The Masseuse by Sierra Kincade Page B

my wild black hair and red dress.
    Aware of the stares I was drawing, I averted my eyes out the window. Daylight was fading and the sky had taken on an orange hue. It would have been the perfect night to sit out at a waterside restaurant like the one I’d planned on going to with Alec. I wondered if he was there right now with Charlotte, getting drinks.
    Maybe I’d been too quick to judge him; I didn’t know anything about his job and what it entailed. But then I remembered the easy way his hand had found another woman’s back and how he’d completely ignored me in her presence, and I felt assured in my decision to be here.
    “I’m so glad you called.”
    I turned in my seat to find Randall, wearing a thin, salmon-colored sweater and khakis. He grinned, a dimple appearing on his right cheek, and tossed his head back to clear the ridiculous hair from his eyes. Okay, maybe not so ridiculous. He was fairly cute when he wasn’t being an ass.
    “I’m glad I called, too,” I said.
    He sat across from me. I tried to picture him without his shirt on, but I kept seeing what I’d imagined Alec’s body would look like. Rippled abs and a chiseled chest, smooth skin for my fingers to explore.
    “Again, Anna, I’m sorry for the other night. It’s so not like me.”
    I dismissed his guilt with a wave of my hand. I wasn’t here to start a relationship; I was here to get this itch out of my system.
    I was here to stop thinking about Alec.
    Which seemed a little juvenile, now that I thought about it.
    “What’s on your mind?” Randall asked, making me aware of my frown.
    I forced a laugh. “Nothing. I’m just hungry. It’s been a busy day.”
    He hummed, tapping the menu with his thumb. “If we were in the office, I’d tell you that people typically deflect direct questions as a safety mechanism, but that deep down, they really want to tell you what’s going on.”
    My smile turned genuine.
    “Then it’s a good thing we’re not in your office,” I said. “Because right now I just want to forget about my day, my week, and everything else, and relax. Is that all right with you?”
    He nodded, looking relieved. “Would you like something to drink?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Drinks were martinis, and dinner consisted of portabella mushroom sliders and a teensy, tiny spinach salad. It was delicious, but not exactly filling. The conversation was fine, though, and by the second glass of wine he had me laughing about his failed kiss on our last date.
    “I panicked,” he admitted. “It wasn’t my best effort. If I get another chance, I promise not to ambush you.”
    “You may get another chance,” I said. So maybe Randall didn’t get my juices flowing like Alec, but that didn’t mean I felt
nothing
. He was cute, and smart, and he did have a kick-ass body.
    He was quiet for a moment. “Another glass of wine?”
    “Are you trying to get me drunk?” I was already feeling pleasantly warm and tingly.
    He looked at me through his overly long bangs. “Only drunk enough to sleep with me.”
    I laughed as he departed to the bar to order our drinks. Taking this chance to go to the restroom, I hopped down off the stool, grabbing the back of the chair to steady myself. If I didn’t add water to my beverage list, I was going to be hating myself tomorrow.
    When the room stopped tilting, I made my way to the bathroom. On the way back to my chair, I stopped at the bar to ask for a glass of water and saw Randall waiting on the other side for our drinks. He was talking to a woman in a pink fitted dress with a sweater draped over her shoulders, and he couldn’t see me behind the mirrors that adorned the center island. A bottled blonde, the woman had spent her fair share of time in a tanning bed—her skin was too orange to have been tinted by the sun. She laughed at something he said, placing her hand on top of his.
    His eyes lingered on where their hands touched, and after a moment he leaned forward and whispered something in