He shook his head. “I hope for your sake you’re right.”
***
Megan and Svetlana slowed to a touristy stroll as they approached the Starfish Hotel. It had been in bad shape for as long as Megan could remember, but you could tell it had once looked nice, with interesting architectural details under the weathered, peeling paint. Construction equipment and several Dumpsters sat in the parking lot out front. She wondered if the new owner was renovating or tearing it down. Like everywhere else, people were buying these old properties for the value of the land and ripping everything out, and the city council hadn’t gotten around to doing anything but grumble about it. If anyone ever did try to stop a project, they wouldn’t get any help from that quarter.
“Okay,” Megan told Svetlana. “We’ve seen it. Let’s go.” Megan was anxious to leave before anyone noticed them, so she could pretend she hadn’t purposely decided to walk down this street to check out this particular construction site.
Svetlana pointed to the side of the building, where Kira Wagner, dressed like a construction worker in blue jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt and a hard hat, was coming around from the back. “Is that her?”
Megan tugged on Svetlana’s arm. “She hasn’t recognized me yet. Let’s pretend we’re just walking by.”
“No, I think she sees you.”
Kira was running toward them now, and not in a half-assed bouncy way that might have indicated a shred of hesitation, but in a real, flat-out run. Like they didn’t see her and she wanted to catch them before they left.
She was beautiful when she ran. Fast and fluid and in total command of her body. What was it about some women, that they set off an internal alarm, making her heart race and her gut do…whatever it was doing…because she knew—she knew with absolute certainty that they played on her team. Even before Kira had attempted to ask her out, Megan’s body had known.
“Megan, wait!”
She slowed. There was no way out of this, was there?
“I think I’ll pretend I’m just walking by,” Svetlana said. “You stay here. And by the way, I don’t think ten minutes makes her a client.” Svetlana took off while Megan stood rooted to the sidewalk.
“No, wait.” Megan looked from Svetlana to Kira and back again. Svetlana couldn’t leave now.
The traitor turned around but continued to walk away, backward now, wiggling her fingers in a mocking little wave goodbye. “Do svidaniya.”
She’d pay Svetlana back for this later. What happened to You didn’t want to date tourists, anyway? What happened to It would be wrong?Oh, wait—that was her line. But Svetlana had agreed with her, hadn’t she? Some friend.
“Megan.” Kira came to a stop. “I’m so glad you came by.” She wasn’t even breathing hard, and she’d been running in construction boots, powering through like they weighed nothing.
Megan glanced one more time at Svetlana’s rapidly retreating form. This would have been much less awkward if Svetlana hadn’t pulled a do svidaniya.
“Can I show you around?”
“Sure.” Megan smiled politely. She really had to learn how to say no.
Of course, it was her own fault for coming by this way in the first place. It was also her own fault that as she followed Kira up to the hotel, instead of paying attention to the construction site, she found herself scanning Kira’s posture. It was instinct—a habit she’d picked up in massage school. It was the first thing she did when a client walked into the room.
It was not at all the same as checking someone out.
It was a professional appraisal, that’s all it was. It meant noticing with her trained eye that Kira’s pelvis was tilted back, which meant her hamstrings would be tight under those formfitting jeans, and could be giving her back pain.
Her fingers itched to find out what was going on in that lanky, well-conditioned frame. Ten short minutes in the busy massage tent hadn’t been nearly enough time to search out her muscle imbalances. Athletes were always fun to work on. From a professional standpoint, of course. Megan hung back a step so she could get a better view.
Oh, crap. She squeezed her eyes shut, realizing what she was doing. She really was checking her out. She thrust her hands behind her back and clasped them tightly before they betrayed her. They seemed to have a mind of their own right now, and she knew what they wanted.
Contact.
With those muscles.
Not going to happen.
Kira tugged on the hotel’s front door and held it open for her. In the lobby, the carpeting had been pulled up, the wiring was sticking out and stacks of ceramic tile were piled up against one wall. Megan ventured down the hallway to their left and poked her head into one of the rooms. The beds and dressers had been removed, but it still looked like a hotel room. Maybe it was the hotel-like, floor-to-ceiling windows.
She sneezed hard from the dust. “Where’s the spa going to be?”
“You heard about that?”
“That you’re building a spa? That’s the word around town.”
“Glad to know my networking worked.”
“Better than you expected?”
“It hasn’t landed me a spa manager yet, so no.” Kira gestured for her to follow her back to the lobby.
A spa manager, right. That’s what Svetlana had said, that the new owner of the Starfish Hotel was asking around, looking for someone to run her spa. Megan couldn’t imagine why you’d want to open your own spa and not want to run it yourself.
“The spa’s going to be in a separate building.” Kira led her behind the intact check-in desk, through a door at the back, and into an office. There were stacks of paper piled everywhere—on the desk, on the file cabinets, on the floor. Kira took off her hard hat and shook out her hair like a dog after a dip in the ocean. Her close-cropped hair was so dark brown it was almost black, with a spray of premature gray above the center of her forehead.
