Free The Cinderella Mission by Catherine Mann Page B

sugar.”
    Sugar? Ewww. Her ineptitude was showing like a too-long slip.
    Muscles beneath her palms contracted into a sheet of pure metal. Suddenly Brittany’s melting seemed understandable.
    Then he cupped her face. “Hey, Kel.”
    Snowcap liquefying. Flood alert!
    She needed to remember his attentive boyfriend gig was just an act for their audience. But, man oh man, his gaze scorched over her face and down to the V of her robe with such convincing power the man deserved an Oscar. Even she believed he wanted her, and she knew better.
    Her fingers curled to grip the warm cotton of his sweatshirt. “Why are you here?”
    “To see you.” His hands dropped to her waist, searing through her clothes to her skin. “I missed you.”
    “We just had breakfast together an hour ago,” Kelly improvised.
    A gasp sounded behind them. Hell’s bells. She hadn’t meant to insinuate a shared three-egg omelet in bed.
    “Is my aunt around?” Had he pulled her forward or had she swayed? Not that it mattered, since her hips brushed his either way.
    She was drowning in her own meltdown. “Eugenie’s on her way over to meet up with her masseur, uh, Paul?”
    “Peter.”
    Who could think anyway? “Right.”
    He glanced over her shoulder. “Brittany? Did you need something?”
    “No, sir. All done.” She sashayed past, blasting Kelly with a glare behind Ethan’s back, before flouncing away. The door thudded after her.
    Ethan’s hands slid from Kelly’s hips.
    Ohmigosh, did they ever slide in a tingling stroke that seemed to take forever. She wanted…she wanted…
    More.
    He stepped back. “Sorry about all that.”
    “No problem.” Liar.
    “Let Aunt Eugenie know I’m looking for her when she’s through.” He jammed his hands into the stomach pocket of his sweatshirt.
    Footsteps sounded in the hall. “Yoohoo,” Eugenie called. “Peter! I’m on my way. Hold on.”
    The wiry masseur stepped from the back room, a dark pump bottle in hand. A spa and salon owner, Peter Miller still made special trips out for his best client.
    “No need to rush, Miss Eugenie,” the man enunciated with a news-broadcaster-style boom, sounding more like Peter Jennings than Peter-the-masseur. “The oils are warming.”
    Ethan’s aunt bustled inside wearing a tomato-red kimono. “What’s the blend of the day?”
    Peter cradled his concoction like a carnie sideshow salesman. “For Miss Eugenie, a centering mix of atlas cedar, sandalwood and frankincense to promote inner peace.”
    Eugenie flattened a hand to her chest, her long exhale ending with a smile. “Perfect.”
    “But first…” He thrust the bottle toward Kelly. “A welcome gift for you, my dear. Use three capfuls in your bath water.”
    She clasped the cool glass in her hands. “Thank you, Peter. The serenity blend you used earlier smells lovely.”
    A grin multiplied his wrinkles. “No-no.” He sidled between Kelly and Ethan. “This is a special romance blend for the young lovers. Sweet orange for happiness. Sandalwood to relieve loneliness, dwelling on the past and cynicism.”
    Did the guy have some kind of crystal ball tucked under his massage table?
    “And finally,” he pinched the air, “ylang ylang, imported from Indonesia.”
    Okay, that might not be so bad since it had been an element in her welcome candle.
    Eugenie clasped her hands together. “Yes, ylang ylang, for euphoric union.”
    Kelly willed herself not to wince. Apparently the guy did have some kind of insight into her psyche. “Thanks, Peter.”
    “Kelly, dear,” Aunt Eugenie called, halting her at the door. “Why don’t you enjoy the hot tub or have a swim?”
    Kelly smiled without actually agreeing. Somehow she suspected her tense muscles wouldn’t be cured by any amount of massages, hot tub stints or ylang ylang.
     
    Standing beside his smirking aunt, Ethan planned to flush every ounce of Peter’s ylang ylang straight back to Indonesia.
    He did not need images of Kelly in a scented hot