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No question about it, he had more than enough to keep him busy with all of that.
And there was also this Hector Tyson guy he had to look up, the guy who had taken unfair advantage of the young Theresa and who now had a lot to answer for, a lot Ry was determined to make him answer for.
Plus, along those same lines, there was the mystery from his grandmother’s past that he and his siblings were trying to solve once and for all—he’d promised to get into that, too, to try to figure out what exactly it was that his grandmother claimed had been taken from her, what exactly it was that she’d come to Northbridge to reclaim. If it might be more than the land Tyson had done her out of. If it might actually be a lost child…
And of course there was his massage tonight….
From Kate Perry.
There hadn’t been any shortage of thoughts about her to occupy him since he’d first set eyes on her yesterday. Even though he wished they would stop coming.
But damn, what a beauty she was! He’d already known that Northbridge had more than its fair share of pretty women from the abundance of them at Wyatt’s wedding. But Kate Perry? He’d hardly been able to believe his eyes when he’d gotten his first glimpse of her. And even though she’d been coming down the aisle between two sections of folding chairs in his grandmother’s old house, his first thought was that she could have been a vision emerging from a mist on an Irish countryside.
Not that he had any idea if she was even Irish. It was just her coloring that made him think Irish lass—that incredible, lush, thick red hair and that pale alabaster skin. Add to it the delicate lines of her nose and apple-colored cheeks, and the pure elegance of her jaw, and she looked more like she was made of porcelain than skin and bone.
Then her compact, posture-perfect, curves-in-all-the-right-places self had reached the makeshift altar where the ceremony was to be held. And in casting her eyes back the way she’d come to watch for the remainder of the bridesmaids and the bride, they’d briefly touched on him where he’d stood with Noah and some of the other groomsmen across the aisle.
But the glance had been just long enough for him to see that her eyes weren’t merely blue, they weren’t merely green; they were a perfect combination of the two—like the mingling of sea and sky. Bright, vibrant, almost electric—they were amazing eyes to complete the picture of a truly, amazingly beautiful woman.
Just the memory was enough to take his breath away a little.
One look at her at that moment and everything else—every other person in the room—including his sister walking down the aisle—every sound, every note of the music being played, every scent of perfume and flowers, everything had faded into a blur as the only clear image he’d had, the only thing he’d been aware of, was Kate Perry.
It was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.
Of course he’d shaken it off and poured his concentration back into the wedding. But as he sat there at the breakfast table Monday morning, taking another drink of his coffee, he still couldn’t help thinking about it, thinking about her. And how it was slightly unnerving to have had such a powerful first reaction to her.
But regardless of how powerful or weird it had been, it was meaningless, he told himself. She might be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, but she wasn’t the kind of woman he meshed with and that had been brought home to him as they’d talked at the reception.
The kind of woman he meshed with was full of life, free-spirited, lively and adventurous, outgoing and game for anything—like him. The kind of woman he meshed with would have flirted audaciously with him when Marti had introduced them. She would never have taken seriously his joking about her occupation, and probably would have shot back a few innuendos of her own.
But a prim reverend’s granddaughter? A woman who held herself so stiff and straight she could have had a pole running up the zipper of her bridesmaid’s dress? A woman who not only hadn’t found the fact that he’d been hurt on a skateboard funny, but who had given him the impression that she thought it was just a stupid, childish thing to have done? A woman who was that reserved and subdued and stuffy?
Huh-uh. No thanks.
He’d tried it with a few women like that, and he knew they were not for him. That his personality, the way he liked to live his life, clashed with theirs and their expectations of who he should be and how he should behave.
So even if Kate Perry was a beauty, even if he had gotten a kick out of the verbal back-and-forth with her and the evidence that she was clearly nobody’s fool, he wasn’t interested.
Besides, there was also the fact that she lived in Northbridge and that she was Marti’s sister-in-law.
Northbridge was not a place he wanted to be tethered to any more than he had to be to take care of his grandmother.
And messing with an in-law’s sibling? He’d already been dumb enough to hook up with someone with that kind of family connection—Wyatt’s first wife’s sister. And when it didn’t work out? Backlash and awkwardness to spare. Not to mention strain on his relationship with Wyatt.
So as far as he was concerned, Kate Perry was a no-go all the way around.