“Sorry about the mess. Let me make some room for you to sit down.” Kira balanced her hard hat on top of one of the piles on the desk and lifted a stack of papers off the faded pseudo-baroque upholstery of a beat-up hotel lobby chair crammed in the corner. She stood there with the stack of papers in her arms, looking a bit lost, trying to locate an unoccupied surface where she could set it down.
“I don’t need to sit,” Megan said as Kira started to lower the stack to the floor. “You need all the floor space you can get.”
Kira smiled ruefully and hefted the papers back onto the chair. “I do, don’t I?” She plucked an oversized sheet of paper from the top of a file cabinet and pressed it against the wall—since there was no room on her desk—for Megan to see. It was a sketch of a single-story building. “This is where the massage rooms are going to be.” She pinned the sketch against the wall with one forearm and pointed. “Sauna. Showers. Waiting room. I learned some spas call it a relaxation lounge, but that seems a little over-the-top to me. I think it’ll be more relaxing without the cutesy name.”
Megan looked more closely at the sketch. It was refreshing to meet someone in the relaxation business who thought the word “relaxation” was over-the-top.
“Indoor swimming pool, fitness room, yoga studio,” Kira continued, her finger moving over the layout. “I want live music—piano or harp—in the waiting room, so I need to get someone in here to tell me how much soundproofing I need. I’m also going to need someone to advise me on the size of the massage rooms so they’re cozy but not cramped.” She paused. “Is there any other furniture that needs to go in the room besides the massage table?”
“You’ll want storage space for towels and sheets—like shelves or cabinets. And you’ll need a place for clients to hang their clothes, unless they’ll be changing in a dressing room and putting on a robe.”
“That’s exactly what I need to know. Let me write that down.” Kira draped the sketch over the mess on her desk and backed away with her arms held slightly in front of her, commanding the piles of paper to stay. Satisfied, she pulled open a desk d
rawer and found a pocket-sized spiral notebook and a pen and jotted down Megan’s suggestions.
“So you don’t have a blueprint yet?” Megan said. “You started construction before figuring out what you wanted?”
“Slight miscalculation on my part. But it’s a separate building—it’s no big deal. I didn’t want to hold things up, so I got the crew started on the hotel renovations. They’ve got plenty of work to do. Fixing up the hotel’s going to take a while.”
A slight miscalculation? Well, okay, it was nice to know airy-fairy helping professionals weren’t the only ones who didn’t always have everything planned out. With a project this size, Kira had to have a lot of money on the line. She would have expected her to be more organized.
Kira drummed her pen on her notepad, then stopped abruptly, as if she had made a decision. “Would you be interested in working for me?”
Yeah, right. Megan had to admit it was fun to imagine her opinions might shape what this spa ended up looking like, but give up her private practice? To manage a spa? Absolutely not.
“I did some research,” Kira said. “Your competition says you’re the best.”
“I wouldn’t call them my competition,” Megan said, dismissing the compliment. Kira had been asking about her? She suddenly felt at a disadvantage. “We’re all friends.”
“I really want to make this spa a success, and I want to hire the best people to help me. I’d love for you to come work for me. Run the massage side of the business.”
So all that talk about taking her out to dinner had been…a business meal? Wow, that was sobering. Kira wanted to hire her. Megan couldn’t remember the last time her intuition had been so wrong.
“I’m flattered, but no. I already have a great job.”
She almost expected Kira to protest—people always did. Amelia never believed her when she said she was too tired to go out. Clients with fibromyalgia insisted on deep massage when that was the worst thing for them. Even her super-nice, long-term clients begged her to squeeze them in when she was already booked. Everyone wanted something from her, expected something from her. Demanded something from her. Demanded she fix them or help them or accommodate them.
But Kira was a class act and didn’t press.
Not a single word. Just nodded as if she didn’t expect anything less. Like she was going to walk away because Megan had said no. Like she respected her.
And that got to her.
No one was going to give up their practice to work at a brand-new spa, not if they were any good at their job, and a recent graduate wouldn’t know enough. It was too bad, because it would be great to have a lesbian spa in Piper Beach. And if Kira didn’t get someone soon, her construction schedule was going to be a mess and cost her money she might not have. It had been kind of fun, giving her advice. So she relented.
“I don’t mind helping you out a little bit, an hour here and there. Answering these kinds of questions isn’t hard.”
A spark of hope leapt into Kira’s eyes.
“Just questions, though,” Megan added, deciding she’d better lay down some ground rules. Kira had said she was looking for someone to actually run the spa, not just help design it. “I have my own business to run, so anything that interferes with that, I won’t have time for. That means no interviewing, no hiring, no management duties.”
“You’ve got it,” Kira said without hesitation, obviously relieved to get any help at all. “I’ll pay—”
“Don’t pay me.”
Kira’s eyes widened. “What?”
Yeah, Megan was kind of asking herself the same thing. Did she really have the time and energy to take on volunteer work? She could already hear Svetlana snickering at her motives. But it didn’t feel right to let Kira pay her. Not when she had the feeling that if she didn’t help Kira with her spa, she’d find some other excuse to spend time with her, and that excuse would be embarrassingly flimsy.
