“Kit Kittredge. She’s one of the American Girl dolls. I showed you them before.”
“Was I paying attention?”
“Probably not.” Some of the sadness left her eyes. “You never were into dolls.”
He winked. “Not unless they were anatomically correct. What other causes should I prepare for?”
“There’s going to be a chiweenie rescue.”
“A what?”
“Chiweenies. They’re a Chihuahua-dachshund mix.”
“Someone has a sense of humor,” he murmured. “And this is my problem how?”
“A breeder is being investigated. There’s concern it’s not a good situation. That she has more of a puppy mill than a healthy program.”
Jack could figure out the rest of it pretty easily. If it was a puppy mill or a hoarding situation, then there would be an intervention and Larissa would get involved. Which meant somehow he would end up involved, as well.
“Don’t bring any to my house,” he told her, but without a lot of energy. Telling her no didn’t help and for the most part, he didn’t really mind whatever she dragged into his life. It always made for interesting conversation.
“I don’t always get you involved,” she protested.
“What about the butterflies?”
She wiggled in her seat. “That was a special situation.”
Yeah. One that required him to not make noise or turn on lights for several days. Of course, butterflies in a cage had been a lot easier to take than the fighting dogs that wouldn’t let him in his own house.
“You’re never boring,” he told her. “I’ll give you that.”
Later, when they were done eating and he’d helped her clean up, he gave her a brief hug goodbye and left. Once on the sidewalk, he breathed in the cool night air and started back for his place.
Yup, he had it all, he told himself. His Score coworkers were his family, Larissa was his best friend and, when he got the itch, there were plenty of women to be had. Best of all, he could go back to his quiet, empty house whenever he wanted. He was a blessed man. Most days it was very good to be Jack McGarry.
CHAPTER THREE
SCORE STAFF MEETINGS were generally short and to the point. Because of that, no one tried to get out of them. Larissa sat at one end of the big conference table and took notes on the items that affected her or Jack. She also had a short presentation prepared for when Kenny called on her.
The areas of expertise were delineated by ability. Jack and Kenny brought in new clients, Sam took care of the money and Taryn handled the existing clients, while keeping her “boys” in line.
The day-to-day management was mostly shared between Sam and Taryn, but Kenny had an active role in most of the hiring and he ran the staff meetings.
Larissa listened to him now and idly wondered how many people would be surprised to know the former receiver had a degree in English. A degree he’d earned the hard way—by going to class and writing papers. As a star football player, there had been easier options for him, but he hadn’t taken them. He’d earned his B+ average by studying and doing well on his tests. Kenny joked that his first year of college, his teammates had been forever stealing whatever he’d been reading on the bus or plane, convinced there had to be secret p**n hidden in the pages of his book. They couldn’t understand that a guy who could play like Kenny might also like to read.
Taryn shifted in her seat. Larissa smiled, thinking how her boss sort of reminded her of Dyna. Sure the coloring was different, but they were both beautiful females, confident of their place in the world. Dyna had adapted well to the small apartment and had spent the past two nights sleeping on the bed. Progress, Larissa thought happily. This morning Dyna had awakened her with happy purrs and snuggles.
Like the cat, Taryn had mellowed when she’d found security in her personal life, i.e., when she’d fallen in love with Angel. The sharp edges that kept the world at bay had softened a little. Larissa supposed it wasn’t a surprise. Everyone was different when he or she fell in love. Or so she’d observed. It wasn’t as if she’d ever felt the emotion herself.
Someday, she promised herself wistfully. If she was lucky.
“Larissa’s going to report on the golf tournament,” Kenny said.
She drew herself back to the meeting and glanced at her notes. “The charity event is a fund-raiser. Raoul Moreno’s foundation runs it and you three are on the schedule to play.” She went through a few more details.
“Think what we could have done with the Stallions if we’d had Moreno,” Sam mused.
