Текст книги "Searching for Always"
Автор книги: Jennifer Probst
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Run. She’d run. Good exercise, and it’d cut her time in half.
She quickly stripped off her long-sleeved T-shirt until only a tight black Lycra top molded her small breasts. Catching her long hair and twisting it up in a hair band, she secured it to the top of her head, then turned.
“If I had known I’d miss out on a free striptease, I would’ve gotten here sooner.”
She jumped back. “You scared me! What are you doing here?”
Officer Petty took a long, measured glance at her windshield. “Doing my civic duty and responding to a call. Vandalism?”
Arilyn took a casual step backward. In class, she was able to keep reminding herself of the distance between them. Here on the street, having him invading her personal space was a bit disturbing. Already she had to tip her head back just to look at him, and she was pretty tall. “Sorry, no crime to uncover here. Just a rock that hit last week and I never got it fixed.”
He studied her face. To assess if she was lying? His sharp observation skills fascinated her. When under his stare, a woman felt stripped to the bone, and a tiny flare of vulnerability caught her off guard. What would it be like to be Officer Petty’s lover? Did he bring that fierce brutality to the bedroom and all that intense observation to give his lover pleasure?
The memory of her ex-boyfriend’s face as he pounded into another woman’s body made her wince and want to rub her eyes. Another bleachable moment in her life. Would she always be thinking of him and his betrayal? Had he ruined her for future relationships and sex by not only breaking her heart but also her trust? And why the hell was she thinking of this stuff in the middle of the road with her windshield cracked and a man she didn’t like screwing with her head?
His voice softened, as if he’d spotted something in those few moments of her weakness. “Hmm, driving with a shattered windshield is a crime.”
“Yeah, and wouldn’t that break your heart to ticket me,” she shot back. “No worries, Officer. I’ll get my car towed. I have to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Is that your business?”
He arched a brow. “Besides helping tow your car, I can offer you a ride. You seem to be in a hurry.”
Arilyn hesitated. Her pride begged her to decline and run away with her head held high. Somehow, she had an instinct it would end up being a favor he’d want to cash in. She didn’t want to owe him a thing. But Poppy had been waiting awhile, and he was more important. Besides, she could handle Stone.
Her mind said his first name with a breathy sigh and a shiver.
God, maybe Kennedy was right and she just needed plain, good old-fashioned sex. Her hormones were beginning to do a number on her.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I need to go to Ray’s Billiards.”
“Interesting choice. My chariot awaits.”
He escorted her to his souped-up, overpowering muscle car. She might hate it, but it was hard not to smile at his obvious adoration for the vehicle. He actually stroked the steering wheel as he pulled out. Those long, tapered fingers were extra large but seemed tender. Would he treat a woman with a combination of roughness and care? Somehow, the idea of him being gentle shattered her composure.
Oh, my goodness. What was she thinking?
Arilyn cleared her throat and dove into a neutral topic. “Did you always want to become a cop?”
He eased the car out to the main road. “Seemed like a good way to stop the criminals. No one else was doing anything about it.”
“Did you grow up in a rough neighborhood?”
“The average Bronx apartment in Woodlawn.”
“What was it like?”
He shot her another glance. “Poking around in my head again?”
“Just making conversation. You don’t have to answer if it’s too painful.”
He laughed, deep and long, and Arilyn studied his profile. Carved from granite, the roughness of his features pieced together a simple brutality that warned her this man could be dangerous. “I may be a disappointment to you, little one. I hide no secrets, and made peace with my crap a long time ago.”
The distracted endearment made her tummy free fall. Maybe it was the dark, sensual melody of his voice as he said it. He’d called her that once before over the summer when they first met, and she had never forgotten it. It was so . . . intimate. Her body sprung to life, surprising her with its sudden demand for his lips over hers. Odd. She rarely had a reaction to men on such a primal, physical scale. Her poetry professor from NYU. The artist from that watercolor class she took. Her yoga teacher. And now Stone Petty.
All had ended badly. But at least she had liked the others.
If her past was any indication of luck, she’d better pass right over Stone Petty. Arilyn refocused on their conversation. “Most people have a difficult time accepting the truth of the past and who they are.”
“I learned it’s much easier to deal with facts and truth than with pretty lies and denials,” he said. “Tell you what. I’ll give you the short version of my bio and you do the same.”
A warning bell clanged in her head. “I’ll be sifting through your past during our individual sessions anyway.”
“Thought this was a conversation,” he shot back. “What’s the matter? Too above the rest of us to share?”
