Wrapped in You (The Monroes 1)

Okay, so that told him two things: She had her head on straight for getting a degree, which the nerdy professor in him admired. And she was still young, almost a decade younger than him, which was just another reason he needed to keep his lustful thoughts out of his head. Just because her voice was silky smooth didn’t mean he had to react to it or start to fantasize about what she looked like.

While the rocks stayed in position, Cora’s hands started gliding in short, smooth strokes from the middle of his back down to his side. Braxton had to catch himself from groaning. No, he wasn’t here to enjoy the process, he was here to see if she would work out in their spa. In his defense, though, he could see how women would eat up this type of pampering. And that’s precisely what they needed for this women-only resort and spa he and his brothers were going to open.

Belle Vous was a vision of their late sister, Chelsea, and the Monroe boys were fighting like hell to make sure this resort was unlike anything around. They didn’t want to just open their doors and hope for the best. They wanted, just like their beautiful sister had, to make the business thrive. They wanted this to be a place women came to relax from work, from family, from life in general. Chelsea had wanted that because their adoptive mother had put her life on hold to ensure they all had an amazing life. The woman had never asked for anything for herself; everything was for her family. Chelsea’s dream was to cater to those women who were constantly giving.

“Why aren’t you working as an accountant?” he asked, impressed he could form a coherent sentence while she worked her magic. Oh man, those hands of hers were talented. And he had no idea why there were rocks down his back, but this was absolutely amazing.

Fine. He was enjoying every second of this, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it to anyone.

Her hands stilled for only a split second before she replied, “Personal reasons. Being a masseuse gives me more freedom. I love helping people relax. In a world where everything is rushed and hectic, I think people need to take more time for themselves. To work at a resort as unique as this one would be perfect.”

Something about her passion, her need for freedom, reminded Braxton of Chelsea. His late sister would already love Cora for this position in the spa. And Braxton had to admit, he could get used to this treatment . . . still without anyone knowing, of course.

“I’m going to use some oil now,” she told him, still in that soft, made-for-the-bedroom voice. No, damn it. She wasn’t made for a bedroom, at least not his. “Do you prefer a scent or unscented? I keep both for allergy reasons, and for men who prefer not to smell like flowers or fruit. Everyone is different and I like to please each client.”

Oh man. She was killing him. Killing. Him.

His mind drifted to areas it shouldn’t. He didn’t need to think about being pleased in any other way than by finding the perfect employee.

Braxton laughed at his wayward thoughts and how quickly he’d strayed off course. “Unscented is fine. Do you have many male clients?”

“I did where I was working,” she replied easily. “I had quite a variety, actually. CEOs, blue-collar workers. Granted, most of them were private about their guilty pleasure, but that’s fine. I understand the need for them to feel masculine. I’ve learned how to keep secrets, and every client has them.”

Her hands slathered together seconds before the warm, oily glide took over. He had to swallow back the groan that threatened to slip out. Mercy, he hadn’t expected to really enjoy this. Braxton didn’t know if all massages were this sensual or if he’d hit the masseuse jackpot, but this woman and her clever hands could rub him all day.

Best. Interview. Ever. Maybe he needed to hold more interviews for possible masseuses. Or not. That was one thing he’d never live down, if either of his brothers thought he actually liked this.

“Why the move to Haven?” he asked. “I was told you lived in Atlanta.”

Her hands traveled to the other side of his back. The oil slid easily between her palms and his skin, making him think of other, very unprofessional thoughts.

“My family is in Atlanta, but I’ve never wanted to stay there. I’m not a big-city girl. Too rushed, too chaotic for me.” She finished his back, then moved to shift the towel over his backside as she placed more oil on the tops of his thighs. “I love Savannah, always have. Several summers ago I came to Haven with a friend and instantly fell in love with the small-town charm.”

Was she trying to get away from the city or her family? Or both? There was a story there, but right now Braxton was having a hard enough time controlling his urges. With her digging into the backs of his thighs . . . he couldn’t delve into her personal issues.

“Can you tell me more about the resort?” she asked, moving down the table to work on his lower legs. “Sophie told me enough to have me interested in what three guys would want with a women’s resort.”

Braxton chuckled, lifting his hands to settle on either side of his face on the cushy doughnut pillow. “We’re either really smart or we’re about to make total fools of ourselves.”

“Personally, I think the idea is brilliant. Working moms, young, single women looking for a getaway, sisters, moms and daughters. You’ll have a whole host of women flocking to this resort.”

He didn’t know why her approval pleased him. Cora with the sultry voice and the talented hands had clearly taken control of his mind and every single thought. Who knew a masseuse held so much power?

“Our sister, Chelsea, bought this house a few years back. She always loved to travel and take off on a whim. The one place she always wanted to see was Paris.” He focused on the story, not on the fact she was now on his thigh again, up near very personal territory. “She had a vision for this place that none of us knew about until she passed away almost a year ago.”

Cora’s hands froze. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you’d lost someone that close.”

Braxton still couldn’t believe it himself. Not a day went by that he didn’t want to send Chelsea a text, but just as quickly as that thought would hit, the pain of the emptiness would replace it. That ache, it hadn’t lessened one bit. The pain was just as fierce, just as crippling; he’d just grown accustomed to living with a hole in his life. He didn’t like this new chapter without her, but he would go on living and honor her memory. The alternative of letting his grief consume him wasn’t an option. Chelsea was a strong woman, and he’d be damned if he’d let her down.

“We’re getting along.” The simple reply for emotions that were anything but. “We’re doing this for her, to keep her alive the only way we know how.”

Cora smoothed the towel back in place. She brushed against the side of his leg as she moved toward his feet. “You must be a strong family to support each other like this.”

There was a wistfulness to her tone, almost a longing. None of his concern. Sexy women were one thing, baggage and anything personal was a whole other level he ran fast and far from. Being jilted by a so-called love could make a man a bit jaded . . . or at least wake him up to how careless people were with other’s hearts.

“We have our typical moments where we don’t agree, but we know we can always depend on each other.”

“Sounds perfect,” she murmured.