Maybe It's Real

  “You don’t have much luck dating?” Owen crumpled his sandwich wrapper and poked it into the bag.

  “Noooo. The last man I was with? He was…hmm.” She cut herself off.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, no. If I don’t get away with it, neither do you.”

  She bit her lip. “He was using me.”

  “Like I’m using you,” Owen said blankly. “Wow. You really can pick them.”

  “You’re not using me, Owen. Stephen is a raving egomaniac who, I discovered after a couple of months dating him, has a freaking harem of women. He selects them like ties to match whatever outfit he’s wearing that day. In case you’re curious, I was the hippie chick good for lazy weekends. It’s important to note here that I am not a hippie. Although I am fabulous at lazy weekends. We’re friends, right?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

  “You’re a friend and I’m helping you out. There’s a difference.”

  “I’m trying to see it, but I can’t get past the enormous arrow with blinking lights above my head that reads—” he held his hands up and sketched them through the air, “—great big user.”

  “The difference is here.” In a fleeting touch, Chloe pressed her fingers to his chest, right over his heart.

  They stared at each other.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re a good woman.”

  After that, they fell silent. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable, either.

  Once they’d finished their food, Chloe shook out the blanket and stowed it away in her tote, along with the water bottles to recycle later. They headed back to the station at a slow amble, shoulders bumping every now and then.

  “Thanks for suggesting this,” Owen said as they came to a stop outside his building. “First time in a long time I took an actual break for lunch. I needed it.”

  “It’s important to take care of yourself, Owen.”

  “Hard to prioritize taking care of yourself when you have a thousand open cases demanding your attention.”

  “One whole thousand?”

  “Rough estimate.”

  “You’re not exaggerating a tiny bit?”

  “It feels accurate to me.” He heaved a breath. “Okay. I’ve gotta go.” Leaning in, he cupped her chin and lifted her face to his as he kissed her.

  It had been a reflex. She could tell by the way he drew back, eyes wide. But then an odd tension rippled through him and he dropped his gaze to her mouth. His lips firmed with determination. He kissed her again, angling his head as his mouth moved over hers gently and without haste.

  He pulled back slowly.

  Chloe’s hands had landed at his waist and she held onto him, reluctant to let go. “I have a crazy idea,” she said.

  His teeth flashed in a quick smile. “You have lots of crazy ideas.”

  “Fair point. So, I was thinking. Um. I have noticed over our…association…that you’re somewhat prone to stress and tension.”

  His brows lowered.

  “Please don’t take that as a criticism.” She pushed on. “I was thinking that, maybe, if you get through those one thousand cases you’re working on, or decide that you want to take another break, you might like to swing by my apartment one night this week? We’ll watch some TV or something.”

  “Okay. Sounds nice.” His eyes searched hers. “But what do you really have planned?”

  “What? Me? Nothing. Me?”

  “You’d better have something else planned, or I’ll be disappointed. I distinctly remember crazy being mentioned. Watching TV? Not all that crazy. What’s the plan, Chloe?”

  She fidgeted. “There’s no plan.”

  Owen ducked his head. “I’m sure I can find an open interrogation room. Don’t make me take you in there and work you over. What’s the plan?”

  “Okay, I’ll talk. I am luring you to my apartment where I plan on ambushing you with a stress-relieving massage. And I mean that for real. It’s for stress relief. It’s not a sleazy, ‘Hey, baby, come back to mine and I’ll rub your shoulders and we’ll see where it goes’. I’m a professional.”

  His eyes locked on hers. “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I expected you to fight me on this. I was preparing to lower myself to blackmail.”

  “You’re not the first person to suggest I explore alternative methods of relaxation. I can’t get excited about yoga or meditation, as Jim has suggested to me on many, my god so many occasions. But if you want to massage me? I’d be a fool to turn that down. Yes. I’ll try it.”

  “You’ll try it, as in you haven’t had a massage before? Ever?”

  “No.”

  “Owen, I think I might change your life.”

  “You already have,” he said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Over the next week they fell into an easy routine of texting throughout the day. They’d also begun talking on the phone at night after work. Chloe would have been home for a few hours, or be returning after dinner out, or from meeting friends, while Owen would be just getting home after work, talking to her as his key was in the door.

  He worked too much. She wasn’t about to tell him that. He’d stiffened enough when she floated the idea that he could stand to relax. Although his defensive irritation had vanished pretty darn quickly when she mentioned massaging him, it was obvious he was sensitive about the topic.

  Chloe figured he’d had it pointed out often enough that she didn’t need to interfere any more than she had.

  Despite Owen’s initial interest, when Thursday night rolled around, she came to the conclusion that he wasn’t up for trying anything new after all. So when the doorbell rang as she was loading the dishwasher with her and Fraser’s dinner plates, she was surprised to open the door and see him there.

  More specifically, she was surprised to see his departing back.

  “Owen?” she called after him.

  He stopped and turned to her with reluctance. “Sorry,” he said, running a hand through the side of his hair, leaving it sticking up at an odd angle. “I thought tonight would be a good night for it, but I changed my mind.”

