Mr. Magic : Part 1: Mr. Magic

By Bella Bentley

Liam has magic in his fingers...

 

I went for a massage to relax, but when the masseuse looks like a god and can do that with his fingers...well, let's just say relaxing wasn't top of mind. The way his hands glided over my sore muscles made my insides squirm and melt, turning the heat between my legs into a raging forest fire.

 

And I certainly didn't expect what happened in the sauna minutes later.

 

I thought we'd never see each other again and I could keep the amazing encounter chronicled on my never-forget-list, but that thought ended at dinner with my mom's new boyfriend and his son, Mr. Magic Fingers.

 

The magic didn't end at his fingers either. Muscular forearms, broad shoulders and a chest to die for. And that wasn't all. Mr. Magic Fingers has a magic tongue and I love a man who knows how to work an innuendo.

 

I thought staring into his smoldering blue eyes was torture enough, then our parents informed us of the 'family' weekend getaway plans to the Satterwhite's winter home in Vail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bella Bentley
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201874308

Book preview

One

Liam

In rose gold colored sandstone, the words Spa Unico - Patrons Only curved across the sign to the private access entrance of the world-renowned health spa. By the time the valet had taken the keys to my car, I let out an exhausted breath, hoping that this place was as good as everyone said it was. A miracle was pretty much the only thing that would get me to leave feeling refreshed and relaxed at this point.

Hello and welcome to Spa Unico, a pleasant older woman greeted me at the lavishly decorated front desk as I walked up. May I have your name, miss?

I smoothed back the wavy mess of blonde highlights that kept falling in my face despite my sunglasses being propped up on my head and smiled back at her. Aly Waterhouse.

She glanced at her computer screen, double-checked over a few sheets of paper, and looked back up, nodding. Miss Waterhouse, if you'll just take a seat in our lobby, your massage therapist will be out shortly. Leaning over, the shorter woman produced a small silver tray and proceeded to pour a glass of one of my favorite champagnes. Gesturing to the flute bubbling with the golden liquid, she gave me another pleasant smile. Please help yourself to our complimentary champagne, or any of our other refreshments in the lobby area. We also suggest drinking a full glass of our lemon water after any massage, as it will help flush the toxins out.

Tilting the flute toward her, I thanked her and carefully threw my huge purse back over my shoulder, my heels click-clacking over the dappled marble floor as I headed in the direction that the woman had pointed.

Amid a handful of tastefully upholstered armchairs and chaise lounges, I snatched up one of the Women's Fitness magazines from the glass table and took a quick sip of my drink before sitting down on one of the smaller peach colored sofas.

The lobby smelled clean and fresh, sort of like a mix between my favorite fabric softener and a good martini. There were a few other people waiting around nearby, chatting about the newly renovated sauna. I quirked my brow as I flipped through to the next page. Hmm. I might just have to check that out.

It didn’t take long until I was the last person left in the lobby. As they tended to do when I wasn’t otherwise occupied, my thoughts unfortunately went back to Josh. Back to the way he kept smoothing over his slicked back hair, unable to accept the truth.

I rolled my eyes at myself and took another deep sip of the champagne, trying to push the big fight out of my mind for now. The last thing I needed to worry about while I was getting a massage was my ex-fiancé.

My watch glittered under the lobby’s chandelier, and I raised a delicate eyebrow as I noticed the time. For such an upscale, high-faluting place, they sure do take forever to finally get to you.

Just as I was about to check back in with the front desk lady—my impatience getting the best of me, since all I wanted to do was just relax already—one of the doors to the left of the lobby swung open. It was a good thing I’d set the flute back down on the side table, because when I looked up, I swear to God I was struck speechless and nearly slid out of my seat right there.

In Napa Valley, you come across plenty of wealthy men, especially when your mother is one of the most well-known sommeliers around. Plenty of older men would waggle their bushy eyebrows at me or even my younger sister, Sage, when we'd enter a room. And sure, there were some good-looking ones out of the bunch, but they tended to be so boring and so predictable that I tuned them out just as quickly as I could.

The man who had just walked through the door, however, was something I would have never predicted. From the golden-kissed tan of his skin pulled taut over the huge, bulging biceps