After lunch Boone had a few hours respite which he used to his advantage by returning to their room and changing into his swim trunks. He didn't bother informing Shannon of his plans, he knew that she was no doubt completely absorbed by the fawning attention which she so loved.
At the pool he used his charm to persuade the few guests who were using it to leave him an unobstructed lane to one side so he could lose himself in the soothing rhythm of propelling his body from one end to the other. Boone repeated the mindless pattern, the repetition transporting him into the sanctuary of inner peace he always achieved when swimming.
He was always a trifle trepidacious when swimming in an unguarded pool, nervous that some calamity would arise and he'd be pressed into employing his old life guarding skills. Boone hadn't attempted to perform CPR since the disastrous day of the crash, when Jack had so callously dismissed him for a fool. Though the man had, months later, taken the time to patiently show him exactly what he'd done wrong, he'd never had the self assurance, and thankfully the necessity, to ever try it again.
When he judged that he'd run out of his precious free time, he reluctantly returned to his private room in the spa section of the resort.
All he had left for that day was a massage.
Chelsea welcomed him back with a warm smile. As she turned her back to finish her set up, she told him he could leave his boxers on if he chose. He'd been uncomfortable enough in the morning that she figured he'd probably feel more at ease that way. However, when she turned back around he was hanging up his robe and was as naked as the day he'd been born.
Boone sighed, his facial expression and posture more befitting that of a man who had resigned himself to a much despised, but necessary prostate examination. He made no effort to cover himself at all, which surprised her; he simply walked dejectedly over to the massage table and asked her if she wanted him to be face up or down.
"Up to start," she replied, trying not to think about how gorgeous he was, and what she was about to do to him, her professionalism easily driving all inappropriate thoughts from her head immediately. She draped a towel over his midsection and got to work.
Shari had noticed the scars on his wrists and the odd tattoo during his manicure, and while she'd thought it exceedingly strange that he'd have his sisters' name permanently emblazoned on his body, and in such an odd context; they'd all been filled in on the correct relationship between the two, after Boone's admission of that morning, it was the vertical lines of keloid that had given her pause. She also wondered why he'd be away on vacation with his sister in the first place, the white skin on his left ring finger proclaimed his married status quite clearly. She hadn't mentioned anything, however, the director of the facility had a very strict policy when it came to gossip, so Chelsea knew nothing of any of Shari's observations or musings.
Chelsea paused and frowned as she worked the jasmine scented oil he'd chosen down the inside of his forearms to his wrists, quickly resuming the stroking of her hands to cover her momentary stutter. She similarly thought the tattoo odd, but like Shari wondered more about what could possibly have driven someone like him to want to end it all. Her expert fingers also easily found the faint traces of the marks on his chest as well. However he might have appeared, she had a feeling that there was far more to him than his pretty exterior suggested.
When it came time to get him to turn over, it took Chelsea a few tries to rouse him enough to follow her instructions. When he finally did, he did so bonelessly, almost tumbling from the table in uncoordinated semi-consciousness.
She readjusted his head and moved his legs and arms into more comfortable positions than the awkward ones he'd ended up in. He was loose and pliable in her hands, his limbs seemingly made of rubber. She was reminded of a high school science project where they'd immersed chicken bones in vinegar only to pull them out several hours later to find that they resembled nothing more than al dente bucatini.
She poured more oil in her palms and warmed it before going to work on his well defined upper arms.
He'd not washed his hair after his swim in the chlorinated pool, as a result it was dry and coarse, when Chelsea moved on to his back and shoulders, the strands sucked up the oil like it was life's own blood, the lighter brown of it staining dark and silky.
Slightly more than an hour after she'd started, she was done. Waking him, once again, proved to be beyond her purview.
Shannon purred softly, her fingers actually stretching now and again as if she was a Siamese extending its claws in contentment, Lances' strong hands moved over her calves, his thumbs digging deep as he proceeded with the Reiki Aromatherapy massage, the scent of patchouli heavy in the air. She knew it was Boones favourite, Lance had assumed she'd select the chocolate scented oil, it may have been stereotyping, but most women did, however neither she nor Boone really cared for that particular confection, and she had no desire to smell like a Ghirardelli factory. She knew that after the thorough massage, she'd positively exude the aroma, arousing Boone every time he was near. The thought curled her lip as lascivious thoughts filled her head, reminding her just how much she loved him.
That impression came crashing down as the door opened and Rachel crouched into view so she was on the same level as Shannon.
The woman looked even more embarrassed than she had at lunch.
