Until We Touch (Fool's Gold #15)

The masseuse moved to cover Jack with the sheet. “Excuse me, we’re in the middle of a treatment. Could you please leave?”


Larissa didn’t recognize the woman. She must have come in from Sacramento. A long way to drive, she thought, still trying to process the ache filling her. Her whole body hurt and she had the strangest need to cry. Stupid tears, she told herself. Stupid man.

Larissa moved into the room. “You’re using the wrong music,” she said, her voice sounding like someone else was speaking. She wasn’t moving right, either. It was as if she were physically disconnected from her body.

“That’s Kenny’s mix. And the oil is wrong, too. Jack’s blend has anti-inflammatory properties.”

Jack sat up. “Larissa, I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t look at him. “I can’t believe you did this. You brought in someone else. How could you? If you didn’t want me to give you a massage, at least go to someone else. You’re in my room.” She shook her head. “How am I supposed to let this go? You violated my trust, Jack.”

He pulled the sheet across his body and stood. “Larissa, it wasn’t like that.”

She stared at the ground. “It was. You brought her here? How could you?”

Taryn stepped closer and put her hand on Larissa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

The masseuse looked between them. “What’s going on here? Are you two married or something? I’m just here to do a job.”

“Yes, you were,” Taryn said soothingly. “Go ahead and get your things. When you’re ready, come by my office and I’ll have a check waiting.”

* * *

JACK HAD SEEN Larissa cry before, but always because of someone she’d met through their charity work. Either a transplant was delayed or didn’t take or a desperate family couldn’t find someone to take care of their other children who would be staying back at home.

Those tears he could handle. Most of the problems were solved by him writing a check. When there wasn’t an organ for transplant, he made phone calls or did a PSA. When he got visible, people checked the box on their driver’s licenses. When he appeared on late-night TV to promote the cause, there was press. Whatever it took to stop her tears.

He’d never once been the cause. Now, watching her blue eyes fill and her struggling not to let him see, he felt lower than slime.

The masseuse he’d hired through an agency gathered her things and left. Taryn shot him a glance that promised they would be discussing this later, and then he was alone with Larissa.

She walked over to the docking station and pushed a couple of buttons. The music changed to a contemporary mix that he always found so relaxing. She took away the oil the other woman had been using and pulled out another bottle. Then she washed her hands and moved next to the table.

“Lie back down,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

“Larissa, no.”

She sniffed. “You’re in pain. You’re my friend and my responsibility. I’m the reason you called in someone else. Because of the sex thing.”

“I...” He honest to God didn’t know what to say. Yes, that was the reason, but it still wasn’t her fault. “I should have said something. I should have let you know that I was uncomfortable.” He looked at the table. “We don’t have to do this.”

“We do. It’s the only way to make things right between us.”

He nodded once and stretched out facedown. She rearranged the sheet so he was covered from the waist down, then opened the bottle of oil. The familiar scent drifted to him and he closed his eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not her declaration of love nor her attempts to seduce him. He didn’t want her to love him—that way lay disaster. Lovers were easy, but people he trusted, people he counted on, those were much harder to find.

She touched his back, lightly stroking at first, then reaching for the deeper muscles. His tension began to fade. She moved up toward his bad shoulder and began the familiar ritual of finding every inch of scar tissue and loosening it. She dug in deep, hurting him in the best way possible.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Shh. Don’t talk.”

“I have to talk. I’m sorry I hurt you, Larissa. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you directly.”

“I know.”

“It’s just, you shouldn’t be in love with me. I’m not a good bet.”

She gave a laugh that cracked in the middle, then sniffed. “It’s okay, Jack. I get it.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. What did she get? And why did he know that the hell he found himself in wasn’t over yet?

* * *