The Cinderella Mission (Family Secrets #1)(17)
Author: Catherine Mann

Other than the risk of a coronary. It also offered a reminder that she sure as hell needed to brush up on her awareness of her surroundings if she expected to watch Ethan’s back. Kelly tightened the belt on her white robe and nuzzled deeper into terrycloth, hints of massage oils lingering on her body. “Did you need something?”

Attitude slumped her shoulders. “Mrs. Williams wanted me to let her masseur know she’s running a couple of minutes late.”

“Peter’s cleaning up the table in the next room if you want to peek in and tell him.”

Brittany looked longingly back at the other door leading to the breezeway into the garage—and thus Ethan’s apartment. Finally, she dragged her feet toward the massage room. Kelly wanted to tell the girl Ethan wasn’t around so she could take her drooling self elsewhere, but wouldn’t lend credence to her jealousy by voicing it.

The master plan for getting over Ethan Williams was turning into a big bust only a few days into operation. The more she knew, the more intriguing he became. She’d been mesmerized by his brash, bad-boy smile back at ARIES. Now, she was entranced by his tenderness to his aging aunt. The contradictions intrigued her—a Jag owner never washing his car, a man with more money than many foreign governments choosing supermarket-brand beer instead of vintage wine.

Something had to give soon, or she’d be in worse shape than when she’d buckled into his sludge-covered Jag.

Kelly slid a hand into the collar of her robe and rubbed along a kink returning to her neck. Taking advantage of the mansion’s luxuries seemed frivolous, but Eugenie had insisted. And her back truly was wrecked from so much time at the computer, as well as in the gym.

Or maybe from so much time at the computer and in the gym this week with Ethan.

They’d both worked until three in the morning to accommodate time changes in overseas communications about banking transfers linked to terrorist groups. Brainstorming through security measures for the gala. Researching experimental advances made by the Marines in nonlethal weapons for use in a crowd of civilians.

Given the long night, they wouldn’t be starting until ten this morning. Of course she couldn’t sleep in thanks to a certain too-hunkish-for-his-own-good partner.

The outside door swung open, admitting a blast of cold air and a hundred-percent-hot Ethan in running clothes. Apparently he couldn’t sleep, either.

He whipped the sweatshirt hood off his head and dusted snow from impossibly broad shoulders. Before the door slam finished echoing through the gym, Brittany popped back into the room. She breezed over to Kelly—that much closer to Ethan.

The girl melted at his feet.

Mitts off. Kelly didn’t bother to stop the possessive thought. Brittany had better keep her little paws to herself.

For the good of the case, of course, Kelly reminded herself. Her country was counting on her to present a convincing act.

Kelly flashed an apologetic smile. “Excuse me, Brittany.”

Three bold steps took Kelly chest-to-chest with Ethan. She flattened her hands on his shoulders.

Really nice shoulders. “Hi, sugar.”

Sugar? Ewww. Her ineptitude was showing like a too-long slip.

Muscles beneath her palms contracted into a sheet of pure metal. Suddenly Brittany’s melting seemed understandable.

Then he cupped her face. “Hey, Kel.”

Snowcap liquefying. Flood alert!

She needed to remember his attentive boyfriend gig was just an act for their audience. But, man oh man, his gaze scorched over her face and down to the V of her robe with such convincing power the man deserved an Oscar. Even she believed he wanted her, and she knew better.

Her fingers curled to grip the warm cotton of his sweatshirt. “Why are you here?”

“To see you.” His hands dropped to her waist, searing through her clothes to her skin. “I missed you.”

“We just had breakfast together an hour ago,” Kelly improvised.

A gasp sounded behind them. Hell’s bells. She hadn’t meant to insinuate a shared three-egg omelet in bed.

“Is my aunt around?” Had he pulled her forward or had she swayed? Not that it mattered, since her hips brushed his either way.

She was drowning in her own meltdown. “Eugenie’s on her way over to meet up with her masseur, uh, Paul?”

“Peter.”

Who could think anyway? “Right.”

He glanced over her shoulder. “Brittany? Did you need something?”

“No, sir. All done.” She sashayed past, blasting Kelly with a glare behind Ethan’s back, before flouncing away. The door thudded after her.

Ethan’s hands slid from Kelly’s hips.

Ohmigosh, did they ever slide in a tingling stroke that seemed to take forever. She wanted…she wanted…

More.

He stepped back. “Sorry about all that.”

“No problem.” Liar.

“Let Aunt Eugenie know I’m looking for her when she’s through.” He jammed his hands into the stomach pocket of his sweatshirt.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. “Yoohoo,” Eugenie called. “Peter! I’m on my way. Hold on.”

The wiry masseur stepped from the back room, a dark pump bottle in hand. A spa and salon owner, Peter Miller still made special trips out for his best client.

“No need to rush, Miss Eugenie,” the man enunciated with a news-broadcaster-style boom, sounding more like Peter Jennings than Peter-the-masseur. “The oils are warming.”

Ethan’s aunt bustled inside wearing a tomato-red kimono. “What’s the blend of the day?”

Peter cradled his concoction like a carnie sideshow salesman. “For Miss Eugenie, a centering mix of atlas cedar, sandalwood and frankincense to promote inner peace.”

Eugenie flattened a hand to her chest, her long exhale ending with a smile. “Perfect.”

“But first…” He thrust the bottle toward Kelly. “A welcome gift for you, my dear. Use three capfuls in your bath water.”

She clasped the cool glass in her hands. “Thank you, Peter. The serenity blend you used earlier smells lovely.”

A grin multiplied his wrinkles. “No-no.” He sidled between Kelly and Ethan. “This is a special romance blend for the young lovers. Sweet orange for happiness. Sandalwood to relieve loneliness, dwelling on the past and cynicism.”

Did the guy have some kind of crystal ball tucked under his massage table?

“And finally,” he pinched the air, “ylang ylang, imported from Indonesia.”