Well, except that she was doing his massage tonight.
If he didn’t have to have his shoulder loosened up so it didn’t hurt like hell, he would cancel that appointment—there was no question about it.
But he really needed the massage, no matter who was giving it; otherwise, he was going to have to pop pain pills and he didn’t want to do that.
Still, he was a little worried about what might happen—purely involuntarily—when someone who looked like Kate Perry touched him.
But he just had to suck it up and have the massage.
Maybe if he kept reminding himself over and over again just how not-for-him Kate Perry was, it would help.
But just in case it didn’t, he was keeping his pants on and letting her deal with the shoulder and nothing but the shoulder.
Get in there, get it done, get out.
That was what Kate told herself as she stood outside the door to the treatment room in the office she shared with the local chiropractor.
The receptionist had just taken Ry Grayson to the treatment room, given him his instructions and left for the day. The chiropractor wasn’t in on Mondays. That meant that there were now only two people in the office—Kate and Ry Grayson, who was waiting for his massage.
A massage that would be no different than any massage she’d ever given because he was just a client, she told herself.
So why was she dreading it so much?
Or was she feeling something else?
No, it was dread. It had to be dread. Why would it be anything else? Anything like excitement to see him again?
It wouldn’t be.
And even if it was, she wasn’t having any part of it.
She was husband-hunting. She wanted what she’d always wanted—to find the one man she could build her life with. The one man who would want what she wanted—to get married, to buy a house, to settle down and have a family, to raise that family together. And she was tired of being distracted from that goal by men who ultimately—even if they said it was what they wanted—didn’t want that same thing.
Steady, stable, serious, rock solid—that was the kind of man she was looking for. Someone who was clear in his convictions, who knew himself and what he wanted. Someone like her.
Certainly, someone who wouldn’t mislead her into thinking he did want what she wanted and then just string her along.
And any man who gave her the slightest indication that that wasn’t who he was, absolutely was not a contender. Absolutely was not someone she was putting an ounce of energy or a minute of her time into. Because doing that three—three—times was enough. More than enough—three engagements that ended short of the altar were more than any one person’s limit.
So no more fly-by-nights.
Or, as in the case of Ry Grayson and his arrival for yesterday’s wedding, no more fly-by-days, either.
His own sister had said that he was just a kid at heart, that she didn’t think he would ever grow up. And even if Kate hadn’t had a preconceived belief that that was the kind of man he was, Marti saying it was a glaring warning that Kate was not taking lightly. In fact, she didn’t need any more confirmation than that to cement Ry Grayson on the do-not-touch-with-a-ten-foot-pole list.
So, all right, maybe he had gotten to her a little at the wedding and maybe that was why what she was feeling could possibly be excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. Opening up to her, letting her know he liked her brother, confiding his feelings about his sister’s late fiancé—there was no denying that the man could be charming and appealing.
But she’d learned—three times—that charm and appeal didn’t get her to the altar. And she couldn’t let charm or appeal blind her again. She had a goal, she was unwavering in her pursuit of that goal and that was all there was to it. She absolutely would not allow herself to be waylaid by anyone she honestly didn’t believe was a potential life partner.
And when it came to this massage, she was a professional and she could do this and keep it purely in that arena—business as usual. And no business-as-usual massage excited her.
With that sorted through in her mind, Kate set her shoulders straight and imagined her goals and resolve protecting her like a shield from Ry Grayson’s charm and appeal. She took several deep breaths for strength and to clear her mind. And then she knocked firmly on the door.
“I’m indecent, come on in.”
Well, no one had ever said that before.
Kate suppressed a smile and went in.
“Hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said unapologetically.
“I think I dozed off, so even if you did keep me waiting, I didn’t know it.”
He was lying facedown on the massage table, his arms at his sides. He hadn’t used the sheet he’d been given to cover up with, probably because he was still wearing everything from the waist down. But he was naked from the waist up. Naked, tanned, muscular and broad-shouldered at the top of an impressive V that narrowed to his waist and an equally impressive rear end that she almost wished he hadn’t left encased in jeans because one look at his backside and a slight shiver ran up her arms.
“Is it cold in here?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“As long as you’re comfortable,” she lied to cover her own reaction.
Business as usual, she reminded herself.
“Which shoulder is giving you trouble?” she asked, moving closer to the side of the table.
