STORY EXCERPT

"Maybe I can give you some relief," he said. "I am knowledgeable about muscle pain, especially in the neck area." Looking up at him, she noticed that he was forcing back a tiny, strange smile. "Shall I?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Maybe a massage would help," she said, uncertainly. She sat straighter.

He moved behind her and she was so acutely aware of his sudden nearness that she was convinced  he could hear every thump of her heart. His hands, long and slender, reached around her neck. The red stone ring on his finger glowed and flashed. A tantalizing mint scent filled her nostrils. A faint sense of recognition teased her brain. She released the breath she had been holding. He gently lifted her hair and moved it over one shoulder. As his hands brushed her bare skin, she shivered.

His hands began to work magic on her sore shoulder and neck muscles, moving firmly, yet with a lightness of touch. First, the pain dissolved—. Then, her nerve endings came alive, swelling and pulsating. A surge of warmth flooded through her. Her body wanted those hands to touch more than just her neck and shoulders.

Jen ached for more. Her flesh seemed to yearn, to reach for his touch. Her eyes flew open. What was happening to her? Her heart began to flutter madly. Could Dameon tell what she was feeling? He seemed unaware, massaging and kneading the muscles in her shoulders. Why was her body suddenly tight and heavy with a burning need? Horror and embarrassment froze her.

The fiery hunger was cooled. Every seething emotion drained from her body. She was soothed, relaxed, and abruptly tired. Dameon's hands released all of tension within her and blurred away the rough edges. Jen's senses swam. The light from the swing lamp melted into a blur.

She closed her eyes, feeling a rising vertigo. And yet, it was not an unpleasant feeling at all. Jen wondered why she wasn't nervous. After all, he was a man she barely knew, and he had his hands on her neck.

She felt so good that time was forgotten. Reality began to slip away. She forgot all about the sudden, urgent swell of desire that had just nearly overwhelmed her. She was in soporific daze by the time Dameon stopped his massage. Her body missed the touch of his hands. She didn't want him to stop.

Her eye lids felt heavy when she tried to raise them to look up at him.

"That was very...”—she stumbled over the words—"therapeutic. You're a great masseuse." She yawned. She leaned back against the sofa pillows, feeling rag doll limp, eyes closing. Jen thought she heard him answer her, but wasn't sure at the moment what was real and what wasn't. Her body felt curiously formless, as if she could float through the air.

"You know, Dameon," she confided, covering a second yawn with her hand. "I've been having the most terrible time getting a good night's sleep this past week. I've been so exhausted... I hope…" Her words slurred drunkenly. "I hope, tonight, I'll fall asleep without the dreams keeping me awake...maybe your massage will be the cure." She forced her eyes open.

He gazed down into her dilated, unfocused eyes. He was already in his coat, ready to leave. He spoke softly. "I have a strong feeling, chérie, that you will sleep well tonight. No more dreams, I promise." His words fell light as rain drops against her skin.

She thought she felt him kiss her forehead and whisper, "Forgive me," but couldn't swear that it wasn't a dream. As the door softly shut behind him, Jen pulled the afghan around her and fell immediately into a deep sleep, surrendering to a heavy, velvet darkness, which carried her off to oblivion.