One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

Oh, Christ, he had to say the word kink while she was totally at his mercy. “That’s not helping.”

He laughed. “Sorry, poor word choice. Stop thinking this is anything but a massage. After this you’re taking a soak in the tub and then we’re watching a movie. Something fun that I’m not in.”

That sounded so good, but so not what she was expecting. She gave him a mumble midway between a sigh and a questioning huh.

“Don’t sound disappointed.”

“Wondering if you’ve gone off me.”

His hands stopped moving, fingertips resting on her lower back. “I have not gone off you, woman. I lunch-bombed your office. I’m trying my hardest to be a professional and only touch you therapeutically.”

He was the most unlikely shoe fitter, sandwich guy, masseur. “Why is that again?” she mumbled.

“Because I belatedly realize I kind of stalked you and I might’ve cornered you into this weekend.”

“You did stalk me.” No kind of about it. “But I’m here because I want to be.” Because she trusted he had no agenda other than pleasure and didn’t need to call attention to them, having shown he knew how to keep things on the low down.

His hands had stilled after that admission but began to strum over her again. “Good. I’m doing this because you need it. Because I can. I have a lot of people in my life who care for me. Some of them get paid to. Some of them get paid to and care anyway. I can extend that care to you this weekend.”

And didn’t that sound like she’d make the right decision not ordering him out of her office.

“Like Rick.”

“Rick has been with me a long time. He’s special. Others only like the status of being in my life. They like what it can do for them. I’ve had to go after some of those people to stop them peddling lies.”

“Blackmailing you?”

“I wouldn’t use that word, but certainly trying to make money off me.”

It was so far from her life, where the only blackmail was the emotional type that Evie dished out, that it made her blink on a bitter little ache behind her eyes. She’d already had a moment of concern for Haydn back at the office, when it became clear the big phone call he’d been waiting on, the reason he agreed to headline the conference in the first place hadn’t happened. He’d brushed it off nonchalantly, but she didn’t buy his act.

“It’s reality. The more successful I became, the more I spent on legal fees. What I don’t have is a lot of people in my life I can care for. This massage is entirely selfish. It’s more for me than you. Give a guy a break and relax.”

Her head already seemed a little clearer for focusing on the conversation, her body was giving up its heightened state of awareness and starting to get heavy.

“Where did you learn to do this?” He was kneading knots under her shoulder blades. She could sense the muscle softening.

“I worked as a stagehand one summer. The dancers had to wear these incredibly heavy headpieces and massive capes. They were all complaining about neck and back ache. I learned the basics from a friend, got a second-hand table and set up in a corner of the backstage area doing massages for extra cash.”

“Dancers,” she mumbled, starting to feel as if she was made of elastic bands that he could stretch whichever way he wanted. They’d have had beautifully toned bodies.

“I was seventeen, big into women, desperately horny and broke. And it was a drag show.”

She must’ve stiffened up as she laughed because he smoothed a hand down her spine and under the towel placed lengthways across her butt and gave it a tap. “No tensing.”

The last of the day’s sunshine poured into the room where the table was set up. There was no disguising her body in mood lighting, pretty lingerie, movement, pool water or wrapping herself in Haydn. And he’d had such beautiful co-stars, there was no way an ordinary mortal could compete, but he’d done something wonderful to her neck and shoulders to make the idea of worrying about having big knees and a too prominent rib cage irrelevant.

Last night, insecurity about her body hadn’t been more than a fleeting concern. They’d shared a bright, consuming flare of irrepressible desire. The way Haydn had looked at her, touched her, had filled her with confidence.

Now though, they were two people getting to know each other and that added a new dimension. They weren’t sex crazed, though the arousal was there, banking for a big payday. This was foreplay and it was devastatingly good so her big knees could go take a hike and carry her prominent rib cage with them.

“Your shoulders were incredibly tight,” he said. “Too much time huddled over a computer.”

Exercising and eating well had become lesser priorities over the last few years. “I need to take better care of myself. Eat better, exercise more.”

He placed an unprofessional but heart-melting kiss on the back of her neck. “You are your own best asset, so yes, you do need to take better care of yourself. That doesn’t mean a damn diet or having work done.” He passed a hand over her well-padded hip as he said that. “You don’t need to change a thing, but if you’re going to work long hours you need to acknowledge the toll it takes and give yourself good fuel and adequate recovery time.”

Yes, Doctor Delany. I like your prescription. The dead-end fianc