“That won’t be necessary,” she pointed at the table he was erecting in front of her giant window overlooking the city. “I’m going to get a few things done while you do my massage, so you can come stand behind my chair.”

She took off her blazer and sat down in her giant leather executive chair without looking in his direction. She assumed he would comply with her request because everyone always did. That was why his simple reply of “No” caught her so off guard.

“Excuse me?” her voice and eyebrows were both slightly elevated.

He went about setting up his massage table as if he hadn’t heard her. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Enunciating her words, she spoke to the man as if he were impossibly slow on the uptake, “You’ll need to do my massage over here at my desk. There’s no need for the table.”

Turning to look at her, he gave her an exasperated look. “It’s the table or nothing,” he challenged her.

Selena’s head kicked back as if she had been hit. No one ever talked back to her like this. It was her way or the highway. “I’ll take my massage in my chair,” she seethed.

“Nothing it is, then,” he sounded almost jovial as began packing up the folding table that he had just erected.

Appalled at his level of gall, her mouth fell open of its own accord as she gaped at him. “Have you forgotten that I am the one paying your fee?” She finally asked him.

“No, Ma’am,” he answered politely, even as he continued packing up his gear to leave. Turning to her, he added, “I won’t charge you, since I didn’t do the work.”

His words stunned her. Most people saw her wealth and status as a means to double or triple their normal charges. “I want you to do the work,” she clarified. “I need a massage, but I can’t just stop everything and lay down for an hour.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do for you.” He had the audacity to smile at her.

She hated to admit it, but his smile was charming. His dark hair was a smidge too long, so when it fell in front of his eyes, he swept it back with a hand. She wondered how those strong, tan hands would feel on her skin.

Deciding that checking out the obstinate masseur was a sure sign that it had been far too long since she’d had a love interest, she snapped her attention back to their conversation. “You can give me a massage… at my desk… like I asked.” She spoke plainly and calmly, trying to give him the opportunity to right the situation.

“Look,” he was starting to sound exasperated with her, “You hired me to do a job. That job is to use my hands to make you feel better.” He held up the hands in question and she couldn’t help picturing them sliding over her body. “You are not going to be able to properly relax if you’re sitting at your desk, continuing to work. I refuse to work on you, unless you take a real break and let my healing touch work its magic on your over-stressed muscles.”

“Refuse?” she sputtered, pretending to be angry with this stubborn man. Despite knowing that she should be annoyed by his insubordination, she couldn’t help being charmed by it. No one ever stood up to her like this. Besides, she couldn’t stop thinking about his ‘healing touch’ or him working ‘magic’ on her. The thoughts were intriguing.

She knew she was at a crossroads. She could throw a hissy fit, order him out of her office, and deal with the raging headache that was approaching; or she could back down a little, see if this man’s hands were as magical as promised, and hopefully stop this headache in it’s tracks, so she could get some actual work done.

“Set up the damn table,” she finally acquiesced, admitting to herself it was the only reasonable option she had left.

He nodded with the slightest hint of a smile turning up his lips as he went to work reassembling the table. His smile would have seemed cocky and annoying if it had been an ‘I won this battle’ gesture, but instead it was more of a ‘This worked out for everyone’ look.

Her light pink, perfectly manicured nails tapped on her wireless keyboard as she fired off a couple of quick emails, while he finished setting up his equipment. As soon as he finished, he walked over and shut off the lights in her office. She let out a slightly exasperated huff, despite the fact that not having the bright florescence beaming down on her provided an immediate bit of relief to her pounding head.

Completely ignoring her passive-aggressive sigh, he said, “I’ll go into the restroom while you get ready.”

With that, he was gone, and she was left to worry about how ‘ready’ she should get. The nice thing about having a massage at her desk chair was that she could remove her blazer and go about her business as usual. Having an actual massage on his table left her with some awkward unknowns.

She walked over to inspect his setup. He had a basket with lotions, oils, and towels. She was surprised to see that the bed was plugged into the wall. One touch of the neatly pressed sheet told her that the electricity was to warm the covers. Beginning to feel better about this, she leaned down and realized that the linens had a fresh, minty, relaxing scent emanating from them.

After taking off her jacket and hanging it on the hook on the wall, she strode over to the bed. Once there, she removed her heels and eased herself onto the bed, flat on her back. Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered if she should take off her skirt or blouse. It felt awkward to strip down with a complete stranger in her office bathroom, but she didn’t want to look ridiculous for being fully dressed when he came out.

“Just let me know when you’re ready,” he yelled from inside her private bathroom.

“Okay,” she responded, before biting her lip and trying to decide if she should remove some more clothes. “This is creating even more stress for me,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that? Are you ready?” he asked from the bathroom.

“No!” she snapped, still debating on what to do.

Deciding that she was being silly, she stood, removed her dark gray pinstripe pencil skirt and pale gray silky blouse, hung them both on the wall hook and scurried back to the bed in her light pink lacy bra and matching panties.

Covering herself with the sheet and lying back, she wondered if he would see her undergarments. This had to be the most unnatural thing in the world. Did other people get naked and let a complete stranger touch them? It didn’t feel right, even if that stranger was rather handsome and a bit of a stubborn mule.

The warmth of the heated bed enveloped her. It would have been relaxing, if she hadn’t been so concerned about her wardrobe. She drummed her fingertips on the mattress as she weighed her options. After flopping over onto her belly, she pulled the sheet up under her armpits. Turning her head to the side, she looked at her shoulder and realized her bra straps were showing.

Her bra was sure to be in the way of the massage. Would having him lower the straps out of the way be more intimate than just removing it in the first place? It was better for him not to have to deal with it at all, right?

“Ready?” he called out again from the bathroom.

“Not yet,” she responded, still trying to figure out what to do. Making a snap decision, she got up and removed her bra. Hiding it underneath her shirt on the hook, she cupped her hands over herself as she scurried back to the massage table.

Stretching out on her tummy, she pulled the sheet up over her, tucked it between her arms and body, and then called out to the masseur before she could chicken out. Burying her face into the circular opening in the table, she tried not to think about the fact that she was practically naked and about to be rubbed all over by a handsome devil of a massage therapist.