  “Okay.” Chloe shut the door.

  Closing her eyes, she counted to five, then cracked it open again.

  He hadn’t moved.

  Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb as she studied him. His dark-blue shirt was wrinkled, and she could see the bags under his eyes from where she stood. Every line of his body expressed fatigue. “Owen,” she said. “Change your mind again and get in here.”

  “I should have called first. I was in the area. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m in a crappy mood.” He shook his head, and for a moment she thought he was going to leave. Instead, he strode up to her.

  She stood aside to let him in, closed the door, and took his hand. She led him to the couch and pushed him down.

  Owen yielded without a fight, slumping into the cushions. He dropped his head to the back of the couch, then covered his eyes with the heels of his hands.

  “Bad day?” Chloe guessed.

  “I’ve had better.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “No problem.”

  Owen’s hands fell and he blinked at her. “Do I need to get naked for this?” he asked suddenly.

  “Would you like to be naked?”

  Fraser walked out of the kitchen eating a yoghurt. “If you guys are getting naked, can you please wait until I’ve gone?”

  Chloe made the introductions. “Owen, my brother Fraser. Fraser, Owen.”

  Fraser hesitated with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “This is Owen?”

  Owen glanced at Chloe. “Yes,” she said.

  “The cop?”

  “He is a detective, yes. As I mentioned.”

  “I didn’t think he was real.” Fraser turned to
Owen. “I thought you were an app.”

  Owen looked baffled.

  “A sext app,” Fraser said.

  Continued bafflement from Owen.

  “Weren’t you leaving?” Chloe said.

  “When I’ve finished my dessert.” He shoved the last mouthful in and sucked the spoon way cleaner than necessary. He winked at Chloe.

  “Ugh, Fraser. Gross.”

  He laughed. “Right. I’m going.”

  “Don’t feel you have to leave on my account,” Owen said. “We can do it with clothes on, can’t we, Chloe?”

  “Still not sure I want to be around for that.” Fraser turned to Chloe and opened his eyes wide.

  “He’s talking about a massage,” she said.

  Fraser looked from Owen to Chloe and back again, and failed to hide his smirk. “Uh-huh. I don’t expect to be back for a few hours. I’m heading over to Nelson’s. We’re going on a raid.”

  “Not your kind of raid,” Chloe said to Owen. “My little brother’s a geek gamer.”

  “You little brother is a feared high-level paladin,” Fraser said, “and if I don’t get my ass over there, Nelson’s going to start thinking he can take on the band of orcs by himself. We all know how that ends. Right?”

  Chloe and Owen looked at him.

  “Death,” Fraser said. “It ends in mayhem and death.”

  Nelson was an old high-school friend of Fraser’s. Theirs was a beautiful second-chance bromance. Despite losing contact when Fraser left San Francisco, once they’d reconnected, it was as if they’d never been apart.

  Fraser worked long hours at the job Anna had found for him with a construction crew, apparently enjoying the work. Most evenings he went over to Nelson’s and they played computer games, as Chloe remembered them doing when they were teenagers.

  Of course, Nelson was now a single father of two adorable children under the age of five and Fraser was in recovery.

  But otherwise, it was if they were sixteen again.

  Once Fraser had gone, Chloe said, “What were we talking about?”

  “Paladins and orcs.”

  “No, something more interesting. At least to me. What was it again…? Ah, yes. Nudity.”

  “You know, I came over to cancel.”

  “I suspected that when you rang my doorbell and chickened out. You can still cancel if you like.” Please don’t. He was so tense she could almost see the air vibrating around him. “It was a suggestion to help you relax, not a chore to get done.”

  “You know, I heard an interesting rumor.”

  “What rumor would that be?” Chloe sat on the couch, twisting to face him.

  “Beer and pizza are also considered to be very relaxing. Throwing it out there.”

  “Mmm. We could do that.”

  “Yeah?” He perked up.

  “Sure. We could have beer and pizza and you could fall asleep in front of the television, which I’m pretty sure you’ve done a lot of since I saw you last. Or you can lie down and I will massage you into a blissful coma. All you have to do is breathe.”

  Owen considered it. “Cool with you if we order half with pepperoni and half without? Or do you need a whole pizza to yourself?”

  She smacked him. “That wasn’t really an option. You’re getting a massage.”

  “Fine. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  He fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

  Was he nervous?

  She’d already seen him bare-chested. But perhaps this was different? He glanced at her from under his lashes.

  “You don’t have to take your clothes off, if that’s what’s worrying you,” she said.

  By way of reply, he unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off. There was no hesitation when the T-shirt he wore underneath followed. He sat back.

  Right. Not nerves about that, then.

  “Here or the bedroom?” he asked gruffly.

  “What? Oh, here. Stay where you are. Start breathing.”

  “I’m already breathing.”

  “I want you to try some conscious, relaxed breathing. Nice and easy, no forcing it. Let yourself fall into the rhythm. Make it deep and slow.”

