The Weekender. Fay KeenanЧитать онлайн книгу.
face, as he wasn’t sure how appropriate that would have been, under the circumstances. Glancing at his watch, he was relieved to see that he’d only been asleep for half an hour or so. Hopefully he hadn’t put Holly out too much.
As he exited the treatment room, he noticed the lights were out in the shop, and that the only illumination was coming from a couple of thick altar candles that had been placed in dishes on the shop counter. The music had changed from the Celtic-sounding melodies to something that sounded a little more Eastern mystical, and as Charlie cast his eyes around for Holly, it took him a moment to realise that she was curled up with her legs folded under her in a yoga position; child’s pose, he seemed to remember it being called, courtesy of an ex-girlfriend who was a yoga convert.
Charlie padded out across the shop floor, not wanting to disturb Holly in the middle of her routine. As he drew closer to her, she straightened up to a sitting position and raised her long, shapely arms in the air, palms flat and together, before bringing her hands down in front of her. From where he was, behind her, Charlie was struck once again by the beautiful contrast of brilliant red hair, somewhat subdued in the candlelight, roughly plaited and tumbling over her back to just below her bra line, which he could see through her vest top when she stretched her arms. He felt a sharp sting of longing spiralling downwards into his abdomen as he saw the sweeping curve of her waist and hips, and the outline of one full, rounded breast as she turned slightly to one side. She was utterly, completely gorgeous; not just in this light but in any light.
Clearing his throat, as much as to dislodge the sudden dryness that seeing Holly like this had created as to announce his presence, he spoke, hoping that his voice wouldn’t betray the sudden sting of arousal that he felt. ‘Um… I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.’
Holly took a moment to complete her yoga pose, bowing her head to her chest, which again made Charlie’s heart skip a beat as her plait flopped forward to reveal an elegant, swanlike neck, strangely vulnerable against the red hair. She then swung her legs around and stood up, turning around to face him.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said softly. ‘I was going to do some yoga tonight anyway. How are you feeling?’
‘Great,’ Charlie replied, caught off guard by the light reflecting in her hazel eyes. ‘Thirsty, though. Is that normal?’
‘Yes, completely,’ Holly replied. She gestured to the jug of water on the shop counter. ‘Help yourself to some if you like.’
Charlie grabbed the glass by the jug and poured himself some more. Downing it swiftly, he relished the coolness, hoping it would help to cool the unbidden thoughts about Holly herself.
‘Well, you should sleep well tonight,’ Holly said. ‘Although, don’t go running any marathons for a couple of days; the toxins will be working their way out of you for forty-eight hours or so. And drink plenty more water.’
‘I will,’ Charlie replied, thinking that Holly’s hands must truly be magic if they were able to relax him so much. He hoped he didn’t end up dreaming about her tonight, though. That might make things awkward between them again. He felt as though their relationship was a little easier now than it had been when he’d introduced himself to her in the shop a few weeks ago, and he wanted to keep it that way. ‘So how much do I owe you for the oil and the massage?’ he asked, aware that time was marching on and he should leave Holly to the rest of her evening.
‘If you’d like to book in for another one, then this one’s on the house,’ Holly said.
‘Are you sure?’ Charlie asked. ‘I mean, I don’t want to leave you out of pocket.’
‘It’s something I offer my customers if I think they might give me the repeat business,’ Holly said. ‘And, from the feel of your shoulders and neck, it would be a great idea to schedule a massage at least once a month or so.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Charlie replied. ‘That’s if you’re sure you don’t want anything for this one?’
Holly shook her head. ‘Once I get you hooked, you’ll be booking in a session every week!’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ Charlie said, although inwardly he wondered if he’d cope with Holly putting her magical hands on him that regularly without wanting to pull her down on the massage table and kiss the life out of her. But that was probably the oil and the massage talking. If he couldn’t even get a massage from someone without thinking sexy thoughts about them, he was clearly far more buttoned-up than he realised. ‘Thanks again, Holly.’
‘Any time.’
Holly walked over to the front door of the shop and unlocked it, allowing him to step through.
What would the Prime Minister, the leader of his party, think if they could see him stepping out of a shop like ComIncense with an untucked shirt and a relaxed grin on his face? Or, worse, his own mother? Kathleen Thorpe wasn’t exactly what you’d call progressive in her attitudes – political or otherwise. An old-school conservative, she viewed Charlie’s more liberal views with genteel disdain.
Grinning even more widely, he said goodnight to Holly and set his mind to the rather more mundane task of what he was going to eat tonight. Sadly, he thought, after all of the talk about releasing toxins from his body, he’d probably end up with some sort of takeaway, as he felt far too chilled to bother cooking. His new job had taken him to some interesting places so far, but Holly’s massage table was definitely one of the nicest. Resolving to book in another massage that he was actually going to pay for, he headed home.
10
‘So, I had that Charlie Thorpe on my massage table last night,’ Holly said playfully as she handed Rachel the folded-up T-shirts she’d been taking off the washing line in Rachel’s neat back garden. Rachel was housebound with Harry for a few days, as his stomach was playing up. Tummy troubles were a symptom of his condition, and while he was, on the whole, a healthy, happy little boy, apart from the obvious, when he did have a health wobble, it tended to put the brakes on family fun. As a result, Rachel was going slightly stir-crazy in her house in one of Willowbury’s modern new-build cul-de-sacs, so Holly had shut up shop and headed over to the house, picking up an easy dinner for her and Rachel on the way.
‘Oh really?’ Rachel raised a wry eyebrow. ‘Isn’t there some sort of practitioner-client confidentiality involved in massage? Should you really be telling me that?’
Holly grinned. ‘I trust your absolute discretion, of course!’
‘So, what you’re telling me is that he’s only been in the area a few weeks and you’ve already got his kit off? You’re a fast mover these days, sis.’
Holly flung one of Harry’s vests at her sister. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ she said. ‘Besides, it’s weird enough seeing him around, let alone actually seeing him with his shirt off.’ Realising she might have said too much, she grabbed some more washing off the line and concentrated on folding.
‘Why’s it weird?’ Rachel’s brow furrowed. ‘I mean, apart from him being the new MP, of course. But you met enough of them in your days as a student party member not to be freaked out by that.’
Holly paused. She’d made it clear to her mother that she didn’t want the information that she’d met Charlie before being shared, but she trusted Rachel, and apart from a little good-natured ribbing, her sister could be relied upon not to broadcast it to all and sundry. Rachel had teased her, often, about how much the previously strait-laced Holly had loosened her stays over the years, and perhaps she should know that there was a small, missing puzzle piece now that Charlie Thorpe had rocked up in Willowbury.
‘So, Mum gave me back a suitcase from their loft the other day,’ Holly said, trying to inject a casual tone into her speech. ‘And it turns out that, according to some very old photos, and you’ll never believe this, me and Charlie have actually met before.’
‘Really?’ Rachel paused in her own folding. Glancing to where Harry