Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,6
not that bad if you stay indoors.”
“What about you? I thought I detected a hint of Dixie in your accent.”
“Like you, I’m pretty much from all over, but I think of Chicago as my home.” A spurt of alarm had her gaze dropping away from his while she did her best to cover her rattled state with a form of the truth. But damn, that sucker-punch observation of his left her scrambling. “The cold shouldn’t affect you in the gym, unless you have any medical issues I should know about. Do you have any arthritic problems that might need special attention?”
“My body is in excellent working order.”
I’ll just bet. The words trembled on her lips even as his statement hung in the air, begging for the feminine attention it deserved. Shocked at how much she wanted to give it, Ella instead backed away from the counter with another polite smile. “That’s nice.”
That’s nice? Wow, stunning repartee, Ella. Great job.
Giving that excellently working body one last look, Ella led the way out of the reception area. Her destination was the main workout room, lined with mirrors and filled with treadmills and ellipticals, hydraulic weight machines and racks of free weights. And with every step she castigated her inner naughty girl until she cowered in submission. She had to get a hold of herself. While it was okay to notice a hot guy—scratch that, a spontaneously combusting, over-the-top scorcher of a man who was every woman’s secret fantasy come to life—it was another kettle of fish to blithely act on it. For one thing, he was a client and this was a professional setting. For another, she didn’t know anything about Nate da Luca. For all she knew, he had a loving wife and a dozen kids waiting for him at home. And lastly, she wasn’t in the market for a one-night stand, a fling, or a relationship. Considering her baggage, it was amazing she’d given him a second look.
And a third. And maybe even a fourth.
“All right.” After they’d spent fifteen minutes on a series of stretches and warm-up exercises in the gym’s open-floor area, Ella gestured toward a small bank of treadmills reserved specifically for the trainers’ use. As she was the only trainer on duty at the moment, they had the area all to themselves. “The first thing I need to do is measure your level of endurance, which will be about as much fun as it sounds. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“I was born ready.” As if to prove it, Nate stripped off his sweatpants and hoodie to show baggy black and red basketball shorts with the Georgia Bulldogs logo on the side and a black racer-back tank underneath. Clearly he was no longer fussy about being cold. “Let’s get this torture session started.”
“I’ll try to be gentle, but keep in mind that my main mission is to get you sweaty.” The words were out before she could check them at the professionalism weigh station, and like a cowardly idiot she busied herself with setting the machine’s workout program to avoid meeting his gaze. Maybe it hadn’t sounded as provocative as she thought. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about how his massive frame and her much smaller body could still find a way to fit together and get sweaty in much more erotic ways than on a treadmill. Maybe he would let the flirtatious words just sit there, without responding...
And maybe she should give a second thought to indulging in a one-night stand.
A soft laugh escaped him as he stepped up onto the machine and put a hand on the treadmill’s handrail only an inch from where hers rested. “The one thing I enjoy most of all is getting sweaty, one way or another.”
Be professional, be professional... “Then you’re going to love this. I have plans to grind you down into nothing.”
“First getting sweaty, and now grinding. This is getting better and better.”
She hoped he couldn’t see her nuclear blush. “Let’s see if you still feel that way after I’m done with you.”
“Think pretty highly of yourself, do you?”
“Only because I’m good.” At last she found the courage to slant a glance his way as she patted the machine’s operating board. “Welcome to my parlor.”
His crooked grin was as wicked as the devil himself. “Which one of us is the spider, and which is the fly?”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me when we’re done.” With that, she pushed the button that started the program.