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‘FTDs’”
    â€œFTDs?”
    â€œFemale-torture devices. They say they were invented by a sadist.”
    â€œYeah, well. They may be right, but if you were five foot one, you’d wear them too.”
    Jason’s eyes crinkled. “Nah. I’d go for platforms. You want to go up to Paul’s together?”
    She wanted to all right, which was exactly why she shouldn’t go. “Maybe.”
    â€œIf you go, I’ll give you a foot rub,” Jason bribed.
    The thought of his strong hands on her sensitive feet, of him rubbing the ache out of them, had her body humming. She looked at him askew. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
    â€œNo. Besides, it’s a foot rub, not a marriage proposal. I give them to my sisters all the time.”
    â€œDo you now?” Anita asked skeptically.
    He looked affronted. “My mom too, even though she doesn’t wear heels.”
    â€œAren’t you the sensitive guy.”
    â€œYou know it. And a pro at foot rubs.”
    While her mind warned not to give in to temptation, her feet begged for attention. Her feet won. “Honestly, right about now I’d give you my paycheck for a good foot massage.”
    Jason flashed her a perfect smile. “It’s on the house.”
    Anita couldn’t resist. Walking side-by-side, they weaved between booths. When they reached the lobby, her heels clicked on the marble.
    â€œYou can take those off and walk barefoot; I won’t tell anyone,” Jason said.
    â€œI’ll be all right, but you’re sweet.”
    â€œYou want a piggy-back ride?”
    The thought of their bodies pressed together sent her imagination spinning. She didn’t trust herself to keep her hands off Jason’s chest. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
    Unlike her small hotel room, Paul’s suite had a full living space complete with a couch, two chairs, and a bar. Paul sat on one of the stools at the bar while Armando lazed on the couch. The television, on a sport’s channel, was muted. As Anita helped herself to a beer from the refrigerator, Paul and Armando carried on a conversation about baseball.
    Sitting in a chair that separated her from the men, Anita tugged off her stilettos then stretched out and crossed her feet at the ankles. A few minutes later, Jason pushed an ottoman toward her. When it was close, he straddled it then reached for one of her feet.
    â€œYou really mean to massage my feet?” she asked.
    He winked and smiled in response.
    â€œWell, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” she teased then let him prop the foot between his legs. Soothing heat radiated from his crotch warming her.
    Cupping the top of her foot with his palms, he gently separated her toes then kneaded them. Pleasure and pain danced in exquisite harmony. Anita closed her eyes and dropped her head onto the back of the chair. “You have magical hands.” His thumbs glided over her aching arch and Anita jerked when he hit a sore spot.
    Noticing the room had grown quiet; Anita opened her eyes and found the men watching her. “What?” she asked.
    Armando, with his kind, open face, tilted his head. “You just sounded happy. It was nice.”
    Anita squirmed. What had she done? Moaned?
    â€œSettle down. You’re fine,” Jason instructed then tossed–”It’s just my golden touch,”–over his shoulder.
    When Paul and Armando started their conversation again, Anita sucked in a breath. Exhausted, she let Jason’s fingers soothe her. Half asleep, her mind wandered.
    â€œI’ll do your shoulders,” Anita heard Paul say from behind. The comment snapped her out of her revelry.
    â€œNo...ooh...” His large hands, both firm and gentle, worked her taut muscles while his aftershave tickled her senses. Having four strong male hands on her body, whether innocent or not, made her aroused. Rein it in, she admonished. “Oh my,” she said