“I’m not above anyone,” she said calmly. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“I do. Tell you what. I’ll keep it simple. Just answer one question from me, and I’ll give you all my dirty laundry. Fair?”
The idea was tempting, but she squirmed in her seat. “This is stupid, we don’t have to make a deal. Let’s just keep our relationship strictly to the anger management classes and how they pertain to your treatment.”
“Chicken? I bet you’re so used to having everyone open up, no one ever demands the same of you. When was the last time anyone asked you questions about your past? About who you are? About what you want?”
He murmured the last question, and the heat in his seething gaze made her press hard against the door. Her heart thundered in her chest, making it difficult to take a cleansing breath. A strange surge of emotion rocked her normal calm and seeped out. “You don’t know anything about me or my needs,” she hissed out. “I have no trouble opening up.”
“Good, then it’s a deal. I’ll give you the short version. Grew up in a tough Irish neighborhood where boys ended up being cops or firemen. I got jumped at the school bus when I was seven and put in the hospital. My father told me it would teach me a lesson to be either tougher or faster. I made sure I was both, and my training intensified when he began beating the crap out of me and my mother with a baseball bat. I learned how to steal, how to hide in the parks, how to survive, but I never got to save my mother. She died from a nasty fall deemed an accident. I left and dedicated myself to catching bad guys and working out my past karma with my asshole father. Thoughts?”
His speech was thorough and honest, and it broke her heart. Because beyond all that analysis was a little boy who’d never forgiven himself for not being enough. Her intrigue deepened when she realized how much more lurked beneath the surface.
What really freaked her out was how she suddenly wanted to find out.
“You nailed your anger issues and current occupation choice,” she finally answered. “And though my heart breaks for the little boy you were, I’ve heard a bunch of horror stories that ended up far worse than yours. But it’s not your mother you’re still mourning, is it?”
His fingers clenched around the wheel. A dangerous cloud settled over him, holding a tinge of violence Arilyn bet would always be a part of who he was. “What are you talking about?”
Her instincts screamed for her to back off. He wasn’t ready for a bigger truth. And, dear God, neither was she. “Nothing,” she said lightly. They were almost there, and she had a sudden urge to jump out of the car before anything more passed between them. Arilyn had learned that a physical connection was difficult to fight, but an emotional one would destroy them both. “Oh, there’s a spot.”
He remained silent, maybe sifting through her odd answer to his speech. She regretted diving in when neither of them was ready. He pulled into the parking space and turned to face her.
“Thanks so much for the lift, I appreciate it,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
Her hand never reached the latch.
He moved so deadly fast, she didn’t even sense his movement. His fingers closed around her wrist, holding firm. The controlled grip did something weird to her belly, as if she was helpless under his command.
“Not yet.”
She refused to look at him, keeping her head down. “Umm, I’ll take a rain check, I really have to go.”
“I’ll be quick. Look at me.”
His voice deepened, slowed. An explosion of heat and want slithered in her blood. She turned and met his gaze.
Lust.
No. Not possible.
She caught her breath at the naked desire on his face, in his eyes, as he looked at her. For a second she was caught up in a tidal wave of pure feeling, her usual logic and calm, serene thoughts like a crystal lake suddenly turning into a tsunami of choppy waves and tidal flooding. Her body shook in response to the primitive male need in his eyes. This was nothing but pure hunger at its elemental level.
“You promised an answer to one question.”
Arilyn managed a nod. The words were stuck at the back of her throat, trapped there under his blistering male power.
“What’s his name?”
She blinked. Her voice came out rusty. “Whose?”
“The man who fucked you up. The man who broke your heart. The man who pretended to transcend the physical and lied. Give me a name.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell. He’d tricked her with his own Jedi mind tricks, forcing her to give up the most private, vulnerable part of her soul. Her friends and family barely knew his name. How he knew a man had done something to her was beyond her understanding, but somehow she realized he had the same type of instinct that she did, and she had walked right into his trap.
She almost jerked herself out of his grip and left without another word. Until his voice softened and he spoke so gently, she felt wrapped up in a cocoon of protection and warmth. “Tell me, little one.”
His endearment touched something deep inside, a yearning of such vastness she fought the trembling that wracked her body. If he had kept pushing, she could’ve fought him. But his tenderness broke her resolve.
“Jacob.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She yanked free of his grip, dove for the handle, and stumbled out of the car.
