Read Online Must Love Curves (Six Wicked Shorts) by Christa Wick - Free Book Online

a man that’s got his hands on you.”
    That wasn’t at all what I was hoping for, but I nodded. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my bankcard. Seeing the hundred dollar bill tucked to the side and so precisely folded, I blushed as I handed her the bit of plastic. I waited, cheeks growing hotter, as she processed the payment and then I followed her through a door and into a closed hallway with two chairs on opposite sides of a small water fountain.
    “Have a seat and I’ll tell Sam you’re ready.”
    I sat down and immediately started fidgeting once the woman was out of sight. I tucked my legs along one side of the chair before I realized I was subconsciously posing. Straightening them, I looked down and saw the swell of my stomach. I winced, folded my hands over it then decided that only drew attention to its size.
    I had just tucked my legs along the side of the chair again when I heard a very deep, masculine voice call my name.
    “Miss Rice?”
    He was standing behind me and to my left. I looked over my shoulder and froze.
    Samuel Pepin made one hell of a first impression. He was tall, at least six-two. Deliciously broad-shouldered. The white polo shirt with the center’s logo on it showed off his thick biceps and deep tan. Beige Dockers hugged his narrow hips and fought to contain what promised to be very muscular thighs -- not that I’d ever see them uncovered.
    As magnificent as it was, his body finished a close second to his face. It was only two in the afternoon, but his six-o’clock shadow was out in full force, darkening his expression and contouring his cheeks. The thick black eyebrows and heavy lashes made his emerald-colored eyes pop. A firm-set mouth and square jaw ensured the overall effect was ferociously masculine.
    Sam repeated my name, his mouth quirking up in a smile that softened his features. I nodded, realized my jaw was about two inches away from touching the floor and pressed my lips together. Standing, I cast my gaze at the door that led to the reception area and a very lonely sense of safety -- at least until I got to the parking lot and had to watch some jerk drooling over Little Miss Satan.
    A warm, strong hand closed around my elbow. “Oh no, Hollywood. You’re coming with me.”
    Coming? Certainly I was close -- at least I thought I was. If I knew whether I really was close, I wouldn’t have been there at all. But the juncture of my thighs had never felt so electric. Muscles I’d never felt before were starting to dance and squeeze and something inside me gave a little roll that turned my knees to rubber.
    Feeling lightheaded, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was staring down at my face, his gaze hooded by his thick lashes.
    “Are you feeling okay?” His other hand wrapped around my opposite shoulder to steady me.
    Realizing I was about to nod again like the complete dolt I was, I gathered what little composure I had left and lightly brushed his hand from me. “I’m fine, Mr. Pepin. Why did you call me Hollywood?”
    The grin came back, my nipples instantly puckering in response. Like the rest of him, his smile was sexy as sin.
    “Because of these.” His hands, surprisingly gentle for their size, reached up, parted my blonde curls, and lifted my sunglasses off. “And call me Sam .”
    Carefully folding the glasses, he hooked one of their metallic blue arms inside the collar of his polo shirt. His hands took possession of me once more and guided me into the treatment room. Stopping in front of a padded chair, he picked up a remote and started pushing buttons.
    The chair straightened and lifted until it looked like a tall, narrow table with over-sized cushions. He folded the arms down, turned to a standing cabinet and pulled out a lightweight terry robe. He offered the robe to me, but didn’t let go when I reached to take it.
    “What kind of music relaxes you?”
    I shrugged. There was no way I was going to relax with him in the same room with me. His rich, warm