A Real Basket Case Read Online Free PDF

there? I could spread some towels.”
    He glanced at the table and shook his head. “The surface must be soft, like a bed.”
    “Maybe one of my kid’s bedrooms, then.”
    “Let us check them out. Come.” He took her hand, pulled her off the stool, and steered her into the hall. Once there, he dropped his gym bag on the floor and removed the bottle of massage oil and a CD.
    She preceded him upstairs, gripping the rail to steady herself, then led the way into her daughter’s room.
    Enrique glanced at the bed, pursed his lips, then checked her son’s bedroom. Before she could stop him, he walked into the master bedroom suite. “Perfect.”
    She trotted after him. “Wait.”
    Enrique walked around the large room, furnished with two bulky walnut dressers, a sitting area, oil paintings of snow-capped mountains, and a raised king-sized bed, its side facing the door. “Nice, very nice.”
    He moved to the other side of the bed and pressed a hand on the mattress. “This is just the right softness, and I won’t have to bend over much.”
    The image of him leaning over her while she lay on the bed she shared with Roger made Claire’s throat tighten.
    Enrique pointed at the compact stereo system on the headboard. “May I play my CD? The music will help you relax.”
    The freight train pushing her down the track of least resistance roared in her ears. “Sure.”
    “Now, bring some towels. While I prepare, you may change out of your clothes.”
    “Out of my clothes?” Claire instinctively clasped her arms across her chest, as if already covering her nakedness.
    Enrique laughed and raised the bottle of massage oil. “You cannot receive a massage wearing jeans and a sweater. Leave your underthings on if you wish.”
    She gulped. She would definitely leave them on.
    He waved his hands toward the master bath suite. “Go.”
    Claire returned with the towels. Enrique had pulled back the bedclothes. The soft strains of a Navajo flute floated from the speakers. She walked back into the bathroom and closed the door. Staring in the mirror, she debated her reflection.
    Should I?
    C’mon, it’s just a massage.
    But what if Roger finds out?
    How could he? He probably wouldn’t care anyway. He did say I couldn’t depend on him to fill my time. Maybe he hates being with me. Maybe he doesn’t love me anymore.
    She swallowed the lump in her throat. Decision made, she turned away from the mirror. Once she had stripped down to her plain white bra and panties, she grabbed her thick, terrycloth robe and threw it on before she caught a glimpse of her middle-aged body and lost her nerve. She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and stepped into the bedroom.
    Enrique smiled and clasped her hand. “No need to be nervous. I’ve done this many times before.”
    Done what?
    He led her to the bed and untied the belt of her robe. Easing it off her shoulders, he let it slip to the floor.
    Claire cringed. Other than Roger and her doctor, no man had seen this much of her since she’d birthed her two children. Who had left their marks.
    “You are a beautiful woman, Claire. Do not let anyone tell you different.” He paused, then pointed at the bed. “Lie on your stomach on these towels.”
    Claire did as she was told.
    Enrique moved to stand beside her, then unfastened her bra.
    She tensed and lay nervous and stiff, arms tight against her sides. She wondered what would happen next and if she should allow it. When his warm hands, slick with sandalwood-and-rose-scented oil, touched her back, she shivered.
    His palms slid down, up, and down again, pressing deep into her flesh and willing her to relax.
    The muscles in her back loosened one-by-one under Enrique’s firm touch. Her brain, already fuzzy from the wine, loosened too. His soothing strokes and the calming flute music pushed her remaining worries aside.
    He must have felt the difference, because he began kneading her shoulders.
    She finally yielded to the bliss with a sigh.
    “Yes, just