Arilyn refused to look back, but she already knew it was too late. Like a wizard casting a spell and obtaining a lock of hair, Stone now held her rare secret. With information came great power. The only way out was to make sure she obtained more on him to balance the scales. She ignored the flicker of guilt about violating her ethical responsibility as a counselor and reminded herself it was a good thing to probe Stone’s past. For his own good.
Not hers.
She headed past the Swan Pastry shop, walked into Ray’s Billiards, and found Poppy waiting for her. The place had stained, worn carpet, four pool tables, a full bar, and wood-paneled walls filled with weird mirrors and classic art like dogs playing cards. Straight from the seventies, Ray’s catered to the hard-core crowd that came to gamble, downed shots of whiskey, and smelled of smoke and must. Cigars? They’d gotten busted for not adhering to the no-smoking laws, and her neighbor Mrs. Blackfire called the cops on them weekly. The fines must be in the double digits now, yet Ray stayed open every day.
He slid off the stool, called a good-bye to Ray, and gave her a hug. “How was your day, sweetheart?”
She hugged him back and craved to tell him the truth. Her pain-in-the-butt police officer was not only driving her crazy but starting to turn her on. Horror. Instead, she sighed. “Fine. How about you?”
“Won twenty bucks. Helped Ray with the lunch crowd. Did you talk to the center about trying to jail me?”
“I will, Poppy, promise. I’ll set it up so they allow you to walk to Ray’s when you want. You just have to make sure someone calls or texts me so I know where you are. Deal?
“Deal.”
“Let’s go home for dinner.”
“’Kay. Listen, can you also tell them to do something about their chef? He sucks. Yesterday I wanted a cheeseburger with a Coke. They gave me grilled chicken with an Ensure. Do they think I have one foot in the grave? Ensure tastes like powdered chalk.”
“If you have a burger craving, I’ll bring you one. You can call.”
“You’re not my babysitter, Arilyn. You also try to sneak me a veggie burger, and there is a difference, kiddo.” His voice softened with a twinge of sadness. “You already spend too much time with me. You need a man to settle down with and marry, not an old coot who keeps you running back and forth.”
“I like your company, so stop. If you really hate it there, move in with me.”
He shook his head. “No way. I’ll never get any babies from you if you can’t even date. Maybe I’ll sign up for the bus trip to the city. They’re going to see a play on Broadway.”
Guilt coursed through her, but she swore to make the situation work. She knew the center was the best place for him. If only he could make a friend. Maybe with more time. “That sounds like fun. What play?”
Gray bushy brows snapped down. “Mamma Mia! Ugh, I hate Abba. I voted for Chicago. Hot women in prison. They shot it down. But I’ll try.”
Her lips twitched. “Come on. I’ll let you have a real burger tonight after I make sure your insulin is okay.”
“No Ensure?”
“Not tonight.”
“And fries.”
“I’ll roast some sweet potatoes instead.”
“I love you, A.”
Damned if those ridiculous tears didn’t sting again. “Love you, too, Poppy.”
She linked arms and led him down the street. She’d just need to work harder and be more organized to get everything done. When she returned to the house with Poppy, she realized things weren’t getting any easier.
The neighbor from hell had struck.
A large truck parked next to her house proudly claimed Rusty’s Tree Service. Two bulky men wrapped up in ropes were hoisted on some type of contraption, calling orders back and forth to each other. A large buzz saw lay by their feet. Pine needles exploded everywhere, and the tree shook as if calling out to her in a plea for help. Mrs. Blackfire stood at her porch, arms crossed in front of her, watching the scene with a mad glee.
“Oh my God,” Arilyn whispered. “She is evil.”
“Who?” Poppy asked. “You cutting down that tree, sweetie?”
She launched herself toward the men. The loud buzzing screamed in her ears, and she waved her hands frantically, jumping up and down. The blond spotted her and turned off the machinery. “Hey, lady, you gotta get back. This is dangerous.”
“No!” she yelled. “It’s a mistake! You cannot cut down this tree!”
The other guy strolled over with a frown. “We already got paid. Now move aside.”
And once again her temper snapped. The beautiful peace and harmony of her morning drifted away in a trail of smoke, leaving a mess of writhing emotions that flooded out. “This is my house, and I demand you back away from this tree!”
The two men shared a glance. “You live here?”
“Of course I live here! You took a job from a neighbor who has no right to cut down this tree. If you touch one more pine needle, I’ll sue you!”
Mrs. Blackfire shouted from next door. “Don’t listen to her! She’s crazy. She believes in auras and crystals and refuses to even use a dryer!” She made motions toward the clothesline, which held all of Arilyn’s linens and organic cottons to air-dry naturally.