Larissa looked at Taryn and rolled her eyes. Taryn nodded in agreement. They went down this same path every time they talked about the tournament. The humor of the comment was that Jack had been the Stallions quarterback while Kenny and Sam had been with the team and they’d done just fine. Including a Super Bowl win. But they liked to joke that if they’d had Raoul Moreno, a quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, everything would have been better.
Kenny leaned back in his chair and sighed. “That would have been great.”
“You don’t deserve as good as you got,” Jack told him. “You’re lucky I was willing to play with you at all.”
He kept talking, but Larissa wasn’t listening. Her part of the staff meeting was over. She had a massage in twenty minutes and there was prep work to do.
She collected her notes and stood. Taryn looked at her.
“Run while you can,” her friend murmured.
Larissa grinned and did just that.
After dropping off her notes in her office, she walked toward the locker rooms. Her space was between the two, down a short hallway. Once inside, she clicked on the lights and turned up the thermostat.
When she wasn’t working, the room adjusted to the ambient temperature of the building, but when she was with a client, she liked the air to be warm. Less comfortable for her but better for the massage.Her ritual was always the same and she found that soothing. First she warmed up the room; then she turned on the music. Jack was up first today, so she chose his MP3 file and pushed the start button. She started the countertop machine that heated the thermal packs. When she took them out for use, they would be about 160 degrees.
She cleaned the massage table when she was done for the day so that when she began her work, she only had to put the heating pad in place, cover it with a thick padding, then tuck in the linens on top. She did that next, securing the sheet.
For Jack, she used moist heat on his shoulder. That was where he hurt all the time. He had a lot of general aches and pains, but his shoulder was where she concentrated her work. Kenny had injuries all over. He’d been hit the most and there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t cause him pain every now and then. Sam, as the kicker, had the fewest injuries.
Larissa found it interesting to work on them. They were athletes, yet so different from each other. Especially Taryn. She was smaller. Muscled, but compared with the guys, she was puny. Her massages were always later in the day. If all three guys needed Larissa in one morning, her hands, arms and shoulders were tired for hours. By contrast, massaging Taryn was practically a vacation. There weren’t any thick ropes of muscles to manipulate. No scarred cartilage to break down, no stiffness to ease.
Larissa crossed to her cabinet and pulled out the bottle of oil she used on Jack. Everything was personalized. That was the advantage of only having four massage clients, she thought. And the point of them having her on staff. She knew what they liked. She and Taryn talked about girl stuff. Sam never spoke at all. Kenny was friendly enough. He would mention a book he was reading or a movie he’d seen.
But with Jack it was ninety minutes of hanging out. They discussed everything from current events to restaurant reviews to the various causes he was supporting through her.
She glanced at the big clock on the wall and saw it was nearly time. She turned down the lights, then checked the temperature of the heating pad on the table.
Perfect, she thought, feeling the warmth through the soft sheet. She folded the top sheet back, and then pulled open a drawer and picked up her brush. She smoothed her long hair, then pulled it back into a ponytail. She pushed the drawer shut as Jack walked into her massage room.
“Hey,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hey, yourself.”
Jack wore a white terry-cloth robe, as he always did, along with shower shoes. Everyone came to her like that. She politely turned her back so he could hang the robe on the hook and slip onto the table.
In a spa setting, she would step out of the room. After all, during a massage, her clients were na**d. But the first time she’d tried that with the guys here, they’d told her not to bother. As Kenny had put it, “None of us have anything you haven’t seen before.” There was also the fact that she was frequently called into the sauna to rub aching muscles and they were all na**d there. It was weird, but she’d gotten used to it.
During her massage training there had been plenty of instruction on how to handle the awkward “you’re na**d and I’m touching you” part of what she did. There were specific laws and codes of ethics that had to be followed. Not that her guys ever pushed the boundaries. They weren’t like that.
