stepped between them. “Our friend here has an appointment for a massage.”
The hippie swept her attention back to Ethan, her eyes even wider. “You’re Mitch’s friend. Another air force pilot. So that’s what the cards were trying to tell me.”
Cards? Enough of this new age crap. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Lieutenant Colonel … Grady, isn’t it?” She put her finger to her tiny chin and began studying his body as she circled him.
Ethan purposely unclenched his fists and tried to relax. But he couldn’t do it with her gaze burning into him. Then he felt her hands touch his shoulders, and he flinched. She made a hmm sound and then crooned an oooh as her hands moved down his arms. Ethan stifled a shiver.
“This will take more than a massage.” Her serious tone was at odds with her soft high voice.
“Oh, he wants to take yoga lessons, too,” Jackson interjected.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ethan growled.
“All right, all right. I think you’re in good hands.” Jackson turned to the herb lady. “Take care of our buddy, ma’am.”
“Do you have a girlfriend, Lieutenant Colonel? A lover?” She moved around in front of him and narrowed her eyes.
“He’s as free as a cocktail in a casino, sweetheart,” McCabe said, and winked at her.
“You’re done here, McCabe.” Ethan crossed his arms and jerked his head toward the exit.
The redhead dimpled at McCabe and then gestured to a doorway covered by hanging beads. “This way, Lieutenant Colonel.”
Ethan waited until the shop door had shut behind Jackson and McCabe, and then followed her through the doorway, careful to hold the strings of beads out of his way.
He stopped short inside the back room. It was cramped and lit only with more burning candles. His nose was assaulted by a sweet yet spicy scent. A red-and-yellow tie-dyed scarf was draped over the only window. A miniature fountain surrounded by river rocks and plants gurgled in the corner. But the main feature in the center of the room was the massage table. He’d rather face combat than lie on that thing.
“Just strip down to whatever you’re comfortable in.” She turned to leave the room.
“I’m comfortable now.”
She laughed, a light tinkling sound, and swiveled to smile at him. Her brows rose with skepticism and he clenched his teeth together.
“Why is that funny?”
“I don’t think you’ve been ‘comfortable’ in years. Perhaps decades.”
“Look, you don’t know me, so you can stop with the woo-woo weirdo act and just get on with it.”
She blinked up at him, her full lips pouting, and he felt as if he’d just kicked a puppy.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at your rudeness, with an aura like that,” she said, shaking her head. “Who wouldn’t be grumpy with their chi in such a state? I need to find just the right aroma for you.” She spun and left the room.
Ethan could hear her light voice out front, chattering, he assumed, to herself. “Let’s see … patchouli? No, no. Too stimulating. Maybe lavender. No, too weak. Something powerful, yet relaxing.”
Rude? Grumpy? She was right. He normally prided himself on his even-keeled nature. And his honorable treatment of females. He’d let this whole situation get under his skin.
Stop being such a wuss. He’d spent more than half his life in the air force. He’d faced down enemy bombers in the first Gulf War at the tender age of twenty-three. Witnessed kids younger than him shot, or blown up in land mines.
He drew in a deep breath, and with it, regained control. This would be over in an hour, tops. He could endure anything for an hour. Then he’d carry on with life as usual.
“Oh, you’re still dressed.”
Ethan blinked at the woman in her flowing, rainbow-striped robe. She’d tied back her hair, and held a small, strangely shaped bottle filled with clear liquid. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No.”
She put her finger to her chin again, staring at him. “Have you ever had a massage before?”
“No.”
“Never? Oooh, a massage virgin.” She grinned and her dimples teased his libido. And for some weird reason, so did the word virgin. “You’re going to love it,” she continued, clasping the bottle to her stomach with both hands. “It’s so relaxing, and I can tell by the set of your shoulders how tense you are. I’ve had only one other massage virgin, and she was …”
Ethan stopped listening. No, he wasn’t going to love it. He didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t like physical contact. Even when … He thought back to the arrangement he’d had with a lady he’d met in town. Every Friday night he would pick her up, take her to dinner, then go back to her place. Excessive touching had never been part of the deal. She hadn’t voiced any objections. Not in two years. But then she had canceled their standing date without a qualm.
“Okay, then, remove everything except your undershorts, get on the table and lie on your stomach.” Lily peeled the robe off her shoulders, spun and hung it on the tail of a brass kitty cat wall hook.
Ethan barely contained his slack-jawed reaction. The robe had hidden a trim figure in cutoff shorts and a tight tank top. Gorgeous legs. Tiny waist. Slim hips. Good-sized … she wasn’t wearing a bra.
And he had to strip down to his skivvies.
She set the bottle on the windowsill and headed out front again. “Call me when you’re ready.”
Heat surged through his body. Every part. Dragging his thoughts away from the woman’s breasts, Ethan pictured the icy winter days of his childhood in South Dakota. He sat on a chair by the door to pull off his boots and socks, and envisioned himself at Thule Air Base in Greenland staring at the arctic tundra. As he unbuttoned his uniform shirt, pulled it off one sleeve at a time and folded it carefully, he remembered the freezing snow on the Afghan mountaintops. Closing his eyes, he unzipped his camo pants, stepped out of them and folded them just as neatly.
“Are you ready back there, Lieutenant Colonel Grady?”
Ethan almost snarled. She’d broken his concentration. He snapped off his undershirt, wrapped a towel over his boxer briefs and lay down on his stomach.
Beads tinkled as she entered the room. “Close your eyes and take a deep, slow breath.”
Ethan gritted his teeth and complied.
With a click the sound of waves crashing against a shore filled the room. “To achieve Zen, one must be in total peace with oneself and nature.” Her warm, oil-soaked hands landed on his shoulders, and he instantly stiffened. But then she began a soft caress along either side of his neck, while her thumbs slid up his nape into his hairline.
He inhaled again and the light scent of coconut aroused his senses. The arctic was gone, replaced with a balmy beach, palm trees and a bikini-clad—
Her. The wacky herb lady. Lily.
He was picturing her in a bikini. In an instant his make-believe self had joined her on the sand and his hands were gripping her waist, then sliding up—
Discipline, Grady.
“Whoa. What happened? You were just starting to relax when your shoulders tightened up again.” Her fingers massaged his temples in slow circles, then combed through his hair to knead his scalp. “Empty your mind of thoughts,” she said in a low voice. “Negative thoughts create negative energy. Breathe in slowly, deeply. Then release impurities as you exhale.”
Since