Daryl knew Mitch had cause for worry. Even when he’d been in training for his certification as a massage therapist, he’d been hit on and propositioned by people who misread his careful ministrations on their muscles as something more. At the spa where he worked, there were three male masseuses, but he was the only one who was athletically trim and handsome. Brad was overweight by over a hundred pounds, a heavy man with a gentle touch but visually nothing to get worked up about, and Manny was a swarthy Latino man who looked like he spent his weekends cruising singles bars hoping to score.
The clients who called and requested Daryl specifically fell into two groups—married, middle-aged women who thought he was sexy, and young gay men who thought he was hot. Surprisingly, it was the women Da