"He did it again didn't he?" Shannon didn't even wait for a response, immediately levering herself off the table and grabbing her robe.
Boone was passed out on the massage table, the room redolent with the scent of jasmine. The first thing she did was lift a corner of the towel off his butt to satisfy her curiosity, and confirm her assumption of that morning that he'd be naked just as she'd expected. Chelsea wondered why his sister would want to see his nude ass.
Shannon moved around to his right side and looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, of course, his dark lashes pale against his fair skin. She couldn't resist reaching down with an index finger and brushing along the width of them, and then back again fanning them gently. His signature eyebrows furrowed slightly in response. She blew softly in his ear, enjoying herself by playing with him in his completely unguarded state. A hand twitched slightly, but that was all.
'Boone?' He snorted slightly. 'Bo-one?' she dragged it out in his head. He snorted again and tried to roll over, as if he was in his own bed.
"Hey steady big boy." Shannon grabbed his hip just before he tumbled to the floor, his towel fell, his oil slicked butt moved back in response to the pull of her grip. He was now face up totally exposed and sprawled on the bench. "Boone?" She tried it out loud this time.
He jerked upright and swung his legs over the side like a marionette whose strings were being manipulated by an amateur. Shannon rushed around the table. "Boone?" she tried again.
"Shan?" he finally seemed to recognize her, though his eyes were strangely unfocused.
"Yeah, it's me Boone." She put a steadying hand on his chest as he stood and swayed. "Come on, it's time I put you to bed sleeping beauty." Shannon held her free hand out and snapped her fingers. Rachel realized that she wanted his robe and brought it to her.
"Where's mom? We'll be in trouble if she catches us sleeping together again." Boone's eyes drooped closed once more. She worked his arms into the sleeves, with her focus solely on him, she didn't even consider the impression his words must have been giving the two spa employees.
"Mom?" What bullshit was he babbling on about she wondered? She decided to go with it. "I think mom's downstairs." Shannon overlapped the two sides of the front of the terry garment and tied the belt securely, while Chelsea worked his feet into his slippers.
"Oh," he snapped his head back up, his lack of co-ordination giving him the appearance of a bobble-head doll, "and Dad?" In a desperate effort to find an authority figure to love him, his young and attention starved psyche had made it surprisingly simple for him to come to think of Adam as 'dad.' Though it was a practice he abandoned as he got older, especially after Sabrina coldly reminded him that Adam was not, in fact, his father.
Shannon assumed, considering the way he was speaking to her, that he meant Adam not his own father, but either way the answer was the same.
"Daddy's gone Boone, he died." She told him gently, wondering about the strange tricks his mind was obviously playing on him. Shannon was starting to believe that he was actually still sound asleep, though he'd never talked or walked in his sleep before to the best of her knowledge.
"Oh," he repeated; then grinned a little sloppily at her. "You're a great little sister Shan. I love you," he mumbled, sounding like some overly sentimental drunk on his fifty-seventh rum and coke.
"I love you too Boone, you're a great big brother and if you want to stay that way, you'll come back to the room with me." As she reached for his chin to try and get him to look at her, she caught sight of the look on Rachel and Chelsea's faces at their exchange; her hand dropped, the implication of his words suddenly dawning on her. She had no way of knowing, thanks to Boones' slip of that morning, that they actually thought they were brother and sister. Either way, his words certainly cast them in a new, and definitely perverted, light.
He sighed, "Kay Shan." His face nestled into her shoulder.
"Did he have anything to drink at lunch?" she asked them over his head as he drooled and all but snored, leaning against her. Shannon thought the question might encourage the women to discount his shocking ramblings as caused by over indulgence in alcohol; she was also still trying to ascertain why he was acting so strangely.
"He only had a glass of red wine, but he seemed okay. And, anyway, he went for a swim after that." Rachel suddenly wondered if he was an alcoholic or on medication and shouldn't have had the merlot.
Shannon was sure that such a small quantity of alcohol shouldn't have affected him, and said so, much to their relief. Still she was mystified by his behaviour. She drifted herself over his thoughts, but they were dark and murky, with widely scattered tiny isolated patches of clarity, like a fetid swamp dotted by spots of uncontaminated water. He was simply caught in an altered state of limbo, she decided, not quite awake, but not exactly asleep either.
"I don't know why he's babbling such absurdities, I guess you did your job too well," she told Chelsea. "He's so relaxed he's still half asleep. I'll just get him back to the room." She gripped his upper arm and forearm firmly and guided him out to the hall, bouncing him off the door jam as he staggered drunkenly.
