Rapture by Lynne Silver Page B

working the reception desk, there stood six feet of muscular, masculine perfection. He smiled at me crookedly and pushed his chestnut hair out of his eyes. I noticed well-groomed fingernails and large, tan hands. Hands I envisioned running all over my naked body. I stood dazed, smiling at him like an idiot until he spoke.
    â€œPlease, come all the way in. Despite my formidable appearance, we’re very friendly here at Rapture. I’m Hunter.” He gestured to his immaculate suit and tie, an outfit I was not expecting at a day spa.
    â€œHi,” I answered. “Sorry for my delay, your suit did rattle me for a second. I feel a bit underdressed.” I indicated my yoga pants and oversize sweatshirt.
    Handsome Hunter, as I dubbed him, laughed; a genuine, show-your-teeth laugh. Pleasure whispered through me that he appreciated my zany sense of humor.
    â€œYou’re funny. I love funny,” he told me. “I’m dressed like this since I attended a meeting before heading here, but you don’t want to hear about me. You need to get ready for your treatment. What is your last name?”
    I really, really do want to hear about you, I thought but answered his question. “Schilling, Catherine reporting for duty.” I mocked saluted him, acting silly to hide my total and instant infatuation with him.
    He grinned and moved the mouse to read the computer monitor. “According to the calendar, this is your first time visiting Rapture.”
    â€œSir, yes sir,” I answered, still goofing around.
    â€œPrivate Schilling, if you could take a moment to fill these waivers and questionnaire out by oh-four-hundred hours, I would appreciate it.” Hunter handed me a long clipboard filled with ten point font and multiple spots for my initials.
    Yay, he got my humor and played along. The man was a keeper. I accepted the clipboard and scanned it quickly, something every lawyer excels at. I wrote in the date of my last health exam and signed the waiver confirming I had no communicable diseases. I promised on the nondisclosure to maintain discretion about fellow spa guests, and then I was ready. I handed over the clipboard and waited for the next directions.
    He accepted my offerings, and then he looked up and smiled.
    â€œLet me walk you back to the women’s dressing room.”
    He emerged from behind the desk and held open the frosted glass door. His hand gripped mine to guide me, but then he pulled away and looked with bemusement at his hand then led the way down the hall.
    I followed and nearly walked into the door due to Butt Admiration Disorder. He had a prize ass, and I don’t consider myself a bum-connoisseur. A great smile is usually all it takes to cause belly flip-flops for me. Taking care to project my eyes upward, I trailed him down a lushly carpeted corridor leading to another frosted glass door. He handed me a key with a little number on it.
    â€œLocker forty-two. You will find a robe and slippers waiting for you in the locker. Slip them on and come out to the waiting room here.” He indicated a small circular room off to the left I had not noticed before. “Your technician will come find you. Enjoy!” He walked off down the hall leaving me to enter the locker room.
    As soon as the door shut behind him, I inwardly cursed. Damn it, I should’ve asked for his number or something, anything to keep talking to him. I sighed and chalked up one more loss for Team Catherine.
    My hand reached out to open the door a crack before lowering it again. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside. A flowery aroma wafted over me on a cloud of steam emanating from the hot tub to the right of the room. To the left of me stood two rows of dark wood lockers and chocolate-brown leather benches. A cloud of steam parted, giving me better viewing into the hot tub, but then I quickly averted my eyes. I sneaked a glance again at the hot tub