Hands On. Debbi Rawlins

of these things?”

      Dalton couldn’t tell if she really didn’t know or if she was acting. He didn’t say anything but instead watched Bask spin his web.

      “Well, there are usually five couples who go on a kind of retreat for a week. There would be one facilitator there, which would be me, and my assistant who would help guide you through the exercises.”

      “We’re not going on any damn retreat, or doing any exercises. Come on, Cass.” Dalton grabbed her arm and tried to steer her away.

      She reacted perfectly by jerking away from him. “Did you not just minutes ago say you wanted to save our marriage?”

      “Well, yeah, but—”

      “Then I suggest you shut up and listen to the man.” She turned back to Bask. “Again, I’m sorry. Please go on.”

      Dalton scrubbed the side of his jaw to hide his amusement. She was really getting into this role, especially when she got to blast him.

      “No problem.” Bask gave them a combined smile, patronizing and annoying as hell. “I encounter this type of situation all the time. Either the husband or wife, but frankly mostly the husband, is resistant to any kind of therapy.”

      Dalton groaned. “Therapy.”

      Cassie gave him a dirty look.

      Bask held up a hand. “Let me finish. Once I explain how our method for exploring and stimulating the relationship works, the husband usually comes around.”

      Dalton glanced at his watch. “You have two minutes.”

      “We believe that we must address all aspects of the union—spiritual, intellectual and physical. There is a beautiful meditation garden on the premises, a spa and pool and of course the physical contact can be done in private or anywhere for the less inhibited. All group sessions are—”

      “Hold it.” Dalton’s interest peaked. “What do you mean by physical contact?”

      Cassie’s interest was obviously aroused, as well. She watched Bask with wide anxious eyes.

      He shrugged. “Physical contact can mean anything from massaging each other to sexual relations.”

      Cassie coughed. “In public?”

      “That’s entirely up to you.” Bask produced a reassuring smile. “Of course most couples prefer the privacy of their rooms.”

      “Now, you’re talking.” Dalton made a show of studying the card. “You just might be hearing from us, Mr. Blankenship.”

      Cassie opened her mouth to say something but her expression warned Dalton to cut the conversation short. He threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed her open mouth.

      She sputtered.

      Dalton gave Bask a leave-the-little-woman-to-me wink. Bask nodded and headed toward the dark blue Mercedes.

      “Dammit!” Cassie shoved at Dalton’s shoulder when he wouldn’t release her.

      “Now just calm down. Wait until he leaves before you start kicking up a fuss.”

      “What I’m going to kick is your behind.”

      “Fine. After he leaves.” Dalton furtively watched him climb into the car. The windows were so heavily tinted he couldn’t see the guy. But Dalton figured he was watching them, assessing what sort of candidates they’d make for whatever scheme he’d concocted.

      “The hell with that. I’m leaving.”

      Dalton grabbed her when she tried to go.

      “Ouch!”

      “I didn’t hurt you.”

      Cassie’s lips did that little pouty thing, and she rubbed the area around the wrist that he held. “Yes, you did. You’re still hurting me.”

      He didn’t believe it, but he promptly released her. Her smile had “sucker” written all over it. “Trying to make me kiss you again?”

      The grin was instantly replaced with a glare. “Dream on.”

      “It seems that’s the only way I get any cooperation out of you,” Dalton said, distracted by Bask pulling out of the parking stall and onto the street. “There he goes. Smug bastard.”

      “We finally agree on something.” Cassie stared after the car as it made a turn and disappeared.

      “At least I know where I can find him.” Dalton studied the card. “Marriage counseling. Pretty friggin’ smart.”

      “Okay.” She shrugged. “I guess now you make a call and then go arrest him, huh?”

      He looked up in disbelief and stared at her. Obviously she didn’t get it. “Not exactly.”

      She stuck her hands in the pocket of her black jeans. They were so tight he didn’t know how she had room for her hands, much less the rock she had on her left ring finger. “What did he do, anyway? I mean, I can pretty much guess but— Why are you looking at me like that?”

      “That ring you have on your finger, are you married?”

      She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “I borrowed it from our client.”

      “Think she’ll lend it to you for another week?”

      “Why?”

      He looked at the card again. “Do you know how friggin’ perfect this is?”

      “Why?” she repeated, concern raising her voice.

      “Why what?”

      “Knock it off, Styles. I want a straight answer.”

      “Oh, honey.” He slid an arm around her and smiled. “If we’re going to be married, you’re gonna have to call me Dalton.”

      3

      CASSIE SLAPPED at the nightstand, trying to find the alarm. The buzzer screamed relentlessly, until she finally opened one eye and shut the darn thing off.

      She checked the time, blinking twice to clear the foggy blur…two-thirty.

      Sunlight streamed through her apartment blinds. Okay, so it was afternoon. She knew that.

      Yawning and stretching, she tried to focus on the ceiling. Afternoon naps were a rarity for her, but after two sleepless nights she hadn’t had much choice. Especially with her big adventure coming up in…

      She glanced at the clock again—two-thirty-two. She groaned and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Dalton was picking her up in an hour and a half, and she hadn’t even packed yet. Not that she had to take much—T-shirts, shorts, jeans, maybe one casual dress.

      Darn it, but she wished she’d talked to Bask herself and not had to rely on Dalton for information about the week they’d spend at Back to Basics. She’d actually tried calling Bask herself after talking to Dalton, but all she got was a recording.

      Dalton Styles. The proverbial tall, dark and handsome, with his sable-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. And sexy as all get-out with that strong chin that needed a shave. And holy cow! What a kisser!

      She exhaled and shoved off the bed, thinking about how hot and insistent his mouth had been two days ago. More than one dream about him picking her up and carrying her away had messed with her sleep.

      Good thing he annoyed the hell out of her or the next week would be impossible.

      She got out the duffel bag she’d used during her college days. After four years of college plus another one in graduate school before she’d called it quits, the bag had taken a beating. Certainly not appropriate luggage for Mrs. Dalton Styles III. Maybe she ought to make him spring for a pricey Louis Vuitton garment bag.

      The thought made her smile. Let him try