The two women left in the room exchanged astonished glances and promptly broke every rule in the "no gossip" policy.
Shannon assisted him, stumbling, to their quarters. Boone seemed to almost come back to himself a few times on the way, but never really fully clued in on where he was, simply content to follow her docilely. Once he was lying on the bed, he rolled over on to his left side and started knitting his feet together fretfully. She realized that he was attempting to rid himself of the slippers Chelsea had put on him before they'd left and removed them for him. He settled down immediately, his left hand palm up, fingers curled gently; close enough to his mouth that he could almost have been sucking his thumb. She brushed his hair from his forehead gently then went to pour herself a glass of wine.
She sat in the wing backed chair, watching him just as he'd watched her the evening before. Her eyes swept up and down him, settling over and over again on the tattoo on his left wrist, unusually exposed by his lack of jewelry. It prompted her to go to the safe and extract the box with their personal effects. He hadn't told her the combination; there'd really been no need to, he was so predictable that she just automatically punched in four, eight, one, five, hearing the satisfying click as it allowed her access.
Shannon took the box and returned again to the welcoming embrace of the comfy chair. Opening the lid she took out the first of the items, examining each one in turn, letting her thoughts wander.
She came awake to the pressure of a gentle hand on her shoulder. Boone was standing in front of her, watching, his face creased into a soft smile when he saw her eyes flicker open.
'Hey.'
'Hey, yourself,' she answered.
Boone gestured at the open box on her lap, 'What are you doing with that?'
'Memories,' Shannon shrugged.
'You turning all sentimental and mushy on me now?' He scoffed, breathing a little laugh at the impossible notion.
"Pfft, don't be ridiculous!" She lifted her feet off the ottoman so he could sit and removed their weddings bands from where they were nestled in the box. Putting one on each of her forefingers, she held them out to him. "You should get your ring refurbished, Boone, you can barely see the engraving any more."
He leaned in, with the two silver circles side by side it was quite obvious that his had seen a lot more wear and tear than hers. He already knew that she'd worn hers on the chain around her neck, instead of on her left hand, during the years of her absence.
Boone of course had never removed his, except by necessity. "Mine does look more worn than yours, but then I guess that's only to be expected." The overtone of regret in his voice was clear. He suddenly realized that he'd gotten past the bitterness he'd harboured since her return. Now he was only sorry for all the time they'd missed, though he knew it had been necessary. Her staying would have destroyed them both, as her leaving almost did him, but now that she was back for good, their bond was even stronger.
"It's always going to be between us isn't it Boone?" Shannon asked a bit sadly, knowing he'd understand that she was talking about the six lost years.
"Only if we let it Shan," He reached out and cupped her face gently, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "We can't wish those years back, but we can move on from them and put them behind us. I'd like to, I think I'm ready to."
Shannon nodded quickly in agreement, and he leaned in to kiss her, as if sealing a pact.
He sat back as she dropped the jewellery into the box and shut the lid; with the sharp sound of the catch, the mood of the room changed completely, the sappy melodrama evaporating instantaneously.
Boone glanced around looking a little perplexed. "I, um, I don't exactly remember coming back here." He admitted, sheepishly. "What happened?"
Shannon laughed and told him each and every little detail, relishing the look of horrified embarrassment that crept onto his face, accompanied by the usual red flush, as she recounted his wild ramblings and less than dignified exit.
When it was empty Boone refilled her wine glass and, surprisingly without prompting from her, poured himself a scotch and water. When he returned with the beverages, Shannon stood so he could sit in the chair, then she climbed into his lap sideways, slinging her long legs over the arm. They reclined against opposite sides of the encircling upper back of the seat and sipped their drinks in comfortable silence, the chair easily accommodating the two slight people easily.
Growling stomachs reminding them of their hunger, they retired to the ensuite to shower. Once the hot spray soaked them, the oily residue that remained on their bodies from their earlier massages released the mingled fragrance into the steamy enclosure, arousing them both.
Their passion tempered by their relaxed state, the sex that followed was slow and languid. Hands glided, touched, retreated, only to reach in again, each foray tentative, each glance hooded, sultry, eyes flicking, never resting on one focus point for long. Mouths met, tongues teased, teeth bit gently.
When he finally pushed her up against the heated tiles, forearm reaching down to lift her onto him, she locked her lips as firmly on his as her legs locked around his waist, only releasing his mouth when the force of their simultaneous orgasm caused her to throw her head back as she cried his name.