“I’m trying to save the environment,” she shot back. “Now back off or I’ll call the police!”
“I paid you already to do this job,” her neighbor called out. “Ignore her and cut down that tree.”
“If you move any closer, I’ll sue both of you,” Arilyn warned.
Mrs. Blackfire snapped her mouth closed and glared.
“Please pack up your stuff and leave,” she told the men.
They nodded. “Sorry lady. It won’t happen again.”
They gathered their equipment, got back in the truck, and pulled away. Shaking with fury, Arilyn tried to breathe, couldn’t, then gave up altogether. She marched next door and stopped at the bottom step. “You lied to me,” she said.
“I’m afraid for my life,” she hissed. “When that tree falls on my roof and crushes me in my sleep, it will be too late.”
Arilyn tried not to roll her eyes. “It’s not even close to your roof,” she pointed out. “You would’ve gotten me in big trouble with Genevieve.”
“I need to protect myself. Besides, what are you doing in there?” She squinted over her glasses with suspicion. “I see that strange altar. Do you sacrifice things? Are you into witchcraft?”
Her body trembled with pent-up frustration. She had no time for this. “No, Mrs. Blackfire, I meditate. And you shouldn’t be spying.”
“I’m looking out for the neighborhood. I’m the one who caught the vandalizer over the summer. You should be grateful.”
“I’m sure Gen is. I have to go.” She turned and almost bumped into Poppy. “Ready, Poppy?”
Her grandfather didn’t move. Just stared at her neighbor. “Who are you?” he finally asked.
“Joan Blackfire.” She peered over her glasses. “Who are you?”
Poppy smiled and held out his hand as if he were asking the queen to dance. “Patrick Flynn. Arilyn’s grandfather. Why are you cutting down her tree?”
Her neighbor muttered something under her breath, staring at his outstretched hand as though it were a bomb. She slowly took it and gave it a short shake. “Because it’s diseased. Are you living here now?”
“Tree looks fine to me. Does bend to the right a bit, though. I’m visiting. I live at the Best Friends Senior Citizen Center. Do you know it?”
She gave a grunt. “Place makes poisonous Jell-O and serves Ensure with every meal. Plus, their road trips are stupid.”
Arilyn’s grandfather beamed. “I totally agree. Hey, want to come over for dinner? I’m a great cook and promise no Jell-O. Or fake shakes. We’re having burgers and sweet potatoes. Arilyn doesn’t eat meat, so there’s veggie burgers there if you want.”
Arilyn blinked. Huh?
Mrs. Blackfire snapped her gaze around. “What’s wrong with meat? God put animals on the earth so we’d eat them.”
Arilyn bristled. “We’ve evolved since then. No reason to ingest bad animal karma into the body.”
“Ridiculous. The body needs protein to function. What do you eat?”
“I eat from the earth,” Arilyn said stiffly. “I also use soy protein as a substitute.”
Poppy shook his head sorrowfully. “It tastes really bad, but she’s free to make her own choices.”
“What about sugar?” Mrs. Blackfire frowned. “Everyone needs sugar.”
It was confirmed. She’d stepped into the Syfy Zone and would soon be involved in the zombie apocalypse. Her neighbor from hell was questioning her food choices after trying to cut down her tree illegally. “I avoid refined sugar and keep to natural ingredients. Dried and fresh fruit. Dark chocolate. Whole grains in cereals.”
“So who drinks all the wine you take out to the curb?” Mrs. Blackfire asked. “You don’t drink alcohol?”
Her grandfather spoke up. “Oh, no, she drinks plenty of alcohol.”
Arilyn fought off a blush. “Red wine helps the heart,” she said.
Poppy tilted her head. “You like those cosmos and martinis,” he pointed out. “And lots of white wine, too.”
Mrs. Blackfire gave a knowing humph. “Knew it. The recyclables never lie.”
Okay, she’d had enough. She tugged at her grandfather’s arm. “Umm, we’d better go in.”
“Are you joining us for dinner, then?” he directed toward her neighbor. “Maybe we can sort out this tree problem. Neighbors should get along.” Arilyn held her breath, heart beating madly, praying for just one tiny, itty-bitty break in her crappy week. Of course, Mrs. Blackfire would never agree. Her neighbor hated her, and Kate, and her whole crew. Lenny and Mike would probably howl as if they’d seen a ghost, sensing her dark, innate evilness.
“Yes, I’ll be over in a minute. Just need to lock up.”
