She’s fifty pounds past perfect…
Pretty and professional, orthopedic surgeon Abby Lewis has plenty of money and friends. Pushing forty-five, however, she’s tired of lonely nights and reservations for one. Even her geeky little brother nabbed a drop-dead gorgeous, professional baseball player boyfriend, so what the hell is wrong with her? The doctor diagnoses her own malady—most men don’t want a woman whose lush curves overflow the hourglass.
He yearns for more…
Handsome, well-educated, and arrogant Casey Rupp can have any woman he desires—and he knows it. But he’s tired of shallow relationships driven by sexual exploits and lust. He wants more and determines the only way to find the right woman is to take his looks out of the equation.
Can Madame Eve work her magic for these two hungry hearts?
Welcome, Dr. Lewis.
I hope you are finding the Castillo Retreat relaxing and delightful. 1Night Stand takes into consideration both parties requests and appetites when designing their encounter.
Your date will arrive shortly. Please get comfortable by undressing and wearing the robe provided and relax on the massage table in the spa room. He expressed on his application that he has great hands. If you are accepting, he would like to begin the evening with a massage.
Despite knowing you’re a physician, your date is slightly self-conscious about his appearance, so by having you wear the blindfold provided, he’ll feel more comfortable. You may have some concern having one sense taken from you. I suggest you and your partner decide on a safe word. Should either of you feel uneasy at any time, with any action, use the agreed-upon word to stop the encounter.
Have a wonderful evening.
“What the hell? He’s self-conscious? I’m the one bare-ass naked under nothing but a robe.”
Staring at the envelope, she waited for the words to change even slightly. They didn’t. Dammit. With a grunt of irritation, she tossed the paperwork on the table and headed for the spa room.
He’s self-conscious. “Hmmm.” Disfigured from some accident, deformed at birth, marred by a bad case of adolescent acne? “Quit being so ridiculous, Abigail!”
She began to undress and caught a glimpse in the full-length mirror and sighed. She shouldn’t be disgusted—she had a beautiful, round figure, or so her mother told her all through high school, with well-defined arms and shoulders from her love of kayaking and canoeing. Hours in the medical center’s private pool helped as well. Regardless, an evil, self-destructive thought crossed her mind; He’ll wonder who delivered the cow then demand his money back.
Covering with the cozy bathrobe provided for her doused the notion. She lay down on her back on the towel-wrapped table and as directed, slipped the small blindfold over her eyes.
The world went dark. Not a frightening dark, but a deep, restful absence of light, a peaceful black.
Under the blindfold, she closed her eyes to the world. So quiet. She dozed, she had no idea how long, until the closing of the door brought her around.
“Hello, Dr. Lewis. Or may I call you Abigail?”
“Abby is fine.” She turned her head, following the deep, satiny voice of a man. Quiet steps moved behind her head. He stopped. Fingering the knot of her robe, she tightened it, covering herself, hoping to ward off the odd sensation of him studying her shape.
The lonely spot between her legs pulsed when a heavy hand lit on her shoulder.
His breath fell warm and solicitous on her ear. “What would you like rubbed first?”
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