Libby headed downstairs to the free weight room. She had just spent twenty minutes on the treadmill followed by a ten minute stint on the rowing machine in the cardio room upstairs to warm up. Her V-neck T-shirt was soaked with perspiration and her hair, again gathered into a bun on top of her head, sported damp tendrils hanging in limp rebellion.
Libby caught her reflection in one of the many mirrors hanging on the walls and groaned out loud at her soggy appearance, then chided herself. She was here to work out, not to win a beauty pageant, and a little sweat here and there was proof of her determination to keep those twenty pounds off permanently.
After dinner last night, she and Connie's friends went dancing at the newly-opened club. Libby was now wishing they hadn't stayed out until four in the morning, because the evening's festivities and the resulting lack of sleep were taking their toll on her stamina today.
Libby eyed the fitness circuit speculatively. Lined against a wall were twelve different machines designed to work every muscle group from neck to calves. Deciding to save her sit-ups on the slant board for last, she hopped onto the first machine. It was a steel and padded roller contraption guaranteed to strengthen her lower back which ached from all the gardening she had done yesterday. As she completed the last repetition and was about to get out, she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard an all too familiar voice address her.
"You're doing that all wrong, Elizabeth," Chris scolded from behind before coming around to face her. "Cross your hands over your chest like this and don't let your chin drop too far down when you push back."
Christopher Darnell, in all his masculine glory, stood in front of Libby, watching as she struggled to assume the correct position. She couldn't help but stare at the physical perfection he projected. He wore a skin-tight work-out shirt which exposed a physique that appeared to be hardened by years of physical labor. He was not thick and muscle-bound like the heavy weightlifters that frequented the gym. Rather, he was perfectly sculpted with large biceps, broad, corded shoulders, and a well-developed chest. Knit gym shorts revealed an enviably flat stomach, powerful thighs, and well-muscled calves. His body was faultless and incredibly sexy, Libby thought, feeling her own body grow warm and tingly in response to his closeness.
"Our paths cross again," Libby said, finally finding her voice as she repeated the exercise properly this time. “I was surprised to see you last night at the historic Chesterfield Inn," Libby grunted out with emphasis between repetitions.
"Well, Edwina recommended the place, so I thought I'd try it. The food was better than I expected, although the atmosphere was a little too quaint to suit me." He shot her a playful, somewhat sheepish, look, then chuckled. "You know how I feel about old buildings."
His laugh was deep and masculine, causing her to smile at his light-hearted honesty.
"Do two more, then you can rest while I take a turn here," he said.
"It's one of my favorite places, as you can imagine. Full of history and charm and antiques," she countered, watching with admiration as he did the exercise slowly and with great control, like it was supposed to be done. Dear heaven, but he is in fabulous shape she thought.
He got out of the machine and stretched sinuously, every taut muscle rippling in response to his movements.
"What did your boyfriend think of the place? Or was that your husband?" Chris asked with feigned innocence.
"That wasn't my husband, or my boyfriend."
"You're not married? Now why did I think that you were? Are you divorced?" he probed, wondering how much of her marital history she would reveal.
"I'm divorced. And very happy to be single, thank you," she added tartly.
"Sorry. Didn't realize I was hitting a touchy subject. Forgive me?" Chris stared at her intently with his penetrating blue-green eyes.
Libby would forgive him anything when he looked at her that way.
"What about you? Single, married, divorced, widowed?" She laughed as her mood brightened, deciding to throw all caution to the wind and find out more about him.
Beads of sweat were gathered like raindrops across her forehead and chest, even though she had just mopped those areas with the towel clutched in her left hand. She looked entirely too charming, he thought, even though she was drenched in perspiration and panting to catch her breath.
Instantly, he wondered if that was how she