Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,22

He had been so relaxed during their workout, so unlike the ambition-driven man he usually appeared to be. They had laughed together and teased each other, both seeming to forget the world outside. Then she noticed a change come over him and knew they would both leave, going their separate ways.

"Thanks for a great workout, Chris. See you tomorrow."

"Okay, Elizabeth," Chris responded before heading towards the men's locker room.

Libby stood there, watching wistfully as he walked away from her without so much as a goodbye. From the very start, this was a relationship destined never to be anything more than it was, she reflected with regret. Built on lies and half-truths, it was hardly the way to begin a romantic entanglement, let alone a business agreement.

Libby took a quick shower before changing back into her jeans. She shoved the soggy shorts and wet towel into the gym bag and left the locker room.

As she approached her car, she saw Chris bent down, examining the right front tire of her old, but serviceable, Honda.

"Something wrong?" she called out with a trace of annoyance. She was tired, thirsty, and stiff. But more than that, she wanted to be away from him and the hypnotic effect he had on her.

"Your tire's low. You might have a nail in it, or maybe a slow leak around the valve. Why don't you have it checked before you come over tomorrow? I’ll understand if you’re late." Chris looked up at her with concern as she stood next to him.

"And give you a reason to fire me?" she retorted, “No way. I can handle this." Why did men always seem to think women were damsels in distress when it came to car problems?

"You're right, of course you can," he confirmed, rising up to face her.

She started to express regret for her testy behavior when he interrupted.

"No apologies needed. I’ll see you in the morning." He turned on his heel to leave, but stopped midway, turning to look back at her. “If you can still walk, that is.” With a wink and a broad smile, he walked to his car, got in, and sped off.

Chris berated himself the whole way home. Why was being with her as natural as breathing? This was revenge? Hardly, he scolded inwardly. How could he possibly have enjoyed their work-out as much as he did when she was the enemy? Shaking his head in disgust, he renewed his pledge to avenge the many times she’d triumphed over him. As long as he kept that goal front and center, he’d do fine he reassured himself. Smiling with satisfaction, he reviewed the many ways he already had the upper hand and decided his momentary weakness at the gym was easily dismissed.

Chapter Nine

Chris uttered a silent curse as he shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. He'd tried putting his legs in several different positions under the mahogany dining table that served as his desk, but hadn't yet discovered one that was comfortable. Each painful movement, whether by arms or legs, reminded him of yesterday's excruciating workout with Libby. It hurt to get dressed. It was misery to walk downstairs. And it was sheer torture to do something as simple as sit down.

And if each movement wasn't reminder enough, Libby was working around Harte's Desire all morning, camera in hand, photographing the mansion from a thousand different angles. He hadn't noticed any hesitation in her stride, or slowness in hoisting the camera to suggest she was feeling any discomfort. Chris thought he'd seen her wince once as she bent down to retrieve a lens cover that had fallen on the grass. But she'd sprung right back up. If Libby was in pain, she was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

Chris pressed the button on his phone’s intercom.

"Edwina," he barked out. "Do you have any aspirin in that suitcase you call a handbag?"

He heard Edwina rummage through its contents.

"You're in luck, Mr. D.," she replied, "got some right here. Want me to bring them in to you?"

"No, I'll come get them myself," he responded impatiently, adding under his breath, "if I can make it that far." He winced at the thought of asking his legs to move again.

As he entered the butler's pantry, Edwina observed her employer closely, wondering what, or whom, was responsible for Chris's surly temperament this morning. The reproachful look in his eyes told her not to probe, but that had never stopped her before and it sure wasn't going to stop