broke into my room!”
“Well, it wasn’t a hotel employee. It was me. So calm down. Where’s the guy I met seven years ago who talked like a dork and then showed me his penis?”
“He grew up.”
“Good for you.” She could walk out the door right now, but that would feel too much like running away. So she shifted the energy and her expression with a smile. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She glanced suggestively at the bed. “Don’t I get a hug?”
Ace looked at the bed and back at London, who wore a formfitting maxi. He took a step, tripped on the sheet and almost bared his goods again. “In there,” he said, pointing toward the living room.
The lack of cordiality put London back in a huff. “Never mind. It’s clear I’m not welcome, so I’ll leave you alone.” She strode out of the room.
Ace was right behind her. “London, wait.”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
“You shocked the heck out of me, okay? Give me a minute to put some clothes on.”
A slow, deliberate turn and then dark, daring eyes stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” Ace sighed. “Forget it. Jeez, I was just kidding. You act as though you’re not happy to see me.”
“I’m very glad to see you, London. I just need to put on some clothes.”
He gave her a hug and a kiss to her forehead, then he pulled away before a certain part of his anatomy betrayed him and revealed just how much.
Chapter 3 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
London strolled over to the large picture window that let in a picturesque view of the Temescal Mountains. The commanding peaks reminded her of Switzerland and a cottage near her boarding school she and her friends would sneak out to when they wanted to meet up with boys. Her senior year, just after turning seventeen, she went on a trip to Paris and got discovered by Incomparable, one of the top modeling agencies in the world. A year later she met Ace and had her world rocked off its axis.
Her phone vibrated in the bag that rested against her thigh. It was a text from Diamond.
It’s brunch. You’re late.
London glanced toward the bedroom and typed a quick reply.
Busy. Can’t come. Talk later. BTW... I’m always late.
Her thumb hadn’t left the send button before she heard the padding of bare feet across the dark hardwood floor. Slipping the phone into her bag, she turned around and was met by the confident, carefree Ace that she remembered. But if he hoped to make himself less desirable by covering up with a pair of low-riding jeans and a black OTB tee, he failed. Miserably. The way London looked him up and down expressed that louder than words ever could.
“Come here, you.” He opened his arms.
London crossed the room in a walk worthy of the runway and stepped into his embrace. “I’m glad you left the jerk in the bedroom and brought out the Ace that I know.”
Her teasing smile rendered the barb harmless.
His hug was heartfelt and even though she’d spent several pleasurable minutes rubbing oil over his body, she relished the chance to touch him again. “It’s good to see you,” she said, dropping her hands to squeeze his butt, one of her favorite parts of his anatomy.
He caught her wrists and pulled her hands away. “Still the troublemaker, I see.”
“I try.”
“What are you doing here?” they asked each other.
“Oh, no. That’s my question.” Ace reached for her hand and led them to the couch. He sat and pulled her down with him. “Now out with it. The truth. What’s this about?”
London leaned against the comfy couch, enjoying Ace’s suspicious discomfort a bit more than she should. When his eyes turned stormy, she knew she’d toyed with him long enough.
“It’s pure coincidence,” she said with a shrug. “I came here for a funeral.”
“A funeral. At a luxury hotel.”
“I guess without explanation that does sound pretty weird. It was for my great-grandfather. He owned this land, planted the first vineyards and nurtured the idea of the full-scale winery that you see today.”
“This resort belongs to your family?”
London nodded. “My first cousins.”
Ace’s head fell against the cushions. “This is crazy! I pick this place expecting to see no one I know, and it’s owned by a friend. What are the chances?”
“I was shocked to see you, too.”
Ace raised his head. “When’d you see me?”
London told him about last night’s events. “I started to call but wasn’t sure of the reception I’d get. But I really wanted to see you. Alone. So when I heard about the massage appointment, there it was, my way in.”
“Ellen never should have agreed to let you in my room. You could be a serial killer! I’m going to report her.”
“Please don’t. I offered her a believable story and a ridiculous amount of money to take her place. When it comes to something I want, I can be pretty persuasive. So, please, can we keep this between us? I’d hate for her to lose her job, and knowing my cousins, that’s exactly what would happen.”
“How much was this visit worth to you?”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
“That’s between me and Ellen. Telling you would go straight to your head.”
“That much, huh?”
“My lips are sealed.”
Ace turned toward London, crossed his arms and nestled into the couch’s corner.
“So even though years ago you told me you had none, your last name is Drake.”
“You obviously didn’t do your research. One click on an internet search engine could have told you that.”
“Like it could have told me whether or not your real name is London? Not that I’m into the whole search engine stalking thing.”
The teasing returned. “Absolutely, and I wouldn’t mind a stalker as fine as you. I’m willing to tell you, but only if there’s something for me in return.”
Ace’s eyes turned dark, this time with desire instead of ire. “I’m sure I can think of something.”
Was it London’s imagination, or did the room’s temperature just rise?
“My full name is Clarisse Alana Drake. I legally added London when I turned eighteen.”
Ace’s gaze remained intense as he gazed at her. “Clarisse.”
The name floated off his tongue like a song, caressed her ears like raw silk.
“That’s a beautiful name. Why’d you change it?”
London shrugged. “Boredom. Errant impulse. Teenage rebellion. Take your pick.”
“Clarisse is a beautiful name, though I can understand why you’d use another.”
London’s brow creased. “Why?”
“It doesn’t fit you. That name is for a woman who is demure, sweet, refined, quiet.”
London crossed her arms.
“And that’s not me?” Asked demurely, of course.
“No, it’s not. You’re a hellion who bribed a hotel employee to take advantage of a naked man. A woman named Clarisse would never do that.”
“But a woman named London would?”
“A woman named London would, and did.”
“I guess I did, huh? But I haven’t gotten the chance to take advantage of your nakedness...yet.”
Ace shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”