“We have dogs!” Arilyn burst out. “Lenny and Mike are very misbehaved. Puppies. They’re still learning, and I know how you dislike dogs.”
“Why wouldn’t Joan like dogs?” Poppy asked with confusion.
“I never said I hate dogs,” her neighbor snapped. “I don’t like them doing their business on my property and ruining my roses. I’m fine with dogs.”
No. No, no, no, no . . .
Poppy lit up, looking ten years younger. “Wonderful. Looking forward to getting to know each other better. Let’s go, Arilyn.”
Arilyn’s mouth fell open.
He walked away, and she followed in a fog. Then he patted her arm. “I’m quite disappointed in you. Not inviting your next-door neighbor over is horribly rude. Why don’t we open that bottle of champagne you’ve been saving? It’s a special occasion.” With a light step, he walked inside, humming under his breath.
A shudder broke through her. She gripped the turquoise crystal around her neck and tried to absorb some of its healthy, clearing energy. Why was this happening to her? What had she possibly done in her previous life to deserve a neighbor from hell, a broken relationship, and an annoying, sexy cop?
Arilyn sighed and prepped herself for the long night ahead.
STONE CAREFULLY SCREWED THE caps back on the two Coke bottles and breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect. It had been way too long since he last attempted such a classic practical joke with soda and Mentos, and even had to YouTube the steps, but now he was in business. He headed over to McCoy’s desk first, placing the bottle on the right-hand side and quickly tossing out the half-empty one.
“Whatcha up to, Petty? Aren’t you still on suspension?”
He turned around. Sergeant Tim Dunn was nicknamed Make It Work Dunn, in honor of Project Runway’s host. Of course, this drove him apeshit because the host’s name was really Gunn. To Stone and the others, it was close enough. Dunn gave him a suspicious look. And well he should. Stone slouched and sneered. “Just looking for McCoy. Wanted him to check on a speeder. He’s going to court in my place. Here, want this? I’m ready to piss like a racehorse, I’ve had so much Coke.”
He shoved it in Tim’s hand like he didn’t give a crap. Tim took it. “I’m a Pepsi man, but sure. Thanks. Hey, we’re having some problems with the rookie.”
Stone lifted a brow. “Patterson? What’s up?”
Tim rolled his eyes. With his cropped blond hair and Irish red cheeks, he was the scrappy sort, with a mean hook that could knock a guy on his ass in two seconds flat. “He’s got a stick up his ass. OCD sort. Organizes his locker, paperwork, desk. Don’t care if he keeps it to himself, but he’s starting to piss everyone off. Trying to get Jessica to alphabetize the call-ins by last name and shit. Then told McCoy his paperwork wasn’t up to snuff.”
The dispatcher, Jessica, didn’t like anyone to tell her how to run her desk. When she got pissed, the department felt the heat. And criticizing a higher-ranking officer was just not done. Stone shook his head. “Bad news. What do you want to do?”
Tim grunted. “He likes his locker so damn much, let’s move it where he can see it easier. Like outside.”
A juvenile glee zipped through Stone. There might be only about seven people working in the department, but they were tight. Newbies needed to learn when they went off course, and the right practical joke put them in their place and made the point crystal clear. “Let’s do it. He’s on night shift, right?”
“Yep.”
“Good. We’ll put it by his car. Upside down, of course.”
“Of course.”
They both chuckled. “I’ll stop back. Heading to the gym. See ya.”
“Later, dude.”
His hand had just pushed open the door when the sound of Dunn shouting and cursing hit his ears. Guess he had opened up his bottle early to a total explosion. Grinning, Stone walked faster. Yeah, the classic jokes were the best.
He was in a good mood the whole way to the gym. Changing into his shorts and tank, Stone headed toward the weight room and started with the bench press. When his shoulders revolted a bit as he pushed up, he was reminded of the hellish Salutation to the Whatever routine Arilyn was always putting him through. Unbelievable. Who would’ve thought yoga could be such a workout? He made a note to see when the next Pilates class was. Time to stretch out so he could stop embarrassing himself in front of her. She seemed wickedly satisfied every time she caught him trying to hide a wince.
Stone settled into reps, working each core muscle until it ached. He’d learned when he was a skinny, too-tall delinquent that knowing how to fight and defend himself was key to survival. From both the streets and his father. He’d kept up a strict routine of lifting and running, so he’d always be able to either flee first or do damage to his opponents. When he’d met Ellen, that part of his past fascinated her in a dark, shocking way. She used to shiver and tell him a bit of violence was sexy.
