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“> Four years ago, I came home from booktour and found an exasperated husband. He’d ordered my Valentine’s Day present, they’d lied about how long it would take to be delivered, so all he had for me was a card. Actually, two cards. One from him. One from the dogs. But he kept saying things like, “I was going to have everything re-arranged when you got here,” and “I don’t know how many delivery guys they’re sending,” and most important, “I don’t know when it’s going to get here because I can’t track it.”

Huh? It sounded like furniture, but I kept looking around the house thinking, “A dining room table? No, he wouldn’t dare.” “A new desk? No, he wouldn’t dare.” I had no idea what it could be.

Now, Scott is like most guys. He seems insulted by the idea that he should kept track of the things I want so he can buy them for me on those weird celebrations like, oh, say, my birthday. In fact, despite the six million commercials and billboards and personal reminders, Christmas always seems to catch him by surprise. (“I didn’t have time to shop! I’ve been busy!”) Yeah, yeah.

But sporadically he does something wonderful. On one of our anniversaries — not a milestone anniversary, just an anniversary — he gave me a series of packages. A plant. A pair of green pajamas. A green sweater. (Do you sense a theme?) The last two gifts were a pair of emerald earrings and a gorgeous emerald ring. Years ago, he drove my mother and my sister to the mall, found a sweater wrap he liked, and bought it. This story is only notable for my sister’s comment — “What is this? Christina’s Thursday gift?” The occasion I remember most fondly was a time we were moving. The kids were little. Scott and I had been up all night packing. First thing in the morning he went out for more tape (or something) and came back with doughnuts. I almost cried with joy. Yep, folks, the way to Christina’s heart is sugar and fat-fried dough glazed with more sugar and fat.

Back to my Valentine’s Day present — Scott finally gets the call that it’s coming between 8am and noon. He tells me I have to get up before the delivery people arrive.

So it’s something in the bedroom???

They drive up. I steadfastly don’t look. But I know it’s so wide they’re having trouble getting it through the front door. I’m berserk with curiosity. They leave, and I finally get to look.

Well ... have you seen those massage chairs? The really really good ones? The ones that massage your neck and shoulders when you’ve been typing so long all your muscles are in knots? OH MY GOD!!! Just ... OH MY GOD!!!

Here’s the description:
The Lifestyle™ Chair features eight primary massage modes including: Swedish, Kneading, Hawaiian, Percussion, Compression, Tapping, Shiatsu and Rolling. For your convenience it has four pre-programmed modes: Shiatsu, Swedish, Stretch and 5-minute Quick Massage, as well as Full, Upper and Lower Back programs. Full-body stretching releases tension in back and hips. Calf massage soothes and reinvigorates tired calves and legs.

OH MY GOD!!!

“> There’s only one thing that can make you, um … wow. The Shiatsu. Nice. Very, very nice. … One thing … stretch those legs, baby! Stretch them! … One thing that makes you feel this good … whoa. When I push that button, the rollers up and down and back and forth … There’s only one thing that can me you feel this good, and it’s ... well, yes, that, for sure.  But the other thing that makes you feel this good is … oh, yes. Right there. A little to the left. Yes, yes, YES!!! … A book! IN BED WITH THE DUKE And that scene with the sex...while he’s wearing a mask…

OH MY GOD!!!

Read an except! http://christinadodd.com/excerpt.php?excerptid=49
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