fine,” he said.
“As long as you’re comfortable,” she lied to cover her own reaction.
Business as usual, she reminded herself.
“Which shoulder is giving you trouble?” she asked, moving closer to the side of the table.
“The left,” he answered.
“I can use oil or lotion—which would you prefer?”
“Makes no difference to me.”
Kate chose oil, pouring some into her hands to warm it and trying as she did not to admire the pure, raw masculine magnificence of those shoulders and that back that could make a person drool, and biceps that were honed and carved and looked as if they were amply able to pull his body weight and more up the sheer sides of mountains.
Business as usual.
She went from the side of the table to the head of it.
“Fancy feet!” he exclaimed the minute she was in position and he could see her from the opening of the headrest. “Polish and a toe ring? That’s a surprise.”
Leave it to him to say something about it.
“The polish was for the wedding—open-toed shoes. And the ring has been there for so long it won’t come off,” she said as if there was no more to it.
But the truth was, she’d refreshed the polish, and she never tried to take off the ring. She just didn’t want him to know that she secretly liked that thin, silver bit of nonconformity that had come out of her late teens.
She also didn’t mention the fact that his view would have ordinarily consisted of only clunky clogs, but that she’d opted for sandals today. With him in mind, although she didn’t want to admit it even to herself.
“I’m going to touch you now,” she warned because sometimes her clients liked to know in advance.
“Go for it,” he said with a laugh that managed to sound sexy even through the slight muffle of the headrest.
“I’m pretty strong, so if I hurt you at all, let me know right away.”
“Give me all you’ve got, I think I can take it.”
And yet her hands hovered over his shoulders.
You said you were going to touch him, now do it!
It was just that she had some concerns about what touching him was going to do to her. Maybe nothing—after all, she’d never had any kind of personal reaction to touching anyone else. But Ry Grayson? There was something different about him.
Still, she had no choice, so she took a deep breath and laid her hands on his shoulders.
Another wave of those shivers went from her palms all the way up her arms again. But she put every effort into ignoring it. And when she did, she began to get an idea of what she was dealing with therapeutically.
“Wow, those are some big, hard knots,” she said.
“Big and hard—isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?” he countered with another laugh.
The man was definitely incorrigible.
Kate took her hands away. “I’m going to have to loosen the knots with some heat before I can deal with them,” she informed him without acknowledging his remark.
Then she escaped from the room and collapsed silently against the wall just outside the door.
She took more deep breaths. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She told herself again why she could not allow herself to be affected like this by Ry Grayson.
But only after about the sixth deep breath did she feel strong enough to cross the hall to the supply area of the office and continue with what she was supposed to be doing.
She took some hot packs from a drawer and heated them in the microwave. Then she retrieved two warm, damp towels from the Crock-Pot where she kept them heating, and went back to the treatment room.
On went the first towel, then the heat packs, then the second towel over them.
And the moan that came from Ry Grayson in response sounded much too much like the kind of moan he might make during the course of far more intimate activities.
Kate swallowed with some difficulty, pressed herself flat against the wall inside the room this time and decided to try polite, innocuous conversation to keep her mind and her reactions to him on another path.
“Did your grandmother end up making it through everything yesterday without any upset?” she asked.
“She did okay, actually. She’s pretty fond of Noah and she was glad to see Marti happy again.”
“And she was all right with Marti leaving on her honeymoon? I know Marti was worried about how Theresa would handle it.”
“There’s a reason for that—Gram is up and down, and we never know how she’ll handle anything. But Marti and Wyatt both leaving this morning didn’t seem to bother her. She was almost chipper all the way through lunch today. Then she took a nap and had a nightmare she keeps having—I don’t know how much Noah has told you about what’s going on with Gram.”
“He didn’t think it was a secret—especially since we are all family now.” Kate threw in that reminder again for her own sake and for his. “I know that when your grandmother was seventeen her parents died and she ended up being taken in by Hector Tyson and his wife. That he bought a major chunk of land from her for a song and got rich himself from selling it off in lots, and then also selling all the building materials for the houses that were built on it because he’s always been the only game in town when it came to lumber and hardware—”
“Something we’re going to change by opening a Home-Max—which he doesn’t like.”
“I know that when Theresa first came to Northbridge, she said it was to get back something that was taken from her,” Kate continued. “And that your family thought she was talking about the land. But when Marti and Noah told Theresa that Marti is pregnant, your grandmother got really upset and claimed that Hector seduced her and that she had his baby—”
“And we believe her, especially since Marti talked to some woman named Emmalina—”
“She was the wife of the minister at the time,” Kate filled him in.
“Right. And this Emmalina said Gram went to talk to the minister, that while she waited for him, she talked to Emmalina about being in love with a married man. And between the things she said and the fact that Gram was all wrapped up in a big coat on a warm day, we believe she was hiding a pregnancy,” Ry said.
“Noah also told me that Theresa says Hector took her baby from her before she even saw it or held it or knew if it was a boy or a girl.”
“We still aren’t sure if that’s a figment of Gram’s imagination or not.”
“But if it’s true,
