Page 23 of Mishaps and Mistletoe

“Nah.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The action caused his biceps to swell to twice the size they’d been seconds ago, and Josie worried her eyes were doing the same. “Don’t you remember? I told you I work in photography. I pose nude all the time.”

Josie pressed a fist to her mouth, but it didn’t stop the very loud gasp that escaped. “Oh, uh… that’s, well, good for you.” Her eyes jumped to literally everything in the room except the nude model inches from her. Why had she assumed a guy that looked like Kevin workedbehindthe camera and not in front of it?

But then he chuckled.

“I’m only kidding, Jojo. Trying to lighten the mood a bit.”

She playfully smacked him on the arm, but with muscles that robust, he probably didn’t feel it. “You’re just as much of a goofball as you were when you were a teenager.”

“And you like it.”

She tilted her head and looked at him. He’d managed to get her mind off the suffocating awkwardness. “I really do.”

“Alright, Jojo—you turn around. I’ll get under the sheet, get my head down and let you know when the only thing I see is the floor, and the only thing I feel is the padded table around my face. Sound good?”

She nodded. “Works for me.”

With her eyes fixed firmly on the white brick wall in front of her, Kevin walked to the table.

Until now, she’d had no idea the sound of fabric flapping or the groan of a table could make her shiver, but here she was. She also didn’t know her body’s response to being turned on was a squealy exhale that bordered on a whimper, but that’s what broke the silence in the massage room.

“Son of a—is there a bird in here?”

Josie had sense enough not to turn around—who knew what she would have seen if she had? “No—that was, uh…” Her eyes danced around the room for something to blame. “My shoes. Yeah, my squeaky shoes squeaked, and that’s the squeaky sound you heard.”

Say squeak one more time to make it more convincing, eh?

“Oh, okay. I’m all set, by the way.”

“Got it.” She shrugged off her robe. Now, she only had to make it to the table without tripping over something or falling off it. Anything that wouldn’t leave her sprawled naked on the floor for Kevin to see would be great. Given her last encounters with him and what happened in yoga class, she considered it a major victory when she settled on the table and got the cloth to cover her body.

“I’m all set,” she said.

Kevin lifted his head to look at her, and—oh geez!Apparently,all the muscles on his back were jealous of all the ogling the front ones got because with the simple act of him raising his head, his deltoids, lats, traps—they all stood at attention as if to ask,What do you think about us?

Uh, she had a lot of thoughts about them, actually. Thoughts that would probably play on loop for the duration of this massage session.

“All ready to relax?” Kevin asked, with a smile as easy as whatever day of the week Lionel Richie sang about. Friday? Wednesday? Heck if Josie knew. Her brain was officially mush.

“So ready.”

Liar.There were so many things on her mind besides relaxing right now. Well, only one, really. But if you counted each of his muscles as a reason, well, there were a lot.

ChapterSeven

“Can I start you off with a drink?”

Something to replenish the moisture in Kevin’s mouth? Sure, he’d take one. Or twenty. The past hour had been brutal. Jojo purred more contentedly than a feline about to devour the fanciest feast money could buy. Each new touch of the masseur produced another sound of pleasure. And every single time, Kevin’s breath caught. His masseur probably thought he had a respiratory disorder.

“Your muscles seem to tense more and more, sir,” the masseur had said. Quite a few times.

Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious.

The truth was, even though Josie’s robe covered all of her and then some—seriously, both of them could have fit in it with room to spare—it slipped a bit when he caught her. He was a gentleman, though, only glimpsing (by accident!) at about three inches of skin. All he could think about after that was kissing the exposed ridge of her collarbone that he’d seen. And so, he did—think about it, that is—the entire hour he lay next to her. Apparently, he was a collarbone guy.

“Just some water for me, please.” Replenishing the fluid he’d lost as he sweated throughout the massage was a priority. The masseur had commented on that too.

“Do you have any drink specials tonight?” Josie asked the server, who proffered a small menu from her apron.

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