kind of woman he meshed with was full of life, free-spirited, lively and adventurous, outgoing and game for anything—like him. The kind of woman he meshed with would have flirted audaciously with him when Marti had introduced them. She would never have taken seriously his joking about her occupation, and probably would have shot back a few innuendos of her own.
But a prim reverend’s granddaughter? A woman who held herself so stiff and straight she could have had a pole running up the zipper of her bridesmaid’s dress? A woman who not only hadn’t found the fact that he’d been hurt on a skateboard funny, but who had given him the impression that she thought it was just a stupid, childish thing to have done? A woman who was that reserved and subdued and stuffy?
Huh-uh. No thanks.
He’d tried it with a few women like that, and he knew they were not for him. That his personality, the way he liked to live his life, clashed with theirs and their expectations of who he should be and how he should behave.
So even if Kate Perry was a beauty, even if he had gotten a kick out of the verbal back-and-forth with her and the evidence that she was clearly nobody’s fool, he wasn’t interested.
Besides, there was also the fact that she lived in Northbridge and that she was Marti’s sister-in-law.
Northbridge was not a place he wanted to be tethered to any more than he had to be to take care of his grandmother.
And messing with an in-law’s sibling? He’d already been dumb enough to hook up with someone with that kind of family connection—Wyatt’s first wife’s sister. And when it didn’t work out? Backlash and awkwardness to spare. Not to mention strain on his relationship with Wyatt.
So as far as he was concerned, Kate Perry was a no-go all the way around.
Well, except that she was doing his massage tonight.
If he didn’t have to have his shoulder loosened up so it didn’t hurt like hell, he would cancel that appointment—there was no question about it.
But he really needed the massage, no matter who was giving it; otherwise, he was going to have to pop pain pills and he didn’t want to do that.
Still, he was a little worried about what might happen—purely involuntarily—when someone who looked like Kate Perry touched him.
But he just had to suck it up and have the massage.
Maybe if he kept reminding himself over and over again just how not-for-him Kate Perry was, it would help.
But just in case it didn’t, he was keeping his pants on and letting her deal with the shoulder and nothing but the shoulder.
Get in there, get it done, get out.
That was what Kate told herself as she stood outside the door to the treatment room in the office she shared with the local chiropractor.
The receptionist had just taken Ry Grayson to the treatment room, given him his instructions and left for the day. The chiropractor wasn’t in on Mondays. That meant that there were now only two people in the office—Kate and Ry Grayson, who was waiting for his massage.
A massage that would be no different than any massage she’d ever given because he was just a client, she told herself.
So why was she dreading it so much?
Or was she feeling something else?
No, it was dread. It had to be dread. Why would it be anything else? Anything like excitement to see him again?
It wouldn’t be.
And even if it was, she wasn’t having any part of it.
She was husband-hunting. She wanted what she’d always wanted—to find the one man she could build her life with. The one man who would want what she wanted—to get married, to buy a house, to settle down and have a family, to raise that family together. And she was tired of being distracted from that goal by men who ultimately—even if they said it was what they wanted—didn’t want that same thing.
Steady, stable, serious, rock solid—that was the kind of man she was looking for. Someone who was clear in his convictions, who knew himself and what he wanted. Someone like her.
Certainly, someone who wouldn’t mislead her into thinking he did want what she wanted and then just string her along.
And any man who gave her the slightest indication that that wasn’t who he was, absolutely was not a contender. Absolutely was not someone she was putting an ounce of energy or a minute of her time into. Because doing that three—three—times was enough. More than enough—three engagements that ended short of the altar were more than any one person’s limit.
So no more fly-by-nights.
Or, as in the case of Ry Grayson and his arrival for yesterday’s wedding, no more fly-by-days, either.
His own sister had said that he was just a kid at heart, that she didn’t think he would ever grow up. And even if Kate hadn’t had a preconceived belief that that was the kind of man he was, Marti saying it was a glaring warning that Kate was not taking lightly. In fact, she didn’t need any more confirmation than that to cement Ry Grayson on the do-not-touch-with-a-ten-foot-pole list.
So, all right, maybe he had gotten to her a little at the wedding and maybe that was why what she was feeling could possibly be excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. Opening up to her, letting her know he liked her brother, confiding his feelings about his sister’s late fiancé—there was no denying that the man could be charming and appealing.
But she’d learned—three times—that charm and appeal didn’t get her to the altar. And she couldn’t let charm or appeal blind her again. She had a goal, she was unwavering in her pursuit of that goal and that was all there was to it. She absolutely would not allow herself to be waylaid by anyone she honestly didn’t believe was a potential life partner.
And when it came to this massage, she was a professional and she could do this and keep it purely in that arena—business as usual. And no business-as-usual massage excited her.
With that sorted through in her mind, Kate set her shoulders straight and imagined her goals and resolve protecting her like a shield from Ry Grayson’s charm and appeal. She took several deep breaths for strength and to clear her mind. And then she knocked firmly on the door.
“I’m indecent, come on in.”
Well, no one had ever said that before.
Kate suppressed a smile and went in.
“Hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said unapologetically.
“I think I dozed off, so even if you did keep me waiting, I didn’t know it.”
He was lying facedown on the massage table, his arms at his sides. He hadn’t used the sheet he’d been given to cover up with, probably because he was still wearing everything from the waist down. But he was naked from the waist up. Naked, tanned, muscular and broad-shouldered at the top of an impressive V that narrowed to his waist and an equally impressive rear end that she almost wished he hadn’t left encased in jeans because one look at
