Page 63 of Return To You

She opens one eye. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” I exclaim. “Are you? Okay? I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She closes her eyes and settles deeper on the cozy table. “I just detected… tension. No worries.”

Tension. Right. I wonder why. Although the way he had me pinned against the wall… holy crap. I clench my teeth and set the jade stone down. Taking a deep breath, I give Cheryl her hand massage, the last part of my signature ninety-minute facial. I don’t know if I’m more mortified that he found my secret box, or angry that he confronted me about it, or aroused by him.

God! He felt even better than I remembered.

His scent—pure, now that it wasn’t from the jacket he’d been wearing—hit me right below the solar plexus, like something essential, primeval, something I needed like my own breath. I inhaled all of him like my life depended on it.

The feel of his skin seared through mine, warmed me, scorched me, and I swear I can still feel it, the way his muscles tightened, the delicious way his hands closed around my wrists, the way his stubble grated the side of my face.

To sleep next to Ethan just once more and absorb, breathe in everything that is him.

Now that would be a youth serum.

“Honey?”

Startled, I open my eyes. “Yep? Other hand now.”

“We did the other hand already.”

“Oh did we now?”

I glance at the small clock on the marble mantle of the treatment room. Oh, we are way past time. I mentally go over the treatments Grace’s Signature Ninety Minute Facial includes, to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

I might be a little cuckoo and a lot in my head, but I have a business to run and I’m not jeopardizing it over some leftover teenage fantasy of Mister Hotshot.

“How do you feel?” I ask Cheryl.

She stretches on the table. “Absolutely transformed.”

And I can’t believe he was arrogant enough to want to talk again. “Hold that thought.” “This conversation is not over.”

Yessir, it is over. Been over a looong time.

God I’m such a mess of conflicted feelings.

After Cheryl leaves, I rush back to the reception area. On the way, I notice Fabrizio glancing at me as he’s cleaning up his space. Hope is giving someone a facial in our other room. Shanice comes out of the break room with a happy glint in her eye. Good. I just want alone time. “Did you locate our product?”

“I’m on it.” Claudia’s voice is assured enough that I actually relax.

“Great. I’m going to take five.” I’m about to slouch on the small couch in the break room when my eyes catch on a mug. Another cutie from Millie’s. It’s set on the little round table where I left my phone and my rings. This one has kittens on it. Shanice must have forgotten it.

Stepping out of the break room, I call toward her. “Is this yours? It’s the cutest.” I raise the travel mug to clarify my question.

She turns a deep shade and mumbles something.

My eyes catch on golden letters that I hadn’t noticed before. That handwriting. Lifting the mug to eye level, I turn it slowly to read the inscription. A heart prank…

I rush back into the break room and lean my back against the shut door, my heart beating hard against my ribcage.

A heart prank reign.

Pain twists my inside, tears spring to my eyes. Everything we shared, everything we were, was contained in that phrase, the anagram of our names, a salute to the way love took hold of our hearts and wouldn’t let go, playing pranks on us. And how we played pranks of sorts on our friends and families to be together.

A soft knock brings me back to my senses. To the present. “Grace? Are you alright?”

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