Up Close and Personal. Joanne Rock
relaxation and which for erotic purposes?”
For a minute, the words sounded like Greek, since the only language he wanted to speak was physical. He was more interested in making this woman sigh with pleasure and call out his name. He wanted to see how fast he could get her naked and have her splayed on the chaise underneath him.
Except that he wasn’t here to sleep with her. He was here to investigate Jessica’s character. Test the legitimacy of her business and see if it seemed to generate enough income to finance her automobile. Too bad he was too freaking distracted by the raging erection he sported to comprehend much about her other than the fact that she turned him on.
“The first touches were the most relaxing.” Either that or he’d had more control early in the evening. “I think the styles of massage increased in, uh—firepower—as we went. Perhaps Jessica designed the program that way intentionally.”
“And what about the scent?” another student pressed.
“How did vanilla honeysuckle strike you?”
Like a freaking thunderbolt?
“Good.” He nodded. “Definitely a good scent.”
He looked to Jessica mostly to take some of the class scrutiny off of him. He’d never been this publicly aroused. The only time he’d been close, he’d marched his date out of the bar to take her home with him. That didn’t seem like an option now.
“Where’s everyone going?” He blinked his way through his turned-on state as he noticed two of the women disappearing into the connected suite.
“We’ve finished the erotic-massage portion of the retreat.” Jessica’s hand slowed on his back, her fingernails scratching lightly over his skin before coming to rest in the center of his shoulders. “A few of the women had dinner reservations downstairs they didn’t want to miss, but I know they all appreciated your willingness to sit in for the demonstration.”
The remaining women in the room zipped purses and jingled keys. Some moved toward the door while others checked cell phones and made calls.
One of the women paused in her conversation, and called over to Jessica, “Don’t fool yourself, hon. Those women are lighting out of here to look for men to try those massage moves for themselves. You got this class so hot and bothered I don’t think anyone can face the idea of going back to their hotel room alone.”
“There’s a tip for you though, Rocco.” The dark-haired woman who’d originally invited him in gestured to a bar glass full of cash. “We didn’t want you to sacrifice any income on our behalf.”
Ah crap. He’d wanted to assess Jessica Winslow’s potential as a scam artist and yet the presence of the overflowing tip jar made him feel like the one doing the scamming.
The heaviness in his limbs made it tough to stand. The heaviness between his thighs made it a bad idea anyhow. He willed away the effects of Jessica’s massage, wishing he could recover faster. He never should have allowed himself to get personally involved in the debtor’s world. It was pretty much the cardinal rule of repossession work and, of course, impossible to honor if you were looking out for personal interests like his father’s business. His father’s pride and independence.
“The pleasure was all mine.” He’d fork over the cash to the waiter who’d brought the appetizers halfway through the class. Or donate it to charity. There had to be something he could do with the cash to take away the sting of guilt.
“But thanks.”
The woman stepped out of the room with her friend, the silent blonde, leaving Rocco alone with his masseuse and no witnesses for all the accusations he was about to make.
As soon as he shook off this sexual spell she’d kneaded into his skin with her addictive fingertips.
“Thank you for coming tonight, Rocco.” Jessica stepped back from him abruptly and reached for her suit jacket, almost as if she was nervous around him. But that couldn’t be. She didn’t have a clue about his real identity or his motive for being here.
What was that all about?
And moreover, how could he report back to his father on Jessica’s financial standing when he hadn’t done much tonight beyond finding out the woman possessed the most talented fingers imaginable? Had he gone to all the trouble to drive into San Diego and remember all he’d left behind on Coronado Island only to go home with a damned inconvenient hard-on to show for it?
Hell no. He hadn’t become a repo man for the fun of it. He’d done it to help out his father’s failing business. So he’d damn well do his job tonight, even if it meant confronting Jessica to find out the truth.
His plan for the night might have been delayed, but it was far from over. As an ex-SEAL, he was pretty good at assessing a situation and adapting as the need arose. He also knew better than to have any qualms about confronting a woman on her perfidy. He’d backed away from it once before and the end result had forced him out of the military for good.
“I didn’t come here just to work at your retreat.” He needed to remind himself of that fact—he’d gotten entirely too caught up in everything Jessica was selling.
Still, he couldn’t help but hope he’d been wrong about her. Or rather, that his father had been wrong about her.
“Really?” Her eyes widened as she shrugged into her conservative black jacket and covered up the fire-enginered camisole. “You came here for something else?”
She tipped her head sideways, her eyes wide as her fingers froze above the unfastened jacket buttons, her silver bracelet jingling gently.
And then she took a step toward him. He was still on the chaise longue and finally had himself under control again. The moment seemed surreal after she’d been so careful to keep physical distance during the massage. Her hands might have been turning him inside out with expert touches, but she hadn’t ever stepped over the line into sexual teasing or flirtation.
He didn’t think it was conceited of him to suspect that had taken some restraint on her part. The chemistry between them had been as irrefutable as the heat still rolling off his body and the jump in his pulse whenever she touched him. That chemistry simmered all over again now as she sank to sit beside him on the chaise, her hip just inches from his.
Anger churned beneath the heat. Anger at himself for being drawn in by her, and at her for attracting him in spite of a formidable willpower that had successfully hauled him through weeks of training that pummeled and defeated ninety percent of the guys who attempted it.
Damn it, he missed life as a SEAL, where the line between right and wrong had been more clearly defined, determined by the military or at least by his team as a group. Now he forged his own path. Was forced to trust only his gut without the resources of the Navy at his fingertips or the support of his team to back him up.
“I came here to—”
Investigate you.
But the words remained unspoken in the face of her expression. There was an openness about it, a yearning that was so palpable it seemed almost innocent.
Her gaze flicked down to his mouth, her pupils dilated.
She wanted him. She thought he was a damned waiter and she wanted him.
Not exactly the behavior of the gold-digging schemer he’d expected.
“Yes?” she prodded, nipping her lip and spinning her silver bracelet around one wrist while she waited for him to explain why else he had come to the workshop.
Shit.
Was she more innocent than he’d believed? Could she have gotten in over her head with her credit because she was naive or had somehow fallen on hard times? The memory of shoe polish covering the scuff marks on her heels nipped at his brain. The need to find out the truth weighed on him, forcing him to wait a little longer. To see what else he might learn about her.
Then