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your stomach,” she said, and deftly rolled him over.
    â€œHey!” he protested, his face smothered in the pillow. He swept the pillow aside. He was shaking with fury.
    She popped the elastic waistband of his shorts. “Calm down,” she advised. “This will be painless this morning.”
    Her impertinent little gesture made his temper flare so hotly that his entire torso flushed. Smiling at his response, she began to firmly knead his shoulders and back.
    He grunted. “Take it easy! I’m not a side of beef!”
    She laughed. “How delicate you are!” she mocked. “There’s a reason for this.”
    â€œLike what? Punishment?”
    â€œIn a word, circulation. Your circulation is terrible. That’s why your hands are cold, and why you have towear socks to keep your feet warm, even in bed. I’ll bet they’re icy cold right now, aren’t they?”
    Silence was her answer.
    â€œMuscles can’t work without a good blood supply,” she commented.
    â€œI see,” he said sarcastically. “Your magical massage is going to zip me right onto my feet.”
    â€œNo way. My magical massage is mere groundwork, and you should learn to like it, because you’re going to be getting a lot of it.”
    â€œGod, you’re just loaded down with charm, aren’t you?”
    She laughed again. “I’m loaded down with knowledge, and I also come equipped with a thick hide, so you’re wasting your time.” She moved down to his legs; there was no flesh there to massage. She felt as if she were merely moving his skin over his bones, but she kept at it, knowing that the hours and hours of massage that she would give him would eventually pay off. She pulled his socks off and rubbed his limp feet briskly, feeling some of the chill leave his skin.
    The minutes passed as she worked in silence. He grunted occasionally in protest when her vigorous fingers were a little too rough. A fine sheen of perspiration began to glow on her face and body.
    She shifted him onto his back and gave her attention to his arms and chest and his hollow belly. His ribs stood out white under his skin. He lay with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mouth grim.
    Dione moved down to his legs again.
    â€œHow much longer are you going to keep this up?” he finally asked.
    She looked up and checked the time. It had been alittle over an hour. “I suppose that’s enough for right now,” she said. “Now we do the exercises.”
    She took first one leg, then the other, bending them, forcing his knees up to his chest, repeating the motion over and over. He bore it in silence for about fifteen minutes, then suddenly rolled to a sitting position and shoved her away.
    â€œStop it!” he shouted, his face drawn. “My God, woman, do you have to keep on and on? It’s a waste of time! Just leave me alone!”
    She regarded him in amazement. “What do you mean, ‘a waste of time’? I’ve just started. Did you really expect to see a difference in an hour?”
    â€œI don’t like being handled like so much putty!”
    She shrugged, hiding a smile. “It’s almost seven-thirty anyway. Your breakfast will be ready. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
    â€œI’m not hungry,” he said, and then a startled look crossed his face and she knew that he’d just realized that he was hungry, probably for the first time in months. She helped him to dress, though her aid managed to send him off into a black temper again. He was as sullen as a child when they entered the elevator that had been installed especially for him.
    But the sullenness fled when he saw what was on his plate. Watching him, Dione had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud. First horror, then outrage contorted his features. “What’s that mess?” he roared.
    â€œOh, don’t worry,” she said casually.