Cowboy Enchantment - By Pamela Browning Page 0,28
she wasn’t surprised that Hank was attractive to other women; hadn’t Justine said that she fielded questions about him all the time?
The three of them learned when they arrived at the spa that the mud-wrap procedure would take two hours. A week ago Erica would have bemoaned a full two hours wasted on something she considered trivial, but now it didn’t matter. She didn’t have to be anywhere, do anything or be useful to anyone. Willingly she turned herself over to the receptionist, who conducted her into the depths of the Rancho Encantado spa where people went to be massaged, immersed, floated, rolfed and wrapped.
Erica found her skin being exfoliated with loofah mitts and sea salt to the accompaniment of soothing music. When her skin was burnished to a tingle, mud was applied to her entire body, although the stolid attendant was merciful enough to spare her face. Then Erica was wrapped in permeable plastic to “cocoon” for twenty minutes during which she was told to relax. Minutes later, beginning to succumb to the warm sensation of the mud and the wrap, Erica closed her eyes.
She was on the porch outside the recreation hall wearing her new low-necked white peasant blouse and the red bandanna skirt. Her breasts were full and partially exposed; they shone pale in the moonlight that spilled like molten silver over the scene.
Hank, standing on the step below her, glanced at her, his heavy-lidded eyes smoldering with desire. “Erica, let’s slip away together. Let’s find a place where we can be alone.”
From inside the hall came the lively music of a fiddle. Suddenly the music tempo changed, becoming a slow and dreamy waltz.
Erica slid a look back through the open door, where couples were gliding beneath crepe-paper streamers hung overhead. “We’ll be missed.”
Hank ran a bold hand up the inside of her leg. “We can be back before anyone notices. Let’s—”
“Your time is up,” said the white-garbed attendant as she yanked aside the curtain. Erica had to pull herself out of this pleasant daydream to the present time and place, where she was divested of her plastic wrapper, which she had begun to appreciate in the last few minutes.
Still covered in mud, she was led to a multijet Swiss shower and instructed how to position herself so that the attendant could spray her with a high-pressure hose. Then she was treated to a thorough massage. Finally, when she felt as limp as a noodle, she rejoined Natalie and Shannon in the lounge, where they collapsed into contoured chairs, guzzled fruity drinks and laughed together about the experience.
After lunch, Erica kept her appointment with an optometrist, hired by Justine to come to the ranch once a week to help with makeovers.
“I’ve never been able to wear contact lenses before,” Erica said doubtfully when the exam was over. “I’ve never been able to get a good correction.”
Dr. Levin looked up from her notes. “The ones I’ve prescribed shouldn’t pose a problem. You can start to wear them right away, and you should call me if you have any trouble. You’ll need to decide what color you want to order.”
“They come in colors? That’s amazing.”
“Sure. You can order hazel, dark brown, light brown, blue with violet centers, deep blue, green—”
“I get the idea,” Erica said hastily. “One pair in every color, please.”
The doctor raised her eyebrows in amusement but did not comment.
At least, Erica thought, she would have a pair of contact lenses to match every one of her new outfits. She couldn’t wait to tell Charmaine. Her sister would probably laugh her head off at Erica’s new look, but Erica didn’t care. She was having fun for once in her life, and she wasn’t about to quit now.
ERICA REPORTED to the stable early for her trail ride and found Hank saddling Melba, who swiveled her head and regarded Erica with mild interest. Erica blinked, astonished that her new contact lenses—the blue ones—didn’t blur her vision. If anything, she could see better, which, when looking at Hank, was a plus.
He still wore the long-sleeved red shirt, Western-style, from the morning. He also wore a big smile, aimed at her.
“How’s it going?” he said.
She adopted his laconic manner of speech. “Can’t complain.”
He tightened the saddle cinch, and Erica reacquainted herself with Melba. Now that her eyes were adjusting to being inside the cool shadowy stable, she could see some of the names of the other horses on their stalls. Tango, said one. Sebastian, said another, and right next to that,