Wedding Party Collection: Proposing To The Planner: The Argentinian's Solace. Susan Stephens

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       CHAPTER SIX

      MAXIE was already regretting her reckless offer—maybe because her natural impulse to help had never been challenged by such rampant maleness before. Diego was relaxing on one arrogant hip and staring down at her, as if daring her to touch him—and the truth was she wasn’t so sure she dared.

       ‘There’s oil on the table,’ he said, with the mocking smile firmly fixed on his lips.

       ‘What is this?’ She turned the bottle in her hands.

       It was a potion he had bartered for with some quack in return for a lead rope and a packet of mints. ‘I don’t know. It’s massage oil. Does it matter what it is?’

       As she turned to look at him he wondered if this was the moment when she’d make some last-minute excuse and pull out. But, no—removing the cork, she sniffed the liquid inside the bottle.

       ‘It certainly smells like muscle relaxant.’ Upending the bottle, she rubbed some between her thumb and fingers. ‘And I think there are emollients in here too. I don’t think it matters where it comes from, just so long as it works…’ Her grey gaze held his steadily.

       ‘Then you’d better get started,’ he said.

       She was right. He had nothing to lose. Let Maxie try her hocus-pocus on his leg. The risk of embarrassment to him was hugely outweighed by the thought of her dark head bent over him as she worked diligently with those tiny hands in an attempt to ease his pain—an attempt that would fail, but still…

       ‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘It’s time for you to put your technique to the test.’

       Putting a towel on the lounger, to protect it, she indicated that he must stretch out on top of it. ‘I’m going to warm the oil first,’ she explained.

       He had to admit that after so long a drought the sight of Maxie warming massage oil in her tiny hands was a provocation too far. Grabbing a towel, he covered himself with it. ‘Do your worst,’ he said, and then he closed his eyes to blot out the sight of both Maxie and his scarred leg.

       What madness had brought her to this point? Maxie wondered as her oiled hands hovered above Diego’s spectacular form. Telling Diego to relax was a joke when she was the one most in need of stress relief. The thought of touching him as intimately and as firmly as she must was a daunting prospect. But exciting too.

       ‘I’m ready,’ he prompted.

       ‘Good.’ And now she must ignore him and concentrate on what she had to do. She had helped her mother, but could she help Diego? She had to help him. Tugging a cushion off one of the other loungers, she put it on the floor at his side and knelt down.

       ‘The injury is here,’ Diego said, pointing to a place just below his knee. ‘But it seems to affect all my leg right up to—’

       She cut him off. ‘I’ll find it.’ Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and began to work.

       ‘Don’t you need to see what you’re doing?’

       ‘Please be quiet.’ She said this calmly, then explained in the same soothing tone, ‘If I close my eyes and concentrate it allows my senses to come into play. If you talk, I’m distracted.’

       She heard him shift position restlessly. Diego didn’t like to be told what to do. She was certain no one had ever told him to be quiet, other than perhaps his siblings, but as he relaxed and the stillness of the room enveloped them both she began to feel the resistance of damaged flesh and muscle beneath her fingers and worked with more confidence.

       He couldn’t believe he was allowing Maxie to do this. Struggling to relax, he knew that if she proved even one iota less than good he would СКАЧАТЬ