“Shoulders, back, and face,” I interrupt, looking at him in a contemplative fashion. “They’re all the areas he’s holding tense.” I wrinkle my nose. “At this point, it would be easier to name the places where he isn’t tense.”

“Not the face,” he says quickly. “I don’t think that would be advised.”

He immediately looks discomfited, and the receptionist stands up. “That’s good, sir. I’ll go and get you some robes, and Annika will come and find you.”

She glides away, looking very at home in this tranquil environment.

Silence falls and Laurie keeps his gaze fixed on the reception desk. Finally, he stirs. “I can feel you looking at me,” he complains.

“What a superpower. Who wants the ability to see through steel and climb buildings? I’m not sure how much use looking at your face would be to world peace, though.”

He laughs, but his gaze skitters away from me. Interesting. However, I don’t push it. Even if I wanted to know why he doesn’t want a face massage, it isn’t for me to grab for answers that he doesn’t want to give. Years of my profession have taught me that little gem. Well, that, and a desire not to get too intimate with anyone.

The receptionist returns, trailed by another woman.

She smiles at Laurie. “I understand you’re here for a massage, sir.”

“Apparently so,” he says dryly.

She shoots a professional glance at him and, in particular, the way he’s standing with his weight to one side, probably to ease the pressure on his leg.

“I notice that you’re favouring one side, sir.”

“Laurie,” he says immediately, giving her a charming smile. “I had a car accident a couple of months ago.”

“Ah.” She gestures for him to follow her. “If you wouldn’t mind telling me where you were hurt, I can assess what massage is best for you and then we can get started.”

He follows her obediently and without a backward glance. I clear my throat. “Don’t mind me,” I call.

They both look back with surprised expressions, as if they’d forgotten I was here. “I’ll be in the sauna,” I say. “I’ll meet you afterwards.”

He gives a careless smile and a jaunty wave of his hand that shouldn’t irritate me as much as it does and then vanishes into the massage rooms. The door closes with a soft thunk behind them.

“Gah,” I say, unfortunately out loud. “Irritating idiot.” I look over to find Cynthia regarding me with an amused smile. “Men,” I say.

“Yes,” she replies fervently. She hands me my robe. “You’re in sauna number three, Mr Carlsen. I’ll show the other gentleman where to go when he comes out.”

I nod, feeling thirty different kinds of awkward, and take the robe from her.