2

Ansley woke up with a slight headache. She did not think three margaritas would make her to feel so lousy. However, the two additional glasses of wine she had at home should’ve been an indication of what was sure to come. She was an intermediate level drinker with advance level tendencies—which is why she kept a hang-over toolkit fully equipped with Goodie powders for such occasions.

Ansley stretched out her body in bed, before sitting up and planting her feet on the cool, hardwood floors. She sat on the edge of the mattress for a second before attempting to make her way to the master bathroom.

She paused in front of her dresser mirror, shaking her head at her reflection. She looked like a makeover before picture. Her shoulder-length, jet black hair was tangled, damp, and dangling against her back. She took the hair tie from her wrist, and pulled her hair atop her head in a messy bun. Ansley kept a ponytail holder nearby at all times, she loved her long tresses but in the event of extreme heat, humidity, or any number of hair fail catastrophe scenarios, she had to be prepared.

Ansley rubbed her hand across her face. Her toffee complexion was flushed, with the exception of the earth tone hues attempting to hide her faint freckles. She had fallen asleep with her makeup on. Now her mascara looked like war paint smudged across her eyes and face. Ansley looked exactly like she felt; beat down and in need of rest.

She glanced over her shoulder to look at the clock on her nightstand. Ansley huffed when she recalled that she did not have anywhere to be until way later. The realization deflated her and she shuffled into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

Minutes later, she stepped beneath the hot water until she was fully submerged. She washed stale makeup and her worries down the drain.

Feeling rejuvenated after her shower, Ansley towel dried her body, and then wrapped her hair in a separate towel. She grabbed the floral silk robe hanging on the bathroom door and slipped it on, not bothering to tie the sash as she padded barefoot into her room to check her cellphone for messages.

She had a voicemail message from Simeon.

“Hey Ans, it’s Simeon. You never called to say that you made it home. I hope you’re feeling better…”

She knew the next message on her phone must be from Simeon since the call was disconnected mid-message.

“Hey sweetie. The call disconnected. Anyway, I emailed you several contacts this morning; hopefully one of them can help you find something. You deserve a little pampering after yesterday, so I scheduled you an appointment at the spa and with your hair stylist so you could tighten up those edges. See you tonight. Love ya.”

Ansley gave a little smile. Simeon was always full of surprises, and this was by far one of the best, and it was definitely right on time.

Ansley pulled her black-on-black Range Rover into the valet parking at Spa Sydell in Buckhead. With her hair freshly pressed and styled, she was now prepped and ready to be immersed in a state of relaxation.

She could not wait to unzip and unsnap all of the restrictive clothes that were holding her hostage. Women wore some of the most uncomfortable clothing, but nothing could compare to the universal sigh of relief heard around the country when a woman had the chance to take off her bra.

Instant relaxation.

“Hello and welcome to Spa Sydell. Do you have an appointment with us today?” the receptionist asked.

“Yes, it should be under Ansley Wright,” she confirmed.

“Ah, I see you are getting the hot stone treatment. You’re going to love it.”

Simeon knows me so well. She loved this particular treatment.

Ansley walked back to the locker room to get undressed and slip into a terry-cloth robe. She retreated to the lounge to sip on a cool glass of cucumber water and await her masseur. Ansley could not wait to lay across that massage table, she had not been to the spa in a while.

Just as she was getting comfortable in her chair, her name was called.

“Ansley Wright…,” he said.

“Yes. I’m ready,” she said with a smile. She rose and followed her massage therapist into the hallway.

As they continued down the hall, her heart rate increased when she passed by one of the most attractive men she had seen in a while. Well, with the exception of Ryan, this guy could definitely take her mind in another direction. When they made eye contact, Ansley felt a wave of desire flow through her.

His smooth, dark chocolate skin was glowing against the white terry-cloth robe. His chest was giving a peek-a-boo show and she was his captive audience. She was so engrossed she didn’t realize that her masseur had stopped walking. She ran smack into him.

“Oh my goodness. Excuse me, I was a little distracted,” she stammered.

“I could tell,” he said, not withholding his chuckle at her expense.

Ansley didn’t know what it was about that man, but she was curious about him. As she removed her robe and lay across the massage table, she began to play out scenarios in which to strike up a conversation with him, just in case she ran into him afterward. Flirting was an art form that she had yet to master.

The massage therapist entered the room putting an end to her daydream, and inciting the real thing as she drifted off with the glide of his strong hands and thumbs kneading away the stress in her body. As his hands worked out her kinks, she felt an intense feeling of euphoria. Do work with those magic hands.

She closed her eyes and imagined the hands on her lower back belonged to man from the hallway. Ansley smiled at the thought.