“The left,” he answered.
“I can use oil or lotion—which would you prefer?”
“Makes no difference to me.”
Kate chose oil, pouring some into her hands to warm it and trying as she did not to admire the pure, raw masculine magnificence of those shoulders and that back that could make a person drool, and biceps that were honed and carved and looked as if they were amply able to pull his body weight and more up the sheer sides of mountains.
Business as usual.
She went from the side of the table to the head of it.
“Fancy feet!” he exclaimed the minute she was in position and he could see her from the opening of the headrest. “Polish and a toe ring? That’s a surprise.”
Leave it to him to say something about it.
“The polish was for the wedding—open-toed shoes. And the ring has been there for so long it won’t come off,” she said as if there was no more to it.
But the truth was, she’d refreshed the polish, and she never tried to take off the ring. She just didn’t want him to know that she secretly liked that thin, silver bit of nonconformity that had come out of her late teens.
She also didn’t mention the fact that his view would have ordinarily consisted of only clunky clogs, but that she’d opted for sandals today. With him in mind, although she didn’t want to admit it even to herself.
“I’m going to touch you now,” she warned because sometimes her clients liked to know in advance.
“Go for it,” he said with a laugh that managed to sound sexy even through the slight muffle of the headrest.
“I’m pretty strong, so if I hurt you at all, let me know right away.”
“Give me all you’ve got, I think I can take it.”
And yet her hands hovered over his shoulders.
You said you were going to touch him, now do it!
It was just that she had some concerns about what touching him was going to do to her. Maybe nothing—after all, she’d never had any kind of personal reaction to touching anyone else. But Ry Grayson? There was something different about him.
Still, she had no choice, so she took a deep breath and laid her hands on his shoulders.
Another wave of those shivers went from her palms all the way up her arms again. But she put every effort into ignoring it. And when she did, she began to get an idea of what she was dealing with therapeutically.
“Wow, those are some big, hard knots,” she said.
“Big and hard—isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?” he countered with another laugh.
The man was definitely incorrigible.
Kate took her hands away. “I’m going to have to loosen the knots with some heat before I can deal with them,” she informed him without acknowledging his remark.
Then she escaped from the room and collapsed silently against the wall just outside the door.
She took more deep breaths. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She told herself again why she could not allow herself to be affected like this by Ry Grayson.
But only after about the sixth deep breath did she feel strong enough to cross the hall to the supply area of the office and continue with what she was supposed to be doing.
She took some hot packs from a drawer and heated them in the microwave. Then she retrieved two warm, damp towels from the Crock-Pot where she kept them heating, and went back to the treatment room.
On went the first towel, then the heat packs, then the second towel over them.
And the moan that came from Ry Grayson in response sounded much too much like the kind of moan he might make during the course of far more intimate activities.
Kate swallowed with some difficulty, pressed herself flat against the wall inside the room this time and decided to try polite, innocuous conversation to keep her mind and her reactions to him on another path.
“Did your grandmother end up making it through everything yesterday without any upset?” she asked.
“She did okay, actually. She’s pretty fond of Noah and she was glad to see Marti happy again.”
“And she was all right with Marti leaving on her honeymoon? I know Marti was worried about how Theresa would handle it.”
“There’s a reason for that—Gram is up and down, and we never know how she’ll handle anything. But Marti and Wyatt both leaving this morning didn’t seem to bother her. She was almost chipper all the way through lunch today. Then she took a nap and had a nightmare she keeps having—I don’t know how much Noah has told you about what’s going on with Gram.”
“He didn’t think it was a secret—especially since we are all family now.” Kate threw in that reminder again for her own sake and for his. “I know that when your grandmother was seventeen her parents died and she ended up being taken in by Hector Tyson and his wife. That he bought a major chunk of land from her for a song and got rich himself from selling it off in lots, and then also selling all the building materials for the houses that were built on it because he’s always been the only game in town when it came to lumber and hardware—”
“Something we’re going to change by opening a Home-Max—which he doesn’t like.”
“I know that when Theresa first came to Northbridge, she said it was to get back something that was taken from her,” Kate continued. “And that your family thought she was talking about the land. But when Marti and Noah told Theresa that Marti is pregnant, your grandmother got really upset and claimed that Hector seduced her and that she had his baby—”