“I don’t know as much as you think. I’ve never worked at a spa. I’m sure there are all kinds of details I don’t know about running one.”
Kira didn’t look like she was buying it. “You’re just going to help me out. Me, your competitor.”
“I don’t think of you as my competitor.”
***
Not her competitor? That wasn’t the response Kira was expecting. Then again, Megan was probably so good, she didn’t have to worry about anyone stealing her clients. “I’m not a threat, huh?”
“I like to think there’s more than enough business to go around. Anyway, you’ll be catering to tourists. I don’t do tourists.”
“Why not?” Weren’t tourists the only business in this town? How could Megan run a successful business without them?
“They’re unreliable.”
Kira wondered if she herself was included in that dismissive remark. She wasn’t a tourist, but she didn’t plan to stay forever. Get this spa up and running, sell it, and move on to the next project, which, chances were, would not be in tiny little Piper Beach. That was the plan. Some people were good at starting businesses and other people were good at running them. Not that she’d ever tried hanging on to a business for long, but there was no reason to believe she’d be good at both. Guess that made her unreliable.
She really didn’t want Megan to think of her that way.
And how fucked up was that? Megan told her she didn’t want to go out to dinner with her. She was lucky to be talking to her at all. And extremely lucky to have her agree to give her advice about the spa, which would likely involve being in the same room with her on a regular basis.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Kira said. “And I insist on paying you.”
“No. If you pay me you’ll start expecting me to spend a certain number of hours working for you, and I don’t want to want to get tied up in that.”
Geez. Massage schools should teach these minnows better business skills. Megan made her feel like a shark.
***
Megan picked her way around Kira’s piles of paper and headed for the door, eager to do something more productive than argue about money. “Let’s see where you’re going to build this spa of yours.”
Kira followed right behind her, locked her office door, and directed Megan down the hall and out a side door.
“Where to?” Megan asked.
“The wooded lot next door.”
“That’s where the spa’s going to go? You bought that?” Not that she was surprised. Kira Wagner didn’t strike her as the superstitious type. Or maybe, being new in town, she hadn’t heard the story about the neighboring woods.
A brief walk through the hotel’s side parking lot brought them to a brick wall about waist-high that separated the parking spaces from the overgrown lot. Kira sat on top of the low wall and swung her legs over. She held out her hand to help Megan over. Megan ignored her and scrambled over the wall unassisted, tucking the skirt of her cotton sundress around her thighs with an ingrained move honed by years of practice at avoiding flashing people with what her mother called her unladylike antics. On the other side of the wall, a rough path disappeared into a veil of overgrown vines that strangled everything in sight—pines and oaks and unidentifiable shrubs.
“Come on,” Kira said. “I’ll show you the spot I picked out.”
Megan didn’t know how anyone could bounce in those heavy work boots, but Kira managed it. She was like a little girl who skipped and ran when she was excited and played hopscotch on imaginary chalk lines when she was bored, unable to stand still. Megan followed more slowly, making sure she didn’t step on any poison ivy. Her sandals weren’t going to protect her if she did something stupid. She was so busy watching her step she didn’t see the massive fallen tree blocking their path until Kira clambered over it.
Kira waited for her on the other side of the tree trunk. “Need a hand?”
Again? There she was, ready to steady her or maybe even haul her over by the waist if necessary. That was definitely not happening. Not in t
his lifetime.
“I’m fine. I’m not wearing the right shoes for this, but I can handle this.” Megan planted both hands on the tree and waited for Kira to get out of the way.
Now all she had to do was get herself over this thing without snagging her sundress on a branch. Next time she came over here she was wearing jeans. She pressed down harder on the tree, lifted her body weight onto her hands, and vaulted over. Sure, she balanced longer than necessary, but she wasn’t going to feel bad about showing off. Kira needed to understand that just because she was wearing a dress didn’t mean she had no upper body strength. Not that Kira gave any sign of noticing.
The path didn’t continue beyond the fallen tree, but it didn’t matter because everything was more open, and you could safely pick your way around the trees without worrying so much about what unpleasant surprise you were about to step on in the underbrush. A beautiful stand of loblolly pines filtered the sunlight.
Continuing on, they came to the edge of a hidden grove where Kira stopped by a yellow surveyor’s marker. “Here’s the spot. A spa in the woods, with big picture windows. It’s going to be awesome.”
“The woods aren’t as trashed as I thought they would be,” Megan observed. “No empty beer bottles. The local kids must be too scared to hang out here and drink.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everyone avoids this place. The real estate agent didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
It didn’t seem fair not to have told her. Megan wondered which agent had sold her the lot. “The story is that back when the Starfish Hotel was first built, a woman staying at the hotel was raped and murdered here in the woods. Somehow she managed to stab her attacker with his own knife before she died. Right under the ribs. Killed him with his own weapon.”
“Good for her.”
“Yeah, except that she ended up dead, too.”
“So now everyone thinks these woods are unsafe.” Kira didn’t look too concerned.
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