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Geoffrey’s expression clouded. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wayborn. Client/therapist privilege prevents me from sharing that information.”

“Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” I probably should have slipped him a hundred. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Though, what could he know? The spa experience wasn’t designed for chatting. If Geoffrey had worked on Amber, he would have seen her body but what could he tell me that would be useful about that?

“If there are no other questions…?”

I considered leaving. I considered asking for another masseur. I considered trying harder to get something more from Geoffrey, like a key to the file room. But I was tired of dead ends and the massage sounded good. God knew I needed one. “Nope. I’m ready.”

“Well, then. Get undressed to the level you’re comfortable. Then lie on the table under the sheet, chest down, face in the cradle. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Having been to plenty of spas in my lifetime, I knew the drill. I stripped completely, took my place on the table, and closed my eyes.

Then, as they always did when I had a silent moment, my thoughts went to Amber. Where was she now? Was she better than how I left her or worse? Did she forgive me in the end? Did she ever realize I needed forgiving?

With no warning knock, the door opened and I heard Geoffrey come in. He didn’t say anything as he began, first running a light path up my spine from my ass to my neck with the palm of his hand. I always liked that part of a massage – the initial touch. The hello. This hello was firmer than others and dared to go lower on my behind. It was confident and in charge, just like I’d expect from a Sallis spa. Despite feeling off-balance the last few days, this simple action helped me regroup. And finally I began to relax.

Geoffrey pulled down the sheet to my waist, and though the cool air sent goose bumps parading on my skin, I was soon warm from the lotion and the rhythm of his hands. He continued to work my back and shoulders for long, silent minutes, loosening the tightest knots, smoothing out the rocks in between my ribs. Then he moved to my arms, then legs, magically relieving the tension in first one limb, then another.

He’s good, I thought as my mind went empty of everything but where I was. This is exactly what I needed. Then I began to drift.

Thoughts returned, hazy, dreamlike. The touch of my masseur morphed into touches from the past. Touches from Amber and Rob. Then Amber and Reeve. Then just Reeve. His caress became erotic, forceful. He kissed me – hard – and it felt like a scene I’d been in before, except different. False. Because I liked it and I wasn’t supposed to. Because he was supposed to be awful and mean. He was supposed to hurt me. I pushed away, confused, and saw Amber at the door. Then came familiar words, words that had stained themselves into my memory. “You fucking bitch. You knew I loved him, you fucking bitch.”

“No,” I tried to say, as I always did in response. “I didn’t. He did this.” When I finally got it out, though, it was wrong. Because I didn’t deny. I didn’t refute. “Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

Reeve chuckled through the fog. “Good dream?”

Had I said something? Yes. I’d said yes.

Then he said, “Time to turn over.”

I blinked, rousing from my sleep. Lifting my head, I found the sheet held in the air above me. It blocked Reeve’s face. He wanted me to change sides, I realized. He was covering me so that I could make the shift without being exposed.

And it’s not Reeve, silly. It’s Geoffrey, I said to myself, scooting down so my head wasn’t lying on the face cradle.

Except when he let the sheet fall again, it actually was Reeve’s face that stood above me. What the fuck? When the hell had he come in?

“Uh, hi.” I sat up suddenly, clutching the sheet to me, disoriented from my dream. When had Geoffrey gone? Had I slept longer than I thought? Spoken in my sleep? How embarrassing. I wiped my mouth, hoping I wasn’t drooling.

Reeve smiled in that devilish way he often did – the way that made the insides of my thighs tingle. “Hello. Did you enjoy your nap?”

“I enjoyed the massage before the nap. Geoffrey is really —” I cut myself off, noticing Reeve was wearing suit pants and a dress shirt, but no jacket. His sleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, and his tie was missing. Clarity bolted through me. “That was you the whole time, wasn’t it?”

He answered with a question that was all the affirmation I needed. “Ready to go on?”

“Sure.” It was still the dream. It had to be. I lay back on the table and closed my eyes.

The sheet was tucked around my upper thigh, exposing my leg. I heard the pump of the lotion dispenser. Reeve picked up my foot and began rubbing at my ankle, working his way down to the sole. At my heel, he used just his thumbs, alternating them up and down with medium pressure.

I fought against the moan that threatened. It felt good. So good. Too good.

Too good to be a dream.

Fuck, this wasn’t a dream. My eyes flew open. Peering down at him, I found him watching me with a satisfied grin. As if he’d been waiting for my gaze to meet his. Or as if he’d been watching my expression.

I propped myself up with my elbows. It really was Reeve. He really was there. “I’m sorry. I’m sort of out of it.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” His face was somber, and I couldn’t decide if he was teasing or not.

Mostly, I couldn’t decide why he was there in the first place. Reeve wasn’t a man to do things without motive. Was this a friendly surprise? Was this his way of making the first move that he insisted he always did?