  His lips curved and his eyes glinted at her.

  Great. Now she was thinking about him doing other things, deep and slow.

  She was not going to blush.

  Chloe cocked a hip and waited.

  “You want me to do it right now?” he asked.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Owen’s chest expanded and contracted in a slow, audible breath. Then again. And again. Again. “How’s that rhythm for you?”

  Perfect. “You got it.” She darted to the crammed-full bedroom closet, and came puffing back into the living room, hauling her portable massage table.

  Owen eyed it with surprise, then jumped to his feet and helped her push the couch back against the wall so she could set it up.

  “I was a massage therapist before I studied to be a physical therapist,” she said. “While I was studying, it paid the bills.”

  She ran to the bathroom and came back with a clean fluffy towel, which she spread over the table, and a bottle of massage oil.

  “This is organic sweet almond oil.” She showed him the bottle with a flourish, like a sommelier displaying the evening’s wine choice. “Before I put it on you, do you have any nut allergies?”

  “Nope. No allergies.” Owen was fiddling with the waistband of his pants. When he saw her watching, he twitched.

  “Pants off,” she said breezily. “You can keep your underwear on.”

  He scowled. “I’m not shy, I just don’t know how this is done. I’m happy to be all the way naked, but I didn’t want to go ahead and strip, and have you walk in here and freak out.”

  “I don’t think I’d freak out, Owen.” She patted the table. “Hop up.”

  He shucked his pants then climbed on, grumbling. “I feel like I’m at the doctor’s office.”

  “Not for long. Roll onto your front. Get comfortable.”

  As he did, Chloe admired the lean, muscled body spread out before her, the beautiful line of his back, the shallow dip of dimples above his plain black boxer briefs. The long legs. Her mouth was dry.

  Owen rested his forehead on his folded arms. When she didn’t move toward him, he turned to gaze at her.

  “Before I touch you,” Chloe said, “I have to be very clear.”

  “Okay,” he said cautiously.

  “Although it’s for stress relief, this is also a sexy massage.”

  He shifted. “Lucky me.”

  “I am not being at all professional about it. This is me off the clock. You are not a client. If you were my client, I’d have referred you to a colleague, because I won’t be able to maintain a professional detachment when I put my hands on you. Are you okay with that?”

  “With you enjoying yourself when you touch me?”

  “Um…yes. I mean, I’m not going into it with that as a goal, but…it’ll probably happen.”

  “I hope it does. Don’t see why I should be the only one having fun.”

  She flashed him a smile as she went to dim the lights. “Great. So. All you have to do is remember to breathe, and relax. I’m going to start on your shoulders. Tell me if anything is sore or painful, because this is a simple, easy massage, and shouldn’t hurt at all.” He would benefit from a program of serious, deep-tissue massages, but it wasn’t the right place to begin.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Chloe connected her iPhone to her speakers and scrolled through her playlists. Owen said something, his words muffled. “What’s that?” she asked.

  He lifted his head a fraction. “Can you put on the same music you did last time? The acoustic guitar?”

  “Sure. Liked it, did you?”

  “Liked it fine. Just don’t want to hear any chanting or pan pipes.”

  “Neither do I. All right. Put your arms by your sides and rest your face in the cradle.” Chloe poured a small amount o
f oil into her hand and rubbed her palms together, warming it. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  She rearranged his arms then began with his shoulders, broad and solid. She swept her hands down in long strokes all the way to the small of his back, and glided them up. Starting with a light touch to get him used to the sensation, after a few passes she put some strength into the strokes. She rolled her palms over his shoulders, then leaned a little weight into it as she moved them either side of his spine.

  Owen had muttered once or twice, twitching, but at the firmer touch, he let out a moan.

  A long, erotic moan.

  “Uuuuuuhhhhhnnnnnnnn. Mhmm. Uh.”

  Chloe froze, then giggled.

  “I’m not sorry,” Owen said. “That feels so good. Don’t stop.”

  Chloe resumed the massage.

  Within seconds, he was moaning again, arching up under her hands. “Yeah. Yeaaaaah. Mmm. Right there. Feels so good.”

  “You’re supposed to stay down,” she told him as she pressed him back to the table.

  “’Kay,” he murmured.

  His muscles, which had been hard and tight, began to loosen and ease under her ministrations. His skin was smooth and hot.

  Chloe concentrated on his shoulders again and bit back a smile as he continued to mumble with delight.

  Clients reacted to being massaged in a wide variety of ways.

  Although Owen didn’t have any problems with getting in her personal space, or with her getting in his space, he had always come across as a physically guarded man. It was perhaps to be expected in his profession. But his uninhibited response to her touch made her wonder if it was less how he was and more what he knew.

  “You haven’t had a professional massage before,” she said as he continued to ease and his breathing deepened, “but have you at least had any other kind of massage? You know, like a candles and roses Valentine’s day special, a sensual lovers massage?”

  “Nuh.”

  “Shoulder rub? Foot rub?”