Pin her down, hold her close, make love to her.
Oh, crap.
She could not start thinking of him that way. It was sex, only sex. They weren’t making love, and certainly not in some imaginary house in her fantasies.
Because if it didn’t work out—and of course it wouldn’t work out—he’d eventually end it because they wanted different things—then she’d be saying sayonara to a friendship she didn’t want to give up.
He hammered once more, and the sound crashed into her head, sending off a new pang. She pressed her hand to her forehead as Smith turned around. “You okay? You got one of those nasty migraines again?”
“Yeah,” she said in a strained voice because it was coming on fast.
He reached for her shoulders, turning her around. He said nothing. Instead, he let his hands do the talking, his fingers kneading gently into her neck, then the dip of her shoulders. She sighed deeply and leaned into his touch. He lifted her hair so he could press his thumbs against the base of her scalp. The whole time, she moaned, but not the way she had in his truck or the storage room or his bedroom. The sounds came from relief, from the fact that he was taking away the pain, bringing her body back to the way it should be.
“You have magic hands,” she said softly, as the tension poured out of her, replaced only by the soft, noodly feeling of a massage well done.
“You feeling better?”
She nodded into his hands.
“Don’t stop, please.”
“Never,” he whispered, and she wasn’t sure if he was even talking about the massage anymore. But she knew this much—she didn’t want this thing between them to stop. Any of it. She inched her whole body closer as he moved on to her shoulders, rubbing her tight muscles between his fingers. Her back was nearly pressed against his chest, and she could feel his erection against her backside. She wriggled playfully against him once.
“You like that, too?” he asked.
“I like all the things you do,” she whispered. “That’s the problem.”
“But it’s not a problem. It doesn’t have to be a problem if you just give me a chance,” he said, and that idea was starting to grow on her. She didn’t know how to admit it, though, so she stayed silent for now, as he kept up the work on her neck and shoulders, then moved his hands into her hair.
“I don’t have a headache anymore.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.”
“You have no idea how much I needed this,” she said, and it sounded as if her voice might break. “I’ve been dealing with these stupid tension headaches forever and nothing has made them go away like you.” She snapped her fingers to demonstrate, then turned around to face him. “Thank you. Where did you learn how to do that?”
“I went to masseuse school. Didn’t you know?”
She grinned, then swatted his chest playfully. “Seriously. I know you studied business in college. But you’re like a magic cure. How do you do that?” she asked, then cursed herself for opening this can of worms. He probably learned how to give massages from a woman.
“Look, I could give you some line about how I’ve always been good with my hands, and it’s true. But I’m pretty sure that the talent you just saw came from the fact that I put myself through college making pizzas.”
She cracked up—of all the reasons to be good at massage, she’d never have picked that one. “Are you serious? You never told me that before.”
“I was a pizza boy. I got a job at this local pizza joint near school, and I worked my ass off five nights a week making pies. Yep, I can knead dough like nobody’s business.”
“You are a hard worker. I’m impressed too that you put yourself through college.”
“Paid every cent myself. I’ve just always believed you have to work for what you want in life.”
“I believe that, too. My parents offered to help me with a down payment on my first house, but I wanted to do it myself. So as I was tending bar, then managing bars, I saved the money to get myself a little house. It’s small, but it’s mine, and I love it. And speaking of working hard,” she said, shifting gears to a more serious note. “I have an idea for you.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Now I know you don’t like to ask for help,” she said, doing her best to be gentle but firm. “But I want to help you with your business.”
He gave her a strange look as if she were speaking a foreign language. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you need to expand. You’ve hinted at that before. But you won’t hire anyone because you got burned when that guy you worked with stole from one of your clients, right?”
“Right,” he said, taking a step back, and she knew she was touching a nerve. Smith was very much man against the world, a true do-it-yourselfer.
“My sister runs my parents’ winery and she just hired a bunch of new part-timers to help out. Day laborers. She said they’re great and working out well. And I would really like to connect you with her and see if maybe you can hire some of them too.”
“Yeah, but how do I know it’ll all work out?” he asked, his voice wary.
“You don’t, but she’s good at her job and it seems to be going well so far.”
His features softened. “I guess I can talk to her. I know Becker wants me to get moving on this. But you sure she only uses trustworthy guys?”