Yeah, real sexy. Sure, the testosterone was a rush, but waking up in a blur of pain and blood just wasn’t that hot. Even if you were the one putting the other guy there.
Stone gritted his teeth and began on squats. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit Ellen’s background was also a turn-on. She was so different from him, all classic elegance begging to be messed up, and boasted an easy childhood with no ghosts. Since she worked as an executive assistant to a banker, she wore conservative suits and high heels and perfect makeup. She was gorgeous and confident. Attracted to her flirtatious manner and fun sense of humor, he’d dived headlong into an affair, and on impulse, he asked her to marry him. Surprisingly, she said yes. Had they even exchanged deep “I love yous”? Talked about the future and children? No. They’d both figured everything would work out, because neither of them was a planner or too interested in analyzing tomorrow. In a way, they were too alike ever to make it.
Maybe that’s why they ended up married and engaged so fast. The first hit of something new and fresh probably turned them both on. Of course, after the fun ended and his work ate him up and spit him back out, she wasn’t as turned on by that side of him.
His work schedule blasted them back to reality. Hard reality. Endless shifts, sleepless nights, and little entertainment caused a tear. Soon they were fighting, insulting, taking potshots that left shallow cuts and little time to heal. She wanted to travel and be fabulous. He wanted to slay the demons and catch the bad guys. Suddenly, it wasn’t so much fun anymore, and Stone finally figured out he wasn’t a man worth fighting for.
The incident confirmed the end. After he shot his gun and got dragged into an investigation that put the spotlight on him, she distanced herself. All the intense energy he exuded that used to intrigue her became distasteful. Like turning over a big, smooth rock and spotting a bunch of slugs beneath. They’d been on the literal rocks before the incident, but afterward? There was nothing left to save. Her affair only confirmed how far they’d sunk.
It hardly stung anymore. Stone wondered how long their marriage would have lasted if he hadn’t walked in on her. Had he ever loved her on a bone-deep, emotional level? Or had he just been lonely and lost after the shooting, looking for a connection to save him?
When his request for a transfer to Verily went through, he couldn’t wait to get out of the Bronx and away from all the damn memories. Even his partner hadn’t cared, but their relationship hadn’t been tight like his with Devine. He bet Devine would’ve backed him up and fought for him to stay.
Bet he wouldn’t have slept with his wife either.
Sweat ran down his body. He clenched his teeth and pushed past the strain, his muscles working overtime, the exertion clearing his mind. He spotted the pretty blonde staring at him, her blue eyes wide with appreciation of his form. He was a realist when it came to his body. He put a lot of crap into it, but he balanced that with steady workouts and training to help sculpt the physical traits needed to succeed as a cop. His Black Irish blood had also been a gift. Women seemed to like that type of heritage, something about the dark hair and eyes with fairer skin. The tall, skinny youth had finally grown up until he towered over all the other punks in the neighborhood and gained respect. Growing the goatee just added to the rough appeal.
Whatever. He wasn’t the type to stare in a mirror. As long as he was clean and had some type of clothes on, he was good to go. Getting women had never been a problem for him. Stone finished his squats, wiped his face with a towel, and grabbed the hand weights for biceps curls. The blonde inched closer, an open smile curving her lips. Definitely an invite. He hadn’t seen her before, but she was cute. Seemed as if she’d be open to grabbing a shake at the juice bar and accompanying him home.
The image of Arilyn’s face drifted past him.
Ah, crap. He grunted and rolled out a few sets. Fingers gripping the hand weights, his veins bulged, the warmth of adrenaline flooded his blood, and he became half-aroused. He hoped it was the pretty blonde making him semi-erect, but the damn image of his long-limbed teacher who owned her body with a pride he rarely spotted in females was starting to kill him. Worse? He was imagining her doing the Salutation thing naked. With him.
He clanged the weights back on the shelf and cursed. Grabbed his water bottle and drained it dry in one long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tossed the towel over his shoulder, and headed out.
The blonde stared. Her eyes begged him to stop and converse. Flirt. Do the dance that would eventually lead him to a satisfying bout of sweaty, fulfilling sex. He paused, getting closer, ready to open his mouth. Waited for the subtle spark of attraction that told him they’d have a good time tonight.
Instead, he walked past.
The sharp flash of disappointment on her face pissed him off. What was wrong with him? Why not have a quick tumble? Why was he suddenly obsessed with the one woman he really, really didn’t like? Sure, they had some kind of crazy spark, but damned if he was interested in getting electrocuted. And that woman would surely kill him if they ever got involved. Hell, electrocution would probably be less painful.