None of them wanted to be covered at all when they were facedown. Larissa had fought that battle and lost the first year. When they turned over, she draped a towel across the, ah, private areas. Taryn didn’t even want to bother with that. As for the natural male reaction to a woman touching his body...Kenny sometimes got an erection, but he laughed about it. His humor made her completely comfortable with the situation. Sam rarely got hard. The man had a will of iron. And Jack, well, he seemed to fall in the Sam camp.
Now she waited until she heard Jack slide onto the massage table.
“Why do you always put out that stupid sheet?” he asked.
“Because it’s my job.”
She turned and saw the top sheet had been kicked to the floor, just like always. The regularity of the event made her smile.
She picked up the sheet and tossed it in her dirty linens bin, then collected the moist heat pack. She worked quickly to slide it into its cover, then wrapped the ribbed warmth around Jack’s right shoulder. There it would loosen the muscles and scarring while she worked on the rest of his back.
She began the massage by touching his upper arms, then moving across his back. She felt for any new tension, any areas of tenderness. Her touch was sure as she lightly kneaded familiar muscles. She worked her way down to the small of his back before retracing her steps.
“Taryn’s keeping a stash of bridal magazines in her office,” she said conversationally. “But when I asked her if she and Angel had set a date, she wouldn’t say. I think she’s weirded out about what to do.”
As she spoke, she dug into his left shoulder. While it was nowhere near as beat-up as the right, he’d suffered plenty of hits on that side.
“Taryn can’t figure out if she wants a big wedding or to run off,” Jack said, his voice slightly muffled.
“I know. A couple of days ago she announced she’s having a big wedding. Yesterday she said they were going to elope. I hope she decides on having a wedding. She would totally rock a great designer dress. It would be like theater.”
“You’d have to dress up, too,” he pointed out.
Not her favorite thing. “I could manage for a day. Would you give her away?”
She asked the question without thinking, then remembered Jack and Taryn had been married briefly. She’d gotten pregnant and he’d insisted they do the right thing. When she lost the baby a few weeks later, they’d gotten divorced. As far as Larissa knew, they’d never been in love and the topic of their marriage wasn’t the least bit sensitive. At least not on the surface.
“Taryn wouldn’t appreciate the idea of being given or taken,” he said. “My guess is if she goes the big wedding route, she’ll hustle herself down the aisle.”
Larissa began to work on his back. His skin was warm and the oil she used allowed her hands to slide easily. The rhythm of her movements anchored her in place. The music was nice. Soothing, she thought.
“I got another call about the chiweenies,” she told him. “They’re going to make one more visit to talk to the lady. They’re pretty sure it’s a hoarding situation. The animal-rescue people are working with local law enforcement to get her to surrender the animals to avoid charges.”
“You’re not bringing dogs to my house.”
She smiled. “Would I do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
* * *
JACK DID HIS best to give himself over to the massage. Much of the time, being worked on by Larissa was the best part of his day. His shoulder provided a steady ache and as he wouldn’t take drugs for it, he’d learned to live with the pain.
The heat pack she used eased some of it. Later she would dig her needle fingers into the joints, searching out scarring and grinding it into submission. That part wasn’t fun, but the result was relief—at least for a few hours.
Her voice washed over him. She told him about her causes and what was happening in town. Sometimes he listened and sometimes he didn’t. He’d learned that if it was important, she would tell him again.
But today he couldn’t relax. Not the way he usually did. Something was off. Not the massage table. It was the same, as were the sheets and the music. Even the oil she used was familiar.
But there was something. He tried closing his eyes, but that didn’t help. Her hands continued to move on his body, sliding down his back. Lower and lower. She worked his shoulder last—leaving it until he was ready to turn over. That way she could attack it from both sides. That’s what always happened. She put heat on his shoulder, did the whole back of him, then his shoulder. He turned over, she did the front of the shoulder, wrapped it in heat and then tackled the rest of him. They had a routine. It worked. So what was his problem?